His Convenient Proposal

by Lindsay Armstrong

  Simon hesitated. ‘Would you also teach me to drive it?’

  ‘No!’ Ellie spoke at last.

  ‘Your mum’s right, you’re too young for that, mate.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ellie said with a trace of bitterness.

  Simon eyed her, then turned his attention back to Brett. ‘How much?’

  Brett named a sum and Simon did some mental calculations that appeared to satisfy him to an extent. He said with a shrug, ‘It’s still going to take a while, but not as long as what Mum had in mind, I guess. Unless you’d like to loan me the money?’ he suggested to Brett. ‘I could pay you back interest.’

  ‘Simon!’ Ellie expostulated.

  But Brett said, ‘No, old man. First principle of sound economic management—don’t get yourself into hock if you can avoid it.’

  Simon considered, then shrugged. ‘OK. At least I might be able to sleep now.’ And he took himself back to bed.

  Ellie waited until she heard his door close, then she said to Brett, ‘How dare you? I’m not sure I want him to have a skateboard in the first place!’

  Brett came over to sit down opposite her again. ‘Ellie,’ he said quietly, ‘he’s a boy. You can’t coddle him.’

  ‘There’s a difference between coddling and wanting to protect him from all sorts of horrific injuries.’

  ‘He rides his bike around the place, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, but the streets are very quiet round here—’ She broke off and sighed suddenly. ‘I know what you’re saying and I don’t want to be become a fearful mother, but it’s not easy.’

  He said nothing, but just stared at her thoughtfully until she began to feel all hot and bothered at the memory of what had taken place before Simon had intervened.

  ‘Ellie?’

  She stirred and smoothed her shorts. ‘I don’t know what got into me. Could we just forget about it, please?’

  He said one word. ‘How?’

  Her gaze flew to his, then skittered away as she detected a momentary glint of compassion in his eyes, which was the last thing she wanted from Brett Spencer, she now knew.

  ‘Has there been anyone serious in your life since Tom?’ he asked then.

  She looked away, but there didn’t seem to be any point in dissembling. ‘No.’

  ‘No one who made you feel the way I—we did—not so long ago?’ he persisted.

  A tinge of colour stole into her cheeks but she said straightly, ‘No. And that’s another reason not to place too much…’ She paused, searching for the right word.

  ‘Credence on it?’ he suggested, but rather dryly.

  ‘Brett—’ she held his gaze deliberately ‘—this is not that easy to admit but it occurred to me a few days ago that I was thirty and essentially dateless and desperate. Well, not desperate, but, yes, starting to realize that…life was passing me by.’

  ‘So you’re saying any reasonable man could have produced that effect in you, Ellie?’

  She bit her lip and wondered why he wasn’t a lawyer instead of a doctor. Then she decided to be a bit lawyerly herself. ‘Perhaps any reasonable woman could have produced that effect in you, Brett? If you’re on the rebound from Africa, a bit unsettled and at a loose end?’

  ‘On the other hand, and I must stress that you brought this up,’ he drawled, ‘it could be said that I’ve knocked back Chantal Jones in favour of you, Ellie.’

  Her lips parted and a little glint of indignation lit her eyes. ‘Let’s get this straight—you knocked back Ms Jones because she’s a topless dancer!’

  ‘On the contrary.’ His lips twisted. ‘That’s a powerful inducement for a man. She’s an awful lot of woman and very—willing.’

  ‘I…I don’t see the connection!’ she protested.

  He stood up and looked down at her with definite irony in his eyes. ‘I was just trying to point out the distinction between us. You appear to feel you’re ripe for the taking and you appear to be accusing me of taking advantage of that. But there has to be more to it than that otherwise…well, that was why I mentioned Ms Jones.’

  Ellie stood up and drew herself to her full height of five feet four. ‘That is the worst case of twisted logic I’ve ever encountered!’

  ‘Not really, if you think about it,’ he murmured. ‘Which I’ll leave you to do now, Ellie. Goodnight.’

  ‘Before you go, Brett, if anyone else tells me to “think” about something—I’ll scream!’

  ‘You really do need some romance in your life, Ellie,’ he observed, and walked out.

  Of course there was no way to stop herself from thinking about it.

  In fact the only thing that was fortuitous about the next few days was the lack of Brett around the house to constantly remind her of what had happened. He became heavily involved in his grant and the setting up of his laboratory.

  She also had to work three days in a row after that extraordinary encounter and get Simon away on a five-day school camp as well. He’d never been away from her that long before and she waved him off with a little pang; she’d also stayed up late the night before baking all sorts of goodies for him to take along.

  In his absence she took the opportunity to put in more hours at work than she usually did. Not only, she freely acknowledged, in the cause of bettering her finances but because she was as confused as ever on the subject of Brett, and the less she saw of him, the better. She had already been to Dan’s and dispensed with one of her worries. He’d been understandably hurt, but he’d accepted her refusal with a mixture of resignation and grace. They’d both agreed to remain friends.

  But she still went hot and cold at the memory of being in Brett’s arms and the circles of her mind on the subject of how they’d affected each other remained just that—circles. Curiously, however, it became a sore point with her that when they did happen to meet he made no reference to anything personal.

  Or, she amended her thoughts, was the real problem that he didn’t have to? Just to know he was in the house made her jumpy and skittish, she acknowledged with gloom, because ‘skittish’ was not how she liked to think of herself. Just to have him come to her aid when a prototype kite she was testing got stuck in a tree was a severe trial for her, for example.

  The ladder was too short for her to reach the first branch and she was standing on the lawn looking frustrated when he came home. In five minutes he restored the kite to her, but watching him climb up and down the tree with fluid strength and ease awoke very similar sensations in her as he’d aroused a few nights previously. Causing her to be disjointed in her thanks, stilted, embarrassed and feeling like a girl suddenly aware of her sensuality for the first time.

  If he noticed, he made no comment.

  But on the Friday evening, before Brett got home, Chantal arrived for an unannounced visit.

  She came bearing a cold magnum of French champagne and a gorgeous Barberton daisy in a pot for Ellie. Ellie explained that Brett wasn’t home but Chantal shrugged and suggested they sample the champagne themselves.

  It was a beautiful evening, it was the end of a particularly hard week, and Ellie found herself agreeing. So she got out some home-made cheese straws and they sat outside on the terrace.

  ‘I guess Brett’s told you all about me, the topless dancer et cetera, et cetera?’ Chantal said.

  ‘Well, yes, a bit.’

  ‘And you don’t take instant exception as in wanting to call me a whore and all the rest of it?’

  Ellie grinned. ‘Don’t be silly! You’re very welcome here.’

  ‘How’s he doing?’

  ‘Brett? Uh…fine, as far as I can tell.’

  ‘Any women friends lurking around the ridges?’ Chantal enquired.

  ‘No-o. Not so far.’ Help! Ellie thought.

  ‘Of course, it’s only a matter of time. Guys like that don’t grow on trees,’ Chantal observed wisely.

  ‘No, I guess not. How’s the revue going?’

  Chantal tipped a hand. ‘OK. Not as lavish as Sun City but I’m enj
oying it.’

  ‘Thanks so much for the daisy!’ The colourful flower in its pot was sitting on the terrace table next to the silver wine cooler.

  ‘So tell me about yourself, Ellie, and how you come to be sharing a house with Brett?’ Chantal invited.

  ‘Oh, it’s a long story.’ But possibly better than discussing Brett, it shot through her mind. ‘Briefly, though, it happened like this.’

  At the end of it, Chantal raised her glass to Ellie. ‘I’m impressed with how you’ve handled your life. Where’s your kid?’

  Ellie told her.

  Chantal became thoughtful, then she said abruptly, ‘Do you think I’ve got any chance with him, Ellie?’

  ‘Chantal—’ Ellie reached for the champagne and topped up their glasses ‘—to be honest, I have no idea. Oh!’ She squinted down the driveway and saw Dan Dawson approaching.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Um…this man proposed to me recently. This could be a bit awkward,’ Ellie replied helplessly.

  ‘Tell you what, we could do each other a little favour here,’ Chantal murmured as Dan drew nearer. ‘If you were to ask me to stay on for dinner in the hope that Brett comes home and finds me here all legit, I could take care of it for you.’

  ‘You could?’ Ellie said blankly.

  Chantal winked. ‘It’s all in a day’s work, honey.’

  Half an hour later Brett Spencer arrived home to find a jolly threesome on the terrace drinking champagne.

  ‘Oh, there you are!’ Ellie greeted him. ‘Just in time, I was about to start dinner. Do sit down and entertain the guests while I tinker in the kitchen for a bit.’ She got up and went indoors.

  ‘Chantal. Dan,’ Brett greeted them noncommittally. ‘Excuse me for a moment, I need to—wash my hands.’ And he disappeared indoors hot on Ellie’s heels.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he enquired, cornering her in the kitchen.

  ‘They both came to visit so I invited them to dinner,’ Ellie said innocently.

  ‘Are you mad—or drunk?’ He looked her up and down, taking in her hot-pink bike shorts and sherbet-yellow stretch top.

  She responded with an assessing gaze up and down his attire of moleskins, a check shirt and desert boots and replied with the golden glints in her eyes laughing at him, ‘Neither. Well, I don’t think it would be wise to have any more champagne, but I’m quite sane. Chantal is taking Dan’s mind off things for me.’ She tilted her chin at him.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If you go out there you’ll probably see for yourself—it’s really quite amusing. But I guess men will be men.’

  ‘Ellie,’ he said dangerously.

  ‘Look, Brett,’ she returned, suddenly feeling stone-cold sober, ‘don’t start lecturing me or laying down the law, I’m not in the mood—she’s your problem, not mine. It so happens I quite like her.’

  ‘What about Dan?’

  ‘Dan…is no longer a problem. Now will you go outside while I get dinner? Otherwise I’m liable to do something I might regret.’

  ‘Is this all because of what happened the other night?’

  ‘Oh, that?’ She shook her head. ‘But I am missing Simon, I’m tired, overworked at the moment and it didn’t seem like a bad idea to sit down and have a glass of champers.’ She gestured with both hands palm out. ‘Things just got complicated from there on.’

  ‘Or three or four glasses?’ he suggested.

  ‘If I want to have six or eight, I will!’

  ‘OK.’ A reluctant smile twisted his lips. ‘Calm down. I’ll go and hold the fort.’

  Fortunately, she had a frozen dish of stir-fry beef and rice, which she only had to heat and make a salad to go with it. And she set the table in the dining room, lit candles and called the faithful to dinner.

  What conversation had taken place while she’d been in the kitchen, she had no idea, nor did she care.

  As they sat down to eat, however, it was Chantal’s chair that Dan pulled out. And it soon became apparent that he still couldn’t take his eyes off her—not so surprising really, Ellie thought. Chantal in a Lurex boob tube with skin-tight leopard-skin print trousers and very high gold sandals was enough to poleaxe most men. And she’d hardly had to lift a finger to get Dan in.

  Whether Brett was poleaxed, however, was impossible to tell, as was what he made of the situation, although he did play the good host. And Chantal continued to be mesmerizing, funny, gorgeous and she even helped clear up after the meal.

  All the same, Ellie felt like Alice at the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party when Chantal and Dan left together, at Brett’s suave suggestion that Dan could see her to her car. And she collapsed into her chair and started to laugh until she got hiccups, although she hadn’t missed the searching, lingering glance Chantal bestowed on Brett and the way he’d countered it—with a severely unreadable one of his own.

  ‘Here.’ Brett handed her a glass of brandy. ‘It was all your idea.’

  Ellie wiped her eyes. ‘Talk about being let off the hook in the most demoralizing way possible!’

  He sat down with his own brandy. ‘You might have a better understanding now of the powers and perils of Ms Jones, Ellie. But I agree, it’s a relief to be let off the hook.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think you’re off the hook, Brett!’

  ‘If you didn’t keep inviting her in and fostering a “women of the world unite against men!” spirit, I’d already be off the hook,’ he said with some asperity.

  Ellie subsided. ‘Would she be out of the question if she wasn’t a topless dancer?’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t be out of the question even as a topless dancer, she could well have a heart of gold. The thing is, though, you would probably resent it if I tried to matchmake for you?’ He looked at her with considerable irony.

  Ellie grimaced. ‘Point taken.’

  ‘Why have you stayed here for so long, Ellie?’

  Her lips parted on the unexpected question and a glint of anxiety came to her eyes. ‘You sound as if you don’t approve—I’m sorry, you have every right not to…’

  ‘It’s not that at all. But you weren’t very much in favour of the idea at the time and I guess I have to wonder why you haven’t moved on in all these years.’

  She swallowed and looked around. ‘I…it became like an anchor for me, I suppose,’ she said, ‘although I have wondered if it wasn’t the line of least resistance. But I seemed to feel safe here, then I grew to love it and I got involved in the garden.’ She shrugged. And sighed. ‘Nor can I ever thank you enough,’ she added awkwardly, ‘although I’m still determined to pay you my kite money.’

  He sat down at the head of the table. ‘I don’t want payment, Ellie. And I sometimes think I took the line of least resistance. So far as helping with Simon.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she assured him. ‘Without what you did for me, our lives would have been so much more difficult.’

  ‘In pecuniary terms, perhaps. There’s a lot more to life than that, though.’

  She said slowly, ‘It’s not your burden, Brett.’

  He didn’t answer, he seemed to be far away in fact, then, ‘About what happened the other night.’

  But Ellie stiffened immediately. ‘I’d rather we forgot about that,’ she said in a cool little voice.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘In case you’re tempted to massage my ego once again.’

  ‘I wasn’t—’

  ‘Oh, yes, you were,’ she contradicted and shook her curls at him. ‘Maybe you’ve forgotten; if so, let me refresh your memory. Like today, I’d gone through two rather demoralizing sessions, one with Chantal Jones and one with Dan Dawson. The difference is that today I’m not feeling sorry for myself at all!’

  ‘Is that brandy on top of champagne talking?’ he queried with a smile at the back of his eyes.

  ‘Not at all,’ she denied. ‘It’s pure Ellie Madigan who doesn’t like being patronized, Brett Spencer.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that what you call i
t? I would have said it fell into the category of a mutual…conniption, which, incidentally, I enjoyed very much.’

  She stared at him with pinched nostrils, then retreated to her bedroom with her brandy barely tasted.

  She got a phone call from Simon early the next morning. There was a public phone at the camp that the kids were encouraged to use if they felt homesick—not that it was a problem for Simon.

  ‘How’s it going, Mum?’ he said cheerfully down the line. ‘Not suffering any withdrawal symptoms?’

  ‘I don’t get your drift, dude,’ she replied.

  ‘Just thought you might be missing your only son. I’ve never been away for so long before.’

  ‘Oh. Ah. Well, I’m missing you madly, of course, but I haven’t gone into a decline yet. How’s it going with you?’

  ‘Super,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘And on account of all the things you baked for me to bring with me, I’m just about the most popular boy in the camp. I tell you, no kid could have a better mum.’

  ‘That’s very sweet of you, Simon,’ she said a little huskily.

  ‘Now don’t go all gooey,’ he warned.

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it!’

  ‘How’s it going with Brett?’

  ‘Uh…fine! But…’ she hesitated and frowned ‘…why do you ask?’

  ‘Why don’t you want him to know you like him a lot, Mum?’

  The question down the line took her breath away. ‘Simon, I don’t…know what you mean.’

  ‘Well, I just reasoned that if you don’t mind him kissing you—’

  ‘Simon!’

  ‘OK, I wasn’t spying on you. I had no idea what was going on when I came out that night so I turned round and went back, then I came in again and made more noise about it. It wasn’t hard to see you were kinda shook up, Mum.’

  Ellie was speechless.

  ‘But, look, it’s fine with me,’ Simon went on. ‘I think it’s the best thing that could happen to you. He’s real cool—hey, Mum, my money’s running out, see you s—’ The connection was cut by a series of beeps.

  Ellie put the phone down slowly and went to make breakfast.

  Brett was already at the kitchen table reading the paper. ‘Morning,’ he said. ‘Who was that?’