“Oh, before I forget, Richard rang. He wanted you to call him once you were up.”
“So that means he knows I was resting?” Lillian pulled a face. “I’d best go and face the inquisition.” She stood up from the bench and picked up her cup.
“No,” Ally said. “Let me get that.”
“Starting already? Are you sure you don’t mind helping out?”
“Of course not. I’ll love it, really. I told you, you’re doing me a favor.”
Tuesday
Ally had called the real estate office on Saturday afternoon and arranged for an inspection of Circle’s End. It turned out to be less than encouraging. The agent compiled a long list of the repairs he recommended, not so much to beautify the place but because prospective buyers would have trouble getting finance unless the minimum building regulations were met.
“Surely there must be a lot of properties around here that wouldn’t pass council requirements?” Ally asked him.
“Of course. It’s only if you want to sell that it becomes an issue,” he agreed. “Do you know a builder? If not, I can arrange to have some quotes done for you.”
Ally thought for a moment. “Only Matt Serrano. I met him at Lillian’s.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t touch a job like this.”
“No?”
“Matt’s a specialist, he doesn’t need to get his hands dirty on this kind of work. Besides, he doesn’t come cheap, and you’d probably have to wait six months to get him.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Matt’s out of your league. You want someone cheap and cheerful, who knows the building code. Do you want me to organize the quotes?”
Ally agreed, but she felt a little overwhelmed. She didn’t have much in the way of savings, and her grandfather hadn’t left her much either. She could probably scrape together a couple of thousand dollars, but she didn’t think that would go far.
When she arrived back at Birchgrove, Ally saw Matt’s truck parked out front and for some reason she felt nervous. She berated herself. He had obviously come to visit Lillian, and sure enough, she found them sitting together in the kitchen drinking tea. They both looked at her at the same time as she came through the doorway. She knew they must have been talking about her.
“We’ve just been talking about you,” Lillian said.
Ally hoped she wasn’t blushing.
“Oh?”
“Matthew was telling me about all the help you gave him with the windows. You didn’t say a word about it, Ally.”
“I’m sure he’s making more of it than it was.”
“Not at all. She’s very capable,” Matt remarked to Lillian. “I told her I’d subcontract her if she ever wanted to take it up seriously.”
“I’m handy with a paintbrush,” Ally dismissed. “It’s going to take a lot more than a coat of paint to get Circle’s End up to scratch.”
“What did the agent say?” Lillian asked.
“Well apparently my grandfather ignored every building ordinance in existence, and then some,” Ally sighed. “It’s going to need a fair bit of work, just to make it, oh, what did he call it? You know, legal.”
“Compliant?” Matt suggested.
She nodded. “Yes, that’s it.”
“I could go down and take a look if you like,” he offered.
Ally thought about what the agent had told her. “No, that’s okay.”
“Let Matthew help, Ally,” said Lillian. “He’s the only carpenter I ever use.”
“I’m sure Matt has enough to keep him busy, without wasting his considerable skills on an old shack,” Ally insisted. “The agent is organizing some quotes, anyway.”
Matt was looking at her, scrutinising her, Ally felt.
“Whatever you think,” he said eventually. “I’ll be away for a couple of weeks. I can look at it when I get back, if you want another opinion.”
He was going away? Ally found herself wondering where, who with, why?
“Holiday or business?” she blurted, before realizing that she probably sounded nosy.
“Pardon?”
“You said you were going away.”
“Oh,” he smiled. “Holiday, up to Queensland.”
Who with? She was dying to know. But instead she just said, “Lucky you.”
“Will you still be here when I get back?” he asked.
“I’m locked in for January.”
“Yes, I’m putting her to work,” Lillian explained. “Not much of a holiday, I’m afraid.”
“I told you I’d rather keep busy, Lillian.”
“She usually renovates friends’ houses in her holidays, she was telling me,” Matt said. “I don’t think she knows how to slow down.”
“City living,” Lillian remarked. “We’ll see how she goes after a month in the Highlands.”
Lillian and Ally stood on the verandah watching Matt’s truck disappear up the drive.
“I wonder who he’s going to Queensland with?” Ally said, she hoped nonchalantly. “Surely he wouldn’t go so far alone?”
Lillian smiled. “Well, I suppose you should have asked Matthew that, while he was still here.”
She turned and walked back into the house. Ally smiled, and followed her in.
Friday
Meg had not left the office for lunch all week. She had sat resolutely at her desk from twelve till two, until the hunger pains gnawed at her stomach and she’d dash up the road, grabbing something takeaway. As soon as she got back to the office she’d interrogate everyone to find out if there’d been any calls, any messages, anything.
She was getting a lot of strange looks.
When Jamie hadn’t called by Wednesday, Meg went to Simon and offered to work the rest of the week, to make up for the public holidays over Christmas and New Year. Simon told her it was hardly necessary. It wasn’t as though there was a lot of work on. Being the holiday season, there was never much happening in the way of new accounts, and they had met any urgent deadlines before Christmas.
“But I have staff on leave, so it’s better if I’m here.”
“Who’s on leave?” Simon frowned.
“Um, whatsit, in animation, I think,” she said vaguely.
He looked up at her, leaning back in his chair. He went to say something, but then must have thought better of it.
“Sure, Meg, do whatever you think.”
She nodded and left his office without another word. She knew Simon was on the verge of having a talk with her. He’d been strangely quiet on the way home from the launch the other night, but she could see the concern in his eyes. He thought the world of Chris. He’d probably been mulling over what he should say, waiting, watching her, until he found the right time. Meg was going to avoid that for as long as she could.
She looked at her watch. Twelve-thirty. It was Friday. She was a fool. Some guy she hardly knows casually suggests lunch, and she changes her whole schedule around. She was like a teenager waiting by the phone in case “he” rang. Except she wasn’t a teenager. She was closer to forty than thirty, and she was a wife and mother. What was wrong with her? Maybe she should go and throw herself in Simon’s way after all, let him talk some sense into her.
“Is that you behind there, Meg?”
She jumped, startled. She was slumped in front of the computer, staring vacantly at the screen. And that was Jamie’s voice.
“Hi,” Meg said, peeking around the monitor.
“Hiya,” Jamie smiled from the doorway. He was obviously fond of the torn T-shirt, oversized cargo pants look. “Is today a good day for lunch?”
“Well, it’s the last chance this week. I thought you were going to call?” she tried to affect a casual-just-asking-no-inference-intended tone of voice. She didn’t think she succeeded.
He shrugged. “I was in the area. So, are you free?”
Meg thought about saying no, for about one one-hundredth of a second. Jamie stood holding the top of the door frame, leaning forward. It made the muscles in his up
per arms swell, and his shirt rode up, revealing a glimpse of tanned, taut stomach. Scruffy or not, Jamie Carroll was sex on legs. And Meg couldn’t resist him.
“Sure.”
A wall of heat hit them as they stepped out of the airconditioned building into the carpark.
“God, it’s sweltering out here!” she exclaimed. “Are we going somewhere airconditioned?”
Jamie squinted up at the sky. He seemed to be thinking about something. “Is your car here?” he asked suddenly.
“My car? Sure, it’s over there,” Meg nodded, pointing across the carpark.
He grinned. “The Volvo.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Okay, I know where we can go. Do you mind if I drive?”
Meg hesitated.
“It’ll just be easier, I know the way.”
“Um, sure,” she started to fumble in her bag for the keys. She went to hand them to him, but stopped short.
“I have to ask, please don’t be offended.”
“What is it?”
“It’s just the insurance.” She took a breath. “You are over twenty-five?”
He laughed. “Of course I’m over twenty-five!” He walked around to the driver’s side, shaking his head. Meg got in the passenger side. Right, now she knew he was over twenty-five. It would be nice to know by how much.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they took off out of the carpark.
“Surprise.”
Meg frowned. “You’re not taking me skydiving or anything?”
He grinned at her. “I told you I wouldn’t do that, until you want to.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
They crossed the Harbor Bridge, and then continued on, past North Sydney, past St. Leonard’s, past Chatswood. Where was he taking her? When they joined the Newcastle freeway Meg finally had to ask.
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you,” he returned.
“Well, how long will it take?”
“Oh,” he said, realizing. “You have to get back to work?”
“Well, that would be the expectation.”
“Aren’t you a boss or something?” he glanced at her.
“It doesn’t mean I can just take off without telling anyone.”
“Call in. Say you won’t be back for the rest of the afternoon.”
Meg looked at him warily.
“Go on,” he said, casting her a sly smile. “I dare you.”
She stared at the road ahead. Isn’t this what she said she’d been missing? Just being able to take off? But could she trust Jamie, she hardly knew him. If she was being brutally honest, she should really be asking if she could trust herself. Meg sighed loudly, she was a grown woman, for God’s sake.
She took out her phone and pressed the auto dial number for work.
“Hi Donna? It’s Meg. Look, I won’t make it back to the office this afternoon. Okay? I don’t think there was anything urgent. So, I’ll see you Monday. Bye.”
She snapped the phone shut. Jamie looked at her.
“Now, turn it off.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know…”
“Live dangerously,” he winked.
“I have to be back to pick up my little boy.”
“What time?”
“Six—at the latest.”
“Deal.”
She switched off her phone and put it away.
* * *
Jamie turned off the freeway at Brooklyn and drove along a winding road until they reached a small village perched above the river.
“This is quaint,” Meg remarked as Jamie pulled over and turned off the engine.
He smiled at her. “Don’t use the Q word in front of John and Libby.”
“Who are they?”
“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
They got out of the car and walked across the street into a small café-cum-restaurant. There was no one seated at the tables, the place looked deserted.
“Just a minute,” Jamie said, crossing to a staircase. “Libby, John?” he called.
“Is that—?” Meg heard a muffled cry from the floor above, and then footsteps. A woman appeared hurrying down the stairs and almost leaped from the last step, throwing her arms around Jamie.
He returned her embrace. “Hi Libby, it’s good to see you.”
She leaned back looking at him. “When did you get back?”
“Oh, a month or so ago.”
“Shame on you! And it’s taken you this long to come and see us?” She turned, noticing Meg for the first time. “Oh hello. I’m Libby.”
“This is Meg,” Jamie announced as Libby crossed the room, offering her hand to Meg. She was probably in her late forties, with long gray hair held in a loose plait. She wore dangling earrings, and strings of beads around her neck and wrists, a swirling tie-dyed skirt and a purple singlet with no bra. Her face was a bit weatherbeaten, but she had clear blue eyes and a warm smile. There was something about her that suggested calm.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she smiled warmly.
“Where’s John?”
“Out on the boat. He probably won’t be much longer. He’d die if he missed you. You’ll stay and eat, won’t you?”
“That’s why we’re here,” said Jamie.
“What do you feel like?”
“Whatever you’ve got too much of.”
“Okay, garbage guts, but what about your guest?” Libby admonished him. “What can I get you, Meg?”
She shook her head. “I’ll eat anything that I don’t have to cook.”
Libby laughed. “Those are the words of a harassed housewife! Take Meg out onto the deck, Jamie. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Not for me,” said Jamie.
“I was asking Meg.”
“If you’re having one.”
“Great!”
Libby disappeared into the kitchen and Jamie led Meg out onto the deck.
“This is beautiful!” she exclaimed. The deck appeared to jut out over the water, affording a view up the river until it curved out of sight. Angophoras edged the banks, their gray-green leaves reflected in the glassy water. The air was cooler here, the quiet only broken by the gentle lapping of the river against the pier.
“I thought you’d like it.”
“It feels like we’re a thousand miles away.”
“That was the idea.”
They sat on weathered timber chairs. Jamie pulled out a pouch of tobacco and proceeded to roll a cigarette.
“So, how do you know Libby and John?”
“Let’s see, I met them … probably ten years ago, trekking in Nepal. Just after they dropped out.”
“Dropped out?”
He nodded. “They used to be like you.”
“Like me?”
Jamie shrugged. “You know, filo faxes and mobile phones and mortgages.” He ran the cigarette paper along his tongue.
Is that what she was reduced to in his eyes? She watched him light his cigarette and draw back on it deeply. “So they dropped out.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” he repeated slowly, holding her gaze.
Libby returned with a glass of wine and handed it to Meg.
“I was just telling Meg how you left it all behind for a better life.”
“We did indeed.”
“That was a brave step.” Meg remarked.
“Not really, when you look at what we’ve gained,” she said, gazing out over the river. “Ah, here comes John now. I’ll get the food.”
Jamie stood up and leaned over the railing, waving at the small tinnie making its way toward the jetty.
“Hey! Johnno!” he called.
The man looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Is that you Jamie? I’ll be buggered.”
“How are you, old man?”
“Don’t you ‘old man’ me! I bet I can still take you on!”
“Ah, you’re all talk.”
Libby carried out a huge p
latter of antipasto. “Jamie, there’s a basket of bread and plates on the kitchen bench.”
“This looks wonderful,” said Meg.
“I thought you wouldn’t want anything hot in this weather.”
Jamie returned and set the plates down, passing the bread to Meg. John came through the doors from the restaurant.
“Jamie! Where have you been, you young bastard?”
The men shook hands and gave each other a hug, slapping each other on the back. John was a craggy-faced man with a big smile and twinkling eyes.
“Who’s this beautiful woman?” he asked Jamie, looking at Meg.
“This is Meg, John.”
He reached for her hand, enclosing it in his. “Well, you know Libby and I always say, any friend of Jamie’s,” he paused, “is someone who deserves all our sympathy.”
Jamie slapped him on the back again.
Libby handed John a beer, “Sit down, let’s eat.”
“So what have you been up to, old son? How was India?” John asked, settling himself in a chair.
“Crowded.”
John laughed. “So, it hasn’t changed?”
Meg watched Jamie. His face lit up talking to the older man. John was probably old enough to be his father, and she got the distinct impression that was how Jamie considered him.
“So, Meg,” said John eventually, “how do you two know each other?”
“I met her on a shoot, she works for an advertising agency.”
“And the poor thing’s a mute,” John threw at Jamie. “You have to speak for her?”
He grinned. “Sorry. Go ahead, Meg.”
Meg shrugged.
“What he said.”
“So, you work in an advertising agency?”
She nodded.
“How long have you lasted there?”
“It’ll be ten years in September.”
John shook his head in disbelief. “That’s perseverance.”
“Oh enough, John!” Libby nudged him. “You were a stockbroker for twenty years before you gave it up.”
“You were a stockbroker?” Meg remarked. “My husband is a futures trader.”
As soon as the word “husband” passed her lips, Meg felt like she’d said the wrong thing. John and Libby exchanged a brief but meaningful glance. Jamie looked out over the water.
“So your husband’s in futures. He’s not burned out yet?”
Meg doubted that Chris would be the type to ever burn out. “Not so I’ve noticed.”
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