by Lindy Dale
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Refusing to meet my eyes, Alice stuffed a baby potato into her mouth and swallowed it whole while poking at her fish and swearing because she couldn’t get it to stay on her fork. “How’s your fish?”
I went back to my dinner. “Yummy, thanks.”
“Is the salad okay?”
“Delicious.”
This was the most inane conversation ever. I wished she’d tell me whatever it was. I hated to see her upset.
“Please tell me what’s wrong,” I said.
“It’s nothing. I’m being silly. Shall we do dessert here? Or have a double dose with dessert in the lounge and McSteamy?”
Okay, so she was avoiding whatever it was. I could relate to that. Avoidance was my middle name. I decided to let it be. She’d tell me when she was ready.
“Is there a need to ask?”
We’d been watching the re-runs of Grey’s Anatomy for months now and had reached the last season. I wasn’t keen to see it end. It was our guilty pleasure, the one time we got to be two girls again, not grown women with responsibilities. And clearly, Alice was in need of forgetting her responsibilities tonight.
“I made fruit salad and there’s some low fat ice cream or yogurt. Want some?”
“A little bit. Please.”
“Cool.” Alice picked up our plates and scraped the remains into the bin. She refilled her wine for the third time and glugged it down. Then she plonked our desserts on a tray, took another bottle of wine from the pantry, picked the lot up and stomped off in the direction of the lounge.
Geez. She was in a bad way.
By the time I’d hobbled in, Alice seemed to have pulled herself together. She was scrolling through the recorded shows to find the episode we were after so I set myself up in a corner of the couch, leaning my crutches on the arm.
“I had a dream about McSteamy the other night.” She giggled, her finger poised on the play button. “It was so hot it woke me up. The things that man can do with his tongue.”
I never had dreams like that. More’s the pity.
“It was so real, like he was actually in the bed. I had an orgasm.”
Not something I wanted to think about whilst watching TV. “Can you put the show on please? You know your sex talk is off limits when I’m not getting any.”
“Jed and I don’t have sex. We’re married. We have a child.” Alice pressed play and we turned to the screen.
“But you said…”
“I didn’t say anything. Most of the time, Jed’s blissfully unaware I’m even in the bed next to him. Sometimes I think he’d be happier if we had separate rooms. He’s always moaning about how I wake him up when I get up to the baby. He never says he loves me anymore. I can’t remember the last time he told me I was pretty. I may as well be the hired help.” Alice’s face looked longer than Jim the Butcher’s after he’d got stuck in the Cow Face pose at yoga and the instructor had called the fire brigade to get him out.
“Is that why you’ve been dressing up like you’re going to the theatre lately?”
“I thought it might make him notice me if I put in a bit more effort.”
“Well, you got noticed all right. Those workman over at the cake shop couldn’t keep their eyes off you.”
“Pity I can’t say the same for Jed.”
I was beginning to get a little worried at the way this conversation was panning out. Alice and Jed were the perfect couple. They were the couple. “Is there something wrong between you two?”
“Nothing I can put my finger on. The other day, when Jed was having daddy day, I came home and there was nobody here. When I asked him where he’d been he got rather defensive. It’s not the first time. He’s been so crotchety with me lately.”
“It’s probably work stress.”
“Jed doesn’t have stress. He’s the most laid back person in the world.”
“Maybe he’s feeling left out with the baby and everything. Lots of guys feel a bit put out, or so I’ve been told.”
“I did wonder about that, so I thought I’d surprise him at the footy club, give him a lift home so he didn’t have to walk; you know, show him a bit of extra love. He wasn’t there. They didn’t even know where he was. Marcus Price said he hadn’t been at training for weeks.”
I could see where this was heading. But it couldn’t be true. Jed wasn’t that sort of guy. “You don’t think he’s cheating on you?”
“I don’t know what to think. I’ve tried to talk to him about it but he keeps telling me I’m imagining things. I’m not imagining it. I’m not stupid.”
“But it’s preposterous. Who on earth would he even be having an affair with?”
Alice snorted. “It’d be slim pickings. Most of the single girls in town are either young enough to be his daughter or the size of a semi-trailer. No offence.”
I was offended but I forgave her silently. She was venting.
“I bet it’s Beth,” I joked. “They’re probably going at it in the bank vault as we speak. I can see her up against the filing cabinet with her knickers round her ankles.”
The whole town knew Beth had been in love with Jed since the day she’d started working at the bank. It was like watching a rabid dog, seeing her drool over him whenever he walked past her station. But with her cougar-ish ways, hair bigger than Dolly Parton and a bottom to match, Beth managed to scare more men than she attracted. And if her hair didn’t frighten them away, her triple chin gave it a good shot.
I gave my sexiest moan. “‘Oh Jed, give it to me. Give it to me, baby! You’re sooo hot! Ooh, aaaahh’.”
A huge spurt of wine escaped from Alice’s mouth and sprayed across the coffee table. Splotches of burgundy began to spread over her t-shirt.
“Oh Jed, you’re so big. Give it to me again.”
Now Alice was holding her stomach, laughing. “Stop, Livvy. Stop. I’m going to be sick.”
“Why? Because you can’t bear the thought of Jed with Beth or is it the idea of Beth’s big granny pants that’s worrying you?” I teased.
After a minute or two, the laughing subsided.
“Look at my t-shirt,” Alice said. “I’ll have to soak it straight away.”
“What about my dessert?” I held up my bowl, filled with red wine sodden fruit. “I know the wine will get mixed in when it’s in my stomach but you’ve sprayed it in my bowl. I can’t eat that. It’s disgusting.”
I watched as Alice picked up the bowls and took them to the kitchen before disappearing down the hall to change her top. I hated to see her upset. Hopefully, I’d managed to cheer her up a bit, sacrificing my dessert in the process. But what Jed was up to? It was simply too hard to fathom that anything could be wrong in their marriage.
A few minutes later, we were back on the couch — our second attempt at TV viewing imminent. “I guess you’re right,” Alice admitted as she picked up the remote. “Jed would never do anything. He loves me.”
“Definitely. Now, could we get on with Grey’s Anatomy? I need to clear my head. The mental image of Beth with anyone is enough to give me nightmares for a month.”
Chapter 11
The big old sandstone house was exactly how I remembered it from when I was a girl. Cole led the way up the front steps, stopping frequently to allow me to clomp along beside him. My foot had been feeling better over the past couple of days and I was looking forward to getting rid of the crutches. They might be a good way to attract attention and stop me from eating but they were a pain in the bum. Or underarm. Whichever was worse.
As we approached the door to the sitting room I noticed the French doors flung open in the afternoon sun. A slight breeze was billowing the gauzy curtains causing them to rise and fall over the furniture near the window. It was so romantic. Like that movie I’d seen recently, not that I could for the life of me remember what it was called. Cole’s muscular form in front of me was doing a pretty good job with distraction. There was something about it that made me want to
run my hands over his shoulders and back then down to his bum.
But back to what I was meant to be thinking about. I poked my head into what was now the beige, white and duck egg blue drawing room. “Oh Cole, its beautiful, I’ve always loved this house. The way you’ve decorated — it’s breathtaking — you’ve brought it back to life.”
And exactly how I’d imagined I would do it if I ever got the chance.
The walls were painted in light and airy shades and the timber floors had been exposed and polished along with the mantle over the fireplace. A pair of sofas and two wing back chairs was positioned around a rug in front of the fire, their soft yellow checks adding another dimension of colour to the room. It was such a stark contrast to the hideous Victorian burgundy, gold and brocade Mrs Caldwell had favoured when she was alive. Now, it was more French provincial, but country style.
“I’m pretty happy with how it’s turned out.”
“It used to be so dark and gloomy. Everything was formal and overstuffed, that wall had hunting trophies, such ugly stags heads. There was even a tiger.” I pointed to the far wall of the room. I knew I was gushing but what else could I do? It wasn’t like I was could help it, the house was gorgeous. It had been reborn into something greater than it would have been when it was first built nearly two hundred years before. I was a little envious. Blue Wren Cottage was cute and chock full of character but it paled in comparison to this. Not size wise. Obviously, Oak Hill was vast but in the way things had been put together. Either Cole or Adelaide had a knack, a very artistic eye.
“I’d give you the rest of the grand tour, but somehow, I don’t think you’re up to it yet,” Cole replied.
“Raincheck? After I get rid of the crutches?”
“For sure. Adelaide would love to show you around. She knows more about the fabrics and paint than I do. I usually handle décor myself but I’ve been too busy to do this, so I gave her free reign. She knows what I like.” The way he smiled at me made me feel almost as if Adelaide didn’t exist. Odd. Unless I was reading him wrong. It could be that he was merely one of those men who had women friends and he wanted me to be one of them.
We walked along the hallway and stopped at the foot of the stairs where I saw a collection of family photos; Cole, Adelaide, Lulu and another older woman with her alabaster hair swept into a chignon. She looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t put a finger on it so I questioned Cole about her.
“That’s my mother, Ella.”
“And the little girl?” I pointed to a portrait of a skinny girl. She was laughing into the camera with her big eyes twinkling exactly like Cole’s. Cole hadn’t mentioned a daughter.
Cole went silent. Suddenly, he looked as if he were attempting to keep some deep emotion in check, like I’d said the wrong thing by mentioning the child. “That’s Phoebe, my daughter. She died a while back. Leukaemia. It’s been a tough time.”
I faltered. “She’s very pretty.”
“A lot like her mother. But with a smarter mouth. Phoebe was twelve going on thirty. She was an unmerciful bossy boots, too. Always giving me advice on how to run my life.” His mouth tilted at some unknown memory.
“You must miss her.”
“Heaps.”
“Do you have any other children?”
It was probably insensitive of me to ask but I wanted to know more about Cole. He seemed like a nice guy, the type of guy you could have a joke with, be friends with. As long as you didn’t get carried away by his looks, of course. They could set your heart racing at fifty paces.
“No. No other children.” He shuffled, turning towards the staircase. “Right. That was a bit much sharing for two people who’ve only recently met. How about you show me this secret room?”
My gaze travelled up the timber staircase. I might as well have been contemplating a trek up Mt. Everest because that’s how insurmountable it suddenly seemed with crutches. There was no way I was going to be able to get up there. I had enough trouble navigating the two steps into the shop every morning. And if I somehow managed to get up to the landing how would I get back down? On my bottom? Over Cole’s shoulder, fireman style? Absolutely not.
“It’s up there, to the left. You have to press a certain part of the wall to release the catch that opens the door.”
“Can you see it from here?”
“No.”
“Guess there’s nothing for it then.” Cole took the crutches and leant them against the wall before scooping me into his arms.
“Put me down,” I squealed, taken by surprise.
“Got a better idea? ”
“I guess not,” I said, making a feeble attempt to wriggle from his grasp because despite myself I was rather enjoying the feeling of being in his arms again. Besides, he was already half way up the staircase before I knew what had hit me. I couldn’t expect that he’d put me down there.
“What if Adelaide comes down the stairs?”
“What if?”
“Won’t she mind?”
“I don’t think she’d be that fussed. You’re not the first woman I’ve carried up a flight of stairs.” His eyes glinted with mischief.
I frowned at him. Surely Adelaide didn’t approve. Maybe they had one of those ‘open’ marriages? That could be the case. But even if it was I had no intention of becoming the third person in their party. I’d well and truly learnt my lesson after Graeme’s wife had chased me down the corridor outside his office. “Please let me down.”
Cole stopped. He released an elongated sigh. “Look, you can’t jump up the stairs. The last time you tried I ended up carrying you so we might as well skip the middleman, right?”
“Well, I’m not letting you carry me down. We hardly know each other. I’ll shimmy. It’ll be fine.”
At least that was what I was telling myself I’d do. My body, however, was telling an utterly different story. Wrapped in Cole’s strong embrace, I’d begun to tingle. A warm sensation spread though me as if a big cosy blanket was enveloping me. I wanted to snuggle into his arms and never come out. It was comforting and exciting at the same time. Not to mention scary. Because it could only mean one thing.
I was severely attracted to Cole.
Which was not good at all.
Married men brought trouble. Big trouble.
The good thing, I supposed, was that I usually discovered the massive flaws of the men I liked after I’d been seeing them a while. I already knew Cole was married. And even if his body seemed to be sending me signals that screamed interest, I had no intention of taking that bait. Ever.
After what seemed like the longest staircase trip in history, we reached the top of the stairs. Cole deposited me gently next to the wall on the left of the landing. Grasping the balustrade, I hopped towards the timber-panelled wall, stopping to have a breather. My good leg was throbbing from the strain of having to carry the weight of my entire body.
I paused in front of the Baltic pine clad wall, pondering. It had been twenty years since I’d been here. I hoped my memory was as good as I thought it was.
“There. I think if you press there, right in the middle of that circular detail that looks like a flower, the door will open.”
From his position behind me, Cole reached over pushed against the wall. It didn’t budge.
“Push harder. Alice and I were probably the last people to use that door. It could well be stuck.”
He tried again. Bingo! A crack appeared in the wall.
Fingers to the wood, Cole prised the door open. A tiny room flooded with light opened before us. Years of dust unsettled by the movement and flew about the room like dandelions on the breeze. Cole began to laugh. “You don’t know how many times I’ve stood under the north elevation of the house and wondered why I couldn’t locate this window. This is incredible, Olivia. Thank you.”
I hobbled into the room behind him and leant against the wall. I couldn’t believe it. The room was exactly as Alice and I had left it, as if we’d just stepped out of it yesterday, with a
promise to return. Well, apart from the layering of years of dust. I sneezed, covering my mouth.
There were tiny wooden children’s chairs with teddies seated upon them and, in the corner; the huge old dollhouse Alice and I had loved so much was waiting, its doors swung wide. Mrs Caldwell had told us once it belonged to the little girl who’d first lived in the house over a hundred years earlier. The blue velvet chaise I’d read so many books on — the ones that were lining the walls — was still under the window in its spot in the sun. The velvet had begun to fade in patches but, otherwise, it was as I remembered. And under the other window, a delicate oak writing desk stood waiting for someone to sit at it again. That was the place I’d written my first story about a princess trapped in a secret room. That desk and the view beyond it had me spellbound for hours on end every time I’d gone there. It was the beginning of my dream to be a journalist or a writer or whatever my dream had been. Somehow, I’d lost sight of that. I’d squashed it and wrapped it up, hidden it away with the hurt. I ran my fingers over the back of the chair, memories flooding back. “I wrote my first story at this desk.”
“You’re a writer?”
“I have a journalism degree. But I never really used it. Not for writing.”
“How come?”
“I went into TV journalism. I started as a weather girl. It wasn’t my dream but it was exciting and fun. While it lasted.”
“What was your dream?”
“To sit at this desk and write. I’m not sure what. Maybe a novel. Or a TV series on cheating exes. I know all about those. What about you?”
“I’ve never had an inkling to write about cheating exes.”
“Ha ha.”
“I used to dream of a happy family like the one I grew up in. Sort of lost sight of that.”
There were no words to describe the emotional tugging that began in my heart at that moment. And apparently, Cole was feeling it too. Next to me, I heard a sniff and glancing across, I noticed the wetness welling in Cole’s eye.
“Are you okay?” Instinctively, my hand came to rest on his forearm.
