Man About the House

by Alison Kelly

  ‘All right.’

  When the tunnel finally did open up, the dim, dank surrounds filled Brett with a wave of nostalgia, making him chuckle.

  A hand clamped around his right ankle. ‘Er, Brett... you’re not getting claustrophobic and hysterical on me, are you?’

  The cautiously voiced question added to his amusement. ‘Nope. Just appreciating some old memories.’

  ‘So how come you’ve stopped moving?’

  ‘Because I’m at the cave.’

  ‘Already! Really?’ The excitement dripping from her voice magnified his own. He wasn’t game to examine why.

  ‘Just stay where you are till I get right in, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  As testament to his increased height since he’d last been down here as a seventeen-year-old, his arms reached the cave floor without being fully extended. He released the flashlight, which rolled a little, throwing patterns of light and shadow on the dark crusty walls, and ‘walked’ his palms until he could get his feet to the floor. Standing, he turned in a small circle to survey his surroundings.

  Structurally nothing had noticeably changed in the almost two decades since his last visit, but it irked him that more recent visitors had found it necessary to make the underground trek armed with spray cans. Unfortunately the absence of skeletal remains suggested the vandals who’d scrawled ‘RAP RULES’ in fluorescent yellow on the walls hadn’t perished from inhaling paint fumes in a confined space.

  ‘Brett! Are you all right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he responded, dusting his gritty hands across the back of his jeans before crouching again at the entrance of the tunnel. ‘You can come on through now.’

  Joanna’s mouth was pursed in concentration as she wormed her way to the end, but by the time she poked her head through at the end it was split into a megawatt grin. ‘Hi, there! Just passing; thought I’d drop in...’ She looked at the distance to the cave floor. ‘Drop being exactly the word.’

  Instinctively Brett took a hold of her forearms. ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you. Just ease out slowly.’

  ‘Gotcha,’ she said, obeying his instructions, although Brett was pretty sure he hadn’t said anything about putting her hands on his shoulders, nor about sliding them around his neck as she emerged further. But, reluctant to look a gift horse in the mouth, and needing to keep his equilibrium, he started inching his feet backwards. Unfortunately Joanna moved forward a fraction too far, at the same time tumbling him first onto his backside, then his back, before landing on top of him with an ‘Oomph!’

  Joanna’s startled ‘Dam!’ was considerably tamer than the four-letter word which burst from him, although he wasn’t sure whether her furious blush of embarrassment was caused by his swearing, her part in causing the fall or the suggestive intimacy of how they’d landed. She was stretched between the ‘V’ of his bent legs, with her belly and breasts pressed tight against him as a result of his arms protectively tightening around her mid-tumble. And it had been a purely protective action, he assured himself.

  Within seconds, though, she rallied herself. ‘Oh, Lord, I’m so sorry!’ she gushed. ‘It’s all my fault. Are you okay?’

  Oh, yeah, it was her fault, all right. And he’d be just dandy once she stopped squirming and wriggling her body against his and the stupid voice inside him stopped chanting, This is your chance; kiss her, kiss her...

  ‘Brett... Are you going to be able to get up?’

  He gave a dry, humourless laugh. ‘There’s no indication that’s going to be a problem. Although it’s a bit hard with you lying all over me.’ And getting a damn sight harder by the second! he added silently.

  She vaulted off him so fast he half wondered if she’d read his lewd mind, but there was only concern in her face as she watched him scramble to his feet. Once apparently satisfied he showed no signs of being any the worse for their fall, she quickly turned her attention to their surroundings.

  ‘It’s brighter in here than I expected it to be,’ she observed, trailing her fingers over the wall of the cave as she prowled its perimeter.

  “That’s because crawling through the tunnel your eyes adjusted to the dimness. Plus, while it’s dark looking into the cave, from here the exterior sunlight and the tunnel itself works like a skylight.’

  She accepted the explanation with a faint nod, then inclined her head towards the graffiti. ‘What does this mean?’

  ‘That the future of this planet is in the hands of idiots with no appreciation of nature, no artistic ability and a lousy taste in music.’

  She blinked. ‘You wrote it as a political statement?’

  ‘Hell, I didn’t do it! I stopped scribbling on walls at three and would sooner eat razorblades than listen to rap.’

  She looked totally self-conscious as she said, ‘Oh, I see...rap is a type of music.’

  ‘Not in my opinion,’ he said, astounded that she was apparently ignorant of something intrinsic to most of her age group. ‘But then I was raised listening to my folks’ Hendrix and Rolling Stones albums.’

  ‘Oh. I’ve heard some Rolling Stones songs since I’ve come to Sydney, but I can’t remember hearing about a band called Hendrix.’

  She had to be kidding. He could accept that some people, for unfathomable reasons, didn’t appreciate Jimi’s awesome talents, but he’d never imagined anyone in western civilisation not knowing the great man’s name. ‘Hendrix isn’t a band. He was the greatest guitarist to ever live. A genius. I can’t believe you haven’t heard of him—’

  ‘Well I’m sorry!’ she snapped. ‘But I can’t help that! I wasn’t raised listening to any sort of music.’

  For a moment he thought he saw tears in her eyes, but before he could be certain she’d turned away.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to get angry. It’s just that I get frustrated by how much I still have to learn. Whenever I think I’m getting to a stage where everything doesn’t seem so...so strange, I discover there’s something else really basic I know absolutely nothing about. I’ve been living in Sydney for over two months, and I still feel like I’ve been dumped on another planet.’

  ‘Hey, my fault,’ be said. feeling lower than a snake’s belly. ‘Meaghan told me you’d had a...very protected upbringing.’

  ‘That’s one way of putting it, I suppose,’ she muttered, before appearing to catch herself and switching on a plastic smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘So, tell me...how’d you and your friends come to discover this cave?’

  He would have preferred to explore the reasons for her musically deprived background, but, deciding to ration his insensitivity, accepted the change of subject.

  ‘It wasn’t so much a discovery as a kind of inheritance we always knew we’d get,’ he told her. ‘This has always been a local cubbyhole, and as one generation of kids outgrew it the next adopted it. It’s such an accepted progression local parents start drumming the dangers of getting stuck in here with the tide coming in to their kids at the same time they teach them to swim.’

  ‘Has anyone ever been caught?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  She cast a wistful glance over the bare rock. ‘I bet if these walls could talk, they’d have a few wild tales of mischief to tell. This must’ve been a great place for parties.’

  ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘Too hard to get the beer and ice in. Although I wouldn’t doubt some people might’ve partaken of the odd cigarette or necking session down here.’

  She raised a very expressive eyebrow. ‘Anyone I know?’

  ‘I dare say some of the very people you catch the bus with every morning may have misspent their youth here. Of course I wouldn’t dream of naming names and causing the past to rear its ugly head on people who’ve grown up to become upstanding citizens.’

  ‘Very noble of you. Guess I’ll have to talk to Meaghan. I always learn so much, chatting with her,’ she murmured, with a seriousness which might have been believable had she been wearing sunglasses to hide the rank amusement in
her eyes.

  ‘Waste of time...she’ll never admit to it.’

  Wry humour danced across her face. ‘Reticence must be a family trait.’

  While he couldn’t help smiling at her light-hearted teasing, he wasn’t comfortable with it. Or rather, he wasn’t comfortable with the feelings it aroused within him, because he couldn’t make up his mind whether she was being deliberately flirtatious or not. Given the vague details he had on her background, it seemed most likely that she had no idea of the signals she was sending; on the other hand, she had had an affair with a married man. Which meant even though she’d been unaware he was married she’d presumably had to have been better than useless in the sack to keep his interest and—whoa!

  Brett brought his wayward thoughts to a halt so fast he could practically smell rubber. Joanna Ford was just a naive country kid who’d already been taken for a ride by one jerk, she sure didn’t need to encounter another one.

  Silently cursing whatever nostalgia-induced insanity had motivated him to suggest this excursion in the first place, he curtly announced it was time to head back... And it didn’t bother him one bit that those clear turquoise eyes dulled with disappointment.

  ‘Are toasted sandwiches okay with you? Or would you prefer something more filling?’

  Joanna’s question caught him off guard. However, her shower-fresh, head-to-foot fashion-plate appearance resolved his curiosity about what she’d been doing for the last eighty minutes since they’d returned to the house.

  ‘More filling?’ he echoed, trying to convince his brain that now he did want it to focus on Joanna after spending the last hour telling it the opposite.

  ‘Mmm,’ she said, giving a brief glance to the headline of the Saturday paper, which he’d discarded on the coffee table in favour of the real estate supplement. ‘I could cook something if you want.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked absently, speculating whether the smooth line of her tight leggings over her backside was the result of a G-string or absolutely nothing at all. He virtuously banished the thought the instant he realised she was staring at him with the look of someone fearful they were dealing with a complete idiot.

  ‘Er...run that by me again,’ he said, forcing an apologetic but hopefully intelligent smile.

  She shook her head, her smile patient. ‘One minute you’ve got your head in a cave and the next you’ve got it stuck in the clouds.’

  After a brief, hard-fought victory over the first response which rose to his lips—‘Clouds be damned, my head was in your pants!’—he merely shrugged. ‘Well, you know jet lag can kind of linger on.’

  ‘No. I don’t. I’ve never been on a plane in my life.’ A broad grin transformed her face. ‘But believe me, it’s right up near the top of my list of things I have to do!’

  If the enthusiasm in her smile had been radioactive Brett figured the entire room would be glowing. ‘I see...and what has top position on your “things you have to do” list?’

  ‘Right now it’s to make your lunch.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘So help me out here, and hurry up and decide what you want before I have to leave.’

  Her hands-on-hips assertiveness didn’t grab his attention as much as it previously might have. ‘You’re going somewhere?’

  ‘A football game between the Manly Sea Eagles and the Parramatta Seals.’

  ‘The Parramatta Eels.’ he corrected automatically.

  ‘Oh. Right... Eels, not seals.’ She momentarily closed her eyes, as if committing a life-essential piece of information to memory. ‘I’ve never been to a rugby league game before, so I don’t really care who wins,’ she went on to confide. ‘But I’ve been told Manly is the local team, so I guess I better cheer for them. Is that your team?’

  ‘I used to follow them.’

  ‘Why’d you change?’

  ‘I didn’t. It’s just I’ve been overseas four years. I take it you’re going with the guy from last night?’ Brett hadn’t meant to voice the comment, certainly not in the surly-sounding way it had come out.

  She frowned. ‘What guy?’

  ‘The jerk who brought you home so plastered you could barely stand up and then left you out the front.’

  Her eyes widened at his terse response, but instead of getting angry she seemed even more confused. ‘That’s what they always do when they bring me home. And why on earth would I be going to the football game with a cab driver?’

  He bounded to his feet. ‘Cab driver? You came home in a taxi last night?’

  ‘How else was I going to get home?’ she asked, tilting her head to peer up at him every bit as intently as he was peering down at her. ‘I was too sick to catch a bus, even if they hadn’t already stopped running.’

  ‘You were drunk, not sick.’

  ‘Not on purpose!’ she objected.

  ‘I know that,’ he muttered, uncertain why he felt so angry or whom the anger was directed at. ‘Why the devil didn’t you insist the guy who picked you up take you home?’

  ‘Hey!’ She poked a finger into his chest. Judging by the high-voltage electrical charge that went through him, her other hand was shoved in a power outlet. ‘I didn’t get picked up by anyone!’

  ‘That’s a lie!’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Listen, I saw you getting into some bloke’s Porsche and—’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘Yes, oh! Now—’

  ‘That was Bianca’s car,’ she cut in, her voice tinged with amusement.

  ‘Bianca?’

  ‘One of the models from work. It was one of her friends’ parties and when I said I didn’t think I’d go because I had no way of getting there she offered to drive me. I misunderstood you,’ she added. ‘I thought you meant picked up as in...well, you know...’

  ‘As in a guy hitting on you,’ he supplied sheepishly. How stupid did he feel now? ‘I had my wires crossed too,’ he admitted, in the hope of redeeming himself. ‘I have a real thing about guys who can’t be bothered showing a woman to her door. Although it’s a bit much to expect from a cab driver...’

  A shy smile parted her lips. It amazed him how she could switch from looking blazing mad one second to utterly serene the next. More amazing still was how she could set his blood on fire regardless of whether she was being thempestuous or tranquil. How was it he barely knew this woman and yet she activated both his passion and his protective instincts as no other had? And ludicrous was the only word to describe the level of relief he felt at finding out her “date” last night hadn’t been male. Of course that raised another question...who was she going to the football with today?

  There were plenty of models who’d try for the opportunity of getting close to a high-profile footballer in the hope of snatching a little of the spotlight, but usually they scouted the talent in the league club after games. Of course, there were women who genuinely enjoyed watching the game for its own sake...or so he’d heard; he’d never been lucky enough to meet one himself.

  ‘So, what time’s Bianca picking you up?’ he asked, with what he considered praiseworthy casualness considering they were still standing only inches apart and her hand still rested on his chest. However, gazing down to where her touch was initiating the anarchy between his conscience and his hormones alerted her to the situation.

  ‘Huh? Oh! No!’ she said, hastily withdrawing her hand as she stepped away. ‘That is, I don’t think Bianca is coming. She vanished from the party before the idea was suggested. I’m going with another girl and her boyfriend and his cousin.’

  A single male cousin, he’d bet!

  ‘Look, Brett...’ She shifted from one foot to the other, her tone splintered with agitation. ‘I’m going to have to start getting ready soon, so it’d help if you could decide what you want for lunch.’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, telling himself it wasn’t that he’d lost his appetite but a case of not being hungry for food in the first place. ‘You just go get ready.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. You have to eat. And it’s my turn to c
ook. So tell me, what do you feel like having?’

  He was poised to respond with, I feel like having you, when she glanced out of the window and emitted a half-shriek, half-gasp.

  ‘Oh, no! They’re early! They aren’t supposed to be here until a quarter past one.’

  Brett pointed to the clock on the living room wall which announced it was five minutes after that, and she grimaced. Although that could have been due to the blast of the air-hom from the almost entirely chromed classic Monaro currently idling, loudly but perfectly, in the driveway.

  ‘Want me to entertain them while you get ready?’

  ‘Oh, thank you!’ she exclaimed, flinging her arms around his waist.

  Before he had a chance to recognise and react to the opportunity kicking his proverbial door open, an obviously equally stunned Joanna was backing away at light speed and stammering almost as fast.

  ‘I...ah...um. Tell them I...won’t be long. And...and I’m sorry. A-about lunch and...’ Her blush turned several shades redder. ‘And...and, well, I...promise I’ll...cook next time.’

  Some ten minutes later she was all cool, calm chic in Jackie Kennedy-style sunglasses and a camel-coloured hip-length coat, which presumably covered something, if not her Lycra-clad legs and those damn thigh-high boots. Which, not surprisingly, had her two sub-twenty-five-year-old male escorts practically drooling and the equally young blonde female trying desperately not to scowl. Meaning Brett and the blonde had something in common.

  Having chatted with the threesome while they’d waited for Joanna, Brett decided that, given his own past, there was no reason to suspect the guys’ youthful enthusiasm for cars. parties, booze, football and, presumably, sex meant they weren’t perfectly normal, decent guys who in a few years would be firmly entrenched in sedate middle class marriages. Although that assumption didn’t ease the temptation to tell them he didn’t want them within ten miles of Joanna.

  Knowing his possessiveness was unjustified, not to mention irrational, he drew on all the maturity, intelligence and common sense he’d acquired in the last dozen years of his life and moved fast enough to help Joanna into the car before either of the other two men could. Then once again he complimented the driver on the immaculate condition of his car, politely shook both men’s hands, saying it was good meeting them, wished one and all an enjoyable afternoon and waited until they’d reversed out of the drive before walking back inside. Where he proceeded to fix himself a toasted cheese sandwich while simultaneously hoping for the pristine car to blow a head gasket.