52 Waratah Avenue

by Lynne Wilding

  A waiter came up and asked if he should start serving hors d’oeuvres. Laura nodded yes.

  Nick’s arrival half an hour later managed to throw Caroline’s concentration off when she had been sure that it wouldn’t. He’d brought her and Fern the most extravagant Easter gifts. Fern got enough chocolate eggs to make her sick for a week, and Caroline received a reproduction Fabergé egg decorated in royal blue and gold leaf. The egg opened in the middle to reveal a miniature clock and inside was sufficient room to place several pieces of jewellery.

  ‘Nick, you shouldn’t have,’ Caroline remonstrated, embarrassed yet secretly delighted — reactions that alternately dismayed and confused her. ‘It’s much too expensive.’

  ‘It’s not too expensive if you like it.’ His eyebrow lifted in question. ‘You do like it, don’t you?’

  ‘It’s lovely,’ slipped out before she could think of a more controlled answer.

  Satisfied with her reply, Nick changed the subject. ‘You organised this?’ His hand swept to encompass the garden party scene.

  ‘With help from Fern and the Porters,’ Caroline admitted as she watched Fern join Jo Levy’s children, who’d just arrived. ‘Mum and Kitty are going on a four-months-plus cruise next week. It’s a kind of send-off for them as well.’

  ‘Leaving you and Michaela in charge of Ashworths?’

  ‘No.’ Caroline shook her head emphatically. ‘Certainly not me, not yet — if ever. Daniel’s in command and Warren Tremayne,’ she pointed out a thick-set man talking to her mother. ‘That’s him. He’s come from Melbourne to take the MD’s position.’

  ‘How do you like working in the retail trade?’ He knew he’d asked the question before, but that had been a couple of weeks ago.

  She smiled despite herself. ‘It’s very different from the arts. More complex than I thought it would be. I’m enjoying learning all the ins and outs of the business, what makes Ashworths tick.’

  ‘I’m glad. Laura must be proud to have both her daughters involved in the company.’

  What Nick really wanted to talk about was her. To tell her how bloody marvellous she looked with the sun glinting on her blonde hair. She was dressed casually in an olive-green pants suit. Around her neck she wore a chain of ceramic gum leaves; they were a yellowish-green colour and toned perfectly with her pants suit. He wanted to ask her how the arthritis was, too, how she was coping with it. Fern had told him that Caro had become fanatical about exercising her hands to keep the mobility up, and to slow the effects of the disease on other parts of her body. That’s why she was studying Tai Kwon Do again. He remembered how he used to enjoy watching her practise various exercises in their apartment in Vienna, before she’d become pregnant with Fern.

  He didn’t ask those questions because he didn’t want her to think he was intensely interested in her and her problems, even though the opposite was true. To win Caro’s love again, he believed that he had to behave differently from when they’d first met. He had to make her interested in him again by gaining her trust first of all. How, though? He groaned inwardly. If he knew the answer to that, it would be so much easier.

  Spying Jo Levy talking to Michaela and Leith Danvers, he decided to join them. ‘I shouldn’t monopolise your time. Being the hostess you must be busy, keeping track of everything,’ he drawled. ‘Catch you later,’ he said as he walked away.

  Left standing alone, Caroline blinked with surprise. One moment Nick Beaumont appeared to be interested in what she was doing, the next minute he was anxious to escape from her. The man was … was … an irritation, to say the least. She watched him join Michaela’s group, give Jo a kiss on the cheek and a hug. He had managed to disturb her equilibrium again, but she was not going to dwell on it, or on him! Damn Nick, anyway … She tried to dismiss him from her thoughts. There were better things to do than to allow him to get under her skin. Once was enough.

  Lunch was a sumptuous affair, and the alcohol flowed freely. The caterers presented several hot dishes, a variety of cold cuts and salads, and several desserts, which included pavlova, Black Forest cake and cheesecake. No-one, Caroline believed, could possibly go away hungry from such a repast. Occasionally she glanced in Joel’s direction and noted that he was drinking steadily, but then so were other men, including several of the McRaes.

  Daniel Blumner delivered a delightful off-the-cuff speech extolling Laura’s various successes and, not to be outdone, Jeffrey Markham followed with more plaudits to the woman who had, singlehandedly, changed the credo of department store development in Australia from the 1950s through to the 1980s.

  Then, to her surprise, Michaela stood up and talked about how the retail trade was changing, and that Ashworths needed to change with it.

  She summed the formalities up by giving a formal thank you to everyone who’d come and to Caroline, the party’s organiser.

  As Caroline listened to Michaela speak, instinct told her that she was looking at a future leader of Ashworths. Her younger sister had something more important than retail trade experience, she had vision — an attribute sorely needed and sometimes lacking in business. Their mother had had such vision … All Michaela needed was maturity. She would be ready, in several years, to assume the helm. Acknowledging Michaela’s capabilities caused her no inner rancour. Her sister was the logical successor to Daniel and she was satisfied with that because she knew they brought different strengths to the company. Her thoughts were interrupted by Laura, who’d sidled up to her unnoticed.

  ‘Impressive?’

  She knew her mother was referring to Michaela. ‘Mmmm. I’m beginning to see how much.’

  ‘You don’t have a problem with that, do you?’ There was curiosity in Laura’s tone.

  ‘No.’ Caroline’s answer was honest.

  ‘She will need guidance, lots of it, before she’s ready.’

  Mentally attuned, Caroline and her mother shared a smile.

  ‘I know,’ Caroline said, ‘I’m not qualified to give it.’

  ‘Not now, love, but in time you will be,’ Laura prophesied. ‘That’s why I don’t have any fear about leaving the company in your, Daniel’s and Michaela’s hands. You’re all so capable.’

  ‘And you’re skipping off with Kitty to have a ball,’ Caroline said, giving her mother a hug.

  ‘I am.’ Laura’s widening smile was unrepentant. ‘I wish Fern could come with us, though. It would be such a wonderful experience.’

  ‘Nick and I talked about it, but she’d miss too much school, and changing from the French education system to the Australian means a big period of adjustment for her anyway, so it’s not possible.’

  They were standing at the entrance to the marquee, which was half-deserted now that everyone had eaten. A few guests, including Laura’s brother and sister-in-law, had gone, and the celebrations were beginning to wind down. The raising of voices, not in laughter or pleasant conversation but in anger, had Caroline swivelling to locate the problem.

  Near the tennis court a group of four or five men, glasses in hand, had been engaged in a healthy debate but, suddenly, one man had turned aggressive. Blue eyes tried to single out the offending party. Uh huh, she should have guessed. Mark McRae was standing chest to chest with Joel. Leaving her mother she moved swiftly towards the affray, intending to diffuse the problem before it got out of hand.

  Caroline was too late, it was already out of hand …

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Look, nancy boy, everyone knows about you.’ Mark’s tone was belligerent and slurred, his features twisting as his dislike for Joel surfaced. ‘You always were suspect, you know. As a kid you cried whenever you got hurt, instead of taking it like a bloke’s supposed to, and a friend of mine saw you at that gay bar in Newtown last weekend.’

  ‘So what? Quite a few straights drink at gay bars, especially around inner city areas. Any idiot knows that.’ Joel’s tone was deliberately sarcastic.

  Mark’s upper lip curled derisively. ‘Why don’t you come out of the closet?
Admit what we all know, you’re a bloody homo … and …’

  Mark didn’t get the chance for further insults because Joel’s fist clipped him on the chin and sent him flying backwards into the wire fence of the tennis court.

  ‘You’re a bloody liar, amongst other things,’ Joel yelled back as he dodged Mark’s right cross, which landed on his shoulder instead of his jaw. ‘I’m going to make you eat your words, cousin.’ He threw a left into Mark’s midriff and grunted with satisfaction as his opponent groaned and doubled over, coughing and gasping for air.

  But Mark was as mean physically as he was verbally and, enraged, he rushed Joel, tackling him around the waist. They both fell to the grass and wrestled about for a while, neither one landing any telling blows on the other. Then Joel’s dog, Rufus, attracted by the commotion, came to his master’s aid by grabbing Mark’s trouser leg. Growling, he tried to pull the attacker off his master.

  Nick, who was closer to the ruckus than Caroline, made a beeline for the group, all of whom had stood back to watch the brawl. He called out as he approached the men, ‘You’re out of line here, Mark. Joel is as straight as any of us here today.’

  Neil McRae, Mark’s older brother, was in the group. He could have stopped the fight cold had he chosen to. He did nothing, just smiled as Mark landed a fist against Joel’s eye and, with his other hand, grabbed a handful of shirt and tried to pull him up to take a better shot at him. Neil watched him kick the dog, landing a painful blow to the ribs. Rufus yelped and let the trouser leg go. He whimpered, then barked intermittently as the fight continued.

  Nick, a much larger man than the two combatants, prised Joel and Mark apart, managing to miss flailing, poorly aimed blows from both men. ‘Cut it out!’ he yelled. ‘This isn’t the time or the place. You’re both making fools of yourselves.’

  Mark, breathing heavily, wiped a trickle of blood from his nostril with the back of his left hand. ‘I’d rather be a fool than a bloody faggot,’ he growled, glaring at his opponent.

  Joel lunged towards him again but was contained by Nick, who elbowed him out of harm’s way.

  ‘Liar! You rotten liar! I’m as straight as any of you here,’ Joel defended himself. ‘I’m going to break your bloody neck, Mark …’

  ‘No-one will break anyone’s neck.’ Caroline’s voice was amazingly calm, as she reached the action. Without a thought to the danger, she insinuated her smaller body between the two fighters and Nick. ‘Stop, both of you. At once.’

  Joel pulled his fist back in time not to hit his sister, but Mark had no such scruples. His right arm swung forward, his fist aimed straight at her face.

  Nick managed to push Caroline off balance and take the blow himself. Mark’s knuckles glanced off his cheekbone, but his signet ring scraped the skin, tearing it. Blood began to seep down his cheek, and he winced. The blow stung like the devil. ‘You low animal.’

  Incensed that Mark had deliberately aimed at a woman — and not just any woman, but his Caro — Nick utilised his considerable strength. As his balled hand connected with Mark’s jaw, the smaller man moaned, went down and stayed down. Off balance, Nick staggered and fell to his knees against one of the chairs, the back of which caught him and ripped the skin on his neck. He shook his head as if to clear a rush of dizziness, and didn’t object when Joel reached down to help him to his feet.

  ‘Thanks for that,’ Joel said gruffly. ‘If he’d hit Caroline …’

  ‘This is a fine finale to our Easter Sunday party.’ Laura’s tone was acidic as she came up to the group. She looked distinctly displeased by the brawl staged in her garden. Staring down all of the men, her gaze silently criticised each because none had tried to stop the fist fight or, apart from Nick, come to her daughter’s aid. Her single glance told them she wouldn’t forget that.

  Neil almost winced at the hard expression in his aunt’s eyes. Laura was angry, very angry. In hindsight he realised that it would have been smart on his part to make some attempt to stop the brawl. She had a long memory, did Laura. Mark had definitely blotted his copybook today and, by association — and lack of action — so had he. He dropped his gaze as she stared pointedly at him.

  ‘Neil, I believe Mark has outstayed his welcome. Help him up and see that he gets home,’ Laura ordered in her sternest matriarch voice. ‘I’m glad your parents weren’t here to see this fracas.’ She looked at her son. ‘Joel, go tidy yourself and we’ll discuss this in the library later.’

  Her dark brown eyes studied Nick for a moment, and her mouth tightened. He’d saved Caroline from collecting a nasty blow from her cowardly cousin, whose future with Ashworths was strictly limited from this moment on. ‘Nick, you’re bleeding all over the place. You need first aid.’ She turned to Caroline. ‘You’d better attend to him, dear.’

  ‘What about the guests, the party?’ Caroline asked.

  ‘Michaela and I will see to things. It’s gone three and, after this performance, people will start to leave anyway,’ Laura said, her tone surprisingly cheerful. The brawl gave her a good reason not to have Mark McRae around number fifty-two, or the store, for some time. And it was just as well that Frank hadn’t been there; the ruckus might have been twice as noisy. She sighed and shook her head. Families … Sometimes she wondered if they were worth the trouble.

  Deep in thought, she watched Nick, Caroline and Fern, who’d rushed over and seen the end of the fight and become concerned for her father, walk towards the house. It was nice to see the three together, even if it had taken a fight for it to happen and the situation was only temporary. She sighed again as she ruminated. Was a reconciliation between her eldest daughter and Nick possible? Some sixth sense told her that Nick, though he was very much like Jack and rarely let his feelings show, would welcome it. And she knew her granddaughter would. But Caroline? She frowned as she contemplated the possibility. She’d been so hurt by the separation, divorce and Nick’s brief marriage to that TV person … Could she forgive and forget enough to start afresh? Her head told her no, but her heart wanted the answer to be yes.

  She waved to her friend Kitty, who was with Ruth Levy and her husband, Ben. In a way it was premature of her to be going on that cruise. She would like to stick around and, if she could, help Caroline emotionally, but the ship sailed on Friday and Kitty would be disappointed if she called the cruise off. No, her decision suddenly firmed. All her children, even Joel, were adult enough to fight their own battles and live their lives without her input. It was time to step back, to let them run their own race, and taking the cruise was important, for her — she needed the break. Smiling to herself, she walked towards Michaela. Who’d have thought she’d think such thoughts a few months ago? Certainly not her.

  In the breakfast room off the kitchen, Nick sat on the sofa while Caroline and Fern searched the downstairs bathroom for first aid items to attend to his wounds, which looked more nasty than serious. Fern fussed, and cleaned the blood away with warm salted water, while Caroline made up two gauze dressings and found antiseptic cream and sticking plaster for both cuts.

  ‘Joel should be doing this,’ Fern suggested. ‘He’s the one who’s going to be a doctor.’

  ‘Mmm, I think he’s busy doing first aid on himself. He grazed his knuckles and that eye — he’ll have a real shiner there,’ Nick said as his daughter ministered to him.

  Caroline clicked her tongue in disgust. ‘Men and fighting. When are you going to learn that it solves nothing?’ Then, suddenly she chuckled. ‘You really decked Mark, didn’t you? I bet he’ll have a mighty headache, one way or another, to go with his hangover. The little runt was pretty full, wasn’t he?’

  ‘He was,’ Nick agreed. ‘Mark’s the type who needs alcohol to give him the guts to say things he’d never be game to say when sober.’

  ‘Uncle Frank will be annoyed with him,’ Fern added with much teenage gravity. She stood back to let her mother in close enough to apply the cream, then the dressings.

  ‘Knowing Frank, he’ll probably give him a cl
ip behind the ear for being so damned stupid,’ Nick drawled. ‘He wouldn’t like the fact that Joel got the better of him in the row either. I recall Frank saying once that he’d taught all his kids, male and female, to look after themselves.’

  Caroline put the dressing on the neck wound first, then moved to the cut on his cheek. She was so close to him that she could feel his breath against her hands. The oddest sensation came over her, and her fingers began to tremble. She hadn’t been this close to Nick since … since … the last time they’d made love! God, please, no. She wasn’t going to think about that. Not here, not now. That was behind her. Nick and she had moved on. Yes, she should keep remembering that. Nick and that Holly. It hadn’t taken him long after the divorce to have another woman in his bed. Her fingers pressed the plaster down with undue firmness. He winced.

  ‘Oh, sorry For God’s sake, when will you learn? It’s over.

  ‘Mum …’ Fern remembered something. ‘You should have practised your Tai Kwon Do on Mark.’

  Caroline forced a chuckle out. ‘I would have if I’d thought of it. I was just keen to get them to stop. I never dreamed that Mark would have a go at me.’

  ‘Well he did. I hope my response has taught him the lesson he needs,’ Nick responded as he wriggled his cheekbone — the plaster felt tight. He glanced at Fern, and grinned. ‘Gee, you know I’d love a whisky. Reckon I’ve earned one after that stoush. Fern, honey, could you get me one from the bar?’

  ‘Sure, Dad,’ Fern said and went outside.

  ‘There,’ Caroline said, as she finished the patch-up job. ‘That’s the best an amateur can do. You might want to have a doctor check the cuts, but they were fairly shallow wounds.’

  ‘They feel fine. Thanks.’

  Caroline became aware again of how close they were. She stepped back and put half an arm’s length distance between them. ‘I should thank you for breaking the fight up.’