The Road Home
Page 7
“I’m not a frau anything,” she said. “I’m like you, Bruno. I’m happy to live on my own. Not that you’re on your own much, I expect.”
He knew she was making a gallant effort to appear okay. He reached out a hand, softly pressed a thumb to her reddened cheek. “I didn’t like that. That woman hitting you. I did like the way you didn’t make a sound or put up your hand to touch the spot.”
“Wasn’t that just awful!” Without conscious thought, Isabelle leaned her cheek into his cool palm. “Hilary has never touched me. I was never smacked. My life was normal enough.” She pulled a face, realized what she was doing and lifted her head away. “Stop being nice to me, Bruno McKendrick.”
“I suppose it’s because you’re very easy to be nice to. Drink up.”
“I must. I have to go shopping. I was on my way when Hilary arrived.”
“Where do you shop?”
“Local shopping centre. I like to get my fruit and vegs from the street markets. Lovely and fresh.”
He lifted his coffee cup. “Here’s looking at you, kid!” He saluted her.
She knew that distinctive voice. It hadn’t been all that long since she had seen a remake of Casablanca. “Humphrey Bogart? That was good.”
“I have others. I’ll take you shopping.”
She opened her green eyes wide. “Now there’s a gentleman for you! Don’t you have things to do?”
“Nothing more important than shopping for fresh fruit and vegetables,” he said.
She held his lustrous dark eyes. “Listen, I’m not a fool.”
“Indeed you’re not!” He didn’t laugh.
“I know perfectly well there was something to what you said to Hilary. Something that worried her. Made her want to run away. It’s odd, you know, because I have often wondered about my parents—about Hilary and Norville’s—relationship. What you said has brought me face-to-face with a jumbled idea. Were you implying Hilary has been having an affair? Maybe a long-time relationship? My poor father was always far from happy. Hilary is the boss. No question about it. I don’t know if she could actually love someone, but she could . . .”
“Want sex?”
She knew she flushed. Twenty-two and she had given sex a wide berth. Casual sex was beyond her. Allowing a man into her body had to have real meaning. So far, she hadn’t met that man. “I can’t see her closing the door on it like she closes the door on . . . poor Norville.”
“Sorry, Bella. I can’t enlighten you.”
“More likely you won’t.” She slipped off the barstool. “Norville would feel so bad if he ever found out. He idolizes her.”
“That’s where power kicks in,” Bruno said. “He would do whatever she said at every stage. He mightn’t like it. He mightn’t want to go along with it, but her will would prevail.”
“Brainwashing. She said no matter what you had led me to believe I was not a Hartmann. It was like I was more not a Hartmann than I was a Martin. She sounded so utterly sure.”
“It could be she’s a consummate liar and she knows her target,” Bruno said. “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”
She looked at him in surprise. “Why? Are you going to take me away from all this?” she mocked.
“It’s my godson Josh’s sixth birthday. He’s mildly autistic. His parents, Cassie and Ian Taylor, are good friends of mine.”
“It’s a party? There will be other children?”
He shook his dark head. “Josh isn’t at his best with people, even other kids, but he is making strides. He gets the very best attention and ongoing therapy.”
“I’m sure he does. But why take me, a stranger? I’d only be intruding and Josh could well mind.”
Bruno shook his head. “Somehow I don’t think he will. Besides, I want you to meet Cass and Ian.”
Isabelle gave him a full-on look he couldn’t ignore. “Cass?” she questioned, her head on the side. “That wouldn’t be Cassandra Taylor the journalist, now would it?”
“The very same.”
“She was there at the Lubrinski function?”
“Right again.”
“And your Cassandra had me under surveillance.”
“Did she? I wasn’t aware of that.” It was the truth. “She did remark early in the evening that you reminded her of someone.”
“Now I understand,” Isabelle groaned.
“No, you don’t. Please, Bella, keep calm. I want you to come with me, because . . .”
“I’m waiting.” She began to drum her fingers on the granite counter.
“Because I want you to come with me,” he said, disconcerted at how true that was. “You’re a truly bright spark. I like that. Besides, the family will love you.”
“Sez you!” She began playing with a loose strand of her beautiful hair. “I don’t know.”
“They own a piano,” he said as an inducement. “Cass plays. Nothing like you. Josh loves music. It keeps him calm.”
Isabelle let him stew. “Then I’ll come for Josh,” she said after due consideration. “Not you. I’d say you get your own way too often.”
He shrugged. “For all the good it does me. Well, chop-chop. Shopping time.”
“I’ll have to get a present for Josh,” she said. “Big box of chocolates for your friends. Who doesn’t love chocolate?”
“Actually, I knew a girl some time back who didn’t. Zinnia was her name.”
“Really? That’s brilliant! Names are getting more and more unusual. I think the zinnia is part of the sunflower tribe. You split up?”
“Bella, I assure you it wasn’t serious.”
She laughed out loud.
Chapter Three
She took one last look at herself. Bruno was picking her up at eleven. She had chosen a cobalt-blue silk top that hung loose from shoestring straps over a short, crossover orange skirt cut like a piece of origami. The combination of colours was arresting, but it worked. The orange was almost the colour of the glints in her hair. Gold sandals on her feet. She had left her hair loose, at the last moment fixing heart-shaped gold earrings to her pierced ears.
She hadn’t slept much. Why would she, with a mind in turmoil? A thousand thoughts moved around and around through her head. She couldn’t clear them.
The confrontation with Hilary had deeply disturbed her. She could have ruined everything. What if her instincts were wrong? What if Hilary were her mother, however different they were as people? She couldn’t claim she resembled the man she had called Father all her life either. Not in looks, characteristics, interests. God forbid what she and Bruno had started turned out to be a betrayal, as Hilary had claimed.
On the other hand, if she really were connected to Helena Hartmann, the two people she had been raised to believe were her parents had lied to her all her life. She had seen and had to produce her birth certificate a number of times over the years. All had appeared to be in order. She wasn’t adopted. According to her birth certificate, she had been born to Hilary and Norville Martin at a private maternity clinic in London. If she were connected to Helena, if Helena was her mother, how could she possibly have handed over her baby to another woman?
How could she?
Helena couldn’t have been penniless. She’d had sufficient money to get her to London and find herself someplace to live. She would have had help. Even the pilot of the freight plane had been under suspicion for helping her to get way. He would have been grilled, but he’d continued to claim innocence, and the police and Ross McKendrick had not been able to prove otherwise. Helena would have had assistance to change her identity. No Helena Hartmann had appeared on the manifests of ships and planes travelling out of Australia for an extended period after her disappearance. Isabelle supposed if one had the money, the chances of changing one’s identity would significantly increase.
* * *
The Taylors lived in the affluent, leafy suburb of Double Bay, with a blue water view, a hop, step and a jump from the marina. Isabelle found whatever expectations her host and hoste
ss had for her, she was greeted with open pleasure. No sign of the little boy, Josh. He did appear as they walked inside the house, running at Bruno but not calling his name. Bruno bent and lifted the blond-haired, blue-eyed child into his arms. “How’s it goin’, Josh! Six years old today.”
For answer, the little boy bent his head into Bruno’s neck. Isabelle was within his range of vision, but he didn’t look directly at her. So much depended on how the little boy felt with a stranger in his midst. Isabelle turned to her hostess. She was carrying a gift bag, from which she produced the big box of Lindt chocolates. “For later.” She smiled. “I have a little present for Josh. I hope he likes it. And me.”
“I’m sure he will.” Cassie looked both pleased and surprised. “You didn’t have to do that, Isabelle.” Their guest was much younger than Bruno’s usual women friends, but she looked perfectly at home with him, as comfortable as Bruno was with her, for that matter.
“Of course I did. I’ll wait a while before I show Josh. Let him get used to me.”
“He’ll probably think you’re the princess out of one of his storybooks,” said Cassie in a gentle, kind voice.
Lunch was set in the lovely, secluded sanctuary of the garden, under the broad, feathery dome of a jacaranda. The beautiful shade tree was due to burst into exquisite mauve-blue bloom by November. That was the month when the city with one of the best climates in the world to grow the Brazilian jacaranda was hazed with purple, much to Sydneysiders’ delight.
As Isabelle helped Cassie bring the various salads, the prepared sauces, the herb butters and the little crunchy bread rolls out of the kitchen, Josh hovered. Once or twice he walked out into the garden with them. Silent. Expression withdrawn. Mostly he stuck close to his father and Bruno, who were tending the barbeque. The sizzle alone was making Isabelle hungry.
“What a lovely setting!” she exclaimed with pleasure. “I love the way you’ve done all this, Cassie.” She looked down at the attractively set picnic table. Cassie had placed little glass vases at intervals, each containing two perfect yellow tulips folded within their green leaves. The colour was echoed in the yellow, pink and turquoise stripes of the tablecloth and napkins.
“Well, thank you.” Cassie’s anxious gaze slipped past Isabelle to her little son. Isabelle had already noticed Cassie was always looking to see how Josh was getting on. “I haven’t told you how much I admired your playing at the Lubrinskis’, Isabelle,” she said as her hazel gaze came back to her guest. She looked ethereal in the glittering, green, subtropical sunlight raying through the branches of the jacaranda. “Bruno tells me you have a Master’s degree from the Royal College of Music in London.”
“I do.” Isabelle inclined her head. “Did he tell you I also play the piano? I bet he did. I can see you’re good friends.”
“Actually, he did,” Cassie admitted, looking over at Bruno as he put some beautiful big prawns she had marinated in lime juice and zest onto the barbeque plate. He and her husband, Ian, a quiet, studious man, headmaster of a leading boys’ school, had always gotten along just fine. She and Ian had been late starters as parents. Just when they had thought they would never have a child, along came Josh as she turned forty. Her beloved boy. Josh loved Bruno, his godfather. Sometimes she thought Josh responded to Bruno more than he did to her and Ian. “He told me he was utterly enchanted. Those were his exact words.”
“That was nice of him. Better not tell Madame Lubrinski.”
Cassie gave an amused grimace. “Marta likes to take full credit for picking Bruno’s female friends.”
“Be certain I’m not trespassing on Madame Lubrinski’s turf. Bruno sees me as the young cousin he never had. As for me, I have no designs whatever on his splendid body.”
Cassie burst out laughing. “Isabelle, honey, he’s got enough women doing that already.”
“It’s all that handsomeness and sexual energy, don’t you think? Better still, he has a great sense of humour and he’s kind. I rate kindness highly. Now this Penelope—I keep forgetting her name.”
“Penelope Pfeiffer. She’s actually quite nice. Nothing like the last one, Gemma. She’s the daughter of Super Sam.”
“I know. My dearest wish is to remain Bruno’s musical friend. Has he discussed my background with you?” she asked openly.
Cassie leaned over to pat Isabelle’s arm. “Bruno wouldn’t do that without your permission. I admit to being aware of your striking resemblance to a young woman who disappeared when I was a girl. Helena Hartmann.”
“Ah, yes, the mysterious Helena,” Isabelle sighed. “Please let’s not talk about it now, Cassie. I want to enjoy myself.”
“And so you shall, my dear,” Cassie said.
It was Isabelle’s turn to laugh. “That’s exactly what Cinderella’s fairy godmother said when dressing her for the ball.”
“I’ve no difficulty visualizing you in Cinderella’s beautiful ball gown,” said Cassie.
* * *
Platters of delicious barbequed seafood were placed on the table: prawns marinated in different sauces, lemon scallops, calamari, succulent lobster. Bruno had even taken the grilled spanner crabs out of their shells so Cassie and Isabelle wouldn’t have that messy job, although there were little bowls of ice water to dip one’s fingers into.
Josh evidently didn’t like seafood because Cassie had placed a sausage with a liberal dollop of tomato sauce inside a slice of bread and handed it to him. She had also prepared a bowl of chips. Isabelle had already been told Josh objected to most foods. It had been impossible to get him to eat vegetables until Bruno suggested she turn vegetables into a puree and use it as a sauce over different pasta shapes, like farfalle, fusilloni and radiatori. Josh wouldn’t eat her gnocchi, but he would eat Bruno’s.
“I tell you, he’s a real catch!” said Isabelle, sounding utterly convinced.
Cassie started laughing again. Young Isabelle was very good company.
Bruno sat beside her, handsome face and tall, athletic body a powerful living sculpture. He was wearing a stylish navy shirt and navy stretch chinos, a mustard-coloured belt slung around his waist. She liked a man to dress well. She fancied she was a bit of a fashion plate herself. “A glass of wine?” He held up a bottle of Riesling for her inspection.
“Lovely. Just one glass, I think, in the heat. Everything looks wonderful. I hope your lady friends know you’re a serious cook.”
“They haven’t seen my skills put to the test, Bella.”
“Really? You haven’t asked anyone over for a quiet, romantic dinner for two? Dinner of course prepared by you.”
His dark eyes beneath his black brows pinned her in place. “I don’t know what you’re imagining, Bella, but I usually wine and dine a woman friend at a good restaurant.”
“Safer that way?”
“Drat your impudence!” he said, mock darkly.
“If you want to put your skills to the test you could ask me over one night. I’d love to come. No strings attached, which is as safe as it gets.”
He laughed. “You like a bit of mischief, don’t you?”
“It works for us,” she answered breezily. “Josh loves you.”
“Calm and understanding,” Bruno replied. “That’s the secret.”
“And a gentle manner. He’s a lovely-looking little boy. He doesn’t seem to mind me?”
“I’d say you remind him of the princess in one of his pop-out storybooks.”
“That’s funny. Cassie said the same thing.”
“I’ll find the storybook later,” Bruno promised. “What are you going to have?” He picked up her plate.
“A bit of everything,” she said happily. “Thank you for asking me today, Bruno.”
“Another one of my brilliant ideas.” Bruno began to select small portions of all the seafood he and Ian had barbequed, arranging it neatly on her plate.
“This looks marvellous!”
“I’m going to ask you a favour later,” Bruno told her.
* * *
They began to eat. The conversation flowed with ease, covering all manner of relaxing topics. Josh didn’t sit down. He wandered around the table, as content as his parents had seen him.
Once he stopped beside Isabelle, watching the flash of the sun off her copper-red hair with his eyes. Cassie passionately hoped Josh wouldn’t object to the attention Isabelle was getting from Bruno and make a big fuss, but somehow, he remained stable and connected to the party. He even sat down at the table beside Bruno while he ate two little cupcakes she had decorated with funny faces especially for him.
Afterwards, Cassie and Ian insisted they go into the living room while she and Ian made short shrift of cleaning up.
“Time to give Josh his presents, now he’s settled.” Bruno bent over Isabelle to murmur in her ear. She was wearing a lovely light perfume with floral top notes. It was perfect for her. Perfect for him, for that matter. An intoxicant. He was susceptible to a woman’s perfume. Anything that cloyed wasn’t his idea of enchanting.
“I hope he likes mine,” Isabelle said, suddenly feeling nervous. Josh had made no effort to communicate with her. Neither had he looked directly at her. He could speak; she had heard him speaking to his mother. He had sounded perfectly normal. His voice had the same soft, gentle quality as his mother’s. No way was Josh an emotionally deprived child as she had been; his parents clearly loved him. Cassie doted on her boy.
“It’s okay,” Bruno reassured her, sensing her fears. “He likes you.”
She threw him a little shimmering glance. “How do you know?”
“He’d have soon let us know if he didn’t,” Bruno told her, walking across to a mahogany and brass cabinet where they had left their birthday presents for the little boy.
Josh, who had been watching while not appearing to do so, moved quickly to catch hold of Bruno’s trousered leg.
“Let’s see what this guy can do,” Bruno said, handing the loosely wrapped robot to the child. Josh stood for a moment, obviously processing Bruno’s words before he fell to his knees, tearing the paper away. He had no difficulty with the sturdy toy. He simply picked it up, got it started. The colourful robot began to walk and flash its lights.