by Lindy Dale
Surreptitiously, he slipped a travel bottle of hand sanitiser from his pocket and squirted a blob between his palms. He looked at me. “I was beginning to think I’d been stood up.”
I glanced at my watch. “It’s five past six. I’m not exactly late.”
“Is it? Feels like I’ve been here for hours.”
“When did you arrive?” Poor guy. He seemed overwhelmed by the whole situation.
“About two minutes before six. I like to be punctual.” He withdrew a particularly white handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to wipe down the space along the edge of the table.
Right.
“Oh well, I’m here now. And it’s lovely to meet you. Have you ordered a drink? Would you like me to get you one?”
Gerry coughed into the hanky. “I don’t drink. Issues with alcohol.”
And Mum had suggested we meet in a bar? Talk about awkward. Though she most likely didn’t know.
“Would you rather go somewhere else? The bistro across the road has great coffee. We could have a chat there. It’s dreadfully noisy in here tonight.”
“It’s fine, Olivia. Part of my disease is learning to cope with other people’s use of alcohol. I can’t expect people to change their behaviour to accommodate me. I’m the one with the problem. Besides, I’m quite comfortable being here. With you. We could go to the bistro later.” He gave me a second enormous grin that was rather disconcerting and also slightly creepy.
I shifted in my seat. I was beginning to think my first impression of Gerry had been correct.
“You’re mother tells me you’re a failed weather girl? That you gave up your journalism degree to run a dog grooming shop?” Gerry said.
“I own the shop. But yes, I was a weather girl and a journalist. It wasn’t for me.” Neither was being called a whoring home wrecker on morning television and I knew all about that. I turned my attention back to Gerry. I knew he was only making conversation, but I didn’t like his tone. And I didn’t like talking about my past with people I didn’t know.
“No ambitions to return? I hate to see an education go to waste.”
“It’s nicer being away from the pressures of city life. And journalism jobs in the country don’t exactly fall from trees. But what about you, Gerry? You’re an accountant? That must be an interesting job.”
Personally, I’d rather have watched ice melt than sit behind a desk adding up numbers for a living. It sounded hideously boring. But each to their own. And accountants got paid quite well and were good with budgeting and taxes. If worst came to worst, I might at least acquire a new person to look over my books once a year. Gerry looked like he’d be adept in that area.
“It is. The thrill of balancing large sets of numbers is quite exhilarating. I know other people hate it but tax time is one of my favourite times of year. The crunching of numbers revs me up.”
Okay, so that was a little left of centre. The average person would describe Christmas or a certain season or birthday as their favourite.
“I went to UWA, graduated with honours and worked for a big firm for a few years building up a good client base,” Gerry continued, “Then I began my own practise in Perth. Two other partners are running it at the moment. We deal with big corporate companies. Mergers, acquisitions, financial advice and, of course, taxes.”
I wondered if it would be rude to yawn. What on earth had possessed my mother to ever think Gerry and I would be compatible? We were as likely to become a couple as a footballer would be to take up ballet.
“And how do you come to be here in Merrifield?” I asked.
“Lifestyle change.”
Thank God he hadn’t said ‘tree change.’ I abhorred those people who moved from the city thinking they were going to keep their city ways in the country. They wanted double decaf long macs at all hours of the day and were forever moaning about the lack of shops and bars and the constant smell of sheep poo and horses. Which was sort of the point when one moved to the country.
“I guess you’d say it’s a tree change.” Gerry gave a cross between a snort and a chuckle. “I have a lot of trees on my property.”
I smiled politely. “And where’s that?”
“Out Donnelly way. The old Truman place. Do you know it?”
“I do. It’s very picturesque. Lovely rambling old farmhouse. Do you have any animals yet?”
“I’m allergic to sheep and cows.”
“Oh.” Couldn’t say I’d heard of that before.
“But I’m thinking about getting a horse or two. My therapist thinks it’d be good for me. And being in a new environment with new interests will keep me away from temptation. After the whole rehab disaster and my wife leaving and the bogus fraud and gambling charges, Merrifield seemed like a great idea. Of course, I was hesitant at first about having to leave my social connections but now I’ve met you, I can see I’ve made the correct decision.”
“Horse riding can be a lot of fun. There’s a good club in town. You could join.”
“Are you a member?”
“No. I don’t have room for a horse at my place.”
“I’ve been having lessons. I’m feeling fairly confident about tackling a trail ride. Would you like to come with me? We could rent you a horse.”
I hadn’t ridden a horse since I was twelve and Alice and I were going through our pony club phase. I loved animals but I’d never had the inclination to own a horse. Way too much work and expense. I couldn’t be unkind though. He was only trying to be nice.
“That’d be lovely. I’m not very good though. I haven’t ridden for a long time. I’d probably slow you down or fall off or something.”
“My life coach could come with us to help you out. She’s the one teaching me to ride. She’s also my AA sponsor.”
“She sounds like a talented lady.”
Maybe Gerry should go out with her?
“She is. She’s been encouraging me to set new goals for myself. One of them was going on a date, beginning a new relationship. You’re so pretty Olivia. So vibrant. I feel we could make a go of this.” His cheeks became tinged with pink as he said it.
“Er, ah, thanks Gerry.”
The only thing I wanted to make a go of was getting out the door and fast. I didn’t mean to be unkind, really I didn’t, but Gerry was either a roo short in the top paddock or extremely desperate. Why else would you say that to someone you’d only known five minutes? It was good to have goals, I had some myself but surely his life coach hadn’t rehearsed this with him?
I picked up my wine and took a large gulp. If only I’d had the sense to order a third glass. This whole thing would be so much easier if I were a little tipsy. At least I’d have an excuse for laughing at the things he was saying.
“Shall we swap numbers?” Gerry enquired.
Oh God.
“Sure. Why not.”
We typed each other’s numbers into our phones after which Gerry suggested that perhaps we should retire to the restaurant across the road for dinner. He was feeling rather peckish and had to eat on time so that his insulin levels wouldn’t drop. Low insulin made him very susceptible to the lure of alcohol. And dessert. Apparently he had issues with dessert of any kind as well. It made him fat.
Like duh!
“I’ve taken the liberty of reserving us a table,” he added, looking rather pleased with himself for taking such a responsible life step.
“Ummmmm—”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wasn’t interested in him. It’d been a long time since I’d feigned illness on a date. Maybe I could go to the toilet and call Alice who could then call me back and say there was some type of emergency. I looked around the pub, my eyes frantically searching for someone, anyone, to come and save me. I didn’t want Gerry taking me to dinner, no matter what goals he’d set with his life coach or his therapist, or whoever that weird looking lady two tables down was; the one who was staring at us.
“Olivia! Jesus, I’m so sorry I’m late. I thought you’
d gone home.”
Like a vision from heaven, Cole was standing beside the table, smiling and looking rather gorgeous in a pair of dark denim jeans and a navy t-shirt. His hair was mussed and a white powder, that looked vaguely like flour was dusted along his hairline above his ear.
I felt my body physically sagging with relief. How many times in one life was it possible to be rescued by such a handsome specimen?
“I got held up,” he continued. “Are you ready to come up to the house now? I’m not interrupting, am I?”
Luckily, I’d always been a quick thinker. “The secret room, of course. I’d completely forgotten we agreed to do that after you finished work tonight. Gosh, I’m so embarrassed. I’m already here with Gerry. We were about to go across to the bistro. It’s our first date.”
I gave Gerry a quick rundown of the history of Cole’s house and how I was possibly the only living person in Merrifield apart from Alice who knew the location of the secret room. With great emphasis on ‘living’ to add weight.
Cole looked at me expectantly. A small crinkle formed in the space between his brows and I had to stop myself from smirking at his faked earnestness.
“But this the only night I have free for the next two weeks.”
“Yes, yes. I know. I’m so sorry, Cole. I can’t leave my date. That would soooo be rude.”
Then Gerry jumped from his chair. “What a fabulous idea! I’d love to tag along and see your secret room and your house, if I might. I love old houses. I’ve already begun a study of the history of properties in the area. It’s been a thing of mine for quite some time. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I decided to move to Merrifield in the first place. Did you know it’s the only heritage listed town in the South West? So many interesting historical buildings! I’m hoping to write a history of it at some stage. It would be sure to be a bestseller.”
The look Cole gave Gerry was similar, I’m sure, to the shocked bemusement I’d had on my face earlier but to Cole’s credit he hid it under a grave-looking mask. “Yeah. Much as I’d like to, mate — any friend of Olivia’s is a friend of mine — we can’t do that. My wife, Adelaide, is at home. Very nervy since the accident. Has anthropophobia.”
Gerry frowned.
“Pathological fear of people,” Cole explained, completely straight faced. “Really bad. If I introduce her to anyone new without warning, she totally freaks out. Last time she had to be hospitalised. Olivia’s okay. She’s known Addie for ages. So sorry.”
Gerry’s face collapsed in something like extreme disappointment. “Sure. Of course. I completely understand. I’ve suffered from anxiety my entire life though I never knew until I began treatment for my alcoholism. You go, Olivia. I’ll text you later on and we can set up the horse riding outing.”
I grabbed my bag and drained my drink before Gerry could change his mind. “Okay. Cool. And thanks, Gerry, we’ll catch up soon. I enjoyed our chat.”
About as much as I enjoyed sitting through action movies that featured Sylvester Stallone.
*****
By the time we reached the place where Cole had parked his car, we were both in fits. Cole bent double, his shoulders shaking as he held on to the side of the car trying to rein in his laughter. I grasped my stomach, sucking in breaths of air in an attempt to stop the giggles. I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I knew I’d start over again and my stomach was clenched tight as it was. Plus, I’d laughed so hard snot had spurted from my nose. If only I’d had one of Gerry’s hankies I would have been fine but as it was I’d had to settle for a screwed up tissue I found in the bottom of my handbag.
“What a weirdo,” I spluttered, finally able to form a sentence.
“I could see that, and I wasn’t even sitting with the guy. What were you thinking?”
“It must be the diet. The lack of sugar must have done something to my brain.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth. Damn. I hadn’t wanted Cole to know I was on a diet. I hadn’t wanted anyone to know. Until this minute the ladies at Weight Watchers, Alice and my mother were the only people I’d shared the information with and I’d been reluctant to even tell them. I think it was a failure thing. My confidence had been at such a low ebb over the past few years, I’d often sabotaged myself into failure. It didn’t matter that other people said I was determined and stubborn when I put my mind to a task. Most of the time I felt like a big, fat failure.
“I thought you looked thinner but what do I know, I’m only a bloke. Most of us are oblivious to the minor details. Why do you need to be on a diet, anyway?”
Awww. That was sweet.
“Um, because I weighed enough to have to buy an extra seat if I went on the plane.”
“Really?”
Either Cole was a good actor, or that response was the most genuine thing I’d heard in years.
“Yep.”
“Wow. I wouldn’t have picked it. I thought your curves were pretty nice. I like curves on a woman. Those skinny chicks with bones poking out can be off putting for a guy. Soft and cuddly is a much greater turn on.”
Was he flirting again or simply stating a fact from the man’s point of view? I’d had so many bad experiences with men I didn’t trust myself to make a sensible decision anymore. To think I’d even been considering Gerry to begin with left me with serious doubts about my radar. At least I’d come to my senses when he’d started to talk taxes.
“Well, I’m sure I’ll be as cuddly when I’m less curvy,” I commented.
“I expect so. And the curves you have left will be more accentuated. That’s a good thing, right?” A hint of a smile played on Cole’s lips.
Okay, so he was flirting. Despite the fact that I knew it was wrong, I felt that flutter of excitement in my chest, again. I had to say something. He couldn’t torture me like this; it wasn’t fair.
“Cole.”
Cole made a step towards me. He was openly grinning now, teasing me with his eyes. “Yes, Olivia?”
The flutter spread into a full-blown quiver.
“You can’t keep flirting like this. It’s not right.”
How unconvincing had that sounded? I loved that Cole was playing with me and he totally knew it. It was right there, in his eyes.
“I think I can.”
He stepped closer. His hand reached across to the hood of the car, backing me into the closed door. His breath was warm against my cheek. My heart began to pound. It was wrong on every level and yet, there I was practically begging him to continue. At least, I hadn’t known Graeme was married. I’d been an innocent victim. This time though, I was letting Cole do it when I knew full well he was a married man. Even worse, I didn’t want him to stop.
God, I wanted him to push himself against me and kiss me till I couldn’t breathe.
Crap and shit and crap.
“In fact, I’m positive,” he whispered, lifting a finger to gently caress the skin along my jaw.
Okay, so if he didn’t give two hoots, one of us was going to have to be sensible. I sucked in a breath, torn between the fact that I was thinking about Cole’s lips, so deliciously close to mine, and the fact that they belonged to Adelaide, who was without a doubt one of the nicest girls I’d ever met.
“Cole, please.”
Cole looked into my eyes. His finger looped a hair behind my ear. His body pressed into mine. I could feel his heart pounding too.
“I’m not married Olivia.”
“Pardon?” I stiffened. The blood pumping in my ears may have been the catalyst for some type of instant hearing loss but I could have sworn Cole had said he was single.
He leant into my ear. His finger traced the skin around the lobe. His breath was hot. “Adelaide’s my sister. She’s on leave from her job and offered to give me a hand moving house.”
I felt a rush of shock, a tingle of recognition, a mushy smile making its way to my lips. A fissure of excitement was building in my stomach, though that could have been because Cole was stroking one of my most sensitive spots. What el
se was a girl to do if a guy touched her behind her ear?
Trying to gain some sort of clarity, I shifted, my hand on the latch of the car. “Are you positive? I mean you look pretty married and you certainly talk like you’re married. You’re forever bickering.”
“Positive. I’ve seen Adelaide wearing nappies. I fought with her over who was the best band — Nirvana or Pearl Jam — for the whole of 2003, I think it was. Plus, I know she stood in line to meet Jamie Oliver for five hours only to find out she’d rocked up on the wrong day. Her tickets were for the next day. If we’d been married I’d never have been able to take the piss about a faux pas like that.”
“She’s your sister?”
“Only DNA could disprove it.”
“So Phoebe is—”
“—Adelaide’s niece. My daughter. Her diagnosis was too much for Jenny. She was my wife. She crumbled watching Phoebe waste away before our eyes. She was never that strong. I never wanted her to leave but I couldn’t make our marriage work and give Phoebe the support she needed to fight her cancer. I couldn’t. It was better for us to separate. So Jenny left. And I was alone.”
“Do you still love her?”
“Jenny? No. Shit happened. Lots of it. Words were said that can never be unsaid. The hardest thing was that she didn’t have the strength to cope, so she left me to do it. She ran away.”
“Gosh.”
“She hurt me, Olivia. More than I can put into words.”
I looked up into Cole’s eyes. No wonder the poor guy seemed had so sad behind those twinkling eyes. It was dreadful what had happened to him. Fancy losing your entire family to cancer. I’d been devastated when my father had died so suddenly but to have no one to lean on at a time like that… how had Cole coped?
Then, a sudden thought — utterly unrelated to death — popped into my head. Cole stepped away, watching as I began to smile and then laugh.
“Oh. My. God. Wait till I tell Adelaide what you said about her being anthropophobic. She’s gonna haul your bum downtown for that.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
