‘But we have some work to do before we can hit the road.’ Mrs Sampson beamed and gestured around the confined space.
‘And we wouldn’t do that before the motel is sold,’ Dad added.
‘No, of course not.’ Mrs Sampson shook her head. ‘We’d never ask you to look after everything all on your own, but—’
‘The things you’ve been doing here inspired us,’ Dad explained. They were already finishing each other’s sentences. ‘Neither of us could justify spending so much money on our own, but then Sal found this old girl in Caravans and Motorhomes. We thought if you could orchestrate the redecoration of the whole motel, together we might be able to manage one measly caravan.’
‘This fold-out table is a little loose.’ Mitch had moved on from the cupboards. ‘I’d be happy to fix it for you.’
‘Thanks, Mitch. That would be great,’ Mrs Sampson said and then looked back to Charlie. ‘What colour scheme do you think we should go for in here?’
‘Uh …’ Charlie recognised the attempt to draw her in, to make her feel part of this new addition to the Meadow Brook Motel family, and perhaps also to make sure she was still okay with Dad and Mrs Sampson getting closer … if that was indeed what was going on. Although the caravan was a surprise, as she looked around, she felt her anxiety easing. It was cosy—or would be once they’d finished fixing it up—and Mrs Sampson was a woman of her dad’s vintage with a lot of love and warmth in her heart.
She wondered, if Mum could look down from above, what would she think of Dad and Mrs Sampson together?
She didn’t have to ponder the question for long. Somehow she knew Mum would approve. The two women had always been good friends, and she was sure Mum would be glad there was someone else—aside from the girls—looking out for Dad. To make sure he bought new socks when his old ones got holes in them, force him to the doctor when need be and to keep him company on the nights that would be long and lonely without his wife.
A lump formed in Charlie’s throat as she fought happy–sad tears. ‘It depends what kind of look you want. You could either embrace the retro theme or you could give it quite a modern feel.’
‘Retro,’ said both Dad and Mrs Sampson at the same time.
Charlie nodded her approval, thankful the tears hadn’t eventuated. ‘That would be my choice also.’
‘And of course, you’ll have to throw a party when it’s finished,’ Mitch suggested, rubbing his hands together in excitement. ‘I’ll be happy to break a bottle of bubbly against this baby.’
Charlie rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. ‘I think that’s for ships, not caravans.’
‘I don’t see why caravans should miss out on all the fun,’ he said, his expression sober. ‘That’s a little prejudiced if you ask me.’
Dad and Mrs Sampson laughed and Charlie tried to resist but eventually couldn’t help herself. No matter how hard she fought her attraction to Mitch, she couldn’t help the way he made her feel—all warm and gooey inside.
‘Well, I’ve gotta go help Macca moving sheep on the farm,’ Mitch announced.
‘Thanks for lending me your ute, son,’ Dad said, clapping Mitch on the shoulder. ‘Why don’t you come have dinner in the motel tonight, on the house?’
‘Thanks, that’d be great.’ Mitch looked to Charlie and grinned. ‘You up for a few episodes of Breaking Bad after?’
She nodded. He mightn’t exactly be proposing a romantic evening, but at least while he was scoffing popcorn and watching telly with her, he wasn’t out getting up to mischief with anybody else.
Chapter Thirty-two
Madeleine lounged back on the couch, reading a medical journal article on influenza in pregnancy while she waited for Hugo to arrive. This would be their second attempt at conception and this time she hadn’t spent the last three hours madly running around the house swiping and wiping every mark and every spot of dust. Nor was she anxiously listening for the intercom to buzz like she had been the first time she’d summoned him for donor duty. This time she knew what to expect. Since the bowling night, they’d discussed what they were doing a lot more and both of them were more relaxed about the process.
Madeleine hoped this relaxed state would heighten their chances of success.
She sighed and tossed aside her iPad on which she’d been reading the journal. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t stressed or nervous, but she still couldn’t focus on anything except what they were about to do. Excitement thrummed through her veins at the thought of having Hugo to herself, even if only for half an hour. At work they talked, but they were never truly alone and if they socialised outside of work, Celia was usually in chirpy attendance, invariably wanting to talk about the baby that didn’t exist yet. Her weird enthusiasm was beginning to get on Madeleine’s nerves and sometimes it took all her self-control not to tell Celia to butt out. For someone who professed not to want kids herself, she wanted to talk about them a lot.
Before she could think any more about this, the intercom announced Hugo’s arrival. Smiling, she all but flounced across her apartment to buzz him up.
‘Evening,’ he said with a cocky grin as he emerged from the elevator thirty seconds later. ‘Sorry I’m late, got caught up in the labour ward.’
‘Maybe that’s a good omen.’ Madeleine leant against her front door as he strode into her apartment. The scent of his cologne wafted past her and she tried to be subtle as she checked out his cute ass. The way his navy-blue trousers hugged his butt made her mouth go dry. Then again, she found him equally sexy in scrubs.
‘Let’s hope so.’ He dumped his wallet and phone on the side table in the hall. ‘Are you ready?’
She nodded, almost able to feel her ovaries jumping up and down in excitement. An illicit thrill scuttled down her spine and she had to squeeze her legs together at the thought of how it would be to try for a baby with Hugo the old-fashioned way. To have him inside her—not just his sperm.
‘Madeleine? Are you okay?’
She blinked and nodded again. ‘Sorry, just …’ Her voice drifted off again because she couldn’t confess her thoughts. ‘The bathroom’s ready for you. I’ll be in my room again like last time.’
‘Okay.’
And although she felt cheated at having such a short time with Hugo, she turned and fled, almost slamming the bedroom door behind her. She sat on the edge of her bed, her hands beneath her, determined this time to simply wait it out. No saucy shenanigans and no self-pleasure. She wasn’t doing herself any favours thinking such naughty things about Hugo.
It seemed like an eternity and her fingers were almost numb when she finally heard the knock. Despite waiting for it, she startled at the sound.
‘Good luck,’ Hugo called through the door.
‘Thanks,’ she replied and then waited another five minutes until she was sure he was gone, before standing and creeping across the room to the door. She picked up the little container as if it were a pot of gold, closed the door and then returned to her bed, where she had all she needed ready to go.
She unscrewed the lid on Hugo’s sample, filled the syringe and then laid it down on the bedside table.
‘Please, let this work,’ Madeleine whispered to no one in particular as she toed off her shoes and then slipped her jeans and panties down her legs. As she lay back, propped up slightly by pillows, and reached for the tiny tube that held Hugo’s sperm, it struck her how clinical this felt. She wanted the conception of her child to be a pleasurable occasion, even if she were the only one involved.
Maybe it was an excuse to do what she’d wanted to do ever since Hugo strode into her apartment looking all edible and manly. Or maybe it was the research she’d read that indicated conception more likely if the woman achieved orgasm during the act. It hadn’t worked last time but it couldn’t do any harm.
And … she couldn’t help herself.
Madeleine put the syringe back on her bedside table and sucked in a breath as she moved her hand slowly down her torso and between her legs.
She closed her eyes, taking herself away to an alternative reality where Hugo’s fingers were stroking her intimately. And boy did he have magic fingers. Her breathing grew jagged as the pleasure built down below, satisfaction swamping her whole body when she came.
She took a few moments, breathing deeply and trying to gain back some kind of control, before she reached over and grabbed the syringe. Spreading her legs again, she positioned and aimed, praying for success. After the deed was done, Madeleine swung herself around and lifted her legs so they were high up, resting on the bedhead. She felt ridiculous but this was also in the literature she’d read about enhancing chances of conception.
Ten minutes passed and the abstract painting on the wall behind her bed could no longer hold her interest. Her stomach rumbled and she had an intense craving for something bad. Doubtful there was anything in her kitchen that would do the job, she climbed out of bed, slipped on her panties and went to find out. Lost in thoughts of Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream, she crossed behind the couch on her way to the kitchen, completely oblivious to the ginger head resting against the back of it.
‘All done?’
It was only when Hugo spoke and she had herself a near heart attack that Madeleine realised he hadn’t left. Heat rushed to her cheeks at the knowledge that she hadn’t bothered to put her jeans back on, and her hands went to the bottom of her t-shirt to try and yank it down.
‘Yes,’ she spluttered.
The expression on Hugo’s face as he turned his head to look at her told her that her efforts to achieve decency were futile. ‘Nice legs,’ he commented, letting his gaze drift down. His head was at the same level as her girly bits.
An illicit thrill swept over her, warming her from head to toe. As if her naughtiness in the bedroom hadn’t made her hot enough. Had she cried out? Oh fuck, what if he’d heard her?
‘What are you still doing here?’ she asked, flustered.
He shrugged. One of his arms was draped lazily along the back of the couch as if he wasn’t finding this awkward at all. ‘It felt wrong leaving you after … You know. Celia’s working late again tonight and I thought maybe we could keep each other company or something.’
Madeleine’s imagination ran away with her at what the ‘or something’ could be but she told herself she wasn’t that kind of woman. Although maybe she could be if Hugo wanted her to be. Still gripping the bottom of her t-shirt like grim death, she shook her head to try and rid it of that thought. Celia was her friend; what kind of person did that make her? ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Thought we could get some takeout and watch a movie.’
Well, that was better than spending a night alone pining after him, right? ‘Okay, just let me …’ Unable to verbalise the fact she was near naked in front of him, she simply gestured to her bare legs.
He nodded. ‘Shall I order Chinese?’
‘Sounds good,’ she called over her shoulder as she fled back into her bedroom.
‘I was thinking,’ Hugo said, when she returned a few minutes later, ‘maybe we should do this again tomorrow or the next day.’
She frowned. ‘What? Takeaway and a movie.’
He chuckled. ‘No. I meant have another shot at insemination. Last month we only did it once, but we’d increase our odds if we got in another try. What do you think?’
Madeleine flopped down on the couch beside him. It made sense indeed but she didn’t know if she could handle the process again so soon after today. Although what they were doing was all above board, the faux-intimacy fatigued her. But damn, she wanted that baby. And the sooner the better if her lustful feelings towards Hugo were anything to go by.
Maybe once she was pregnant, she’d be able to distance herself from him and regain a little more control over her emotions. The whole situation was messing with her head. ‘Yes, good idea. What about Sunday, lunchtime?’
It sounded like they were arranging a date.
‘I’ll have to check with Celia but it should be fine.’ He picked up her remote, turned on the TV and then clicked a couple more buttons. He must have put in a DVD while she’d been getting changed, because the opening credits of Skyfall flashed onto the screen. Making himself at home, Hugo toed off his shoes, stretched his legs and put his feet up on the coffee table.
‘Celia’s still okay with all this then?’ Madeleine asked.
‘Yep. She hates Bond movies.’
That hadn’t been what she meant and she guessed Hugo knew this but she let it slide, thinking instead about him and Celia as a couple. Sometimes she wondered what they had in common besides their medical degrees, love of expensive things and their rich, complicated families. On the other hand, Madeleine and Hugo were friends because they clicked on so many levels, not the least of which were their favourite movies. Celia liked movie adaptations of the classics, whereas Madeleine, like Hugo, had always preferred her entertainment with more action.
Half an hour into the movie, they were interrupted by the buzz of the intercom. ‘That’ll be the Chinese.’ Hugo leapt to his feet.
While he went to collect their dinner, Madeleine paused the DVD, her mind drifting to what it would be like to come home to him every night. To be able to share their workday happy news and horror stories and then fall into bed together. She imagined having pregnancy cravings and Hugo rushing out in the middle of the night to buy her what she wanted. Although she knew these thoughts were wrong—that they were an emotional betrayal of her friend Celia—she couldn’t help herself.
Hugo returned to the room and put two large plastic containers on the coffee table, along with some chopsticks and a couple of club sodas. ‘I hope you’re hungry.’
‘Famished.’ She all but fell upon the feast, grateful to have something to occupy her hands and mind.
Hugo un-paused the DVD and also began to eat. They sat in comfortable silence, chewing and watching the familiar scenes of a movie they’d watched so many times before. At some point Madeleine fell asleep, waking later to the sound of Hugo’s voice and the feel of his hand gently shaking her arm.
‘Mads, time to wake up.’
Taking a moment to come to, she blinked, gazing up into Hugo’s eyes before realising her head was in his lap. She shot into a sitting position. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she gushed, hoping she hadn’t been snoring, or worse, drooling.
‘It’s fine,’ he said, meeting and holding her gaze a few long moments. ‘But I’d better be going. Celia will be home now.’
She nodded, unable to speak for fear she might say something she’d regret. Was it her imagination or was Hugo as reluctant to leave as she was to let him go?
Chapter Thirty-three
Joe was waiting at the school gate when Lucinda walked out for the final time, her arms laden with the last of twelve years of teaching resources and also presents from her students. Over the last few weeks, she’d slowly stripped her classroom bare of all the posters and banners and charts she’d made in the course of her career and had been boxing it all up and bringing a bit home each night.
‘What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?’ she asked, scanning the nearly deserted car park. It was the last day of term and most of the teachers had zoomed away almost as soon as the bell rang. ‘And where’s my car?’
Grinning like a kid who’d just been given a year’s supply of lollypops, Joe stepped up to her, relieved her of the box and then kissed her firmly on the lips. ‘Surprise! I took some time off and I got Mum to drop me off to pick your car up this morning.’
‘Why?’ Once upon a time, she’d enjoyed surprises. But now … things like this just irritated her. It was like she had no control over anything anymore.
‘To celebrate you becoming a lady of leisure,’ he said, heading towards a red sports car that was parked a few feet away. He heaved open the boot and shoved the box inside. She noted two small suitcases in there as well. From the outside, it didn’t look like it could fit a shoebox.
‘You didn’t buy that, did you?’
She couldn’t keep the horror out of her voice.
‘With you quitting your job?’ Joe laughed and shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. It’s on loan from a workmate. I told him I wanted to take my wife away for a dirty weekend down south and he was more than happy to oblige.’
At the cheeky, boyish expression on Joe’s face and the mention of a weekend away, Lucinda felt the annoyance draining from her body. She’d made plans for the first weekend of her holidays—most of them involving flopping on the couch and eating copious amounts of cookies and cream ice-cream—but she appreciated Joe’s effort. It would be good to do something special together. ‘Where down south?’ she asked, smiling.
‘Where else but Bunker Bay?’
That won her over completely. She threw her arms around Joe and kissed him. They’d gone to Bunker Bay on their honeymoon and their first few anniversaries, but somehow the tradition had lapsed these last few years.
‘Steady on, sweet pea. There’ll be plenty of time for that when we get to the resort.’ Then he pulled away and patted her playfully on the bum. ‘I’ve packed clothes for you for a few nights away, but do you want to check in case I’ve forgotten anything?’
Lucinda shook her head and opened the passenger door. ‘I trust you.’ Then she slipped inside the luxurious interior. She’d already clicked her seatbelt into place by the time Joe lowered himself into the seat beside her.
‘Let’s hit the road.’
For the first time in what felt like months, they talked to each other on the three-and-a-half hour drive south. Without the distraction of their iPads—for Joe to play Minecraft or Lucinda to google stuff that only made her feel worse—they made proper conversation, not simply stuff like whose turn it was to put the bin out for collection. She was careful to steer clear of their fertility problems or anything that might bring them back to the baby issue. They didn’t even talk work. Instead, they reminisced about other holidays and made plans for the next couple of days. The Margaret River Chocolate Factory was high on Lucinda’s wish list. Joe added a few of their favourite wineries and a brewery and also suggested canoeing along the coast as they’d done years ago.
The Patterson Girls Page 30
