by Huston, Judy
Too late she wondered if her words were wise. Maybe Josh frowned on spite between staff members. But he gave a spontaneous guffaw that drew an answering chuckle from her.
“How about a drink after work?” He sat on the edge of his desk, hands in pockets, apparently no longer in a hurry for lunch.
Clearly Gail was going to town with those pins.
“I’d love to, but I have to get home by six to take Shane to work.”
Josh’s mouth tightened. Then he made a visible effort to relax.
“Another one for the rain check pile,” he said lightly.
He stood up.
“By the way, I thought of your paintings when I was in the board room in Sydney. The art work on the wall there is pretty average. Yours would run rings around them.”
His praise touched her. Unexpectedly, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. He looked away and picked up his jacket.
“I’ll be at meetings this afternoon, but at this stage I think I’ll be here tomorrow.” He paused beside her, looking down at her. “Maybe we can start doing something about those rain checks.”
“Why not?” Every nerve end in her body was standing up to be counted. She was smiling inanely and didn’t care.
Tomorrow.
Rain checks.
Translated: he wanted to keep seeing her.
Well, she would do everything she could to help him.
“I keep meaning to mention,” she said quickly, “if you have trouble contacting me, you can usually get me on my mobile number.”
“Which is?”
He had his own phone out in an instant, keying in her number.
Once he had gone, her happiness faded to some extent while she brooded over his frostiness towards Shane. It was much the same at home. Shane had stiffened noticeably when he heard that her work situation now involved Josh. She had hoped they might get to know each other better over the Sunday lunch that hadn’t eventuated.
Nothing, it seemed, was straightforward.
Late in the afternoon when she was transcribing a tape, Josh approached her with Gail close behind him.
“I’ll be in Gail’s office, working on a couple of press releases,” he said.
“We’ll put them on tape for you to transcribe immediately,” Gail added crisply.
The phone rang in Josh’s office. He went to answer it.
“Please make sure you erase and replace tapes as you finish them,” said Gail, looking down her nose at several used tapes scattered around the dictaphone on the desk, then stood tapping her foot until Josh came back.
“Did you take a message for me to call Harold Woodman?” he asked Dimity.
Uh oh. Guiltily, trying not to hear Gail’s “Tsk!” of disapproval, she scrabbled among the wreckage on her desk and excavated the note pad with the details of the call from her voicemail after lunch.
She held it out. Josh made no attempt to take it.
“He just called back – luckily on my direct line this time. Any other urgent messages there?”
“No.” She gave him stare for stare. “I’m sorry. Mistakes happen.”
“I’ve noticed.” He didn’t look very organised himself. His hair gave the impression he had run his fingers through it, his tie was askew and, like her, he had the appearance of someone who needed a good night’s sleep.
Turning away he bumped into Gail who made no attempt to avoid him. He stepped back as if she had bitten him.
“Let’s get on with this meeting,” he said abruptly.
They disappeared into Gail’s office, leaving Dimity to go back to the tape she was transcribing.
As she finished and extracted it, Sandra rang.
“Thank goodness for a friendly voice,” Dimity told her fervently. She launched into a recital of her woes, cutting off in mid flow as Josh emerged from Gail’s office and dropped a tape onto her desk.
“They’re the press releases Gail mentioned. Tomorrow will be fine for them.” He strode into his office.
“Gotta go,” Dimity muttered into the phone. “See you later. Come for dinner.”
Mindful of Gail’s advice she put a tape in the dictaphone and set it to erase while clearing her desk by the usual method of thrusting everything into drawers. It was almost five o’clock, but there was no need to rush. She could get the later bus and still be home by six for Shane. Meanwhile she could earn herself some much-needed brownie points by doing a bit of overtime.
****
Dimity’s appearance in his doorway about ten minutes after five startled Josh.
“I thought you’d left.” He’d felt like a heel after snapping at her about the forgotten phone call. Now he experienced a rush of gladness at the sight of her.
“Not yet.” She looked tired and far from happy. He hoped Gail hadn’t been hounding her again. Even as he wondered, he saw Gail swish past with her coat and bag, clearly finished for the day and throwing a suspicious look their way as she went.
“I was wondering,” Dimity continued, “whether you know if – I wondered, I mean I thought there might be a way– ”
Presumably this was going somewhere. He propped his elbows on the desk and rested his chin on his clasped fingers, admiring the way her short blonde hair curled below her ears.
“Look, Josh, I’m really sorry but I think – well, technology isn’t my strong point, but what I was wondering is, do you know if there’s any way to recover the original material on a tape after it’s been wiped?”
It took a second or two to register.
“Not the tape I just gave you?”
“Well – I thought I was erasing another tape.”
He dropped his head and whacked his palms against it.
“Hell!” He looked up, his hands spread appealingly. “How could you – oh, never mind.” She looked stricken enough without him pointing out that, as a secretary, she was an accident waiting to happen.
“All right,” he said. “Don’t panic. I’ll do it again. No need to mention it to Gail. It won’t be exact but hopefully it will pass muster.”
She wavered in the doorway.
“Is there anything I can do?”
He resisted the obvious reply that she had already done more than enough.
“Just bring the dictaphone in before you go.”
She delivered the dictaphone, eyed him uneasily and retreated.
By the time he had thrown another tape together, Josh felt he’d had more than enough for one day. He stood, stretched and walked to the window. The weather had changed again, with dark clouds building up.
Strolling to the door, he looked at the deserted outer office where Dimity’s work station was now in apple pie order. He grinned, guessing how she achieved that small miracle.
Thank God she was a temp. Otherwise he’d have the horrible decision of whether to sack her, transfer her to another section or leave her where she was, to continue making his life more of a muddle than it should be.
He didn’t have to think too hard to know he’d take the third option and risk the consequences. Seeing her every day was becoming a necessity, even though she had turned his life into such an emotional rollercoaster he was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain a professional distance without calling for a straitjacket.
But when her stint finished . . . he felt a rush of anticipation at the thought. Sydney wasn’t a world away. There hadn’t been time for much planning ahead, but he knew for sure he didn’t want her to disappear from his life.
Even though her chaotic work methods seemed contagious. His own desk had far more clutter on it than he liked. Gail would soon be quoting the workplace safety rules to him as well as to Dimity.
He ran his fingers abstractedly through his hair and grimaced. There was enough work on that desk to keep him going for hours, but he felt a strong need to be out of there. A walk around the foreshore wouldn’t hurt.
He saw Dimity as soon as he left the building, waiting in the bus shelter across the road. A couple of young louts loitered nearb
y, eyeing her with interest.
Josh cursed under his breath. What had happened this time?
As soon as there was a break in the traffic he sprinted across the road. She looked up sharply as he approached, then gave a wan smile of recognition.
“Déjà vu,” he commented. “Why didn’t you say you needed a lift? I’ll run you home.”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Come on, it’s going to be a filthy night,” he added as a flurry of wind and rain hit.
She didn’t need any more persuasion to accompany him to the hotel car park but she seemed a little ill at ease as they started out, sitting stiffly beside him with her handbag on her lap and her hands clasped over it.
“Something wrong with your car again?” he queried when they stopped at a set of lights.
“Shane and Leigh needed it.”
The darkness hid the involuntary clenching of his fingers on the steering wheel, but he knew she couldn’t miss the exasperated click of his tongue.
“Pardon?”
Her voice was cool. Even frosty.
“Nothing. Insect hit the windscreen.”
He was rather pleased with his restraint.
She said little except to remind him when to turn, but he sensed her tension gradually easing. He was content to drive in silence, enjoying the delicate fragrance that seemed so much a part of her.
“Did you get the tape done again?” she asked at last.
“Sure. I left it on your desk. Clearly labelled.” He glanced over at her. “It’s programmed so anyone who even thinks about erasing it will self-destruct.”
Her eyes met his and she laughed.
“You’ll be glad to get rid of me.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” He put his hand out suddenly to cover both of hers, savouring their warmth and softness. “I wouldn’t say that at all.”
At first her hands remained still and tense under his touch. Then they relaxed. One of her thumbs stroked tentatively, caressingly, across his wrist. He caught his breath and tightened his hand once, twice, before returning it reluctantly to the wheel.
After a pause she cleared her throat.
“Would you like to stay for dinner? Sandy will be there. You can catch up with her while I take Shane to work. He’s cooked a stir fry.”
He hesitated. It had been a full-on week and she looked as tired as he felt. He should probably try to arrange something with her for the weekend instead.
But the thought of spending time with her away from the office was too tempting. Stir fry sounded good, too.
“Count me in,” he said, easing to a stop in front of her home.
They found Shane and Leigh lounging in front of the television. Mugs and plates littered the coffee table.
“How did the job interview go?” asked Dimity, eyeing the mess.
“We weren’t up in time. I changed it to tomorrow morning. My car won’t be ready until Friday so I thought you could take me before work.” Shane muttered his reply before looking away from the television. Seeing Josh, he gave him a startled nod.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?” demanded Dimity.
“I don’t have to go.” Shane’s gaze was already back on the screen. “They made a mistake with the roster.”
“You could have let me know sooner,” snapped Dimity. “I came home specially to take you. I’m surprised you’re not in bed, Leigh,” she added. “I gather you were too sick to come and get me.”
Leigh gave an unconvincing snuffle.
“I don’t like driving your car. Your brakes need adjusting. I noticed them the other day.”
Dimity rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“You’re both getting paranoid about the cars.”
“If there’s something wrong with your car, you shouldn’t drive it,” Josh said to her.
Shane made an impatient gesture.
“There’s nothing wrong with it. Leigh used to work at a service station so she thinks she knows all about cars. She reckons you should only have to look at the brakes to make a car stop.”
Which wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility, thought Josh, glancing at Leigh’s sour face.
“I’ll check it tomorrow,” Shane told Dimity. “I did a mechanics course a couple of years ago, remember?”
So why not check the damn car today? Once again, however, Josh managed to keep his thoughts to himself.
To escape Leigh’s glower, he wandered over to a small corner table.
“Is this your father?” he asked, picking up a photograph and glancing around at Dimity.
She came closer to look at it with him. Her arm brushed his sleeve. The light fragrance drifted around him again.
If they had been alone he would have lowered his head to hers, let his lips rest on the soft blonde head, turned her slowly towards him . . .
“That’s him, yes, with Shane, when Shane was eleven. They’re alike, aren’t they?”
Josh nodded. Despite the age difference between the man and boy, they both had the same attractive smile.
Like Dimity’s.
“This is my mum.” To his regret she moved away, but returned almost immediately with a picture of a sweet looking woman.
“You’ve got her mouth,” said Josh, studying it.
“Really?” She looked both pleased and surprised. “Nobody’s ever mentioned that.”
“Aren’t there any photos of you?”
“A few in albums somewhere. I was usually the one taking the picture.”
And cooking the meals, cleaning the house, and generally working yourself into the ground, thought Josh with a jaundiced look at the photo of Dimity’s father.
He glanced at her paintings on the wall and was struck again by the strength and confidence displayed in their colour and style. In a way, they conveyed the same atmosphere as her home: attractive, individual, uncluttered.
Not at all like her desk.
“Those paintings really should be on show. They’re too good to hide,” he said, thinking aloud.
Leigh made a gagging noise.
“Vomit stations, everyone,” she called.
Shane laughed loudly.
Dimity flushed and bent to replace the photo. Josh met Shane’s eyes. Shane endured his glare for a few seconds then, muttering something about feeding Bert, got up and made a quick exit.
He was back in less than thirty seconds.
“Um – Sandy’s arrived,” he said. “She saw Bert heading up the street. She’s gone after him.”
Dimity looked ready to throw something at him.
“He must have got out through that broken paling in the fence. I thought you were going to fix it today!”
“Forgot.”
She leapt past him.
“He’ll be killed! He’s got no road sense at all!”
“Drama queen,” muttered Shane, but he looked shamefaced.
Leigh gave a loud sigh and used the remote to turn up the television volume.
Josh had no desire to be alone with them. Maybe he could help with the dog hunt.
Almost in a reflex move he picked up the dirty mugs and plates and took them out to the kitchen. The room was deserted, the back door wide open.
He was stacking the dishes in the dishwasher when Leigh came in. She walked across the room to the open door, looked out, then turned back to Josh.
“You don’t like Shane, do you?” Her voice was loud.
The childish question irritated him. He slammed the dishwasher shut and looked at her. His voice was as loud as hers.
“Maybe it’s none of my business, but if I saw my brother treating any of my sisters the way Shane treats Dimity, I’d give him a boot in his lazy backside and tell him to get out and learn something about giving rather than taking.”
Leigh glanced past him and smirked.
Josh swung round. Shane, flushed and indignant, was standing behind him. At the same time, there was
a scuffling at the kitchen door. Dimity and Sandra appeared, hauling Bert between them.
One look at Dimity’s face as she straightened up showed Josh she had heard what he said. If her earlier mood had been frosty, now it was more like sub-zero. Thermal clothing would have been a comfort.
“You’re right about one thing,” she said. “It damn well is none of your business!”
He swallowed.
“Could we have a word?” he asked her.
She folded her arms and eyeballed him.
“Why?”
Josh looked from face to face. Somehow he couldn’t see himself sitting down for a cosy meal with this lot.
“Right. Well, I guess I’ll be going.”
Nobody tried to stop him as he headed back through the house and out the front door.
He’d been right about another thing. It had turned into a filthy night.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Shane’s early morning job interview was at a restaurant in a rundown hotel in Newcastle’s west end, an area of the city Dimity seldom visited.
“This looks a bit seedy,” she commented, pulling up. Most of the shops seemed abandoned and covered with graffiti. The only sign of life was outside the hotel, where a yawning waiter was setting up tables on a footpath that looked far from clean. With the sky still overcast, it was hard to imagine anyone wanting to sit there, let alone eat in such a setting.
Shane, unusually subdued during the drive, also seemed unimpressed. “Keep the doors locked,” he advised, getting out.
Dimity checked the locks then closed her eyes, grateful for some thinking time. After the fury that had enveloped her when she overheard Josh’s words last night, she wondered why she now felt so calm.
Maybe her emotions had reached such a boiling point they had exploded and disintegrated overnight. Or perhaps this was the eye of the storm and she was resting before coming out fighting again.
It was confusing. She was mad at Josh, but somehow the anger was on the surface while everything else she felt for him remained the same underneath, immensely comforting and exciting at the same time.
And rather scary.
“He shouldn’t have said it!” she’d told Sandra after Shane and Leigh had left them to their after-dinner coffee.
“It was instinct.” She recalled Sandra’s grin. “Primitive instinct. Ape man beating chest stuff. The male version of the way you leap to defend Shane.”
