She stopped as he took one of her hands and uncurled her fingers. And to her great surprise he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. Then, with a rather weary sigh, he said, ‘Go to bed, Ellie. This is getting all out of proportion.’
He returned her hand to her and turned away.
She went to bed but not to sleep, for ages, anyway.
First of all, she was still seething about men. Men, who could kiss you against your will and issue insults when their pride got trampled—when had she ever insulted him? she asked herself bitterly. Surely her remark about doctors being nimble-fingered couldn’t have dented his ego to that extent? And then, she marvelled, they could accuse you of making mountains out of molehills.
But finally the seething gave way to some inexplicable tears and a tired feeling of confusion—and loneliness. So lonely and muddled and unhappy, in fact, she even got up once and stood beside her door desperate for some kind of relief…
If anyone needs some TLC, she thought ruefully, it’s me.
But in the end she didn’t have the nerve to do it, and she went sadly back to bed.
‘What the hell happened to you?’ Archie McKinnon stared at Brett’s hand.
‘Don’t ask,’ Brett replied. They’d just met up with the McKinnons outside the cinema complex.
‘Could have happened to anyone,’ Simon offered.
‘Thanks, pal,’ Brett said. ‘In fact it probably could not, but the least said the better. Shall we?’ He gestured for them to enter the cinema foyer.
Causing Delia to cast Ellie a laughing little look of enquiry as they dropped back a bit behind the rest of the party.
Ellie explained briefly, finishing up, ‘But don’t tell him I told you. He’s not in a very good mood.’
‘Cross my heart,’ Delia promised. ‘Men!’ she added with so much feeling Ellie had to laugh, and found herself feeling a lot better. A process that had actually begun on seeing Grace in a denim overall dress with a red and white striped T-shirt and her hair in two bunches with red ribbons—and the way Simon’s face had lit up at the sight of her.
And, satisfyingly laden down with popcorn and Coke, they all made their way to their seats.
Approximately ninety minutes later they emerged and even Brett was still laughing.
They had a lively dinner at a pavement restaurant and finally took their respective offspring to their respective homes.
‘Thank you for that,’ Ellie said to Brett. ‘I hope it wasn’t too…young for you.’
‘I enjoyed it and I especially enjoyed seeing Grace and Simon enjoy it so much. You too,’ he added rather wryly.
Ellie grimaced. ‘There is still, obviously, a bit of a kid in me. How’s your finger?’
‘Throbbing a bit.’
She hesitated.
He waited, giving her his grave attention.
‘Er…nothing,’ she said lamely.
He smiled like a tiger at play; lazily, humorously, but never leaving you in doubt that, verbally anyway, he could demolish you.
‘I’m going to bed,’ Ellie said hastily.
‘Why not?’ he mused gently. ‘We both probably need a good night’s sleep.’
Ellie set her lips at the innuendo—that she had spent as uncomfortable a night as he had—and decided to counter it. ‘I certainly do.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s my market morning tomorrow so I have to be up at the crack of dawn.’ And she strolled away to her bedroom.
She’d always loved a market atmosphere, and to have her own stall amidst the bustle was an extra pleasure.
There were a myriad products for sale: clothes, fresh produce, pot plants, cut flowers, art and craft work, home-made jams, chutneys and preserves, biscuits and cakes—but only one kite stall. And she’d recently acquired a folding canopy so she and her kites were protected from the elements. She also had two folding chairs and a picnic hamper. In fact, during a lull, she was pouring herself a cool drink from a Thermos flask when Chantal strolled past, did a double take, and came back.
‘Ellie!’
Ellie looked up, and froze for a moment. ‘Hi!’ she said belatedly. And added, because she felt guilty on several fronts in regard to Chantal Jones, ‘Have you got time for a cold drink?’
‘Sure do!’ Chantal plonked herself down in the other chair, removed the picture hat she wore with very short, tight shorts and a bikini top, and fanned herself with it. ‘It gets bloody hot in this part of the world!’
Ellie delved into the basket and produced another plastic glass. ‘Here you go. Very cold, home-made lemonade. Chantal…’ she paused and sat down herself ‘…I hope you don’t hate me?’
Chantal studied her glass, then raised her remarkable violet eyes. ‘I thought about it,’ she said slowly, and Ellie held her breath. Then the other girl giggled suddenly and went on, ‘Do you have any idea how persistent Dan Dawson can be?’
Ellie grimaced. ‘I’m afraid I told him to be…well, I actually told him to be persistent but not too obvious,’ she confessed.
‘That explains why I’m here—’ Chantal looked around ruefully ‘—at a market.’
Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You’re here with Dan? At his suggestion?’
‘Yep! Nice, clean, not too obvious fun, I guess. Although we are going to South Bank for lunch.’
Ellie’s lips quivered, although she still looked a bit mystified. ‘But he knows I have a stall here—and where is he?’
Chantal waved a hand. ‘There’s a toy-train exhibition over there. He was entranced so I left him to it—told him I’d wander around on my own for a bit. And he obviously doesn’t mind the thought of me bumping into you—men are really weird sometimes.’
Their gazes locked.
‘What did Brett tell you about us?’ Ellie asked nervously.
Chantal continued to study her. ‘He told me he was going to marry you come hell or high water, Ellie,’ she said at last.
Ellie’s mouth dropped open.
Chantal frowned. ‘You didn’t know?’
Ellie looked confused. ‘I know now—I mean, not the come hell or high water bit, although I’ve started to suspect it lately—but, for Simon’s sake, he’s decided it’s a good idea.’
‘And for your sake?’
Ellie dropped her gaze from the acute little query in Chantal’s eyes and sipped some lemonade.
‘How long have you been in love with him?’
Chantal’s words hung in the air.
‘From the day he rescued me beside a parking meter eleven years ago,’ Ellie said barely audibly and closed her eyes briefly. ‘That is so unbelievable,’ she added.
‘Why?’
Ellie hesitated. ‘I told you about Tom? Well, he’d barely gone from me, it was only a few months so it makes me feel…terrible.’
Chantal sat forward. ‘Honey, these things happen.’ She grimaced. ‘If it’s any consolation, I was coming home to get engaged to a guy when I happened to sit next to Brett Spencer on a plane. Next minute,’ she said dryly, ‘I’ve forgotten all about that guy.’
Ellie had to smile, although faintly. And she said, ‘I know you’re trying to help but that makes it worse, not better. I feel as if I’ve joined a club.’
‘Oh, eleven years puts you into a category of your own, Ellie,’ Chantal assured her, and paused thoughtfully. ‘But, for all that I sometimes go over the top there’s one thing I hold very dear.’
Ellie looked at her questioningly.
‘In relation to men especially—my self-esteem.’
Ellie glanced up and down the gorgeous length of Chantal Jones. ‘You…you have the fire-power to be able to do that,’ she suggested.
‘Don’t you believe it. If I let myself, I could be just as vulnerable as the next girl, if not more so. I don’t. If I make a mistake, I pick myself up and start all over again. What I’m trying to say is, don’t feel guilty because you fell in love with another man when you thought you shouldn’t. If that’s what’s colouring your feelings for Brett, a
lack of self-esteem because of that, throw it out of the window with the bath water because it happens, is all.’
Ellie opened her mouth to deny the charge but she paused suddenly, and frowned.
‘I thought so,’ Chantal murmured.
‘It’s not the only reason,’ Ellie said slowly.
‘Maybe not but it’s a start. What else is there?’
‘He…seems so certain he can make me deliriously happy!’
They looked at each other, and started to laugh together.
‘All right,’ Ellie said, ‘maybe he can. I don’t know if I can do the same for him.’
‘What’s that got to do with the price of eggs?’ Chantal asked.
Ellie stared at her.
‘If you don’t, you don’t—so you pick yourself up and move on.’
‘There’s Simon, though.’
‘Kids live through it all the time. And correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think Brett Spencer is one to fool around lightly with a kid’s well-being and happiness.’
‘Are you suggesting I marry him?’ Ellie asked bluntly.
Chantal waved her hat. ‘I did my best—worst, maybe,’ she said wryly, ‘and now it’s time to move on, if that’s what you mean.’
‘With…Dan, perhaps?’
Chantal shrugged. ‘Who knows?’ She looked around. ‘I guess no one could have dragged me to a market if I wasn’t just a touch intrigued.’
Ellie gave a genuine smile.
‘But I’ll tell you something else, Ellie,’ Chantal commented. ‘If it’s not your money they’re after, men marry for a variety of reasons—sex, sex and sex. If you get that right, you’re in with a heck of a chance.’ She stood up. ‘But if there’s one thing Brett Spencer taught me—they still like to be the hunters rather than the hunted.’
Ellie stood up herself, laughing. ‘I’ll remember your words of wisdom. It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Chantal—I hope we meet again!’
‘Sell many kites today?’ Brett asked when she got home.
He was lazing beside the pool in a pair of colourful board shorts with the Sunday papers spread haphazardly around him and weighted down with stones from the rockery.
‘Four. An average day. How’s your finger?’
He looked at her gravely. ‘Improving. Why don’t you have a dip yourself? You look a little hot and bothered.’
‘Yeah, I think I will when I’ve unloaded the car. Where’s Simon?’
‘He and Martie Webster have gone with Martie’s father to watch some trail bike trials up Mount Coot-Tha. I didn’t think you’d mind so I gave my permission on your behalf.’
Ellie pulled a face.
‘You do mind?’
‘No! I just hope Simon doesn’t put in an order for a trail bike, that’s all.’
Brett laughed and levered himself off the lounger. ‘I’ll give you a hand with your stuff. I’ve never said that literally before.’ He looked at his immobilized hand wryly.
‘I can manage, don’t worry. You relax,’ she said and turned away.
‘But I do worry, Ellie,’ he said slowly. ‘You take so much on yourself.’
‘Well, I guess I’m used to it,’ she replied prosaically, and turned to back to him suddenly. ‘You seem to be in a much better mood!’
He looked quizzical. ‘That’s one of my good points. I may not be all lightness and joy at times but I don’t sulk.’
‘I’m glad to hear it!’ She chuckled.
And, companionably, they unloaded her car. Then she changed into her scarlet one-piece swimsuit, had a dip and came out to find he’d prepared a couple of Margaritas for them.
‘This is decadent,’ she proclaimed as she dried herself and sank down into a lounger.
‘But a nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon?’ he suggested.
‘Mmm.’
‘I was thinking,’ he said after a while.
Ellie tensed.
But he surprised her. ‘This coming Tuesday is the first Tuesday in November.’
‘Melbourne Cup day?’
‘The race that stops the nation,’ he agreed. ‘I have tickets.’
‘So?’
‘Could you get a few days off?’
She sat up and regarded him askance. ‘You mean—go to the Melbourne Cup with you?’
‘Ellie—’ he grinned ‘—what’s so impossible about that? It’s not the moon.’
‘It is about a thousand miles away!’
‘Two hours by plane—I’m not suggesting we drive or hitchhike or—’
‘Why me, Brett?’ she broke in firmly and with an ‘I’m standing no nonsense’ look.
‘Why not?’
She floundered for a moment. Then, ‘It costs money to fly about the place on a whim!’
‘It won’t cost you a thing and, before you get your knickers in a knot,’ he stressed, ‘I won’t be paying either.’
‘How come? I don’t understand.’ She frowned.
‘The company I have some shares in is a sponsor and they’re providing it, but I also happen to be a member of the VRC—the Victoria Racing Club.’
‘What on earth for? You don’t seem to be a racing type—you’ve hardly been home for so many years!’
‘My mother passed it down to me. Her family came from Melbourne. There is actually a house down there that she also passed down to me. At Portsea. On the Mornington Peninsula. It’s been leased out for years but the lease has expired and I’d like to have a look at it before I decide whether to sell it or keep it. I also have some other business down there so I could kill several birds with one stone.’
He looked into the distance for a while, then back at her, and remarked gravely, ‘I’m so glad you didn’t fall back on the “nothing to wear” excuse. That’s terribly unoriginal.’
Ellie shut her mouth with a click. ‘The only reason for that is because I haven’t had time to consider that angle. Brett, no, thank you very much, but—’
‘We’d be flying down very early on Tuesday morning, Ellie. We’d spend Tuesday night at the Sofitel after the Cup, you’d have your own room. We’d go down to Mornington on Wednesday and you could fly home on Thursday morning—I might have to stay on until Saturday.’
‘Apart from anything else,’ Ellie said with exaggerated patience, ‘I’m just not in a position to go flying off at a moment’s notice.’
‘The Websters are fine to have Simon. Simon is fine about staying with them and feels the break will do you good.’
‘You…you…’ But she was essentially speechless.
‘And, by my reckoning, all the extra work you did while Simon was away at camp should earn you a few days off,’ he continued placidly.
Then something sharpened in his grey eyes. ‘But, let’s be honest. We seem to have reached a stalemate, you and I.’ He looked around. ‘It may be partly due to this environment. Perhaps things will clarify themselves in a different setting.’
Ellie reached for her Margarita and took a decent sip. Was it a threat? she wondered. Or—it made sense. They couldn’t go on the way they were. But what kind of pressure could he exert on her on a trip to the Melbourne Cup? It was—she shook her head—a bizarre suggestion, really.
‘You don’t think this is an attempt to seduce you, Ellie?’ he queried softly.
She gazed at him over the salty rim of her glass and decided to be honest in return. ‘It did just occur to me, yes.’
‘So I gathered.’
A fleeting smile tugged at her lips. ‘You must admit it’s an odd way to break a deadlock.’
‘Difficult circumstances often require unusual solutions.’ He looked at her steadily. ‘Or would you really prefer to slug it out here?’
She shivered suddenly and not because she was cold. ‘Brett, if I say no after we’ve taken a rather pointless jaunt to the Melbourne Cup, will you accept it?’
‘Yes. But it won’t be pointless, Ellie, believe me.’
Simon sat on the end of her bed the next evening while sh
e packed, and offered helpful suggestions.
‘What are you going to do about a hat?’ he asked. ‘You can’t go to the Melbourne Cup without a hat. It’s unheard of.’
‘It probably isn’t, you know.’
‘Still, you are my mum so it’s only natural for me to want you to look your best.’ He gazed at her seriously.
‘Then just to put your mind at rest, kid—da-da!’ She pulled the lid off a box that had been sitting unnoticed on a chair, exposing a supremely chic pale green hat with a wide wavy brim and a green and white silk trim gathered around the base of the crown and tied in a stylish bow at the back.
‘Wow!’ Simon’s eyes widened.
‘There’s more,’ Ellie warned, and she reached into her wardrobe to produce a slim linen dress that exactly matched the hat and a very elegant pair of white high-heeled sandals.
Simon clapped his hands and asked her to model the outfit for him. She did so, taking care to position the hat carefully.
‘There.’ She turned back from the mirror and stood regally in the middle of the room. ‘A mum to be proud of, you reckon?’
Simon jumped off the bed. ‘You bet!’ He hugged her carefully. ‘I’m sure Brett will be proud of you too.’
Ellie grimaced and took the hat off. ‘That’s the computer fund and a little bit of the kite fund gone—oh, well.’
‘It’s all in a good cause,’ Simon assured her.
She hesitated. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You need a break and a bit of fun! Now don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine at Martie’s—we’re going to work on the kennel with Martie’s dad. Martie is green with envy, by the way!’
Ellie smiled a bit mechanically but Simon didn’t notice.
And she tossed and turned a bit before she fell asleep later that evening because it all seemed to come back to one thing—how was she ever going to tear Simon away?
But a vision of Chantal swam into her mind—and her advice ran through Ellie’s mind. She grinned to herself as she remembered the more outrageous bits of it. Then she sat up suddenly at the question of self-esteem Chantal had raised. Did she lack self-esteem with regard to Brett? Was that as much the core of her problem as anything else?
She lay back and thought dryly that circumstance had had a lot to do with that, but she’d always been aware of it. How much had her perceived defection from Tom to Brett Spencer poisoned her confidence in herself as a woman, though, she wondered, and her ability to make choices? She certainly didn’t have a good record in that line.
His Convenient Proposal Page 12
