by Dale, Lindy
Tears streamed down Flora’s face anew. ‘You’ll write, wont you? Send me a card?’
His smile was sad. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Please, just one letter… so….I know.’
‘One letter.’
The taxi driver leant his head out the open window. Inside, his fingers drummed on the steering wheel. ‘Metre’s on, mate, you’ll miss your flight.’
‘Coming,’ Luke said, taking a step toward the door.
Flora’s voice cracked. ‘Bye.’
Luke leant over. The smallest of kisses grazed her mouth. ‘See ya,’ he said, and was gone.
The letter never came.
Chapter 27
The summer sun had reached its peak, and the blooms from the frangipani tree in the courtyard smothered the tree, a constant reminder to Flora of the nights she had spent with Luke, the nights when he had covered her bed with those very flowers and made love to her amongst them. At last, the tears had subsided, leaving in their wake a mist of memories. She would never forget that she loved him but she was ready to move on.
‘What do you mean you’re not coming back to school?’ PJ cried, after Flora told her of her plans. ‘Who’s going to hound me to do my planning?’
Louise was indignant. ‘And who’ll get the Friday morning muffins? You know I can’t, my new budget doesn’t stretch to that.’
Flora had laughed. She was pleased that Louise had decided to grow up and do something about her debts but it wasn’t her problem anymore. ‘’Spose you’ll just have to get along without me.’
‘But where’re you going? How will we find you?’
‘Don’t know.’
PJ sat back in her chair. ‘Seriously? You really don’t know? Have you gone bloody bonkers? You never do anything without a plan.’
‘That’s the beauty of it. No plans. No expectations to meet. Just me, pleasing myself.’
And who knew, maybe somewhere along the way she might find her heart again.
At least that was what she hoped.
****
The monorail had woven its way around Sydney CBD three times before Flora had worked up the courage to get on. She hated heights and its slow and leisurely pace did little to persuade her that it wouldn’t fall off the tracks. Being so high up in the air, balanced on a thin rail, was daunting but at least she would be enclosed, the opening and closing of the doors protected by the tunnels of the stops. Every challenge was another step towards the new Flora.
Taking her seat at a window, icecream in hand, Flora gazed into the colours of the buildings as they went past. Every now and then a flash of blue from the sky came into vision as one set of windows faded and blurred into another. Sydney was vast. It made Perth seem like a country town. She breathed the newness in. It was a glorious day. She had everything she wanted. At last she was content.
For the last ten months, Flora had been finding her true self. She had snapped shut her suitcases, sometimes with careless abandon, and travelled Australia. She had ridden the rickety roller coaster at Luna Park in Melbourne and seen the gorilla at the Melbourne Zoo. Oddly enough, his behaviour behind the bamboo screen, reminded her of The Terminator’s when she’d told him she was taking a year’s leave. He bellowed and beaten his chest too. She’d walked the Overland Track to Cradle Mountain in Tasmania with a group of people she’d never met before and would never see again and she hadn’t even cared when she had to use a drop toilet. Well, maybe a little. She’d marvelled at the ten thousand year old trees in the Hartz Mountains. She’d been to Uluru and sat on a spitting camel’s back as it walked along Cable Beach in Broome. She’d even had a marriage proposal. Yes, marriage. It didn’t matter that he’d been a tipsy Irish rugby player, a long way from home and ecstatic with his country’s win. It still counted. And it was one more that PJ or Louise had had. And now she was here in Sydney, riding the monorail and eating Little Rock Icecream.
As the monorail came to a halt at the next station, Flora’s eyes went down to the footpath. A young couple were standing, entwined, oblivious to the crowd. They looked happy, nestled in their own little world. Their fingers were coiled, their bodies melding into one as their lips met. Without sadness, she wondered what had become of Luke. He had been the best thing to happen in her life so far. He had changed her and then gone back to Brisbane to marry Juliana. Was he a daddy now? Had he got the prestigious job he’d been promised? Shaking the thought away, Flora saw the couple look up at her. The boy smiled and waved, the girl’s embarrassed face buried in his shoulder. She hadn’t wanted an audience to their lovemaking. He wanted to shout it aloud. Next to them a spiky haired man waved too. He waved and jumped and called out ‘hello.’ Flora grinned. Once upon a time she had been invisible to the world. Now, everyone wanted to talk. It was nice.
The train took off again and Flora turned her attention to the bay of Darling Harbour. She had no regrets. She was glad she’d met Luke and loved him. If she hadn’t she would have still been cutting her toast into triangles and wearing A-line skirts. She would have been scared of being hurt like she had been since the day her Mum had left them, too afraid to try anything new, safe in stability. Now she ate choc-chip pop tarts for breakfast sometimes and her standard attire was a pair of short shorts that showed off her legs.
The train pulled up to the Darling Harbour station. Below her, the girl, the boy and the spiky haired man were jumping and waving, their chests heaving from running. Flora looked down at them. How had they got there? Did they want her? Was that…. Luke? The train lurched forward and began to take off. No, stop. It was Luke. She had to see Luke.
Leaping to her feet she got her foot through the door, just as it was closing.
‘You’ll need to sit down miss,’ the guard said. ‘We’re taking off.’
‘No, it’s Luke,’ she cried, shoving him out of the way. ‘I have to go to Luke.’
The guard shook his head as she pushed through the turnstile and ran off down the three flights of stairs towards the street below, her handbag flying from one arm and the Little Rock icecream teetering on top if its cone. What did he care if she didn’t sit down? It was only a part-time job anyway.
Nearing the quay, Flora was frantic. Her heart was pounding inside her head. It was Luke, it was. Taking the stairs two at a time, she reached the bottom, stopping with her hand gripping the wood of the rail. Where had he gone? It couldn’t have been that the spiky haired man was only someone who looked like him. Could it?
‘Flora.’ Luke’s voice broke. He was panting hard. He had just run five blocks to keep up with a blasted train and almost been flattened by a truck.
‘Luke?’ Confused, Flora’s handbag fell to the boardwalk, the empty cone of her ice cream landing beside it at her feet. A sparrow, seeing an opportunity, hopped up to peck. He was used to humans. He could get out of their way in a flash.
Flora blinked. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was looking for you.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Flora looked up and down the dock. People were jostling them on either side but it was as if they didn’t exist. The little sparrow had flown away with his prize.
‘How?’
Luke took her shoulders in his hands. He pulled her to him, squeezing tight, then tighter. Her sticky icecreamed hand grabbed at his shirt, tiny specks welding themselves on his chest as he kissed her and kissed her. His tongue was like fire and Flora felt herself disintegrating in the heat of it. This was Luke. Her Luke.
At last, she pulled away and looked up into his face. ‘I still don’t understand, why’re you here? How? Why aren’t you in Brisbane with your wife.’ She hadn’t meant for the words to sound so bitter but that was how they came out. It wasn’t fair that Luke was married to a woman he didn’t love, not when he should be with her.
‘I called off the wedding. I told Juli’s family I didn’t care what they did to me, I wanted to be with you.’
‘But the harassment thing, your career?’
‘
I got advice from a mate who’s a lawyer. The charges would never stick, no real proof. It’d be he said, she said.’
‘And Juli, is she okay?’ Strangly, Flora felt concern for the fragile woman who had done anything she could to keep Luke.
‘She’s seeing someone else. She met him shortly after I went to Perth. It’s over, Flora. It’s really over.’
Flora’s eyes widened. ‘So…’
‘I’m not married.’ He lifted her into the air and spun her around and around, his joy seeping into her bones.
‘Stop, Luke,’ she laughed, indicating the fallen treat. ‘I’ll throw up if you don’t stop. That was my second icecream for the day.’
Tenderly, Luke let her down. ‘Two icecreams? Wow. You’re letting your true colours show now, aren’t you? What will it be next, MacDonald’s?’
Flora slapped him, laughing again. ‘I’ve changed. I’ve discovered the new me.’
‘Well, let’s hope the new you doesn’t turn into some junkfood guzzling heifer. I like you the way you are.’
They picked up her things and began along the pier towards the Sydney Aquarium, holding hands. Luke’s grasp made her feel safe and comfortable. It was the one thing that had been missing and now she had it back.
‘How did you find me?’ she asked, curious. After James, Flora had made very sure that she would only be found be those she wanted to find her. A very small list of people had access to her whereabouts.
‘As soon as I cancelled the wedding, I ditched my job and went back to Perth only to discover that you’d taken leave and were off travelling. I’ve been following you ever since with the help of PJ and Louise. They forwarded me the emails you sent to them.’ He held up his Blackberry waggling it in the air. The wonders of modern technology.
Then he regarded her sternly, ‘you know, if you were a regular twenty-something it would have been easy to find you… I could have just checked your Facebook status or sent you a text. But not you. Tell me again why you don’t have a mobile phone?’
Flora was silent. They both knew she didn’t trust mobiles anymore. Still, she smiled, ‘Well, it’s lucky I’m not a regular girl. Then you’d never have loved me.’
‘What do you mean ‘loved?’ I love you more than I ever did, even though I never said it… and Flora?’
‘Yes?’
Luke fell to his knees. There, in the middle of the queue to see the seals, he gazed up into her aqua eyes as the crowd around them began to clap and cheer. ‘I don’t ever want to be apart from you again. I want to marry you.’
Flora could feel the tears welling. ‘Is this the part where I say ‘yes’?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hmm. Well, alright, but on one condition.’
‘Oh God.’ He hoped she wasn’t going to make him dress in some stupid top hat and tails or something. ‘What?’
‘We need to go back to Enrico’s before the wedding so you can learn to waltz. Your timing really sucks.’
Lindy Dale can be found in the following places.
Why not drop by and say hello?
http//:www.ladale-writer.com
http//:www.twitter.com/LA_DALE
http://www.facebook.com/pages/L-A-Dale/112984772054357
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4120913.L_A_Dale
http//:www.ladale.net
An Excerpt from - The Taming of the Bastard
Chapter 1
For longer than I can remember, well, at least the last three years, I had a dream life mapped out in my head. By the time I was thirty I was going to be living on a tropical island with water lapping at my feet and a little B & B nestled in the palm trees behind. I was going to be my own boss. Of course, no one I told believed I’d ever do it. I think most people thought I was the type of girl who wandered through life looking for something she’d never find. Little did they know.
Having skirted my way around a minefield of professions - PR Girl, Personal Assistant and Tupperware Lady, to name a few, I’d come to the conclusion that what I really needed was for my life to be pared back. Simple. Uncomplicated. And thus the dream was born. The small inheritance I’d received shortly after making the decision merely cemented the idea. To achieve my goal, and supplement the pathetic wage I currently earned as a nanny, I worked part time at the local German beer house. Two nights a week, and sometimes on Saturdays, I could be found wearing a natty frilled apron and a red checked frock. Though this was not my number one choice for a career path but rather a means to an end, everything was going the way I’d planned.
Until the day I met Sam Brockton.
It was a typical Thursday evening at the pub. The dining room was teeming with people. The regular crowd of businessmen were at their table in the corner partaking in after work drinks. A party of girls filled a table in the centre of the room. Bridal veils, L plates and trays of cupcakes in the shape of penises were the order of the day. Three bikies sat at the bar swilling schooners of lager and Dianne, the bar manager, was polishing glasses while chatting to them. I was in the servery on the opposite side of the room and Bob, the owner of this classy establishment, was helping me to prepare garlic bread for a group near the window. Bob had a habit of popping up during busy periods on the pretext of lending a hand. I didn’t mind. I knew he was keeping an eye on me because he thought I was hopeless. You see, though my job was easy, I had a habit of becoming distracted by little things around me and this often led to another annoying trait of mine: destruction. I was public enemy number one to all manner of breakable things and a few that were once considered imperishable.
We were packed to the rafters and there was Bob, guarding the microwave. He was still perplexed as to how, on a previous shift, I’d managed to jam my fingers in the door of said machine and not realise I was nuking them. He said it wasn’t that he didn’t trust me with it anymore but rather didn’t want to have to explain my lack of digits to the customers. I knew he was trying to spare my feelings. Deep down, he loved me.
“Wait till you see the bloke just started working in the front bar, Millie,” he said over his shoulder, as he unwrapped the steaming loaves and put them into little wicker baskets. “His name’s Sam. You two’ll get on like a house on fire.”
He stopped and winked at me and I wondered what it could be that would make him think such a thing. I was not your typical waitress. I was a university graduate. Did I look like I had ‘shag me’ tattooed on my forehead? I wandered off in the direction of table six to deliver the bread, considering Bob’s words. That comment had been way off base and, well, frankly, a little hurtful. I hadn’t had a boyfriend in months. Another couple of weeks and I would have been officially declared a natural disaster, a woman in the depths of a man drought.
Turning back to the servery, I stopped, just in time to see the double doors at the end of the dining room fling open like a scene from an old fashioned western movie. A masculine form filled the space. It was tall. It had shoulders the size of a small European country and for reasons even Helen Keller could see, I knew what Bob meant. I’d definitely shag that given half a chance. The figure paused inside the doorframe and perused the scene before him, a boyish grin tempting every woman in the room. A dimple grew in his cheek and his oceanic eyes twinkled. It had to be Sam. Nobody else who worked at The Lederhosen looked like that. In fact, the majority of men I worked with were the product of one too many German sausages with extra sauerkraut. Though I tried not to, I fully checked him out as I walked back to my station, a doleful sigh escaping my lips.
The man was sex on legs. So much so, that I lurched full frontal into one of the dining room pillars that had been strategically placed for such a moment. My pile of dishes fell with a clatter to their death, and I tumbled to the carpet, landing on top of them. Beneath the silence of the girls at the table beside me, I wiped the splodges of tomato sauce from my bum and rolled to my knees. Tears of mortification stung my eyes. The whole dining room had seen me fall and not one of them offered assistance. They merely sat with
their mouths open. Well, except for the new guy, Sam. He was laughing fit to kill himself.
“That’ll come out of your pay, Millie,” Bob grumbled, as he handed me a dustpan. “I can’t afford for you to keep doing this. You’re a one woman demolition team.”
“Sorry Bob.” I didn’t bother to add anything further, there was no point; his face was that frightening shade of puce that could not be put right with words. Besides, it was all Sam’s fault. A girl needed protective glasses to look at him.
*****
A few nights later, keeping my nose to the grindstone and out of Bob’s way, I was polishing forks when Sam came in. As if it happened every day, he ignored the crowd that parted before him like The Red Sea and made his way across the room. Determined, I held my breath and kept my eyes on my work. I was not going to be led astray by his shoulders again. I had to keep my job.
“Here he comes,” whispered Alexandra, my co-worker. “Oh my… he’s way hotter than Chantelle said.” She flicked her blackened locks over her shoulder and pushed out her ample Greek bosom.
“Humph,” I snorted in reply.
Sam waltzed up to where we were standing, looking like a walking shagfest. His mohair jumper, just a tad too fitted for fashionable, showed off his body a treat and his sooty hair, sexily unkempt, added to his bad boy persona. Even the stubble was sprinkled to perfection across his jawline. Mesmerised, Alex let out an audible whimper. I slunk into my tea towel and tried to pretend he wasn’t there. His presence made me dizzy. I couldn’t acknowledge him. It would be so weak; perving like everyone else. It would go against everything I’d ever said about looks not being everything, the person inside being the most important and all that.
Sam rested his large, smooth hands on the counter. A little tuft of mohair wafted from his jumper and landed on Alex’s cleavage. “Has my dinner arrived yet? I’ve only got a fifteen minute break.”
“Um…er, yeah,” I swallowed, pulling his snapper from the dumb waiter and handing it to him. Our fingertips collided on the edge of the plate and I pulled my hand away, curling and uncurling it behind my back. Lightning bolts surged up my arm and my brain registered signals it hadn’t felt in quite some time. Flustered, I gave him a hint of a smile. Surely, he’d sensed it too?
