Harriet suddenly had the same urge. To go somewhere, start all over again. Leave pain and sadness behind. Be happy, laugh. Out of the blue she thought of Patrick Shawcross. That lightness of spirit he had. Was it a choice he had made or was it luck that he had got through life unscathed, unshaken by grief or jealousy? She wanted to ask him. She had a hundred questions she wanted to ask him. Why he had stopped acting. What he did now. Why he was still single …
She thought of Austin’s description of him as a hunk, a sex symbol. ‘Has he tried anything on, Harriet?’ What if she’d yes? What would Austin have done? Gone and punched him on the nose? Or if she had said to Austin, ‘Actually, yes, we’ve been lovers since the first night we met. It was an instant and incredible attraction.’ What would Austin have done then? He’d be shocked at her, she knew. He thought of her as a child, not an adult. No matter what she did.
As for Melissa’s reaction if something were to happen between her and Patrick Shawcross … Harriet pictured it. The two of them, her and Patrick, spending hours of long, lazy lovemaking in her bed – no, his, it had more room, and a much better view – and finally deciding a choice had to be made. She imagined herself stretching across to the phone, dialing the international number while Patrick ran a gentle finger down her bare back, following with his lips, soft, warm kisses. ‘Melissa, hello, it’s Harriet. I’m ringing to let you know I’ve called off the tour because I’m having an affair with Patrick Shawcross and, unfortunately, the clients are getting in the way.’ She would lie in his arms, still talking, while he stroked her body some more. Her voice would go husky, as Melissa shouted down the line. Finally she would simply hang up and turn to …
‘Hello, Harriet.’
She spun around. ‘Patrick!’
‘Are you all right? You look quite flushed.’
She put her hands to her cheeks. Flushed? Of course she was. ‘No, just windburn, I think. I’m not running late, am I?’
‘No, I’m early. I saw you from the harbour steps and thought, that’s either Harriet off for a walk or a yellow duck has been blown onto the beach.’
She took refuge from her embarrassment by pretending to be insulted. ‘The uniform’s really not that bad. Anyone would think you and Clive had never seen the colour yellow before.’
‘That’s right,’ he said, as they started walking back to the steps together. ‘He calls you Big Bird, doesn’t he? Very clever. Perhaps we could hold a contest to see what names the others can come up with.’ He laughed at her reaction. ‘Harriet, you really do have the most expressive face. I’d call that one mutinous. Can you do heartbroken for me? Or exultant, perhaps?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I specialise in worried or anxious.’
‘Worried? What do you have to be worried about?’
She told the truth. ‘The tour. Something going wrong. Making sure everyone is having a good time.’
He put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her against him as they walked. ‘They are. I am. We all are. You’re doing a great job. I meant what I said to your brother. I’d happily come back every year and do this. I’m being treated like a king. I have twelve people who seem to think I am the funniest, wittiest person they have ever met in their lives and a lovely woman minding me every step of the way.’
Her senses had sprung into life. She kept waiting for him to drop his arm, but if anything he was holding her closer against him as they walked. She was the right height to be leaning against his shoulder. She could smell his aftershave again. She tried to stay relaxed, as if walking along a windy beach with his arm around her was nothing out of the ordinary. She tried to give a normal-sounding answer. ‘As long as you’re enjoying it, that’s the main thing.’
‘I certainly am. And I know the group is, too.’ They walked in silence for a while, Harriet was conscious of their closeness, the way their steps were matching. How would they look to anyone watching? Like lovers? Yes, if you ignored the fact one of them was dressed like a duck.
The weather was changing dramatically around them. There was now little blue in the sky and the wind was getting gustier. He had to raise his voice to be heard, leaning down to her height again. ‘So is your brother in the travel business, too?’
She shook her head. ‘He’s a percussionist, touring Germany with an opera company.’
‘And he came all this way to say hello to you?’
No, he’d come all this way to find Lara. But she wasn’t going to go into that at the moment. She hesitated, noticing again the darker flecks in his eyes, and how good his arm felt. ‘Yes, he did.’
‘You’re lucky to have a close family like that.’
‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
They reached the steps to the beach cafe as the first spatters of rain started. Only then did he take his arm away from her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Austin drove along the fast lane of the motorway towards Bath, tapping his fingers on the wheel in time to the windscreen wipers. The rain had started as he left St Ives an hour before and hadn’t stopped since. The sky ahead was black with clouds. He’d listened to the weather forecast. The bad weather was expected to continue for the next few days. On the seat beside him was a street directory and the scribbled directions he’d made for finding Lara’s address. In the back seat was his rucksack, filled with enough clothes for three days.
The orchestra manager had been surprisingly understanding when he’d explained about Lara going missing, though only able to spare him for a short time. Austin was glad he’d been able to drop in and see Harriet, brief and all as it was. Even though she was a grown woman, he still had that urge to look after her, to make sure she was okay. He felt differently about Lara, he realised. He’d given it a lot of thought on the plane on the way over. Some of it had to be because Lara wasn’t his natural sister, of course. He’d met her when she was eight, whereas Harriet had arrived as a screaming bundle. He could still hear his mother saying, ‘Keep an eye out for your little sister, Austin, won’t you?’ Had she said the same thing about Lara? Austin couldn’t remember. Lara was so different to Harriet, in any case. So much more self-sufficient. Good fun still – he and Lara had always got on well, right from the start – but she had never needed him the way Harriet always had.
He’d liked getting another, instant sister. He knew Gloria had been all for it, too. She’d thought it would do Harriet good to have someone to play with. Not that Gloria knew he’d heard her say it. He’d overheard her talking to her husband when he had been doing some gardening for them. Nothing like open windows to keep a kid up-to-date. Back then adults seemed to be under the impression that if you couldn’t see a child, then they couldn’t hear you. Austin had heard more dirt by sitting still than he ever would have by asking.
Where could Lara have gone, he wondered. Was she somewhere nearby, right now, upset about something or having the time of her life, off on holiday with a new boyfriend? She hadn’t given anything away last time they talked. She’d sounded fine. Normal. He was convinced of it. Would he have noticed if she had been distressed, though? Possibly not. He’d been calling in between rehearsals, with a lot of noise in the background, not really the circumstances for a heart-to-heart discussion.
He’d thought Harriet would have had more of an idea how Lara had been lately, given him some clues, but she hadn’t been helpful at all that morning. She’d been odd about Lara, if anything. Women could be so weird. Best friends one minute, all moody and prickly the next. He wondered if Harriet was jealous that Lara had got to go to the tourism college. Perhaps that was it.
He tried to recall more from his last conversation with Lara. They’d had a joke about something, hadn’t they? His social life again, probably. He’d always thought it funny the way she was at him to settle down, when she’d shown no inclination to do the same thing herself. He’d teased her about it often enough. ‘Time’s running out, blister. Biological clocks ticking, nuclear war clocks ticking. I want to hold another niece or nephew in my arms while
I still have the strength.’
‘It’s your fault I can’t settle on any one man, Austin. You’ve shown me such a bad example.’
‘No, I’ve been helpful. Showing you how not to do it. Therefore, you should want to go off and do it properly. Get yourself married, a nice little home somewhere, two and a half children. Don’t ask me to babysit, though, will you? I like full children but I can’t bear half-children. I never know what to say to them.’
He’d made a joke of it, as he always did. He’d had enough practice over the years, with the endless comments from Harriet, Lara, even Gloria, about his social life, asking when was he going to settle down, stop playing the field.
He wondered how they’d react if he actually answered them truthfully for once. If he told them that in fact there was nothing he wanted more than to meet a woman he wanted to settle down with. A woman he wanted to have children with. Of course that was what he wanted. He’d loved his own childhood, the fun, the freedom, living by the sea, especially. He loved the idea of giving all that to his own son or daughter. Perhaps even several of them.
He’d seen his own parents together, the respect they had for one another, the affection. The partnership and love. He wanted that as well. But it wasn’t that simple, was it? Just because it was what he knew he needed didn’t mean the right woman for the job was going to turn up saying, ‘Here I am, Austin. Ready when you are.’ A woman he enjoyed being with, enjoyed looking at, who challenged him, enjoyed the same sorts of things. Who liked him and liked being with him. It wasn’t that simple. It was very difficult, in fact.
All the travelling he did didn’t help, he knew that. Twice in the past five years he had been involved with women he had really started to like. Things had been going well between them – not that he’d told any of his family, in case they had started booking churches and printing wedding invitations. But both relationships had ended badly. The first woman, a teacher he’d met at one of the school workshops in Melbourne, had insisted he give up the travelling. She had started leaving newspaper advertisements around for cover bands advertising for drummers or teaching posts in suburban schools. He’d thought it was a joke and then realised she was serious. ‘But I love the touring,’ he’d tried to explain. ‘It’s not good for our relationship,’ she’d said. ‘I need you to be here, close by.’ They had split up soon after, on the eve of a month-long tour of Asia. She had told him he would have to choose and he had realised at that moment life with her would always be too hard. He’d chosen touring.
The second woman hadn’t minded his absences. She was an artist who worked part-time in a gallery in the city centre. She liked the fact he was a musician and she told him she liked the freedom his coming and going gave her. The truth was she had found someone else to fill the space whenever he was gone. Austin had discovered them together when he had arrived home from tour a day early. It had been like a scene from a film. Hurried dressing, embarrassed faces. He had been surprised how much it had hurt him. And how it had affected him afterwards. He’d become wary, he realised. Since then he had made a conscious effort to keep all relationships light, to keep any bonds flexible. He knew he was taking the easy way out but he was only thirty-eight, after all. Picasso was in his seventies when he was having children. There was no hurry, was there? Sometimes he nearly convinced himself.
He stopped at a red light and checked the map again. He decided to go off the motorway for a short while, take in the more scenic back roads. With luck the rain would clear and he’d manage to see something other than grey skies and drenched fields. He was in no hurry. Her flatmate probably worked. She might not be back until after six at the earliest. He could have stayed longer with Harriet, perhaps, but he needed to keep on the move. He needed to feel he was doing something, not just talking about doing something.
He looked out across the fields, at a village backing onto the motorway. He’d been to England several times before, twice with the orchestra, once on a quick trip to visit his birthplace. It hadn’t been an emotional homecoming for him, in any way. He had hardly any memories of England. He’d left when he was six. He liked the fact being born here had given him an English passport, and he sometimes felt torn between supporting England or Australia when watching cricket or rugby, but otherwise he didn’t feel any great pull either way. He had reverted to an English accent for a while in his teens, when he’d gone through his Goth and new wave stage, but that too had faded away.
He pressed the radio button to change stations. Classical music filled the car. He quickly switched to a pop station. The hire car smelt new, and felt new. Everything from the seats to the steering wheel was smooth and spotless. He liked driving. He liked any kind of travel. Just as well, considering all the time he spent on the road, in cars, buses and planes, these days.
He heard the sound of a text message arriving and swiftly checked it, taking his eyes off the road for a second. Not from Harriet, or Lara, but one of the female members of the orchestra. She’d been sending him flirty texts now for a few weeks. He liked her well enough. She was pretty, certainly. And he knew that if he wanted to take it further it would be simple, as it often seemed to be. ‘Too good-looking for your own good,’ Gloria had said to him once. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps that was the problem. He didn’t have to try hard to attract women. But lately the heart had gone out of it for him. The term ‘the thrill of the chase’ came to mind. Apt, if not politically correct. The thrill had gone out of all the flirting and chasing and catching. Was it old age setting in? No, he knew it wasn’t.
He had really started feeling differently about that side of his life after his parents died. He’d felt his behaviour was – he searched for the word – too frivolous. Life had become serious. Grief hurt, he’d discovered. Some friends had asked him if he thought his mother had died of a broken heart, that she had simply decided life wasn’t worth living after his father died. There was no way of knowing. When it first happened, it had been too shocking to be able to analyse the reasons why. And was such a thing possible, in any case? He knew his parents had loved each other, and had had a particularly good marriage. But was it something his mother could have chosen? To die, rather than go on living without his father? He tried again to imagine feeling so strongly about a woman. Loving her on every level – physically, mentally, spiritually. Some of his girlfriends had been model-beautiful and, shallow as it sounded, that was all he had wanted from them for a while. He had other female friends who challenged him intellectually, made him defend his politics, his religious beliefs, even his sporting allegiances, but he had never been physically attracted to them. Perhaps that’s what real maturity would bring, he decided. A realisation that he couldn’t have everything. That he’d have to choose between beauty and brains. Sex or intellectual stimulation. Or continue along as he had been doing, picking and choosing as it suited him, ignoring the empty feeling inside himself …
An image of James and Melissa came to mind. No, he couldn’t settle for that kind of relationship, either. Imagine wanting to live with someone like Melissa for the rest of your life. Not only the bossiness, but the noise of her. It was Molly who Austin felt most sorry for. He was very fond of his niece. James had voluntarily chosen to be with Melissa. Poor Molly hadn’t been given a choice. With any luck her swimming career would take off and she could start travelling the world, participating in competitions, and get away as early as possible. If she could. He presumed she was already under pressure to stay in the family business. Melissa was making it clear she was building a family empire. He felt his temper simmer at the thought of how she had ingratiated herself into Turner Travel, starting with helping out now and again, insisting Penny and Neil take some time off. Pretending to be amazed when they offered her part-time work after she and James got engaged. She’d turned it into a full-time position within six months and had been slowly taking over ever since. He’d watched her after his parents died. It was as if she had been waiting to seize her chance. Waiting until they were all v
ulnerable. She had swooped in with her changes, the new uniform, the new logo, the new tours. She had no right, but no one had stood up to her. Harriet hadn’t been strong enough. Lara had seemed to agree, to Austin’s amazement. James, of course, had gone along with everything she suggested.
He had been joking to Harriet that he paid Gloria to spy for him, but in truth he did get regular updates from her. Just because he didn’t work in the agency didn’t mean he didn’t want to know what was going on. Gloria had tried to be fair. ‘Yes, Austin, Melissa can be a bit annoying …’
‘It’s me you’re talking to, Glorious. You don’t have to be reasonable. You and I are the only ones who have seen through her clever human disguise. She is the Anti-Christ. Say it after me. “Melissa is Evil. She must be destroyed.” ’
Gloria laughed. ‘I will not say that. You say after me, “Melissa has some good ideas.” ’
‘So why doesn’t she go and start her own travel agency then? And leave us alone.’
‘Because we need her. Because she is married to James, your brother. Remember him, that man with the red hair you’ve been picking on for the past thirty-eight years?’
‘He’s my brother? I thought he was some stray a visiting circus left behind.’
‘One day, Austin, you will wake up and be mature and it will be a day of great celebration for all who know you.’
He was smiling at the memory as a sign for Bath appeared in front of him.
It was nearly dark by the time he found Lara’s suburb. He was cursing his earlier sightseeing. He’d got stuck in a tailback when he got back on the motorway and then hit the rush-hour traffic on the outskirts of the city as well. It was now past seven o’clock. Lara was renting a room in a share house in the northern part of the city. He finally found it after getting two different sets of directions from passersby and getting lost in the busy Bath streets, distracted by the elegantly restored buildings, crowded cafes and restaurants.
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