I haven’t heard much news since we left. Do write back soon and fill me in with everything that’s happened in your exciting world. I miss you heaps!
Lots of love,
Karli x
To: Karli Henderson
From: Molly Cooper
Subject: Re: Back online!!
Attachment: Molly’s Diary (125KB)
Hi Karli
Thanks so much for your e-mail. You have no idea how good it is to hear from you again. I’ve missed you so much.
There’s so much I have to tell you, but first I must say I’m really glad your move to Cairns has worked out so well for you. That’s fab. Although I still hate thinking about going back to the island when you won’t be there. I’ll be so lonely without you.
Thanks also for the info about Patrick, but actually I’ve seen him now, so I know that your description is extremely accurate. Patrick came back to London for his mother’s wedding, you see, and he called in here. Actually, it’s a short story, but I’ve sent you the long version in an attachment to this e-mail.
You’ll be mad when I tell you that you were out of reach at a highly crucial point in my life. (My love-life, that is.)
I’ve used Patrick’s scanner and sent you the relevant bits from my e-mails and diary in the attachment. Once you’ve read everything you’ll understand why I needed you.
These pages are for your eyes only, of course. I know I can trust Jimbo, but still, could you please delete them as soon as you’ve read them?
Oh, and it goes without saying that I need you to write back and tell me what you think. About everything. Thanks in advance.
Loads of love to you both
Molly x
To: Molly Cooper
From: Karli Henderson
Subject: Re: Back online!!
Wow!! I turn my back on you for a few weeks and you turn into a dating diva. Thanks so much for trusting me with your diary pages, Molly. I can’t believe Patrick went back to England and actually turned up on your doorstep and took you to Big Ben and Covent Garden and everything.
That. Is. So. Amazing.
I can just imagine how gorgeous you looked in your beautiful new black dress. Can you send me a photo? And how fabulous to see Romeo and Juliet. I’d give anything for that. Remember when I was going to be the world’s greatest ballerina?
Now, Molly, I know you’re upset that Patrick was pretending to be Peter, and as your best friend I totally respect your right to be upset. But, honey, I’m sorry. I don’t get it. I really don’t understand why you’re so angry. Colour me confused, and I apologise in advance, but I don’t see what’s so wrong with what Patrick did. He gave you your dream date—exactly what you wanted. In my book that’s incredibly sweet. I break into a happy dance every time I think about you on that night.
As far as I can tell, reading between the lines, Patrick was rather smitten by how you looked in your sexy black dress, and by your talented kissing, and that’s why he wanted to whisk you away to Cornwall. But he didn’t want your relationship to become—ahem—intimate, unless you knew who he really was. That’s honourable, isn’t it?
Clearly I’m not seeing this situation in the same light as you, Molly. Admittedly I wasn’t there, and I only have your diary to go on. Sorry if I’m not much help.
Would you like to phone me so we can talk this over properly?
Love
Karli
Molly’s Diary, June 8th
I’m shocked. I can’t believe Karli’s not supporting me at the one point in my life when I need her most. Why doesn’t she understand how I feel?
All my life, whenever I’ve been let down or disappointed, Karli has been there for me. She was so understanding and sympathetic when Gran first got sick and I had to cancel my plans to go to university.
Now she’s on a totally different wavelength. How can she possibly claim that Patrick’s deception was sweet?
Sweet?
In a pig’s eye. Can’t she get how foolish I felt? How I hated to be strung along? How my trust in Patrick was shaken? Surely it’s painfully obvious that I have every right to be furious.
I think Karli’s right about one thing—the need for a phone call. I’ll ring her tomorrow morning, when it’s evening in Australia, and we’ll sort this out. I won’t feel right until I have Karli firmly on my side.
Molly’s Diary, June 9th
Can’t sleep. Am up drinking hot milk and honey and eating buttered raisin toast. Comfort food. In the middle of the night. At least a midnight feast is better than lying in bed, tossing and turning and trying to work out what I’m going to say to Karli when I call her in the morning.
Just the same, conversations with her keep going round and round in my head.
Karli: Why are you so angry with Patrick?
Me: Because he lied and cheated.
Karli: That’s a bit heavy. He was only trying to make your stay in London perfect. Admit it, Molly, you were having fabulous fun with Peter. The time of your life.
Me: Maybe I was, but it was all a sham. It wasn’t real.
Karli: Why did it have to be real?
Me: Because…
Karli: What’s that, Molly? I can’t hear you.
Me: Because I needed it to be real. It was so wonderful. I fell in love with Patrick when he was pretending to be Peter, and then I lost him. I lost both of them, and I’m devastated because maybe…
Oh, my, gosh…
(Cue evasive mumbling)
Karli: Excuse me, Molly?
Me (whisper): Maybe…I’m still in love with him.
Karli: I’m having trouble with this line. Speak up. I can’t hear you. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Help! I think it’s true. About still being in love with Patrick, I mean.
Is that the reason I can’t stop being angry with him?
I fell totally, crazily, deeply in love with Peter, and I wanted him to be just as totally, crazily, deeply in love with me. But he was only pretending.
My turmoil is actually a mixture of anger and deepest despair. I couldn’t bear to know that Patrick was putting on an act. I needed him to love me, really love me, but it was all pretence.
And buried beneath my boiling anger is my deep sense of loss.
I think about all those times I spent with Patrick while he was pretending to be Peter. If Patrick hadn’t been so busy pretending we could have talked about real things. Things that mattered to both of us. Our houses, our friends, his mother, my dad, his novel, my island, his London. Even the Chelmon rostratus fish.
But, as things were, instead of conversing intelligently with a man who already felt like a good friend, I spent far too much time swooning over a fantasy! And now—
I don’t know! I’m confused. But one thing’s certain—the damage has been done. Deeply and permanently.
And I don’t think I’m actually ready to talk about this with Karli. I thought I wanted to wallow in a pity party, but now I suspect that I should just get over myself and move on.
I guess the best way to move on is to send Patrick an e-mail—short and friendly, let bygones-be-bygones—with not a hint of how I’m really feeling. I’d hate him to know I’m still hurting. I only hope I can strike the right note and sound friendly and interested, but not too interested.
CHAPTER TEN
To: Patrick Knight
From: Molly Cooper
Subject: Safely home? Dear Patrick
I trust that you had a good flight back to Australia, and that you’re now safely on Magnetic Island and all is well—including your writing.
I’m pleased to report that everything is fine here, although Cidalia is in a bit of a flap, which is the main reason for this e-mail. Did you know she’s about to become a grandmother at any moment? She’s been knitting all kinds of impossibly cute, tiny clothes (e
ven though we’re diving into summer here).
If the baby’s a boy he will be called Rafael Felipe, and if it’s a girl she will be Yasmin Cidalia.
As you can imagine, the telephone at 34 Alice Grove has become a very important instrument. Every time it rings we rush to its summons, hearts a-clanging.
By the way, I didn’t mention your recent return to London to Cidalia, and she hasn’t said anything to me, so I’m assuming she doesn’t know you were here and that it’s best to leave it that way.
Best wishes
Molly
Molly’s Diary, June 10th
I hope I got the tone of that e-mail right. The last thing I want is to sound like I’m stalking Patrick. I almost reverted to type and carried on about how I love the name Rafael, and how I think Yasmin is beautiful for a baby girl, and how I’m really hoping I get to see the baby. As always, I felt an urge to tell Patrick everything, but I reined myself in, thank heavens.
Now it’s time to climb out of my post-Peter/Patrick depression and get on with my exciting, adventurous and uplifting life in London. (Notice I left out romantic?) I think I’ve finally bitten the reality bullet. Hip, hip hooray.
To: Molly Cooper
From: Patrick Knight
Subject: Re: Safely home?
Hi Molly
Thanks for your e-mail and, yes, I’m safely back on the island and ensconced once more in Pandanus Cottage.
Thanks for your news about the imminent arrival of Cidalia’s grandchild. I’m afraid I’ve rarely had time to chat with her, and I didn’t even know her daughter was expecting—although I do remember a lot of fuss and excitement over her wedding a couple of years ago.
I look forward to hearing news of the safe arrival of little Rafael or Yasmin.
I’m pleased to report that I do have good news about my writing. To my immense relief, it’s finally taken off. I’ve had fresh inspiration, you see, and suddenly I have so many ideas clamouring to be written down that I can hardly type quickly enough. It’s rather annoying that I wasted all those weeks when I first arrived here going down the wrong track, but I suppose it’s never too late to start again.
If my communication seems minimal during the rest of my stay here it will be because I’m busily writing this book. At last.
Cheers
Patrick
To: Karli Henderson
From: Molly Cooper
Subject: Re: Back online!!
Hi Karli
Sorry I emoted all over you as soon as you got back online. It was just so good to know you were there at the other end of an e-mail. Thanks a million for your lovely offer to chat on the phone, but I actually think I have myself sorted.
I’ve taken on board your comments re: the Peter-Patrick blow-up, and I’m prepared to admit that I may have (slightly) overreacted. I can see now that I didn’t handle my disappointment very maturely, but I can’t go back and change anything, so…
Whatever.
I’m over it, and I’m moving on. I’d like to think I’ve learned from the experience.
I’ve written to Patrick—not to apologise—I don’t think that’s called for—but to reopen communication. He’s back on Magnetic Island and we are now exchanging polite and friendly (enough) e-mails. We’re house-swappers again. Nothing more. Drama over.
I may yet take myself down to Cornwall. Yes, I know it could rub salt into my gradually healing wounds, but I really do want to see more of England before I have to leave, and time’s running out.
Thanks for being the best friend a girl could ask for.
Love to you and to Jimbo
Molly
Dear Molly
Greetings from Bodo. I do hope you’re well, and having as good a time as I’ve been having here in Norway. Actually, I’ve joined the crew of an Australian yacht and I’m about to leave port. We’re heading for Madeira, and then across the Atlantic to Barbados, where this boat will be chartered for Caribbean cruises.
I’m planning to hitch a ride home on another boat, travelling through the Panama and across the Pacific. You wouldn’t like to join me, would you? Think of all those gorgeous Pacific Islands we’d visit on the way home. I’m sending my mobile phone number, just in case.
Miss you, Molly.
Brad xxx
Molly’s Diary, June 12th
If I had any common sense I would probably jump at Brad’s offer. What an adventure to sail a yacht home across the Pacific—and with such a nice guy for company.
Problem is (apart from the time it would take), I’ve lived on an island in the Pacific all my life, so that trip doesn’t sound nearly as exotic and exciting to me as it would to a New South Wales sheep farmer. And while Brad’s nice…he…well, there are times when nice isn’t quite enough. And yet it should be, shouldn’t it? Nice is safe. Nice doesn’t break your heart.
I hope I’m not going to be one of those women who always falls for the wrong guys.
To: Patrick Knight
From: Molly Cooper
Subject: It’s a boy!
Dear Patrick
Rafael Felipe Azevedo was born last night at three minutes past midnight. This morning Cidalia insisted that I go with her to the hospital. (She’s so proud. She wanted to show him off, and her daughter Julieta was very well and happy to receive visitors.)
I don’t usually get too excited about babies—but, honestly, Patrick, have you ever seen a Brazilian baby? Truly, Rafael is so cute, with a cap of dark hair, the darkest, shiniest little black eyes, and the sturdiest, kicking limbs. He looks just like his father, and that’s saying something. Now I know why Brazilian men have such a reputation for their good-looks.
By the way, I have made an executive decision and told Cidalia not to worry about cleaning your place this week. I can easily run around with a vacuum cleaner, and I’m sure you’ll agree she deserves the time off.
Best wishes
Molly
To: Patrick Knight
From: Molly Cooper
Subject: RE: It’s a boy!
Dear Patrick
Cidalia has asked me to pass on her deepest thanks. She was absolutely thrilled with the beautiful flowers and the card you sent her. She said it’s the first time a man has ever sent her flowers, and she was a little bit weepy. So thank you from me, too. It was very sweet of you, and I wish you could have seen the joy on her face.
Julieta, the proud new mother, is also thrilled with the baby boy gift hamper you sent. She can’t believe you were so generous, and she asked me to thank you (although she will also write), and to tell you that she feels like a celebrity mum.
So you see, you’re quite the man of the moment here, Patrick. I hope all’s well with you, and that your new book idea is firing.
Best wishes
Molly
To: Patrick Knight:
From: Felicity Langley:
Subject: Home again
Dear Patrick
How are you, darling? I hope you’re enjoying the rest of your time on the island. It won’t be all that long till you’re back home again. The time seems to have gone very quickly, doesn’t it?
As you can imagine, Jonathan and I had the most wonderful time in Italy, and we’re now having fun planning to set up house. We’ve decided to sell both our old places and to start all over again with a home of our own. Honestly, we’re having such a good time you’d think we were giddy young twenty-year-olds.
Speaking of houses, I called in at your place yesterday to see Molly, and I must say I was a little concerned. I thought she looked pale, and as if she’d lost weight. I don’t suppose it’s anything to worry about, just that her Australian tan has faded, and along with it some of her sparkle.
I’d assumed that you’d caught up
with her while you were in London for the wedding, and I said something along those lines to Molly. Obviously I chose the wrong moment, or the wrong words. The poor girl had offered me a cup of tea, and she was reaching into a cupboard when I asked the question. Somehow I startled her, and she dropped two teacups and their saucers.
I know you won’t be upset about the breakages. You tend to use coffee mugs anyhow. But poor Molly was very distressed. In a bid to calm her I suggested we forget tea and raid your drinks cabinet.
But, although Molly was almost her old self after a nice chat over a couple of gin and tonics, I noticed that she still avoided talking about you, Patrick. Apart from admitting that the two of you had met, she was strangely silent. If I didn’t know you better I’d suggest that you might have blotted your copybook somehow.
Molly Cooper's Dream Date Page 12
