by Joanne Hill
The confidentiality clause in the agreement meant that neither of them would discuss the marriage once it was over. A marriage terminated in six months’ time was not going to affect him, anyhow, and if word did escape, he couldn’t give a damn what a few gossip rags thought. Over-eager journalists chasing hack stardom could do nothing to damage him or his family. They were married and she was living here, in his apartment.
He glanced at her again, looked really hard. Her mouth was chewing with painful slowness. Her forehead creased in a frown. His gaze slipped to her neck, to the gold pendant settled there, to the hint of creamy skin, of her breasts.
A sudden urge to know what that soft skin felt like, tasted like, hit him so strong, he quickly swallowed his wine. No. Not thinking like that, Christie. You were thinking about Mel’s feelings. How she was the one who was most likely to suffer when all this was over.
A proverb flashed in to his mind, one his grandfather had repeated often until it had been drummed into him. It had been inscribed on the gravestone of William Percy Christie. The devil finds work for idle hands.
He rubbed his chin, and thought hard. “Why don’t you go shopping tomorrow?” he suggested finally.
She eyed him suspiciously. “What?”
“Take my credit card. Buy something.” He waved his hand around. “Stuff. Clothes, shoes. Take a friend. Have lunch. My treat.”
She busied herself with more peas. “Thanks but I’m not sure.” Finally she set her fork down on the plate, and reached for her water. “I’ll think about it.”
She was turning down shopping? His respect for her took a giant leap but then a thought struck him. “Mel, you do have friends. Don’t you?”
A shadow darkened her face. “I have let some things slide,” she admitted. “My life was my job and my mother. My best friend was my flatmate, and of course there was Max.” She looked straight at him, challenge in her eyes, her jaw lifted in defiance. “It’s a little hard to say hi to your old work colleagues, your old life, when you’ve been humiliated in front of them.”
He rose to his feet, grabbed his wallet from his jacket pocket and handed her a credit card. He scribbled the pin number for her. “Go anyway. Use this. Have some fun.”
She stared at the gold card. “I can’t spend your money.”
“Well, not all of it,” he agreed.
“I feel like a kept woman.”
“You are a kept woman, in case you haven’t noticed.”
She stared at the card. “What’s the limit on this?”
“I have no idea. I rarely use it. Just know that anything you spend on it won’t affect the payment at the end. That amount we agreed to stands.” He paused. “This is because you have made my grandfather happy in such a short period of time.” Her expression was of scepticism but also of sympathy. Might as well lay it all out on the line, Christie. “That means something to me. It means everything to me.”
Shit. His voice was starting to choke up and she was looking at him with suspicion. Did she think he was making this all up? He cleared his throat and handed her the pin number. “So thank you, Mel.” He stood taller. “That’s it. Just – thank you.”
Daniel stepped in the front door at seven o’clock the following night, and Mel held her breath as he dropped his keys on the counter, spoke briefly with Patsy while she finished up dinner, and walked through to the lounge. He stopped straight in his tracks and stared. For a moment, he went as still as a statue. Then he reached up and massaged his forehead in round circles. “What the hell is this?”
Mel took the pins out of her mouth as she smoothed out the fabric in front of her. She’d expected this reaction. He was a man who said, “Do this,” even if he included the word “please” with it, but then had a fit when you put your own spin on it.
“It’s a quilt,” she told him.
“For a bed?” He came further in, stood beside her, so close she detected his scent. Did he shower midday? He had to, to smell this good. “Why is it on the table?”
“I need the space.”
“How are we meant to eat?” She followed his gaze back to the kitchen where Patsy was stirring sauce. Patsy had told her, after she had outlined Mr Christie’s ‘routine’, that she did not want to be around when her boss saw the mess. He’d had the routine for the five years she’d been working for him. Mr Christie came in, took his evening shower, and read any paper or magazines before he had his dinner.
Daniel glanced at the sewing machine. “I thought patchwork was done by hand.”
“That’s the Amish. We modern girls have electricity.”
He held up both hands as if he couldn’t take any more. “I’m going to take a shower.”
She waited for him to leave, but he lingered a moment, and handled some red and blue squares. “Isn’t it easier just to buy one of these?”
“Easier. Yes. But not as much fun. I’m making it for my mother, she’ll love it. Anyhow, I’ve finished for the day.” Even though she didn’t want to be. She’d forgotten how much she’d enjoyed this, had loved the choosing of the fabric, dreaming up how she was going to put together the pattern, what style to use, spending hours in stores like the shops she’d discovered today. She began to pack up the material. “And the fact is I have nothing to do, Daniel. I’ll go crazy if I don’t do something and this is something I used to really enjoy.”
He raised his eyebrows in disbelief and she said, “It’s a hobby.”
She almost added in a low voice, “You do know what a hobby is, don’t you?” as he clearly had none. She went on, “I found a fabric shop at Bondi Junction when I went down there today.”
“Sounds like fun,” he muttered on a shudder.
His sarcasm irked her. “It was.” She’d spent an hour in an Italian café flicking through the magazines she’d bought, then another hour in the shop choosing fat squares for the quilt.
And now Mel had time. For the next few months, she had all the time in the world.
Daniel dropped the fabric and straightened. “Right. Well, I’m just going.” He stared at the mass of fabric in the table. “I’m going to have my shower. Mel, perhaps it might be more convenient to turn the spare bedroom into a hobby room.”
She feigned surprise. She’d checked it out an hour ago and had already worked out where she could put a table and the sewing machine.
“That would work wonderfully.” She managed a smile.
He dragged his gaze away from the mess on the table. “I’ll see you in half an hour for dinner.”
He went down the hall, and she heard his door open and close.
She began to pack up the sewing machine, and paused to slide her palms over the shiny brand new exterior. Her old machine was packed in the storage unit but this was a far better make and model. She was in love with it already.
The irony of it didn’t escape her. Here she was, a woman in her twenties, married to one of the hottest bachelors in Australia, and she was planning to spend her days sewing up patchwork quilts.
If she wasn’t living it, she would never, ever have believed it.
CHAPTER SIX
The first few weeks sped by with Daniel spending most of his time at the office or at his grandfather’s house. Mel spent time at Sir Arthur’s as well. Every few days she drove over to visit him, and she quickly developed a rapport with him, with his staff, and even with his terrier, Barnaby. She visited her mother every few days, and seeing Ellie kept her new life in perspective.
It was a blessing, this chance to get her finances together – Mel knew that. There was no hardship involved in life with Daniel, except trying not to talk too much about him to Ellie. She’d explained to her that she had a temporary live-in job which Ellie had accepted, and even to Mel’s ears it sounded perfectly acceptable. In fact, whichever way you looked at it, it was the truth, but even so, she had to be careful. One time she had started to tell Ellie about Barnaby chasing a tennis ball around the grounds and her mother had frowned and asked, “Who on earth
is Barnaby?”
“Daniel’s grandfather’s dog,” Mel said without thinking.
You know your boss’s grandfather’s dog?” Ellie had questioned.
“Ummm.” Mel had buttered the date scone she’d heated in the microwave, and set it next to the teacup. “Daniel – Mr Christie – needed some help so I went with him.”
“I see,” Ellie said without conviction and Mel had changed the subject. There was no point digging a deeper whole. But it was hard when a big part of her had been so used to sharing her life with Ellie. Now the sharing was censored to a degree that was becoming more and more difficult to maintain.
Because she was lying.
Mel recalled this as she unpicked some skewif sewing from the quilt. She hadn’t been concentrating and now she had her work cut out for her.
She heard movement from the doorway and glanced up to see Daniel in the doorway.
“I’m heading up to Queensland tomorrow for a business trip,” he said. “I’ll be back Friday.”
“Queensland? Ouch.” Mel rubbed her finger on her thigh where she’d just pricked it. “I seem to recall something about a trip to Queensland when I was working in your office but I’m sure it was closer to Christmas.”
Daniel leant against the door jamb, surveyed the chaos and looked quickly back at Mel. “Yes, it was for the end of the year, but there’s been a change of plan and Nora has re-scheduled my meetings for the end of the week.”
So he’d be away for a few days. She’d miss his presence in the house. “I hope it’s a very successful trip.” A thought crossed her mind and refused to budge. What if he was planning to meet a girlfriend, a lover?
Daniel sighed suddenly. “Listen, Mel.” He scratched his chin for a long moment. “I can’t believe I’m asking this but –” He folded his arms against his chest. “Would you like to come along?”
She blinked, stared at him. He looked as if he’d rather pull teeth without anaesthetic. His own teeth.
“You’re asking if I want to come with you on this trip to Queensland?”
“Maybe you need to get away from all this.” He waved his hands around. “From all this patchwork.”
Anticipation began to grow in her chest. It was a trial not to shriek out, Heck yeah. “How long will it be for?”
“Two nights. A great hotel. Our own suites,” he clarified hastily. “And the weather forecast is looking very good. That is, if you want to go.”
Her mind spun into overdrive. To get away for a few days with Daniel. She looked away but the image of him was burnt into her eyes. His hands in the pockets of sleek black pants, the dark tie loose around his neck, the top button of the still crisp white shirt undone, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Black hair reaching the collar and a fraction beyond. And his eyes, his dark gray eyes, assessing her, watching her. Maybe going away wasn’t wise. While they were here, they had their own patterns, routines, lives. Their own ways of avoiding each other.
She cleared her throat. “When would we leave?”
He pushed himself away from the door, his hands still in his pockets. “Wednesday. We take the jet up to Brisbane, I take care of some business, and in the afternoon we head to Broadbeach. We’ll be there for two nights. You should be able to find something to amuse yourself.”
“Oh, I’m confident there’ll be plenty to amuse myself with,” she said.
His eyebrows arched and she broached, “Have you ever been to SeaWorld?”
He shrugged. “Sure. A few times when I was a kid. Why?” The words were barely out when his eyes flickered shut briefly. He put his hand to his forehead, began to rub in slow small circles. “Do not tell me you want to go to an amusement park?”
“Is it an amusement park?” She shrugged and put her hand to her chest. “Whatever it is, you should know that I’m a child at heart.” His gaze followed her movement, then he looked away.
“Fortunately, I’m not.” He ran his hands up and down his cheek for a long moment. “Okay,” he ground out. He closed his eyes as a painful expression covered his face. “We’ll go to SeaWorld.”
They flew by private jet to Brisbane where Daniel conducted his business in the city, and Mel window shopped and enjoyed a cruise up the river. By early afternoon they were checking into their plush hotel at Broadbeach. He had booked two suites, and they were across the hall from each other.
Daniel had calls to make and promised to meet her for a drink as soon as he could. When Mel had unpacked, she rode the lift to the hotel’s garden bar where she ordered a beer for Daniel and a chardonnay for herself. She took from her bag the tourist brochures she’d grabbed earlier, and flicked through them as she waited.
She turned the page and straight away, there was a full page advertisement for SeaWorld. Mel sat back in her chair with a heavy sigh, and closed her eyes. Weeks before Ellie had suffered the stroke they’d planned a trip to Queensland. Top of their list was a day at the amusement park. Mel had had friends at school who’d taken holidays out of state and overseas, but Mel and Ellie had only ever had small weekend camping trips to local grounds. And then, just weeks before the day that had seen their lives change, Ellie had come over to Mel’s with the brochures and said, “Let’s plan our holiday.”
It had never happened.
But now it could. Ellie had improved and Mel would have the money. A lump rose in her throat, and she opened her eyes. They could plan a new trip and she’d bring Ellie up here and show her the sights. This way, she thought on a note of optimism, she was getting a head start on what to do.
The waiter set their drinks down, and Mel thanked him. A cool sea breeze swept the heat from her face and she stared out across the ocean. There was the hint of a view of the neighbouring high rise construction which seemed as much a part of the Gold Coast as the coast itself. She breathed in a deep sigh of pleasure and allowed the feeling of freedom to wash over her.
The chair next to her was pulled out, and she opened her eyes as Daniel sat down. He took his bottle, ignored the glass alongside, and tipping his head back, drank thirstily.
With a sigh he set it down, “I needed that. And I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
She shook away his apology. “It’s nice here. I’m loving it.”
Daniel took another gulp of his beer, and was thoughtful for a moment. “I checked up on Grandad. There was a problem with his medication but he appears to be fine now.”
“Did you speak to him?”
Daniel sat back in his chair, stretched out his legs, and looked out over the surf. “Very briefly. He couldn’t talk for too long, he loses his breath.” Daniel looked at her. “He asked after you, Mel. Asked when you were coming around to see him. I told him the day we get back we’ll be there.”
She nodded. “I’d be happy to.”
“He likes you, Mel. He likes you a lot.” He toyed with the bottle for a long moment. A chair scraped the floor at the table next to them, and Mel noticed the couple take a seat. The woman gazed at Daniel, then at Mel. Her gaze flicked back to Daniel then away. She should be used to that. But she wasn’t.
“Mel.” Daniel set the bottle on the table, ran his finger down the condensation on the brown glass. “I’ve made a mistake with this whole marriage thing. A major mistake it turns out.”
Mel frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I have completely and foolishly underestimated how much Grandad does want to see you. I figured we’d show him a wedding photo, act nice around him, and he’d be happy believing I had a future with a wife and a happy family.” He glanced straight at Mel. “But that’s not the case at all. He wants more than that. He wants to see you more.”
“I see.” She did see, too. Her mother’s stroke had cruelly shown her freedom could be taken away in a flash and Arthur was confined in the same way. To his house with his staff, Barnaby, friends like Hugh, and family. Daniel.
“It was never part of the deal.” Daniel ran his hands through his hair, frustration twisting his mouth. �
�I should have realised he’d want to see more of my wife, considering he fully believes she will be the mother to the Christie heirs.”
“I’m happy to spend time over at his place,” Mel said finally. “I could offer to take Barnaby for walks. I know the staff let him run around the grounds, but I’d be happy to walk him.”
“Then you must be bored,” Daniel commented drily, “if you want to spend time with Barnaby.”
Mel stared at him closely. “Why are you so hateful to him?”
“I don’t hate him. I don’t like him either.”
“You grimace each time you pat him.”
Daniel narrowed his gaze. “I doubt that.”
“Almost every time, then. Is it all dogs or just Barnaby?” She tapped her glass with her forefinger. “I can’t imagine there was any anything as cliché as you having a bad experience with a dog when you were younger.”
“I can’t remember anything. And don’t,” he said, holding up his hand pre-emptively, “use your psychology and suggest there is something buried deep in my memory. I never minded dogs as a child but as I got older I just…” He stopped abruptly.
“You just what?”
He drained his bottle of beer and was silent for a moment that seemed to stretch out longer and longer.
Finally he said, “My grandfather loves Barnaby.”
“He loves him as if he were a child.”
“He’s had Barnaby from a pup. He loves him so much that if…” His voice faltered, caught in his throat. “If something happened to Barnaby, it would just be too much.”
Mel nodded. “I know,” she agreed
She noticed a couple of women at a neighbouring table watching him, then they glanced at her and promptly looked away. Oh for goodness sake. Anyone would think she was a complete freak, the way they stared. “How did she get him? She must have the most amazing personality.”
She straightened her shoulders and followed Daniel’s gaze towards the sea. The surf was low, but people splashed in the sea, or walked their dogs along the sand. An older man was walking a terrier, a dog very much like Barnaby.
