by Lyn Denison
Her stepmother and sister were thrilled to have her at home again. Laura West wanted her to move back into the family home, but Asha gently but firmly refused. She’d stay a while and then find another flat. Asha prized her independence. Disappointed, her stepmother agreed she could store her things in the garage until she found the flat she insisted on getting.
She had barely been back a week and had only just started flat-hunting, when a contact from the Genealogical Society rang to ask if she was interested in doing some family history research for a well-known Brisbane woman. The woman had specifically asked for Asha and would Asha care to contact her? Asha agreed, and Mrs. Chaseley rang back almost immediately.
Apparently, she had seen the book Asha had compiled for a friend’s family reunion and was impressed. She wanted Asha to research and write a history of her husband’s family as a birthday gift for his son, her stepson. The Chaseleys were a well-known pioneering family, Vivienne Chaseley told Asha, and the area where they lived, Chaseley’s Hill, was named after her husband’s grandfather.
There were papers and photographs that had just come to light when Mrs. Chaseley was clearing out her attic, and she was very excited about them. They had sparked the idea for a similar book on their own family history.
Asha smiled as she recalled meeting the eighty-six-year-old at a café in the city. Vivienne Chaseley was tall and thin, her only deference to her age being the carved walking stick she carried. She’d dressed with care in an obviously expensive suit, stockings, shoes with a sensible heel, and light gloves covered her hands. She wore a pearl necklace that peeped from behind the silk scarf she’d wrapped around her neck and tucked into the collar of her suit coat, and she smelled faintly of roses.
“Miss West,” she greeted Asha after the young waitress led her to Asha’s table. “How do you do? I’m Vivienne Chaseley.”
“Call me Asha, please,” Asha said when they’d settled and ordered Devonshire teas.
“Then you must call me Vivienne.”
“Oh, I don’t know—”
The elderly woman waved the gloves she’d just removed. “Mrs. Chaseley makes me feel like my mother-in-law, and she was quite old.” Her bright blue eyes twinkled.
“All right.” Asha smiled back. “Vivienne it is.”
Their pots of tea and scones with strawberry jam and whipped cream arrived.
“I saw the book you prepared for Betty Peterson, and I thought it was absolutely wonderful.”
“Thank you.” Asha sipped her tea, pleased by the compliment.
“Betty couldn’t stop talking about it at our Ladies’ Guild meeting, and when I saw it I could understand why.”
“It was an interesting story. Her great-great-grandmother was an extraordinarily resilient woman.”
Vivienne nodded. “They certainly knew how to survive in those days.”
They discussed some of Asha’s other projects, and then Asha asked Vivienne Chaseley what time frame she had in mind.
“You see, it’s my stepson’s sixtieth birthday at the end of the year, and I wanted something special for him.” Vivienne frowned for a moment. “He’s always been a good boy.” She stopped and gave a soft laugh. “I suppose it’s strange to hear me refer to a sixty-year-old as a boy, but when I married his father, Richard was barely four years old.” She shook her head. “Such a sad little boy, losing his mother so young.”
She sipped her tea genteelly. “Dickie and I were so happy when Richard found dear Sara to marry. They desperately wanted a family, but it didn’t happen. In those days, that was back in the Seventies, they didn’t have the knowledge about such things that they have today, so Sara and Richard adopted Timothy. And would you believe, ten years later Sara fell pregnant and Megan was born.”
“That’s great,” Asha said with a smile. “They must have been pleased.”
“Absolutely. They were over the moon. We all were.” Vivienne sobered. “Then four years ago my husband and Sara were driving back from the city. A truck overturned on Kingsford Smith Drive and they were both killed.” Her lips trembled and she fought for control. “Not far from home.”
“I’m so sorry,” Asha said softly, unconsciously taking Vivienne’s hand.
“Yes. Although I still miss Dickie every day, I try to carry one. But Richard, he’s never quite recovered from losing Sara, and I despair he ever will. Oh, he works and sleeps and eats, but the life seems to have gone out of him. I know he makes an effort for Timothy’s and Megan’s sakes, but—” She shook her head. “I keep telling myself it will take time.”
“I suppose it will,” Asha murmured inanely.
Vivienne nodded. “When we found the old box in the attic filled with so much of the Chaseley family history, I was so excited I rang my daughter to tell her. Rosemary, my daughter, lives in Melbourne, and when she was home on a visit a couple of weeks ago, I showed her the book you wrote for Betty Peterson. It was Rosemary who suggested I contact you and ask if you’d be interested in doing something similar for us. Richard’s always been interested in history, and I think seeing his own family’s presented so nicely will cheer him up. So what do you think, my dear?”
“It sounds interesting,” Asha said.
“I know you live down at the coast. Would it be a problem driving up here? Because I wouldn’t care to have the papers and photographs leave the house.”
“I understand that.” Asha felt the same way about her own family heirlooms, and Vivienne Chaseley’s sounded priceless. “I’ve actually moved back to Brisbane. My new job doesn’t start for a few months, so I’ll be staying with my stepmother while I look for a unit here in Brisbane.”
“Now isn’t that amazing?” Vivienne smiled. “It’s as though it’s meant to be, don’t you think?”
Asha laughed. “So it would seem.”
Vivienne held up her thin hand. “Goodness gracious, I’ve had a wonderful idea. You could stay at Tyneholme.”
“Tyneholme?”
“Our home. It was built by the first Richard Chaseley and named by him after Newcastle-upon-Tyne, where he came from in England. The house is quite large, so there’s plenty of room. We rattle around in it these days. You could do your research in my late husband’s study and use the bedroom opposite. It has an en suite and it’s self-contained. There are cooking facilities, although we’d love to have you share meals with the family, so we could get to know each other. What do you think, my dear?”
“Oh, I don’t think I could presume on your hospitality,” Asha put in quickly.
“It’s almost a private suite, and we’d ensure you had as much privacy as you want. Apart from that, the photographs and family papers would be right on hand.”
Asha hesitated.
“I could provide references,” Vivienne began, and Asha felt herself smiling.
“Having me, a perfect stranger, living in your house, don’t you think it should be me providing references?”
“I think I’m a reasonable judge of character, Asha. I can see you have integrity.” She smiled and her blue eyes twinkled. “And, all that aside, you come very highly recommended by the Genealogical Society. I think it would work out perfectly.”
“I’d have to pay you for my accommodation,” Asha said hesitantly.
“I’m sure we could work that out.”
“And I’m not sure how long it would take me to do the work. It could be months.”
“I’m sure it will be, my dear. But I see no problem with that.”
“What? Didn’t you say you wanted to surprise your family? How will you explain my presence?”
Vivienne waved her hand again. “That will be fine. Richard’s away at the moment, and anyway, I’ll tell them you’re working with me on a project connected with the Ladies’ Guild. It’s not exactly a lie, just a stretched truth. And to tell you the truth, the family gets quite bored when I talk about our Guild’s money-raising ventures. They won’t dare ask for fear I’ll tell them in great detail.”
Asha
laughed. “Well, it would certainly save me time commuting.”
“Good. It’s all settled. Now, let’s discuss the price.”
When Asha told her stepmother and sister about these arrangements, Laura and Michelle were disappointed that Asha wasn’t staying with them for as long as they’d hoped she would, but she promised to visit them often.
“Who are these people? Are you sure they’re bona fide?” Laura asked worriedly.
“Of course they are, Mum. Stop worrying. I’ve checked them through the Genealogical Society.” Asha was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. “That’ll be Dad. He said he’d call.” She went to answer it.
“At least we’ve got your stuff in the garage to remind us of you,” Michelle called after her and Asha chuckled.
After talking to her father for a while, Asha returned to the living room and gave her stepmother a quick hug. “As I was saying, Mum, try not to worry. You know how much I enjoy family research. It’ll be a good winding down period for me. I was pretty jaded. With my job and all that,” Asha said carefully. “And I feel I need some breathing space before I start the new job. This is ideal to tide me over until I do.”
Laura nodded. “Asha, I don’t mean to pry, you know I don’t, but are you sure there isn’t anything you’re not telling me? About why you left your job and your flat?”
Asha felt her muscles tense, and she shot a quick look at her sister. “What could I not be telling you?” she asked as lightly as she could.
“You never talk about …” Laura paused slightly. “Boyfriends. Did you have a bad breakup?”
“Mum!” Michelle rolled her eyes. “Give Asha a break!” She turned to her sister. “Boyfriends can be the pits though, can’t they?”
“It’s not that. I just got tired of my job,” Asha shrugged, “and I wanted to come home.”
Laura looked unconvinced. “What about your flat mate? Will she be able to find someone else to share the unit?”
Asha nodded. She had no doubt Tessa wouldn’t let her bed go cold for long. “I believe she already has,” she said vaguely.
Laura sighed and went into the kitchen to make dinner, refusing Asha’s offer to help.
“Was Mum on the right track?” Michelle asked softly. “About the broken heart?”
“I don’t think I want to talk about it, Chelle.”
“Oh.” Her sister gave her a level look. “How come you never talk about the guys who take you out? I mean, I’m always talking about Danny.”
“But that’s because Danny’s so wonderful,” Asha teased, and her sister took her statement on face value.
“I know he is, but I was talking about you, Ash.”
“Maybe I just don’t date,” Asha said, striving for humor.
“Yeah, right! Look at yourself in the mirror. You’re decidedly sexy, and you’re cute. No guy would not notice you. Even Danny said you were hot for an old broad.”
“Young Danny is so romantic. And for the record, I don’t consider twenty-five to be old either,” Asha added dryly.
“Maybe not,” her sister conceded. “But seriously, Ash, guys must be falling all over you.”
Asha gave an exasperated sigh. “This has nothing to do with a guy. All right?”
“If you say so, then okay.” Michelle put her arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “I was just sort of teasing you. Tell me you do sometimes have fun though, Ash. And I don’t mean delving in old books and things.”
“I like old books and things.”
“Sheesh! Give me strength,” Michelle appealed. “I’ve just had a thought! Maybe this old woman you’re working for will have a handsome grandson. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”
Asha laughed. “No sister could do more.”
Michelle looked at her suspiciously, but their mother called them before she could comment.
Asha sighed as she looked out at the river. If she simply told her stepmother and her sister she was a lesbian, it would save the periodic cross-examinations, but …
It was all so difficult. She had no earthly idea how her stepmother felt about homosexuality, and Asha knew she was a coward for not discussing it with her. She was fairly certain Michelle would be okay with it. Her sister would probably see the fact that Asha was “different” as exceptionally cool. Oh, the joy of being so youthfully tolerant. Maybe she was getting old, as Michelle had implied, Asha reflected ironically.
Glancing at her watch, Asha reached for her seat belt. Time to go. Although she was a little nervous, she was also excited about her new project.
She backed carefully out of the car space and rejoined the traffic along Kingsford Smith Drive. At the lights, she turned right and wound her way up the steep hill, Chaseley’s Hill, named after the Chaseley family, to the address Vivienne had given her.
Number 78. The gate in the high privacy fence stood open, and with a sense of nervous anticipation, Asha drove inside, pulling the car to a stop at the entry to the circular driveway so she could sit and stare at the gorgeous old home.
Consisting of three stories, including the attic, the grand old house had been kept in immaculate condition. Stately was the first word that came to Asha’s mind. The main part of the house was built of large blocks of sandstone, with wide timber verandas on both floors in deference to the hot climate. On the upper floor the veranda had timber posts with carved wooden brackets, and the railings were of intricate wrought iron, featuring a floral design. The steep, multi-gabled roof was made of weathered red corrugated iron that curved over the upper verandas.
Asha slowly continued around the circular driveway and stopped before the ornate front door. She got out of the car, walked up the age-worn wooden stairs and crossed the wide veranda. Pushing the buzzer, she heard the tinkling melody of the door chimes, the sound muted by the thick door. As she stood waiting she glanced back over the immaculate lawn and gardens to part of what appeared to be a large, double story garage around the corner of the house.
Then the sound of the door suddenly being opened made Asha turn back to the house. She was expecting to see Vivienne Chaseley, but this certainly wasn’t the elderly lady. She found herself swallowing, her throat suddenly dry, as she gazed up at the attractive woman standing in the doorway.
Chapter Two
The woman was tall, at least a couple of inches taller than Asha’s five feet eight inches, and she appeared even taller as she was standing a step higher than Asha. Asha’s gaze rose slowly from her long, well-shaped legs, moving upward. Although the woman was slender, the plain dark blue dress she wore couldn’t disguise her compact feminine shape. A gold chain belt encircled her narrow waist above the curve of her hips, and the rounded neckline of her dress rested above the swell of her small breasts.
Asha’s eyes moved higher and she paused, her nerve endings suddenly singing, filling her with an acute physical awareness. The woman’s hair was fair, pulled severely back into a tidy chignon, and not a stray strand had broken free. She wore no makeup and her skin was a little pale, as though she was a stranger to sunshine.
Asha took in the woman’s features. It wasn’t a conventionally beautiful face, but there was an arresting quality to her beauty, with a high brow, classical cheekbones, a firm chin and a generous mouth that Asha sensed hadn’t done a lot of smiling.
But it was the woman’s eyes that held Asha’s attention. They were clear and gray, like a stormy, unsettled sky, and they were regarding Asha expressionlessly.
Then the woman raised one fine, imperious eyebrow.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her slightly husky voice neither welcoming nor unwelcoming.
Asha couldn’t believe she’d so openly ogled the woman, and she felt the heat of a flush of embarrassment color her cheeks. Who was this woman? Did the Chaseleys employ a housekeeper? Although the woman certainly didn’t look or act like a maid.
Asha nervously cleared her throat. “I have an appointment with Vivienne, with Mrs. Vivienne Chaseley. At two o’clock.” As
ha glanced disconcertedly at her watch. Only five minutes late. “I’m Asha West.”
The expressive eyebrows came together in a frown.
Then there was a movement behind the woman and the sound of a cane on the polished parquetry floor. “Asha!”
Asha’s attention shifted as Vivienne Chaseley appeared in the foyer. She came forward until she stood beside the tall, thin woman, and, by contrast, the elderly woman’s smile was warmly welcoming. Only then did Asha relax just a little.
“Nice to see you again, my dear,” Vivienne Chaseley said. “I’ve been so looking forward to your arrival. And I see you’ve met Peri.”
“Ah, well, we haven’t exactly—” Asha shot a quick glance at the still unsmiling Peri. Her expression hadn’t warmed all that much. “I’ve just arrived,” Asha finished weakly.
Vivienne laughed. “Then we’d best make the formal introductions. Asha West, meet my sort of adopted granddaughter, Peri Moyland. Peri’s grandmother and I have been best friends all our lives.” She turned to the woman beside her. “And Peri, this is Asha. Asha—such a pretty name—Asha is going to be working on a secret project for me.” She lowered her voice, her eyes sparkling, and put her finger to her lips. “Very hush-hush. So we’ll be telling everyone she’s here on Ladies’ Guild business.”
Peri Moyland’s eyebrows rose again.
“You know, Asha,” Vivienne continued, “Peri may be able to give you some help. She’s been staying with me for a while, having a little holiday before she returns to work.”
The idea of helping Asha didn’t seem to please Vivienne’s adopted granddaughter so Asha made herself smile. “That’s something we have in common, Ms. Moyland. I’m having a break from work myself. I guess you’d say I’m between jobs, so Vivienne’s project came at an opportune time.”
A fleeting expression of pain crossed Peri Moyland’s face, but she recovered quickly and the mask fell back into place. “I see,” she said noncommittally.
“Now, come on in, Asha,” Vivienne said brightly. “I suppose your bags are in your car?”
