‘Well, think of the advantages. He’ll never get laugh lines,’ said Lachlan. Cat-like, he snatched the bottle of red wine out of Heath’s reach and filled Izzy’s glass to the brim again, smiling at her conspiratorially.
She began to giggle then checked herself. It was getting so hot in here. Time to change the subject. ‘Who’s the collector?’ she asked, pointing to a cabinet full of antique china in a corner.
‘That’s Mum’s stuff,’ said Ben. ‘We’re not really sure what to do with it all.’
‘So are the books your mum’s as well?’ asked Izzy. ‘She had great taste. I saw The Razor’s Edge there – my fave – and Black Beauty, and Eden’s Lost …’
‘Ha! No, they’re mine,’ said Ben, smiling. ‘I’m in a book club if you’re interested. Not many of us. We meet online once a month.’
‘Online? I’m in,’ said Izzy.
‘Last time we did Ray Carver’s short stories. My favourite was …’
‘The body in the river one!’ cried Ben and Izzy, almost in unison.
‘Whoa!’ said Ben, as he and Izzy high-fived each other. ‘Those poor bastards find it on the fishing trip.’
‘You mean those absolute bastards that leave her there,’ added Izzy. ‘It’s “So Much Water So Close to Home”.’
‘Paul Kelly’s song,’ exclaimed Nina.
‘Right,’ agreed Ben, then spoke to Izzy again. ‘I download most of my reading now. That’s why the shelves are a bit bare. If you look closely half of them are full of Mum’s craft books. We should have a clear out, seriously, mate,’ he said, turning to Heath.
‘Yep. They’re not doing anyone any good just sitting there,’ Heath agreed.
‘You should bring some of your own stuff over from The Springs,’ Izzy suggested to Nina. ‘I love your big fat chairs, and that deco lamp in the hall …’
‘Yes, Nina. Why don’t you do that?’ Heath’s voice sounded strained.
‘Maybe you could also bring some more paintings over,’ suggested Izzy. Babbling. Was she babbling? She had been trying to fill the gap in the conversation but immediately regretted doing so as she saw her friend’s discomfort.
‘I’ve been meaning to,’ said Nina. She looked cornered.
No-one spoke.
‘Actually, I can understand Nina’s reluctance,’ Lachlan said at last. ‘Everyone deserves some room to themselves. I know I always like space around me, somewhere to call my own.’
‘Like a hotel room,’ Heath muttered.
Nina glared at him and Heath raised his palm. ‘Sorry,’ he mouthed.
‘So, lava cakes anyone?’ asked Lachlan, getting to his feet.
‘No thanks,’ said Heath quickly. ‘Way too sweet.’ He leaned over and reclaimed the wine bottle, filling everyone’s glasses.
‘That’s why you’re in great shape. I wear my sins around my waist,’ smiled Lachlan.
‘I’m in for lava – the full disaster, please,’ said Ben, throwing his hand in the air.
‘Yes thanks, Lachlan,’ said Nina, her voice quiet.
‘There’s no such thing as too sweet,’ said Izzy, as Lachlan headed back to the kitchen. Had she been imagining it or did Lachlan look directly at her every time he told a story tonight? It was as if he were addressing her and her alone. As if they had a secret signal. Like a submarine. No, that’s not at all like a submarine, Izzy scolded herself. You’re not making sense. Too much wine. Time to slow down.
‘Excuse the mess.’
Izzy let out a nervous giggle as she watched a sheepish Lachlan throw newspapers and a jacket that she knew would smell just like him from the front passenger seat into the back.
‘I thought you were a chook, I mean a cook,’ she laughed as an empty hot chips container and a pizza box followed.
‘Uh-oh. Sprung!’ said Lachlan.
‘My lips are sealed,’ said Izzy.
He smiled at her and reached for the ignition. Her heart had leapt when he had offered to drive her home, but that was the sort of man he was. Dependable. And now here they were, inches apart. It started to rain. They waved goodbye to Nina and Heath through the streaky windscreen and then Lachlan put his arm on the seat behind her as he expertly backed the car out.
She sneaked a look at his profile. She was right about the Hugh Grant thing. That combo of nicely-groomed but slightly down at heel. Everyone – well, everyone but Heath – seemed to love him. Even the waitress in that wanky café where they had met.
The evening had started badly, but now … the night held promise. Of course, she had drunk far too much wine, she knew that. Was this actually going to go where she thought it was?
‘Want some music?’
‘Sure.’
They both reached for the controls and their hands brushed gently. A wave of heat moved up her arm and down her spine and settled between her legs. She pulled her hand back.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
She nodded.
It had been ages. A year or so since she’d been with someone. And, ohmygod, in all that time she had not waxed once. It was like the Peruvian jungle down there.
‘What are you thinking about?’ asked Lachlan, smiling over at her.
‘Jungle.’ The word escaped before she could pull it back. ‘I mean, the bush. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’
‘Very.’ He looked right into her eyes as he said it.
And then they were at The Springs. It had been a quiet trip, Lachlan telling the odd joke. Laughing about what had been said at dinner. But there had also been silences. Comfortable ones. The rain was still falling steadily. And now they were here.
‘No umbrella,’ said Lachlan sadly, ‘but I’m one to improvise.’
He ran to Izzy’s car door and bundled them both under his leather jacket and they tore through the mud to the verandah.
Izzy didn’t care that her heel hurt. She was laughing, and only gave a fleeting thought to what the rain might have done to her hair.
They stood together at the front door.
‘You know, your keys would help,’ said Lachlan finally.
‘Oh, yes,’ laughed Izzy. Idiot. She fumbled with her bag, spilling her hairbrush, some coins …
‘Whoa – don’t move,’ said Lachlan, bending down and retrieving the fallen keys. He held them up in front of her. They were close now.
She stumbled again and he grabbed her by the arms, pulling her even closer. He was strong. Their mouths were almost touching.
‘Hey,’ he said softly. ‘Be careful – we wouldn’t want you to –’
‘Oh yes we would,’ she replied, before her lips covered his. He kissed her back. Somehow he opened the door and they half fell into the hall. In seconds they were in Izzy’s room. She slammed the door behind them.
‘Sssh.’ Lachlan put a finger to his lips but he smiled at her.
‘Why?’ She leant against the door. ‘There’s no-one here. Just you.’ She put her arms around his neck. ‘… And me.’ She kissed him again.
She felt him harden against her. ‘Are you sure you want to?’ he began.
‘What do you think?’
He pulled her to him and she felt him reach behind her to undo the zip at the back of her dress. The thin fabric dropped past her shoulders and then his tongue was on her neck, her earlobe. She groaned as she let the dress fall from her body.
‘Beautiful,’ he whispered. He pulled at her bra and she helped him, then, god, he was kissing and holding her breasts. She gasped as his fingers felt inside her underwear, stroking, urgent. She started to move towards the bed but he wouldn’t let her.
‘No, here. Here, where we are,’ he gasped.
Her underwear joined the dress at her ankles. She went to kick her heels off but he held her face. ‘Leave them.’
Then he was on his knees. She lifted her leg as his tongue searched for her, inside her. She wanted him closer, closer still. She felt herself tremble as he held her hips. So close. So close. She arched her back. Her leg was around his neck now. Dee
per. Waves of pressure needing release. He was insistent, stroking, soothing, wanting her to get to that place. She cried out as the spasms of pleasure took hold. As the waves subsided, she held his hair and pulled him back to her mouth. But he was not finished. He picked her up and placed her carefully on the bed and the game began again. He stood watching her as he pulled off his shirt and undid his belt, letting his jeans fall to the floor. He slid across towards her and his tongue started on her neck and slid slowly downwards. He kissed her nipples, her legs drew around him as his fingers lightly traced over her body.
‘Now,’ she called out as he moved onto her, but still he held off till she came to the brink again. And then he was inside her, filling her, driving her. She held him as they rocked together in that final release.
And then it was over. Izzy lay in the dark, spent, uncertain, happy, the rain now thundering on the tin roof. She felt a movement. It was Lachlan, searching for her hand.
Thirsty. Izzy groaned, rolled onto her back and put her hands to her head. It hurt to move but she had to get to the bathroom. Why was it so light?
Snoring. Izzy sat up and immediately regretted doing so as waves of nausea and memory washed over her. Lachlan. Last night. Elation then embarrassment. From what she remembered it had been great. But that was the problem. She had been far too drunk to remember all they said, all they had done. But she did recall that she had started it. She had kissed him first. God, was that good or bad? Her eyes took in her discarded dress – torn and filthy. Worse still, those stretched horrible undies she only wore when she believed no other soul would see them hung like a flag on the bedpost next to her oldest bra. She snatched them off and hurled them under the bed. If only she had planned this better, made it more romantic. Another snore. At least Lachlan looked content. Sleeping like a baby, she thought tenderly. He had been great, she remembered now. Exciting. In control but not rough. He turned on his side. Her hair! Hideous. Out of control. And she was bound to have raccoon eyes. And her breath! He could not wake up until she had been to the bathroom – that would be too unfair. She turned gingerly and put her feet on the floor, pulled Lachlan’s discarded t-shirt on and stood up. Bad decision. She felt a wave of sickness rise. She stumbled into the hall towards the bathroom, knocking over a small table as she went.
Soon she was back – teeth cleaned, hair brushed, face washed, a smidge of foundation over her pale skin, a dab of perfume.
The room was empty.
She sat on the bed. He obviously couldn’t wait to get away. It wasn’t what you thought it was, she told herself. You were drunk, disgusting. No wonder he fled as soon as he could.
‘Coffee?’ It was Lachlan at the door holding two steaming cups. She smiled as he handed her one. ‘But first,’ he said, ‘a kiss.’
‘This is better than the Royal Hotel, isn’t it?’ said Izzy, happily nestled in bed with him, balancing a tray of coffee, toast and jam on her lap. ‘Shame you’ve got to go.’
‘Trying to ditch me already?’ smiled Lachlan.
Izzy felt a warm glow envelop her. ‘Err, no. It’s just that Nina may be over soon. Not sure how she’ll react.’
‘Oh, right,’ said Lachlan, putting his cup down carefully. ‘I don’t have problems with anyone knowing, but I can see why you might want to take things more slowly.’
‘Well, I guess if you don’t …’ began Izzy.
‘You’re right. Nina’s been through a lot and here is her long lost cousin, someone she’s just met, jumping her friend’s bones. We should keep it cool, for now.’
‘I don’t think it would bother her.’
‘No, you were right. It could be awkward for Nina,’ said Lachlan. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. ‘Just saying, it’s early days – maybe we should keep this to ourselves for a while.’
He made perfect sense, Izzy told herself. For all she knew this might be a one-off. ‘Of course. I didn’t mean to tell the world.’
‘It’s all good,’ said Lachlan, kissing her on the forehead. ‘Time for a shower.’
Izzy fought a pang of disappointment.
‘You’ve got a big day’s work ahead of you,’ he added, then leaned close to nuzzle her ear. ‘I had a beautiful time last night,’ he said. Next thing, he was up, snatching his clothes and heading to the bathroom.
Izzy got out of bed and tried to readjust her features while she waited for him to return. Studied nonchalance was what she was aiming for, but it obviously didn’t come off.
‘You okay? You look a bit ill,’ said Lachlan, as he put on his jacket.
‘Me? No, fine. Just still a bit numbed by the afterglow,’ Izzy quipped. By the afterglow? Could she have said anything lamer than that!
He laughed. ‘Not on your own there.’
He kissed her again. And then he was gone.
She sat perfectly still looking after him.
Oh Izzy, she sighed. You stupid, stupid girl. But then, just maybe …
CHAPTER 10
‘Now I know how Michelangelo felt. But without the whole genius thing.’ Izzy was poised on a ladder painting in a slab of blue that would become the sky in Nina’s outback settlers’ mural.
‘Can you keep the brush steady? You’re giving me a blue rinse down here!’ laughed Lachlan, who was busy below her, colouring in the swathe of brown destined to become a paddock.
Nina balanced on a second ladder and felt a rush of gratitude towards the pair, who had turned up at the Wandalla School of Arts after lunch to help her with these ridiculous murals. It had taken her a good couple of days to sketch in the design and start work on the two giant paintings on plywood, one down each side of the hall. She had wanted to appease Hilary, but had balked when she realised the scale of the project. No matter how often she had tried to refuse, Hilary had steamrolled her. She recharged her brush and focused on the chestnut horse on which the noble settler would sit. But the thought of the people turning up tomorrow morning for their workshop at The Springs was making her feel sick. Nothing was ready – no food, the rooms were a mess. But at least these guests would drive themselves from Coonamble, so Izzy didn’t need to escort them from Sydney. Instead – thank god – she had given up her free day for this.
‘Do you want this sky going right to the edge?’ asked Izzy.
‘Yeah, I’ll do a few fluffy clouds later.’
‘And, Nina, don’t stress about tomorrow. I’ve organised a lasagne for their lunch and I made up all the rooms before I left this morning. In case you were wondering,’ said Izzy. ‘I’m fabulous, you know.’
‘So it seems,’ added Lachlan.
‘You, Izzy, are truly amazing. I owe you both big-time for this,’ Nina called. ‘All the beers, all the time, are on me. Like, forever.’
‘Now you’re talking,’ Izzy laughed back.
‘I’ll second that,’ said Lachlan. ‘I’ve never let my inner painter out before.’
Nina glanced over her shoulder to see him playfully swirling brown paint across his ‘paddock’.
‘I think I have almost as much potential as Izzy here,’ he added.
‘Ha. I think this sky’s my limit,’ said Izzy.
‘It’s a beautiful day from here.’ Lachlan beamed up at her. Izzy giggled.
The two mural images Hilary had decided on were beyond cheesy. In the one she was working on, a bearded man on horseback led an immense flock of merino sheep, apparently unaided, across the plains. The other was to be a gracious scene of ladies drinking tea on the verandah of a reimagined Durham House, complete with fountain; all the trappings of civilisation. Nina had been toying with the idea of including a mysterious child’s figure at an upstairs window to add her own touch, but had not been game to bring this up with Hilary. Instead, she had made her mark by modifying Hilary’s original fussy ideas. Nina’s new, bolder versions echoed stylised Soviet posters.
The work was simple, really. But this morning even that seemed too much for her, with the clamour of other places she should be, and other work she sho
uld be doing flooding her mind. Not the least was making headway on her exhibition work. What was she doing here trying to perfect an outsize horse’s nose? Feeling warm, Nina climbed down and peeled off her painting apron and jumper.
Izzy’s audible gasp caused her to stop and look up at her friend.
‘Oh my god.’ Izzy balanced unsteadily atop her ladder, pointing at Nina. ‘That locket!’
‘This? Of course, you wouldn’t have seen it. I always wear it but it broke. Heath had it repaired without telling me.’
‘But …’
‘It’s been in the Larkin family for generations. Heath gave it back to me last night, scoring two, three hundred thousand brownie points.’ Nina laughed but then registered the shock on Izzy’s face.
‘No, hold on.’ Izzy flew down the ladder. ‘There was one like this that my mum … that she used to have.’
‘But there are no others like this.’ Nina handed the locket to Izzy.
‘No. You don’t get it. It’s totally the same,’ insisted Izzy. ‘I don’t even need to look. There’s engravings inside, I bet.’ With a click, the locket sprang open. ‘So alike, but different.’
Lachlan wandered over to Nina. ‘What’s all this?’ he asked.
Nina’s head swam. Another gold locket with similar engravings. There had to be a connection. ‘What’s in yours?’ she asked Izzy.
‘There’s numbers and a spear-type thingy,’ Izzy replied. ‘I haven’t seen it in … forever, but I used to love it when I was little. It belonged to …’ She seemed suddenly hesitant, almost embarrassed. ‘It belonged to Grace Morphett. Remember the old lady I told you about?’
Nina felt a prickle of excitement shoot up her spine. ‘Of course, the one who turned out to be a Blackett.’
‘Yes, her mother was born out here.’
‘How did your mum end up with it?’
‘I, well Tulip … long story,’ said Izzy. ‘Let’s just try to figure out what this means.’
‘Do you think you could find it?’ Nina asked excitedly.
‘I’ll try. It’s got to be somewhere.’
The Shifting Light Page 8
