Be Mine: Valentine Novellas to Warm The Heart

by Nicole Flockton

  Ben pouted. "But I'll miss her."

  And I'll miss you, Meg thought. Instead she forced a smile. "You'll come and visit me. I'll be able to show you the Tower of London and Madame Tussauds. It will be such fun."

  Chris looked up. Unspoken words passed between them: Maybe we could come and visit, but it won't be the same, will it?

  He tossed a tea towel over the remaining dishes on the drying board. "Coffee?"

  Meg nodded and sat down next to Ben at the table, listening to a story about the rabbit the kinder teacher had introduced to the class. Every moment spent with Sarah's child was precious to her and she gave him her full attention.

  The rich smell of the coffee wafted toward her as Chris handed her the mug. White, one sugar, just as she liked it. He set a plate of the freshly-baked muffins in the middle of the table and picked up his own mug, his eyes closing as he inhaled the scent of the Dark Colombian roast.

  He looked well, Meg thought. He had colour back in his face and his body had regained some of its athletic musculature after the months of physiotherapy. He should have died with his wife in that terrible car accident. The doctors had said it was only his superb fitness that had pulled him through.

  That and the love of his son. Ben's name had been the first word he had uttered when he had recovered consciousness. The second had been ‘Sarah’.

  Sarah's presence still dominated this room. Her touch and her taste could be seen in the bright paintings on the walls, the cheerful rugs, handmade cushions and laden bookshelves that lined the walls. Framed photographs occupied every spare inch of space. Wedding photos, images of Ben from birth and one faded sepia image in an old-fashioned wooden frame. Two teenage girls, one dark, one fair, arms around their shoulders, laughing at the camera. MegandSarah, best friends since childhood. Inseparable. Even Sarah’s marriage to Chris hadn't driven a wedge between them. Meg had always been welcome in this house.

  Chris raised his mug. "Here's to Robert's return."

  Meg forced herself to smile and raised her own mug in answer to his toast.

  "What time's his plane?" Chris asked.

  Meg looked at her watch. "Twelve thirty. He had some business in Kuala Lumpur so he stopped off for a couple of days." She set the mug down. "You wouldn't like to come out to the airport?"

  Even to her own ears, her voice sounded small, almost pleading. In a moment of absolute cowardice, she felt unable to face Robert alone.

  Chris frowned. "We wouldn't get in the way?"

  She shook her head. "Oh no. Robert will be glad to see you. You are still one of the groomsmen, aren't you?"

  "Oh, yes. I'd almost forgotten." Chris stared into the depths of his coffee.

  It would have been a family affair; Chris a groomsman, Sarah, matron of honour and Ben the page boy.

  "Can we go to the airport? I want to see the planes," Ben put in, looking at his father with large, pleading eyes.

  Chris frowned and he glanced at his watch. "Twelve thirty? In that case, we better make tracks. Ready Meg?"

  No, was her silent answer. I'm not ready.

  It had been a mistake agreeing to come to the airport with Meg, and not just because Melbourne's Tullamarine airport was a surprisingly busy place on a Saturday afternoon. Meg had trouble finding a car park and when they finally did it was a long walk to the terminal. A long walk with a bad leg, but Chris brushed off her apologies as he reached for his stick.

  "The exercise will do me good," he lied.

  He thrust his left hand deep into his pocket and limped alongside Meg and Ben. The child took her hand as she chattered about how exciting airports used to be. "When I was your age, Ben, we used to go out to the airport on Sunday afternoon just to watch the planes take off and land. My dad loved the airport."

  Ben looked up at her. "Why? Didn't you have Netflix?"

  Meg smiled, brushing away long strands of wayward hair that the warm wind whipped into her eyes.

  Chris glanced at her and he saw the sadness in the downward cast of her mouth. She had lost both her parents in a small plane crash only five years ago, and now Sarah... Meg’s heart had broken over and over.

  They found a place by the large, picture windows, watching the planes pulling into the gates.

  "Look, Ben!" Chris pointed. "There's Robert's plane!" A cumbersome A380 with the Qantas livery was taxiing to a standstill on the tarmac. He glanced across at Meg. She looked stricken, not at all like a bride expecting the arrival of her groom after months apart.

  She caught his glance and smiled. “We’ve plenty of time till Robert clears customs. Let’s buy Ben an ice cream.”

  As they took their place in the Arrivals Hall at the back of the eager crowd that pressed against the barricade, Chris glanced at Meg. She seemed tense, the muscles in her face taut . The hand clutching the strap of her bag showed white knuckles as she craned her head every time the automatic doors opened.

  The crowd began to disperse. Just as it seemed as if Robert would be the last person off the plane, he strode through the doors carrying only one small suitcase.

  He paused, searching the sea of faces, placards and ‘Welcome’ balloons belonging to the large, happy family groups. Chris had known Robert since law school and even to his male eye he could see his friend had put on a little weight and his short hair seemed to have receded even more over the intervening months since his last visit home.

  Meg waved and Robert’s face lit up. He walked briskly towards them, dropping his suitcase to take Meg in his arms. Chris judiciously removed himself and his son to study the arrivals board.

  Robert, his left hand resting in the curve of Meg's back, turned to Chris, holding out his hand. "Chris! Great to see you up and about. How's the leg?"

  Chris looked down at the stick he carried and considered his answer. "On the mend. Ben, say hello to Uncle Robert."

  Ben transferred the ice-cream to his left hand and felt in the pocket of his trousers. He held up a lump of painted clay. "I made this for you at Kinder."

  Robert took the anonymous object between his thumb and forefinger and frowned. "What is it?

  "It's an airplane," Ben said with great dignity.

  Robert dropped the object into the pocket of his expensive jacket without another word. Chris bristled at the casual dismissal of his son's present and his fingers tightened on Ben's shoulder. Meg hadn’t missed the gesture. She gave a small shrug, but her eyes were troubled.

  "Are we going to hang around here all day or are we going home?" Robert said cheerfully.

  He threw his arm across Meg's shoulders as they walked out to the car park, chatting cheerfully about KL and the business colleagues he had met there while Chris, hampered by his bad leg and Ben's short legs, trailed in the rear.

  At Meg's car, Robert made for the front passenger door. As his hand went to the latch, Meg glanced at Chris. "Robert, I'm afraid—" she started to say but Chris interrupted her.

  "Look I'm sorry, Robert, we didn't think when Meg asked us to come out to the airport, but with the leg I need to sit in the front seat."

  "Of course, mate. No problem!"

  Robert folded himself into the back seat of the Mazda 2 next to Ben.

  As Meg merged onto the Tullamarine freeway a car cut in front of her with a blare of its horn, forcing her to hit the brakes. Chris closed his eyes, braced for the shriek of metal which, mercifully, didn't come.

  Robert gave a yelp from the back seat. "You stupid kid. Look what you've done!"

  Ben whimpered, "It was an accident."

  Chris twisted awkwardly in his seat. The remains of Ben's ice cream had toppled on to Robert's expensive jacket. Red faced with annoyance, Robert was trying to mop up the mess with a large white handkerchief.

  "It's okay, buddy," Chris said to his son who huddled in the farthest corner of his seat, as far away from Robert as he could get.

  "Tissues in the glove box," Meg said. "Your jacket will clean, Robert. No need to yell at Ben.”

  Chris handed
Robert the packet of tissues and Robert muttered under his breath as he dabbed ineffectively at the stain on his jacket. Ben gave an audible sniff.

  "It's all right, Ben. It was an accident. Robert's not really cross with you," Meg said.

  Chris gave her a quick, thankful glance. "Yes, cheer up Robert. The joys of fatherhood are still in store," he said, between gritted teeth.

  "Those particular joys can wait," Robert said, his tone high and tight.

  Chris took a breath. "You cannot possibly know until you nearly lose it, how valuable the love of a child can be," he paused, "or a wife."

  In the rear vision mirror, Robert ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. It's been a long plane trip and I'm just a little tired. Sorry, Ben. I didn't mean to shout at you."

  Everyone in the car relaxed and Robert subsided in silence. Chris stared out of the front window, struggling to keep his own anger under control. First the clay model and now this. No one hurt his child.

  When they reached Chris's home in Hawthorn, Ben almost fell from the car in his haste to escape to the comfortable familiarity of home. Meg got out of the car and put her arms around the child, who still looked a little pale and woebegone.

  He looked up at her. "I'm sorry, Aunty Meg. I made Robert all cross. Can I still be your pageboy?"

  “Of course.”

  Chris thanked her for the outing and she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "See you around."

  He waited until the car pulled away from the kerb before following his son up the path to the front door. That was it. From today, it all changed.

  "Where are we going?" Robert asked when it became obvious that they were not returning to Meg's flat in Carlton. "You haven't moved, have you?”

  Meg glanced at him. "We're going to your mother's. She's expecting you."

  "My mother?" Robert looked aghast. "I thought you and I would—'

  She cast a fiancé a rueful glance. "Your mother was insistent. Some silly old-fashioned idea of propriety."

  "But we lived together for four years before I went to London."

  "Take it up with your mother," Meg suggested.

  No one argued with Diana Ahearn.

  Robert ran a hand over his hair. "Meg we've been apart for over a year!"

  "I know, but it's only for another few weeks. Besides after everything that has happened in the last twelve months, maybe it would be good opportunity to get to know each other again. Nothing wrong with a bit of good old-fashioned dating."

  He stared at her, his jaw slack with astonishment. "Dating? Meg we're grown adults. Where did all this nineteenth century nonsense come from?"

  Tears started behind Meg’s eyelids and she had to bite her lower lip to stop them spilling. She cleared her throat. "Robert, I need a little time to get used to having you around again and I thought it would be fun to go on proper dates, not just face each other over breakfast."

  "I see." A small glimmer of understanding dawned in Robert's pale blue eyes. "You want to be courted again?"

  What she wanted was time to reconcile the old Meg and Robert with the new Meg and Robert, but if Robert saw it as a need to be courted, then as an explanation it suited well enough. "Something like that," she said

  Robert tapped his knee, a habit when he was thinking. "Well, I don't know if I'll have much time for serious courtship. I have business in Sydney and Brisbane you know."

  "That's all right. I don't expect the full-on flowers and chocolates." She paused and casting him a grin she added, "Not that you've ever been one for flowers and chocolates."

  As she pulled up outside Robert's childhood home, she wondered why she had felt oddly relieved at Diana Ahearn's insistence that her son return to the maternal bosom for the weeks before his wedding?

  Robert's mother, a large, formidable Camberwell matron, lived in an immaculate house full of valuable antiques and not one comfortable chair. She embraced her son and turned a carefully powdered cheek for her future daughter-in-law to dutifully peck.

  "Robert, darling, you must be exhausted. What took you so long?"

  "We had to drop Chris and Ben at home," Meg explained. "They came out to the airport as part of the welcoming committee."

  Diana's mouth pursed in a moue of sympathy. "How is poor Chris?" She always referred to him as 'poor Chris' which irritated Meg. The last thing Chris needed or sought was patronising sympathy of this nature.

  Instead she smiled brightly. "Oh, he's fine. He's been back at work for over a month now."

  Diana's carefully plucked eyebrows rose in disapproval. "And the little boy? Not in some awful crèche?"

  "No. He has a lovely nanny who takes care of him and the house. She is an absolute treasure."

  "Must be costing Chris a fortune."

  Meg ignored the statement and said, brightly with an accompanying flourish, "So here we are, Diana. You get your son home."

  "Welcome home, darling," Diana said smothering her son with a large kiss. "How lovely. I get my son back to spoil for the last time."

  Robert shot Meg an exasperated glance.

  Meg kissed him on the cheek, "I'll leave you to catch up with some sleep, sweetheart. Lunch tomorrow? I'll book Donovans."

  Robert brightened and opened his mouth to say something but Diana cut across him.

  "Oh, you are both lunching here tomorrow, dear. We have so much to discuss about the wedding."

  Behind Diana, Robert shrugged and pulled a face and Meg had to bite back the smile.

  "Of course, Diana. Lunch tomorrow will be lovely," Meg said.

  As she drove away, Meg almost whooped with relief. Why had she so dreaded his return? The old familiar Robert she had been with since her first year at university had come home and they had six weeks to rekindle the spark of the relationship. All would be well.

  In the meantime, the peace of her flat in Carlton called her, along with the last of the pile of university exam papers that still required marking.

  She kicked off her shoes, poured herself a glass of wine, took a stack of booklets from the pile on the table then kicked off her shoes and sat down on her sofa with a pen.

  Her large, black cat, unimaginatively named Blackie, who had been asleep in a patch of sunlight, stretched and jumped on to the arm of the sofa. She scratched his ears and he butted his head into her hand, purring a reminder that he wanted feeding.

  As she set his bowl down, Meg glanced out of the window to the graceful old oak trees beyond that lined the street.

  "I am going to miss this," she said aloud.

  2

  "Thank you, Mr. Kingsley." The judge looked over his half glasses at Chris and glanced up at the clock on the wall. "I think that this would be a suitable time to adjourn for lunch."

  Chris bowed his head as the clerk of court pulled himself to his feet. "All stand." The inevitable rustle and grunting as everyone rose to their feet. The clerk looked around the court and declared, "This court stands adjourned until two p.m."

  Chris shuffled the papers on the bar table together and stuffed them into his briefcase.

  "Free for lunch?"

  He turned at the sound of the familiar voice and smiled when he saw Meg sitting in the first row of seats behind him. She had tied her long hair back in a loose pony tail with a colourful scarf.

  "Meg! What brings you here?"

  "I had some wedding related chores in town and thought I'd pop in to see if you were free for lunch."

  Chris looked at his watch. God bless the judge and his nicotine addiction. He had nearly an hour and a half till he had to be back in court.

  "If you don't mind coming back to chambers, I'll dump the fancy dress and we’ll pop into Giuseppe's Bistro." He collected his stick and indicated a pile of hefty tomes on the table. "Do you mind carrying those? I won't be needing them this afternoon."

  "Who do you get to lackey for you when I'm not around!" Meg complained as she trailed after him, lugging the books.

  Chris smiled at her. "Someone from m
y clerk's office."

  "What will you do when you ditch the stick and have two hands again?"

  He glanced at her and checked his pace looking up at the dome of the Supreme Court as if considering her question. "I'll have to think of some other excuse to get beautiful women to do my bidding."

  Chris's room in the modern barrister's chambers, close to the court, were typically male, furnished with his grandfather's sturdy antique desk and a rather battered leather sofa he had retrieved from the family property, Neerimbah. Sarah had given him the prints of early Melbourne that hung on the walls. A threadbare Persian carpet, also a refugee from Neerimbah, was barely discernible beneath the folders and neatly folded briefs, all tied with the ubiquitous legal pink ribbon. Photos of Ben and Sarah crowded the desk and bookshelves behind his chair. He liked to keep them close

  "Well you seem to have plenty of work," Meg remarked as he took off his gown and wig.

  He paused. Meg was one person of the few people in the world he could be totally honest with. "I need it. I've had nearly a year without income. Even with the insurance money, it's a struggle. I didn't realise how much we relied on Sarah's income. Ready?" He held the door open for her, cutting short any murmur of sympathy she may have had for his previous remark.

  The usual collection of barristers, defendants, plaintiffs and witnesses after a good quick meal, crowded the little Italian Bistro, but they managed to find a table for two in a corner.

  Chris gave the waiter their order and closed the menu. "So, how's Robert?"

  "He's in Sydney until Thursday.” Meg screwed up her nose. “Honestly, he may as well be back in London for all I am seeing of him."

  "And how are the wedding plans going?"

  Meg hefted a heavy sigh. "Diana seems to have it all organised."

  "But it’s your wedding!" Chris said with a surge of indignation on her behalf.