‘And worrying about it like this isn’t going to help, not one little bit,’ she declared savagely. ‘I’ve done what I can, for the moment, and maybe now I should start thinking constructively and stop spinning my wheels.’
A few minutes later she was in the small yards, speaking soothing baby-talk to Joshua as she ran the dandy brush across his gleaming chocolate coat, then picked up his feet for cleaning, working him slowly and deliberately through the already-learned activities leading up to actually climbing into the Indian military saddle that fit him better than would a conventional Australian stock saddle.
Molly frisked about at their feet, and although Joshua now appeared scarcely watchful of the dog, Helen made a mental notation to go put Molly in the house yard before she actually attempted to get on the donkey’s back. The big chocolate gelding was being so completely biddable that Dane’s warning was, if not forgotten, then thrust far back out of the way. Today should be the day, Helen thought. The weather was right; she was just in the mood for such an adventure; and Joshua himself seemed to be in the mood as well, which might be the most important consideration.
But first, Molly must be confined. It was only sensible, and they were halfway back to the house when the black dog suddenly dashed ahead, barking her warnings loudly at the sleek sedan that was cruising up the driveway.
Helen was mystified at first, then smiled as she recognised the tall young man who emerged from the vehicle. ‘It’s Geoff, isn’t it? Geoff ... Jones.’
‘It is, and I’m glad I wasn’t forgotten in the pack,’ he replied with a grin she remembered quite well from the evening before. He’d been quite the nicest of the young men who’d shown a definite interest in the Helen Fredericks of Victorian dress, and from the look in his eye he wasn’t averse to the blue-jeans-and-jumper- version, either.
Tall, blond and almost too good looking, he stood looking down at her with bold, yet cautious, admiration.
‘Dane isn’t here just now,’ Helen said, suddenly thinking that she was being a bit conceited to think immediately that might be herself that was the attraction. She’d noticed Geoff and Dane in conversation at one point during the party; they obviously knew one another.
‘Just as well, since it isn’t Dane I’ve come to see,’ was the immediately relieving reply. ‘I was actually looking for a rather mysterious blonde in an old-fashioned dress. I don’t suppose you’ve seen anyone like that about?’ Geoff grinned. ‘Be very hard to miss, I’d expect. Very beautiful, gorgeous grey eyes.’
Helen looked down at her riding gear, then shook her head with a grin of her own. ‘Sounds to me like a Cinderella type,’ she laughed. ‘Probably turned into a pumpkin at midnight. You’ve not got a glass slipper, by any chance?’
‘And I’m not a prince, either,’ Geoff smiled with a shake of his head. ‘Ah well, if she’s not here perhaps I can persuade you to join me for lunch.’
‘Dressed like this? I should certainly hope not,’ Helen scoffed.
‘Well we do have plenty of time,’ was the reply. ‘Unless of course you’re really otherwise engaged, or too busy or something.’
Helen couldn’t help herself. ‘That’s the problem,’ she said seriously. ‘I have this date with a bloke called Joshua, you see. And it’s something we’ve been working up to for quite a long time; I’m not sure I ought to break it.’
‘But you ... might be persuaded?’
Full marks for persistence, she thought, and then chided herself for being uncharitable. She quite liked Geoff, and perhaps it wasn’t fair to tease him quite so thoroughly.
He was too young, at least in some ways, but he was good fun, and someone she could talk to without inhibitions or problems. Pleasant company, and today that might be just the ticket!
‘Actually, I think it might be better to get my appointment with Joshua out of the way first,’ Helen said with a grin. ‘And having you here might make it a bit easier, actually, considering I had sort of promised I wouldn’t try to cope with him alone. Do you ride?’
‘But of course. I am, with modesty, not a bad rider at all,’ Geoff replied. And laughed pleasantly when Helen then explained about Joshua and her vague promise to Dane. ‘I do have to say that I’ve never ridden on a donkey,’ Geoff said. ‘But Dane was right, I expect, and I’m very glad indeed to be on hand just in case. Try not to fall off, though, because I’m certain you’d be the type to insist on climbing right back on again, which would eventually make us late for lunch.’
Helen laughed, promised lightly to be as careful as she could, and boosted herself into the saddle with renewed confidence, knowing Geoff had a good hold on the headstall. Joshua, almost to her disappointment, ignored her entirely. He was perfectly happy to walk slowly around the yards, first with Geoff leading and then with Helen guiding him through the reins. Five minutes, no more, and the last big hurdle was well-and- truly over. Joshua was now well on the way to being a proper riding donkey.
‘You’ve certainly schooled him well,’ Geoff complimented as they stowed away the gear and walked towards the house. ‘I’d have expected a lot more action than that.’
‘If he’d been a horse. Donkeys are much smarter,’ Helen said. ‘But I am pleased; it shows I did a good job from the beginning. Now, can I get you a drink to occupy you while I have a shower and change?’
‘Unless you’d rather I came along to scrub your back,’ he prompted, with a grin that suggested he didn’t expect her to take the suggestion seriously but wouldn’t mind if she did.
Helen laughed silently. ‘That might be setting your sights a bit high,’ she replied. ‘Which is what happened to Joshua, and look what it got him.’
Geoff shrugged. ‘I can think of few things nicer than being taken in hand by an expert horsewoman like you,’ he said.
‘Oh, but it would mean being gelded, too,’ Helen replied, and giggled as he blanched at the reply, then hastily withdrew his comment.
‘On second thoughts, I’ll settle for a scotch-and-soda. Shall I have something ready for you when you’re ready?’
‘Only if you can manage vodka-lime-and-soda,’ Helen replied over her shoulder as she exited. ‘I won’t be more than five minutes.’
Actually, it was closer to ten minutes when she returned, now clothed in a light, casual dress, low-heeled sandals, and a cardigan in case the afternoon turned cool.
Geoff handed her a drink and shot her an admiring glance. ‘After your parting shot, I’m almost afraid to say it, but you look lovely,’ he said cautiously, and Helen smiled.
‘Even I know the difference between flattery and rude suggestions,’ she said. ‘So ... thank you. Now ... what about this luncheon plan? I have to admit I’m about ready for it; I didn’t get round to breakfast this morning.’
‘Well that, at least, I can fix,’ he grinned, obviously having shrugged off her earlier rejection without trauma. ‘Drink up and start thinking about the finest of seafoods; it isn’t far from here.
Nor was it. Fifteen minutes later they were seated in the wood-panelled lounge of the Oyster Cove Inn, at Kettering, looking across the D’Entrecasteaux Channel at Bruny Island and debating the relative merits of the blackboard menu.
‘I can recommend any of it,’ Geoff was saying, ‘but especially the squid rings and the scallops, of course. And when we’re done, I suggest a trek right round through the Huon, if you’ve never seen it.’
‘When we’re done, it’ll be time to go home, judging from the size of the servings,’ Helen whispered. ‘Lord, these people must have hollow legs.’ And she looked apprehensively around her at the heaping platters of choice seafood that were being distributed to other tables.
But at Geoff’s encouraging, she finally settled on squid rings to start, followed by scallops. Tasmanian scallops, she was finding much to her delight, were tastier and sweeter than those in Queensland; she couldn’t possibly pass them up.
‘I know I asked you this last night, but are you really just a surrogate kid sister to Dane?’
Geoff had waited until the food arrived before slinging that question, and Helen nearly choked on a piece of squid as she fumbled for a reply that hovered between honesty and truth.
‘Always have been, as long as I’ve known him,’ she replied finally. Truth, if not exactly honesty. All she could do now was hope Geoff would accept the answer; she didn’t want to get involved in lengthy explanations now, even if she could manage them.
‘And he’s not all that old,’ she added, hoping to jar his thinking away from the original question. ‘How old are you?’
‘Exactly the right age for you, or at least that’s what I would have said before you got so vehement about donkey operations,’ he grinned. ‘Actually, I’m thirty-two.’
‘Which isn’t all that much younger than Dane,’ Helen said. Lying, because even if their actual years had been reversed, Geoff would have been the younger. He lacked the maturity, the old-wine quality, wasn’t as mature as Dane had been at the same age, much less now.
She looked away, feeling slightly guilty. What was she doing here, she wondered, and then relaxed again with the assurance of her mind that being with Geoff meant nothing but an uncomplicated and pleasant afternoon. She could handle Geoff; already had, once.
She sat back to enjoy the rest of her lunch, idly following Geoff’s conversation but no longer terribly interested in him. He was, she decided, too easy to handle; she’d be lucky to get through the rest of the afternoon without being bored.
Dane, on the other hand, was never boring. And, she decided, never the type she could handle easily, if at all. He was just too confident, too much his own person, and too totally unpredictable to be taken as casually for granted as she could Geoff.
Still, it was pleasant to be courted without threat, to be wined and dined and driven on what turned out to be a marvellously scenic expedition around the exterior of the Huon peninsula. With the channel on their left, they drove south through Woodbridge and Middleton and Gordon, then swung westward across the bottom of the peninsula through to Garden Island Creek, then northward along the estuary of the Huon River, through the orchard country, the gently rolling hillsides covered in apple and small fruit orchards. And finally, back eastward again across the high passes of the upper Huon, back to the highway leading home.
Geoff, obviously slightly disappointed at not having been able to persuade Helen to stay with him for the evening as well, didn’t come in for a drink, although he brightened considerably when she thanked him for the afternoon with a kiss on the cheek.
"We must arrange to do something like this again,’ he said, and Helen politely agreed despite knowing she would endeavour to be sure of being too busy, in future. He was a nice boy, but only in small doses, she decided.
Dane, as predicted, still wasn’t home, so Helen changed and spent the next hour feeding the livestock and doing some training with Molly. The 142-kilometre round-trip drive had done nothing to help wear off the enormous lunch, and Helen rightly felt the need for some exercise if she was to be expected to eat dinner as well that day.
As it turned out, she didn’t have to worry. Dane phoned a few minutes after she returned to the house, announcing he’d be back later than he’d expected and asking if she’d mind feeding the stock for him. Helen was pleased and gratified at his obvious pleasure when she announced those chores were already taken care of, but the highlight of her day didn’t occur until he’d personally returned home with news.
‘I’ve arranged you a casual sub-editor’s job at the Mercury for a couple of weeks,’ he said after sprawling in his usual chair with a mild Scotch in his hand. ‘The money’s no good and the hours are terrible, but at least it’ll get you out into the wide world again.’
‘Thank you, although you don’t have to sound so pleased to get rid of me,’ Helen replied.
‘Nobody’s trying to get rid of you; this was your own idea,’ he growled. ‘And damned well remember that when the four-to-midnight shift starts getting you down.’
‘Actually, I’ve never minded that shift,’ she replied honestly. ‘One can still get a reasonable sleep and have time to sunbathe all day, or whatever.’
‘Ah ... and is that what you were up to today? I called a couple of times, but you were obviously outside.’
‘More than just outside,’ she said, ignoring her earlier decision not to mention her excursion. ‘I’ve been taken all over the place; lunch at the Oyster Cove Inn, and then a trek all round the Huon, playing tourist.’
And as she spoke, Helen watched him, seeking some sign of interest, or ... she didn’t know what. Which was why she paused rather dramatically before announcing, ‘With Geoff Jones.’
But if she expected — had she? to see any sign of jealousy on Dane’s rugged features, she was not surprisingly disappointed. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Young Geoff’s pretty quick off the mark, but then that’s his style, and it seems to work for him as often as not.’ Dane leaned back in his chair, pausing long enough to light a cigarette.
There was an expression in his eye now that Helen definitely didn’t like; it didn’t quite accuse, but she detected a hint of insinuation there somewhere.
‘And just what is that supposed to mean?’ she demanded, sending him a stern glance along with the question.
‘In your case? I’d be amazed, indeed astounded, if it meant anything at all,’ was the surprising reply. ‘You might have ended up bored stupid after an afternoon with him, but I really can’t imagine you ending up in bed.’
It was so damnably accurate that Helen gasped, openly. Then sat there with her mouth open for an instant as she tried to think of a suitable reply. It was frightening, almost annoying, to have this man so easily able to predict her reactions, almost to read her mind.
‘He’s ... he’s very handsome, though,’ she finally said. A silly statement and she knew it. What was she trying to do ... deliberately make Dane jealous? If so, she wasn’t doing much of a job of it.
‘So’s Joshua,’ Dane said then, very quietly, very soberly, but with a twinkle in his eye.
And Helen broke up. She fairly rolled out of her chair with almost hysterical laughter in memory of her earlier comment to Geoff, and his reaction, and Dane’s perplexed expression at her own reactions to what must have seemed a rather innocuous comment.
It was minutes before she could stop laughing, before she could stifle the bubbling chuckles long enough to gasp out a reply to his, ‘I really can’t see why it’s all that funny.’
And Dane, of course, didn’t laugh as much as she had when it was explained to him. Just enough, Helen thought, to show his appreciation of her own wit, her ability to keep someone like Geoff in his place.
‘After your reception by the younger set last night, I’d been thinking I might have to sit out on the porch at night with a shotgun,’ he finally said. ‘But I reckon you can handle yourself without my help.’
‘Especially since I won’t be here at night,’ Helen replied with exaggerated haughtiness. ‘Which is just as well, because if I had to think of you in such ludicrous circumstances, it might make it difficult to handle anything. I’d be too busy laughing to defend myself.’
Which wasn’t quite true, she decided after retiring to the warmth of her bed. There was something rather comforting about the thought of Dane protecting her. Something tender and very, very welcome. Except that it was probably only something of a dream in the first place. His brother-figure image might still be alive in his mind, but in her own it was long since vanquished by another image, far less brotherly but far more welcome should it decide to investigate reality.
And during the next few days, he played neither role, but instead buried himself in his office. Helen spent most of each day with Joshua, who seemed now to have fully accepted her control and even went so far as to begin greeting his saddling each day with some enthusiasm.
Finally, however, it was time to take on the casual job Dane had arranged, and Helen quickly found that she’d unintentionally lied about enjoying the
four to midnight shift. Or rather, she thought after the first three days, not the shift so much as the day-to-day routine. She could handle the work standing on her head, but she quickly found that her day began not with the beginning of work, but at the end of it. Returning home in the dark, silent hours, she found it difficult to sleep, and usually didn’t drift off until nearly dawn. She saw virtually nothing of Dane, who was usually asleep — or at least pretending to be — by the time she got home, and was ensconced in his office throughout each day.
Their conversation at lunch, on those days when he bothered to eat, was usually confined to trivialities like her work, and she could tell without being told that he was into the home stretch of his latest novel, his mind fully engrossed on the work.
Her mind, on the other hand, seemed to have far too much scope in which to roam. So much so that she spent three afternoons working out the kitchen plans he’d asked for, although she had to force herself to remind herself that this wasn’t going to be her kitchen, but somebody else’s ... probably Marina Cole’s.
Twice during the fortnight’s casual work, Helen found herself editing catch-lines for social pictures in which the elegant brunette featured. One of them had Dane, as well, and she had to look up quickly to see if the editor who’d passed it to her was deliberately seeking some reaction. Apparently not, or else she’d not been quick enough.
She looked at the picture critically, scolding herself for the instant pangs of jealousy it created. Unfounded jealousy, even, because the information given her with the picture made it clear that Dane and Marina had been separately invited to the affair at which the photo had been taken.
But what really hurt was that he hadn’t so much as mentioned to Helen that he’d been invited in the first place. Nor that he was going. Fair enough that she would have been working and thus unable to join him, but still...
And then she laughed at herself. Quietly, almost scornfully. What possible right did she have to criticise Dane’s movements or the company he chose? She was no more than a guest in his house, which meant he was certainly under no obligation to explain to her. Except ... he usually did. Thinking back, Helen couldn’t remember another occasion when he’d neglected to tell her he was going to be out. So why this time?
Age of Consent Page 11
