Floodtide

by Judy Nunn

  'But I did love you,' he protested. He had, hadn't he? He'd never told her so, but surely she must have sensed it with her woman's intuition. Of course he'd loved her. 'You must have known, surely,' he said with a touch of desperation.

  She smiled at the panic she saw in his face. 'Yes, I knew that you loved me,' she said. 'The trouble was you didn't know it yourself, and I wasn't prepared to wait around long enough for you to find out.'

  Jo had a sudden sense of déjà vu. She'd played a similar scene with Andy, she realised, except the roles had been reversed. You love me far more than you realise, Jo, she could hear him saying, and she'd believed him. But did she? The mere sight of Mike had been enough to raise her doubts.

  'Well, I know now,' Mike said, 'and I still love you.' The words that had once seemed so difficult now came with surprising ease. He was prepared to lay his cards on the table. What did he have to lose? 'I've always loved you, and I always will.'

  How she'd longed to hear him say that all those years ago, she thought, but she steeled herself. It would be foolish to alter all her well-laid plans just because of a romantic over-reaction.

  'Do I get another chance?' he asked.

  As he waited hopefully, even a little breathlessly, for her answer, Jo realised that she'd been wrong. He wasn't the same supremely confident Mike McAllister. For all of his apparent assurance, there was something lost about him. He'd changed. He was vulnerable.

  'I'm getting married next year, Mike.'

  'Oh.' It was as if she'd slapped him in the face.

  'I don't know exactly when.' She picked up her forgot-ten cup of tea and sipped at it. 'We haven't set the date yet.'

  'I see.'

  'I'm glad you're here though. It's time Allie met her natural father. I'd planned to introduce you sooner or later.' She had, but his unexpected appearance made her realise she'd been putting off the moment. 'I'd like you two to become friends.'

  'Yes, so would I.' He wondered how she could possibly sound so clinical. 'Why did you call her Alana?' he asked. Surely the choice signalled something.

  'It's a pretty name. I've always liked it. You know that.' She'd had the response ready for years.

  Apparently the name meant nothing. 'Of course,' he said.

  'We'll do the introductions as soon as Mum and Allie get home, shall we?'

  'Fine.'

  'I'll make a pot of tea – Hillary'll want one.'

  She topped up the electric jug, which didn't need topping up, and put the tea leaves in the pot, forgetting that it already had four spoonfuls in it. How would Allie react, she wondered, and felt a flutter of nerves verging on panic. Things were happening altogether too quickly.

  Allie's reaction to the fact that the nice man who liked koalas was her father turned out to be remarkable in its lack of drama.

  'So that's how you knew about the boat,' she said with a three year old's logic.

  'Yes.'

  'The beautiful yacht belonged to Mike's father, Allie,' Jo started to explain but her daughter wasn't listening.

  'Can I see it?' The question was directed at Mike.

  'I'll take you out on it if you like.'

  'When?'

  Mike looked at Jo. 'Tomorrow?'

  She hesitated. A trip on the yacht wasn't as simple as it sounded – surely it would involve a meeting with Jim and Maggie McAllister. Of course, it was only right the child should get to know her grandparents, she told herself, but not now. Not yet. She felt railroaded.

  'Just the three of us,' Mike said. He knew what she was thinking. 'Mum and Dad are in Sydney spending Christmas with Jools.'

  She nodded gratefully. 'Tomorrow would be fine.' Allie jumped up and down, and Hillary beamed. Everything was going so well, she thought.

  'I'm afraid Alana's not as beautiful as she once was,' Mike said apologetically as they rowed out to the mooring. 'She's twenty-five years old now, showing a bit of wear and tear.'

  But Allie could see no signs of wear and tear at all. To her, Alana was every bit as beautiful as the yacht her mother had painted in her mind.

  The three of them sailed over to Blackwall Reach, then downriver to look at the big ships berthed at the Fremantle docks. Jo and Allie sat up the bow, holding their hats on firmly with both hands, the wind threatening to whip them away, Allie asking questions about every landmark they passed, Jo yelling the queries back to Mike at the helm.

  On the way back, they tied up to the jetty at Point Walter and Mike threw bombies off the pylon, but Allie, wary of the deep water, was too frightened to jump in.

  'She's not a strong swimmer,' Jo said. 'Well, not yet,' she added hastily, aware that a child's inability to swim was probably criminal in Mike's eyes. 'I'm enrolling her in classes next year.' She really must, she told herself, she'd been very slack.

  'Why don't we start now?' he said, and he took Allie to the shallows where he proceeded to teach her.

  With her feet firmly planted on the sandy bottom, the child's fear of the water quickly subsided, and before long Mike had her floating, supported by his hand. He taught her how to breathe out with her head submerged, blowing the air through her mouth and nose. He was gentle but persuasive, and the little girl placed her complete trust in him. Allie was eager to please and quick to learn.

  Jo, watching from the beach, thought how any onlooker would find it impossible to believe that this obvious father-daughter pair had met only yesterday.

  As they sailed back towards the mooring at Claremont, she gazed about at the beauty of Freshwater Bay thinking how perfect the afternoon had been. But its very perfection made her wary. It had been reminiscent of all those other perfect days she'd spent with Mike on the water, and she didn't want to step back into the past. She couldn't afford to allow the developing relationship between Mike and Allie, affecting as she found it, to take over her life. She had plans of her own, she told herself, and her plans involved Andy, not Mike.

  'Pembo's getting married next Saturday.'

  She was seated in the cockpit, Allie beside her, Mike at the tiller, and his voice jolted her from her thoughts.

  'A huge affair, half of Perth'll be there,' he said. 'I was going to take Jools, but she's showing off her new fiancé to Mum and Dad in Sydney. Would you like to come?'

  The invitation was offered casually, but he was praying she'd accept. He could sense that she'd put her guard up again.

  'Pembo'd love it if you were there, and we don't need to tell anyone the full story.' He glanced at Allie, who was clutching the mainsheet convinced she was sailing the boat single-handed, although the rope was firmly held by a cleat. 'Just that you're in town.'

  Jo was hesitant.

  'The whole gang from uni's going,' he added, 'including Muzza.' Surely Muzza would be the clincher, he thought, they'd been very close.

  'I saw his portrait of you at the New South Wales Gallery,' she said. 'I think it should have won.'

  'Yes, a lot of people did, even some of the critics.' He sensed she was avoiding the invitation, but he went along with the flow anyway. 'Muzza didn't care, he was just thrilled that he'd been hung in the Archibald.'

  'What an amazing talent.'

  She recalled the effect the portrait had had on her. She must have stood gazing at it for over half an hour. The young Mike McAllister she remembered so vividly, eager for all life had to offer. Muzza had captured him to perfection.

  'How is he?' she asked. 'I think of him a lot.' She had over the years. She would have liked to keep in touch with Muzza, but she hadn't dared for fear word would get back to Mike.

  'Muzza's great. He's married.'

  'Really? How wonderful.'

  'Yep, a stunning Polish woman called Olga who adores him nearly as much as he adores her.' He looked at her hopefully. 'They'll be at the wedding. Will you come?' Then he added, 'Muzza'd really love you to meet Olga.'

  She laughed. 'What a blatant piece of blackmail, but yes, of course I'll come,' she said, chastising herself. There was no threat in the invita
tion, she was being over-dramatic. 'It'll be good to catch up with the old gang.'

  Jo rang Andy that night. He'd telephoned her every few days since she'd been in Perth, but this time she took the onus upon herself. She wasn't sure why, but she felt the need to hear his voice. Besides, it would be wrong not to keep him abreast of the news.

  'I'll just pop into the kitchen,' Hillary said as her daughter started to dial. Hillary always retired to the kitchen with her glass of white wine whenever Jo talked to Andy.

  'Don't be silly, Mum,' Jo started to protest.

  'Couples need their privacy, dear.' And Hillary disappeared without another word.

  'What a pleasant surprise,' Andy said when he heard her voice. He sounded ridiculously young, like a kid at Christmas. 'I was going to phone you tomorrow.'

  'I thought I'd get in first.'

  'How's Allie? Behaving herself?'

  'She's dead to the world.' Jo looked at her daughter, fast asleep on the couch. It was around the time Andy normally rang and he always had a quick chat with Allie. 'I couldn't wake her if I tried.'

  'So early?' There was a pause and Jo could see him checking his watch. 'But it's only seven o'clock Perth time.' Andy knew only too well that it took a great deal of bar-gaining power to get Allie to bed. Her energy always lasted until nine, after which, having exhausted herself, she was out like a light.

  'She's been on a boat all afternoon. I think I've discovered the secret – buckets and buckets of sea air.'

  'We'll have to buy a boat then,' he said.

  'It wouldn't be a bad idea. But you'll never guess which boat we've been out on, Andy. Oh my God, things have happened so fast, there's so much to tell you . . .'

  He knew which boat. He'd heard the child say it often enough, hadn't he? And Jo had told him just as much as she felt he had a right to know.

  'Alana,' he said, trying to keep the smile in his voice. 'You've been out on the beautiful, beautiful yacht, have you?'

  The yacht that belonged to the child's father, wasn't that what she'd told him?

  He waited for Jo to go on, which she did, excitedly.

  'Yes, isn't that amazing? Mike turned up just yesterday ...'

  Mike, that's right. She'd said his name was Mike. She'd never mentioned the surname.

  '. . . Hillary bumped into him in town and she brought him home with her. I could have killed her at the time, but it's turned out well. I mean, it's right for Allie to meet her natural father, don't you think?'

  'Of course it's right.'

  Somewhere down the track, Jo, yes, but not now! It's too soon! Far too soon!

  'Anyway, I was so nervous when I introduced Allie to him, I didn't know what to expect. But you wouldn't believe how easy it was, Andy. She was more interested in the boat than she was in him. So Mike took us out on it this afternoon . . .'

  Good old Mike.

  '. . . I was worried that it might mean meeting up with his parents again, which I'd dreaded – the boat actually belongs to Mike's father – but they're in Sydney with his sister for a couple of weeks, so we escaped all that. Not that it'll be a problem when they come back – Mike says they'll be mad about Allie.'

  She gave a brief laugh, the words were tumbling out. 'It's terrible of me, but do you know, I'd completely for-gotten that Mike's father named the boat Alana after his mother. When I see him I'll have to pretend I remembered, he's bound to read something special into it. But it'll be good for Allie to form a bond with her grandparents, won't it?'

  Marvellous. A ready-made family.

  'Yes of course, Jo. I'm very happy for you.'

  She was halted mid-stream. 'Not me, Andy. Allie. I'm talking about Allie. I think it's only right that she knows where she comes from. That she isn't named after some mythical yacht, that it's all very real.'

  Don't you know how you sound, Jo? Can't you hear your own voice?

  'Are you going to sleep with him?'

  The words just sprang out, and he cursed himself the moment he'd said them. But it was too late, useless to retract the question.

  A deathly pause. And he waited.

  'Of course I'm not going to sleep with him.'

  The shocked reaction was exactly as he'd expected – very honest and very real. Johanna, for all her fierce intelligence, was pulling the wool over her own eyes, Andy thought. The sheer joy he could hear down the line – did she truly believe it all related to her child?

  'Why on earth would you ask me something like that?' She was more than shocked, she was appalled.

  'I'm sorry. Touch of male jealousy, I suppose. I miss you.' He backed off immediately. No point in discussing it.

  'But I love you, Andy.'

  'I know you do. And I love you too. Let's forget I said it, shall we?'

  They talked for a while longer, but things were strained and it was a relief to them both when Jo called a halt.

  'I'd better put Allie to bed,' she said.

  'Give her a big cuddle from me.'

  'Of course.' She smiled. 'Butterfly kisses and everything. I'll speak to you in a few days.'

  She expected him to ring, he thought, but he wouldn't. He'd wait for the phone call he dreaded.

  'Yes, in a few days. Good night, Jo. Sweet dreams.' He'd inherited the saying from his parents as a child, and he said it to her every night they spent together. She liked it.

  'You too, Andy. Sweet dreams.'

  Jo hung up confused, feeling that she'd hurt him, but wondering how.

  Andy hung up knowing it was over.

  Mike and Jo made love three days later. Neither had planned it. But Hillary had.

  They arrived back at the flat shortly before nine. They'd left Ian Pemberton's wedding reception early so that Jo could put Allie to bed.

  'What do you make of Arlene?' Mike asked as he joined her at the front door after paying off the taxi.

  'I'm not sure. Is she dumb or is she smart? I found it hard to tell. But she's rather like Pembo's mother, don't you think?'

  He laughed. Jo had met Cynthia for the first time only that afternoon, but she'd picked it in one.

  'Anyway,' she shrugged, 'Pembo worships her, so it doesn't really matter, does it?' She unlocked the door and they stepped inside. 'As for Olga – you're right, she's stunning. How wonderful for Muzza, I've never seen him so happy.'

  The lounge room light was on, but no-one was there. Jo put a finger to her lips – Hillary was probably putting Allie to bed. She crept off to check, but the bedroom was empty.

  She came back to discover Mike holding the note her mother had left on the coffee table. He read it out loud. 'Allie and I have gone to Hello Dolly. Back at eleven.'

  'The movies at this time of night?' She took the note from him and stared at it incredulously. 'Why on earth would Mum bother? She's already seen Hello Dolly, and Allie'll sleep right through it.'

  'I think you've been set up again, Jo.'

  She looked at him, expecting to see a smile, presuming he was joking. But he wasn't.