by Eva Scott
‘I couldn’t think of a better way to spend Christmas Day than curled up with you.’ He couldn’t stop his grin from reaching ear to ear if he’d tried.
‘I’ll have to emerge tomorrow. Farming waits for no one.’
‘And emerge we will.’ He’d agree to anything to be with her. ‘Can I feed the goats today? I’ve never had much to do with goats.’
‘Whatever makes you happy, although I think you’ll find them less intriguing than you think. They aren’t the friendliest of barnyard animals.’
‘Why do you have goats?’ Fair question, he thought, as she ran an orchard and could simply have had a handful of dogs or a horse for recreational riding. What did a girl need a goat for?
‘This might sound odd,’ she said, ‘but the farm feels less lonely with them around. I know they’re not the most companionable animals, not like dogs or even cats. The thing about a goat is its joyfulness. There’s not much in this life that gets a goat down. They remind me to see the simple delight in things.’ She shrugged as if it meant nothing at all.
He nodded his understanding. ‘I get it,’ he said. ‘I’d have days when life seemed like one long endless struggle with no break in sight. I think I could have done with a goat on those days.’
She laughed, throwing her head back, exposing the delicate column of her throat and reminding him of the trail of kisses he’d left there last night.
‘In that case, let’s get you some quality bonding time with the goats, although I must warn you Seamus has been known to nip and Taffy likes a good headbutt now and again.’
‘I have been duly warned,’ he said, genuinely looking forward to getting up close and personal with the animals. ‘I didn’t have any pets when I was growing up. Well, that’s not entirely true. I had a budgie named Brian. He met a sticky end when my sister left the cage open and the neighbour’s cat got him. Mum wouldn’t let us have another pet after that. Too irresponsible.’
‘Glad you told me that story. I’ll make sure you’re properly supervised at all times. I think you pose more danger to the goats than they do to you.’ She sank her teeth into a crisp piece of toast, the action strangely erotic.
‘So, when are we going back to bed?’
‘When I’ve had my shower and you’ve done the dishes.’
‘Dishes?’ he asked in mock horror.
‘I’m afraid you’ve crossed the line between guest and …’ She furrowed her brow, looking for the right word.
‘Lover?’ he suggested.
She blushed. ‘I think I better go have that shower, don’t you?’ She pushed her chair back from the table.
‘Meet you in bed,’ he called after her as she disappeared down the hallway. Settling back in his chair, he turned his attention to his coffee and the sheer perfection of his morning.
‘Merry Christmas!’
‘Merry Christmas, Bea.’
‘So?’
‘So?’ Lexie could play this game all day. Bea was lucky she wanted her shower.
‘Come on! Throw me a bone.’
Lexie sighed. ‘Okay, so it happened.’ She tried to sound casual, as if she took a lover on a regular basis. They both knew it was an act.
She held out the phone as her sister screamed.
‘I didn’t think you’d have the guts to do it,’ said Bea, breathless with excitement.
‘Seriously? You practically egged me on.’
‘Yeah, but you’re a stubborn cuss. Who’d have thought you’d actually sleep with a guest?’
‘You make it sound like I’ve done something wanton and terrible.’ It did give Lexie pause. What if she had broken a rule of hosting? There probably was some sort of do-not-sleep-with-the-guests rule. She really ought to have read that Beginners Guide to Running a B & B properly.
‘Only if he leaves you a bad review.’ Bea cackled like an old witch. ‘Oh, God. Wouldn’t that be hilarious? I can see it now …’
‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ muttered Lexie. ‘I need to go.’
‘Just having a laugh, Lexie. I can see a good shag hasn’t improved your sense of humour any.’
‘Not where you’re concerned.’ She regretted answering the phone. If it hadn’t been Christmas Day she’d have let it go through to voicemail.
‘Okay, I’ll let you go on one condition.’ Bea was enjoying this way too much.
‘What?’ She’d have to break out her special luxury body wash, the one that smelled of black orchids, to get her mood back on track.
‘That you send me a photo of your man.’
‘Or else?’ Lexie couldn’t help but be suspicious of Bea’s motives. Put it down to history.
‘Or else me and the kids will drive up to visit you. Poor old Aunty Lexie all alone at Christmas …’
‘I’m hanging up now.’
‘Remember to send the photo or suffer the consequences.’
Lexie ended the phone call before Bea could get another word in. She had no doubt Bea would do exactly as she said, arriving unannounced at the worst possible moment, having planned it like a military campaign. Possibly arriving before dawn, her long-suffering husband and kids in tow.
She stripped off her kimono wrap and unpinned her hair, letting it tumble down her back. Maybe she’d leave it out today. Lexie turned the shower tap, waiting until the water was exactly the right temperature before stepping in. The water cascaded over her shoulders, washing away the underlying tension she hadn’t known she carried. Starting an affair could be surprisingly stressful.
The black orchid body wash had begun to lather up nicely when she heard a knock and the sound of Geoff’s voice.
‘Ahem …’ he began, ‘I hate to interrupt you, but there are some people at the door and I have no idea what to do with them.’
‘What?’ Unannounced visitors on Christmas Day sounded like trouble. ‘It’s not my sister, is it?’ It would be like Bea to have called from around the corner, fully intending to lob up and create chaos.
‘Wouldn’t know for certain, having never met your sister. Taking a stab at it, I’d say the woman in question is a bit too mature to qualify as your sibling. Mother perhaps?’
Lexie turned off the taps and Geoff’s hand appeared from the other side of the shower curtain, holding a towel.
‘My parents are on a Christmas cruise to Vanuatu.’ She patted herself dry and wrapped the towel around her body. ‘It can’t be a booking. I wouldn’t have missed that.’ Pulling the shower curtain back, she stepped out to find herself face to face with Geoff’s chest.
‘I’ll … um …’ He pointed to the bedroom.
‘Good idea,’ she said, all romantic thoughts fleeing. ‘Show our guests into the lounge room while I get dressed, then we’ll sort this out.’
Geoff disappeared to deal with the situation. She could hear him from the bedroom, all charm itself. Grabbing a fresh shirt and a pair of shorts, she struggled into them as fast as she could, all the while her mind churning over the possibilities. If it wasn’t her sister, then who could it be?
By the time she’d reached the kitchen the mystery guests had revealed themselves. She’d recognise her mother-in-law’s voice anywhere.
‘Hello, Marg, merry Christmas,’ she said in her cheeriest, most upbeat manner, the falseness of it ringing in her ears. ‘So good to see you and Bob.’ Air kisses were exchanged without danger of actual physical contact. Marg had never fully approved of Lexie, having had her eye on a nice local country girl for her only son. The fact Lexie had never produced a grandchild also rankled.
‘Hello, Lexie.’ Bob, her father-in-law, offered her a warm smile. Such a sweet old man.
‘Merry Christmas,’ said Marg in a tone indicating it was anything but. ‘We thought we’d drop in and see you. Couldn’t bear the idea of you spending Christmas alone. Without your husband.’ This last bit was said through clenched teeth and with narrowed eyes shooting daggers at Geoff.
‘So thoughtful of you.’ Lexie worried her voice had too much of a would-you-
like-fries-with-that quality. Must tone it down. ‘Have you met Geoff, my … guest?’ She shot Geoff a glance and he gave her a cheeky wink.
‘Yes, we’ve met, although we didn’t get a chance to establish relationships,’ he said as he pulled out a chair and took up real estate at the table. ‘I’m indeed Lexie’s guest. I came last Christmas and liked it so much I thought I’d come back. Might even stay.’
Marg’s face grew red and Lexie wondered if it was the possibility of another man taking up residence in her son’s house causing her discomfort. She looked in danger of exploding with ire.
‘Tea, anyone?’ Lexie tried to create a diversion. ‘Bob, you must want a cup of tea?’
‘That would be lovely,’ said Bob, seemingly unaware of the volcanic situation developing under his nose. ‘White with two sugars, thanks.’
‘I didn’t know you had a new boyfriend, Lexie.’ Marg said the word the same way you’d expect someone to say Hitler or Idi Amin.
‘Not boyfriend—guest,’ Geoff corrected. He sat with one leg thrown over the other, languidly bouncing his foot up and down as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Lexie busied herself with making the tea as quickly as possible. ‘I started a little bed and breakfast business on the side last year, remember?’ Of course Marg remembered. That woman forgot nothing and knew everything. She was like the human equivalent of Google.
‘I was thinking about applying for the position of boyfriend, though,’ said Geoff, oblivious to the hard stare Lexie gave him over her shoulder. ‘I understand the position is open.’
‘So are Lexie’s legs by the look of things,’ muttered Marg.
‘Now hang on a moment.’ Lexie spun around at the insult. How dare this horrible woman judge her when all she’d done was love and care for her son? ‘I’m entitled to a life too, you know.’
‘Malcolm’s body is barely cold in his grave and here you are sleeping with some stranger in his bed.’ Marg dove into her purse to retrieve a tissue. ‘I can’t bear to think about it.’
‘Look here.’ Lexie pointed the teaspoon in her hand at Marg. ‘Malcolm has been gone for two and a half years—two and a half years—and I’ve mourned him and missed him every single day. Just so you know, this farm is mine and that bed is mine and I can have anyone I want in it any time I want. And Malcolm was cremated, as well you know.’
They’d never gotten along, she and Marg. They had tried for Malcolm’s sake but even he’d given up in the end and they’d all silently agreed to meet as infrequently as possible and be as civil as they could when they did. Now Malcolm wasn’t here to act as umpire, all bets were off. Apparently.
‘Steady on,’ said Bob, who’d made a career out of letting his wife speak for him. ‘Marg is a bit shocked, is all.’
‘A bit shocking, perhaps,’ said Geoff. ‘Even downright outrageous if you ask me.’
‘No one asked you,’ spat Marg. ‘You interloper, coming in and ruining a perfectly good family.’ She turned to Lexie. ‘My poor boy would be outraged to know you haven’t been near us since he passed. You always pretended to be the caring wife and daughter-in-law, but I know the truth.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Lexie was truly perplexed. ‘You never liked me, and I never liked you. I wanted to come and see you that first Christmas and you told me it was too soon, that I reminded you too much of what you’d lost, and except for the odd phone conversation, I haven’t seen you since. I’m not even sure why you’re here.’
‘I’ve come to collect Malcolm’s childhood photo album. I know you’ve got it and I want it back. I’m his mother and I want what’s rightfully mine.’ She sat up, prim and proper, as if she were the offended party.
‘Fine,’ said Lexie, abandoning all efforts at making tea.
‘And his ashes.’
‘That’s laying it on a bit thick,’ said Geoff.
‘You’ve taken my son’s place and everything he worked for, isn’t that enough?’ hissed Marg, fresh tears threatening to fall over her plump cheeks.
Lexie held up her hand to stop Geoff from entering an argument he could never win.
‘Marg, I’m going to get the photo albums for you and I’m even going to let you take Malcolm’s ashes, on the condition you leave here, and you never come back.’ The confrontation had set her trembling. She hated fights. She hated being bullied even more. ‘Geoff, would you kindly escort Marg and Bob to the front door while I get their things?’
‘With pleasure.’ He stood up, towering over them with his great height. ‘If you’d be so kind as to follow me,’ he said with exaggerated politeness.
‘We know the way,’ Marg snapped, clutching her handbag to her chest like a Viking shieldmaiden manoeuvring her shield.
‘Good, then we can get there all the quicker. Bob, if you please.’ Geoff ushered them out, stopping at the door to mouth, ‘Are you all right?’ She nodded. She was surprisingly fine.
She took a large plastic bag from a kitchen drawer and went to her bedroom cupboard where both the photo albums and Malcolm’s ashes were stored.
He hadn’t wanted to go into a memorial wall and he couldn’t make up his mind where he wanted to be scattered. In the end, they’d both agreed she’d know what to do with them when the time was right.
The thing that was important, the essence that made up her beloved Malcolm, had long gone. His ashes didn’t represent him; they were merely ashes. He remained in the very bedrock of the farm and in her heart. She felt his presence every day, so there was no need to venerate his ashes to keep his memory alive. He’d have hated that as much as he would have hated his mother bullying her, something he’d tried to protect her from.
She held the heavy box in her hands. A kaleidoscope of memories and emotions swirled inside, causing her to want to laugh one moment and cry the next. While she’d said her goodbyes in the hospital on that final day, this was in its own way a last goodbye.
Lexie closed her eyes and conjured Malcolm’s image in her mind. ‘I love you and I always will. You know that. And I’m sorry I’m sending you back to your mother but that’s what you get for leaving me.’ Somewhere, she swore she could hear the echo of his laugh. He’d had a ribald sense of humour, a trait he hadn’t got from his mother, that was for sure.
‘I hope you can forgive me, my beloved man,’ she said, the tears spilling freely. She took a moment to let it out. There was Marg, Bob and Geoff to face when all she wanted to do was curl up and have a good cry. After years of feeling nothing at all, this Christmas was proving to be too much.
Finally, when she thought she could control her emotions, she gathered up everything in her arms and made her way to where they waited for her. She hated the fact Marg would see she’d been crying, hated giving that horrible woman any satisfaction.
Marg was busy glaring at Geoff, who infuriated her further by smiling back. She saw Lexie in the hallway. ‘Bob,’ she said with a nod.
Bob stepped forward and took the bag and box from Lexie. ‘Sorry, love,’ he whispered, nearly setting off a fresh avalanche of tears. His compassion was harder to take than Marg’s nastiness. She blinked furiously, thankful she wasn’t wearing mascara.
‘So, you’ll be off then.’ Geoff held the door open.
‘Don’t think we’ll ever darken your door again.’ Marg snatched the box of ashes from Bob and clutched them to her chest, her handbag relegated to mere accessory. She stopped as she passed Lexie. ‘And don’t think you can come crawling back to us when this,’ she waved her hand in Geoff’s general direction, ‘blows up in your face. You’re on your own.’
She stalked out the door and down the front steps with her nose in the air, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Lewis Carroll’s Red Queen.
‘Off with her head,’ muttered Geoff as he shut the door behind Bob’s retreating figure. ‘Are you okay?’ He turned to Lexie with his arms open wide and she fell into them, sobbing uncontrollably.
‘I’m so … sorry,’ she hiccupped
into his chest, leaving a wet patch of tears on his shirt. ‘I had no idea they were coming or that it would lead to this mess. I haven’t seen them in the longest time. That old battleaxe couldn’t have cared less about me after Malcolm’s death, she just let me fall, so why did they pick now to show up?’
‘Some evil sixth sense? It’s okay.’ He rubbed her back in small circles. ‘I’m here, they’re gone and we’re all going to be all right. The only thing that worries me is that you had to surrender Malcolm. That’s gotta hurt.’
She shook her head and then nodded, unsure of what she was feeling.
‘Right.’ He hugged her tighter. ‘Let’s have that tea, shall we?’
‘I think I need something stronger.’ Her muffled voice sounded weak and pathetic.
‘That I can do,’ said Geoff, and he led her by the hand to the lounge room where the liquor trolley awaited them.
Chapter 8
‘Are you sure you’re not sick of me yet?’ He’d been here nearly two weeks, fitting into her routine with perfect ease, or so he thought. She’d taught him how to feed the goats, how the sprinkler system worked, and he had begun to learn the finer points of avocado growing. A whole new world had opened up to him.
‘No.’ She laid her hand over his and smiled. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m tired of you.’ She returned to reading the newspaper which was spread out in sections, taking up half the couch. They’d bought it on a run to town days ago. He didn’t know why they’d bothered as the outside world had no place here. ‘Probably by next Tuesday.’
‘Thanks for the heads up.’ He stretched back, folding his hands behind his neck, and shut his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this content. Maybe never. They had barely left the house. Not even to celebrate New Year. Cocooning in their little wonderland was all either of them wanted to do.
‘You know what would be great,’ he said, eyes still closed.
‘What?’
‘If we went and spent a little time at my place in Sydney. I’ve got to go back to work at some point.’ He sat up and turned to face her. ‘We could do all the touristy stuff if you want. You could shop. We could go out for lovely dinners and take walks on the beach. It’ll be fantastic. Why don’t you come?’
