Rhythm and Rhyme

by Dixie Carlton

  Nate decided to remain standing for now, nervously clutching his glass and unsure what to say in such intimate surroundings. Margaret, with her hair loose and freshly brushed forming soft waves around her face, and the dim lighting, made her even more beautiful to him. He missed her terribly, and wanted nothing more or less right now than to simply take her in his arms and make passionate, urgent love with her, reaffirming all that she meant to him, forever.

  But while she sat, he still stood, and finally the silence dragged into an uncomfortable one. When they both started talking at the same time, their words crossed but ignited some quiet laughter which eased the tension in the room. “OK, you first.” said Nathaniel.

  Margaret smiled. “Thank you for today. There was so much to take in, and I loved… make that really needed, to see the kids. I’ve missed them so much.” Her eyes glistened. “I don’t quite know how we’re going to get through this next few months, but I do see sense in what you are suggesting.”

  “I will ensure that you get to meet them again this next few days. Next time, I’ll ensure that Leonora their nanny comes along. We’ll need her to be aware of things between us so that she can not only support our efforts to make these changes, but also help keep the connections open with you and the kids when I’m not here.” Margaret nodded, and he continued, encouraged into some clarity of thought around the issues. “Next week I must return to New Zealand, and I expect to be away for nearly three weeks. I understand this is a critical time for us, but I can’t stay and do nothing. I must start the process of moving our Head Office to Auckland as soon as possible so that we can be together, but away from any influence from my mother or father. You being here for the children is a good thing, even though I know that you’ll perhaps not get to see them more than a few times while I’m gone. Mother will likely smell a rat if there’s too much variation in their routine. But knowing you’re here is very comforting.” He shuddered internally, deciding to not mention anything about his recent battle with his mother over the idea of adopting Maureen out or sending Lewis to school.

  Margaret rose from out of the low chair and stepped towards him. He could smell her perfume and almost feel the warmth of her body. She looked up at him. Her lips were moist from her having nervously licked them as she stood up, and it took everything in him to not kiss her at that moment, but he held his breath in anticipation of what she might be about to say, or do.

  “Nate, I’m so very sorry about all of this.” He started to protest and she held up her hand to silence him. “No, I’m not saying I’m sorry because I feel that I did something wrong, that’s not what I mean. I am just so very sorry that these things happened to us and for where these events have brought us to now.” Her tears welled up again and threatened to fall if not blinked away and she held fast to his gaze. “I’d never ever do anything to upset our life together, have you doubt my love for you, or…” As she finally blinked, he leaned forward ever so slightly and kissed her trembling lips. She instantly returned his kiss and sobbed as he lifted her and took them both to her waiting bed. Clinging to each other by then, they surrendered to the deepest yearning each had for the other, to become one. Nathaniel shed his clothes as she tore at them and her own, clumsily and ineffectively, each desperate as the moments raced by, to collide into each other and satisfy their hunger.

  It was a long while later till they each lay back, satisfied, spent, and warmly holding hands as though unable to let go of each other in a rough storm. Each was fully naked by this time and Margaret felt suddenly and unexpectedly shy, seeking to cover up with the blankets. “No, wait, I need to look at you.” Nate held fast to the sheet she was also holding and she relented under his gaze, returning it as he looked at her body. Although he had looked at her perhaps hundreds of times over the years this way, tonight was reminiscent of the first time he’d undressed her fully, run his hands over her very young breasts and felt the warm crevice between her thighs. He sighed, partly from his memories of years gone by and partly with pleasure as he moved his spare hand over the curve of her plump bottom now. Feeling her solid and warm, half under his own body, was like a tonic to his soul. “God, you are so beautiful. Margaret, I’m so sorry too. I never should have let the thoughts I had get to me that way and to believe you were somehow involved in this drama was just madness - I know that now.” He slowly brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, but refused to release it. Instead he took his time to kiss and caress each delicate finger before moving to the next one. Then he lay back on their shared pillow and smiled at her.

  Margaret smiled back and felt herself relax fully for the first time since that night when her own husband and Nate’s wife arrived on her doorstep in Auckland.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The next day, Margaret decided to pay a brief visit to Solange. She walked into her store, down the hall with the fabrics and haberdashery and found her friend sitting behind the large white table, sewing sequins onto a beautiful blue Venetian style mask. The blue dyed ostrich feather bobbed above her own head as Solange darted a needle in and out of the side of the enormous headpiece and so intent on her work was she, that Margaret was able to observe her unnoticed for few moments.

  Solange’s nearly bald head was wrapped in a bright sultan style turban today, with a cluster of plastic fruit falling over the side. Juicy looking grapes battled with strawberries and citrus fruit for center stage on the bizarrely over-decorated piece. As Margaret looked downwards, below the intently frowning face, with lips pursed in concentration over a five o’clock shadowed face, and to the high lace neck collar and tight busted fit of what might have been a wedding gown once, Margaret smiled to herself. She liked Solange, a lot. However, she was baffled by the concept that this man, who preferred to dress like a caricature of some otherworldly goddess and was so extraordinary at designing costumes for women that did indeed transform them into goddess-princesses, was so hopeless at creating any real style or classic look for herself. When dressed as Gregory, he in fact looked almost handsome and debonair. “Ahhemmm” she coughed loudly.

  Solange looked up startled to see anyone, let alone Margaret, starring down at her and nearly fell off her chair, upsetting the monstrosity on her head in the process. She quickly righted her balance, but almost at the expense of both the mask and the headdress. “Lordy, what on earth are you trying to do to me, girl!”

  Margaret giggled, “Oh come now - how could you not have heard my heels on that floor!”

  Solange looked hard at her, “And just what have you been doing to look like that? Are you sick?” Margaret looked older than normal, with dark circles under her eyes and bags, that might have carried a change of clothing in them, starting to show. Her hair was pulled back into a rather unbecoming style with a hat that was a little askew based on the shape of the harsh hair bun underneath. Aside from that, she was dressed perfectly as normal, but Solange always recognized the signs of hard living and sleeplessness in her customers. She peered closely at Margaret and took in the barely veiled twinkle in her blue eyes too. Something had happened.

  “Well, are you going to make me play 20 questions, or tell me what’s been going on to make you look like…” she took a theatrical step backwards, and looked Margaret up and down pointedly…” Like that!” She finished and scowled, demanding information.

  Margaret did have the good grace to blush, but this was wasted on Solange, who simply said “Mmmmmpph!” and folded her arms, refusing to look away.

  “Well, yes I do have some news. And I thought it best to talk with you about it given what we spoke about last week.”

  “Girl, I think you better start talking, and we better have some refreshments to talk with. Follow me.” Solange led the way to the upstairs area of her store, settled Margaret to making the tea and went back downstairs to turn the closed sign to face outward and lock the door.

  When they were seated, Margaret finally leaned forward and shared everything that had happened, including Nate’s coming by the ni
ght before. She hesitated to discuss their lovemaking but Solange made it clear she knew exactly what she was alluding to.

  “So, what exactly does this mean?” If Solange had been standing, her hands would have been proudly on her hips with an expression of doubt to match such a stance, but instead, she simply thrust her chin out at Margaret with a doubtful expression. She decided already that she didn’t trust any of the Cook family but did her best to keep that to herself.

  “It means that Nate and I will be together, albeit not quite as expected and it might take a while, but the children and I, and him of course, will be a family again, soon.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because he’s the reason your children are living with his mother and not theirs!”

  “Ouch!”

  “You think that’s harsh? Look at what he’s put you through these last few months.”

  Margaret thought about that for a moment. “Yes, but surely you can see how that has come about? He’s been through the wringer too you know!” Margaret tried to defend her lover but knew she was coming up short. She tried a different tack. “I want us to be together and now that his wife is, well, dead, there is nothing really stopping us. He wants it too. Surely we can put all the past behind us to start over?”

  Solange was bemused. How could anyone be so stupid as to blindly believe everything a man told them, especially a woman such as this. Margaret McKenzie had seemed so different. Stronger, wiser and a woman who knew her own mind. Solange had respected her. Now, she was not so sure.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Gregory and Kaiden were due to meet that evening, and quickly settled in to the bar at the back of the Salty Dog tavern. It was a place where people like them went to conduct men’s business in private - everyone kept a reasonable distance from others in the bar, and voices were generally lowered, but the beer flowed freely - as did the conversations.

  “I need to know everything that is going on in the Cook’s house, especially about the nanny, and what that old woman is up to. If anything starts to get interesting, I need to hear about it.”

  “What exactly do you mean by ‘interesting’ my friend?” asked Kaiden.

  “Any sign of packing up to go anywhere, any arguments, new people coming and going, and in particular anything on the son.”

  “Sure, OK. I can do that. It may still take a couple of days to get any information to you.”

  Gregory frowned. Yes of course… this was potentially a problem, but one that must be resolved. And Quickly. “Ask Marjia to think of a way for her to signal anything that needs to be shared immediately and to find a way or place to leave messages if necessary. This is important.”

  Kaiden looked at his old friend and wondered why, but decided he was perhaps better not to know. He didn’t mind not knowing too much about people - it usually led to trouble. He’d learned that in Malta during the war. Best to keep your head down and stay busy, but observe everything. So, he refrained from asking. Instead, he nodded his understanding of the request and moved on to the main issue; the possibility of a heist at Cookson’s warehouse. “Marjia has already made a copy of the keys, but needs them tested to see if they work. Here.” He slid a set of five keys across to Gregory, who quickly put them in his pocket.

  “But you don’t know which is which, or anything else yet?”

  “The Address is 815 Sloane Street. Go take a look. Let’s meet again on Friday?”

  “Ok.” Gregory finished his beer, and added one last request. Find out what times Marija’s lover starts work each day.”

  He didn’t wait to see his friend’s nod, but left and made his way immediately to the warehouse in Sloane Street. Time to start looking around and working out their options.

  As he approached the warehouse, Gregory noted that there were several others nearby, but that Cookson’s stood separately from them, a large square two-level building with a drive in and turning bay and a loading dock on the side. There were three large doors, big enough for a sizable load to go through, and a smaller door on the opposite side. The window next to it indicated that it was probably the location of the front office and several windows in the second level meant that perhaps there were more offices above.

  It was dark, and the street was deserted, with little light, the moon provided some, but only just enough. He didn’t have a torch with him, but did a quick walk around the building, noting the lack of fencing and absence of dogs. Bars on the window and door were clear, but he was able to work out which key was for the side door. He’d come back the next night and look further.

  He had managed to locate a potential buyer for small items, and had an understanding with this new contact that maybe there would be more substantial deals forthcoming in the New Year. Paul Stokes was well known for being connected with black market operators throughout the South Pacific and was apparently reliable, with a fair aptitude to doing business. Tim had recommended him to Gregory and was happy to do so and progress his own plans. What Tim did not tell Gregory was that Paul was in fact his own contact - he was simply removing himself from being in the middle of it all.

  A small shipment was due to be handed to Paul directly later that week and it would give Gregory a chance to find out what might be best be done with a larger haul… he wondered if in fact he should simply cut someone like Paul in on the deal. Crossing the street towards his home, he didn’t notice the man standing in the shadows, slightly stooped, thin, with sharp eyes and tight mouth. Thomas Morris was nothing if not hardened by life through his nearly 40 years ducking and diving through the jagged edges of a hard existence, devoid of love, kindness, and luck.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Marija was easily able to see just how unhappy the children were, but something had changed. Suddenly, they were less fractious and miserable; more secretive somehow. Something certainly was different in the household. Leonora had noticed it too. Something was off, and she seemed unable to talk with Maureen these last few days without noticing a smirk, or a shrug indicating that she really didn’t care much to hear anything Leonora might say. It was as though the children had decided to close ranks against everyone and stand together with their backs to a wall.

  “That girl - she’s trouble. She just won’t listen. I’m tired of trying so hard to get her to like me.” Leonora lamented her latest efforts with Marija and the house keeper, Sally. I just don’t understand her at all. Lewis on the other hand is a delight. But even he seems different. He looks at his sister before he says anything at all, as though he needs her permission to speak.”

  “At least the dramas seem to have stopped for a while.” Marija was referring to the constant and noisy battles between Maureen and Sybil. “I’ve not heard a door slam since Tuesday.”

  “Yes, it’s quite strange. Still, I’m expecting that I’ll have to talk with the Mister before he goes, so maybe he will be able to explain.”

  “Ahem…”

  At that, they turned to see that Nathaniel himself was standing a few feet away and had presumably heard their conversation. “Leonora, I wonder if we might speak privately for a moment.”

  He turned and walked into his own rooms, a sitting area with a bedroom through an open archway. He turned and sat in one of two straight backed chairs, each on either side of a low table, indicating that Leonora should sit opposite him.

  She fidgeted uncomfortably, wondering what could possibly be wrong. He looked nervous.

  “Leonora, I heard you just mention to the others that you felt something was amiss with the children. Are you concerned about something?”

  “Oh, well no, Sir, just that I’ve noticed the children both seem somehow calmer this week. Everything else is fine.” She had a strange thought that he was feeling his way through a sensitive matter, but unable to quite bring the words forward. He hesitated, and leaned forward to pick up a fountain pen on the table, capping it and uncapping it, fiddling and fussing over it, before fin
ally leaning back and looking at her long and hard for a moment.

  “I’m about to tell you something, that must not leave these four walls. Leonora, can I trust you to be very discreet about something of utmost importance?” He knew that holding his breath was absurd, but he also felt that trusting much of his future plans to a stranger was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do in his life. A lot was at stake, and yet he was certain of his need of this woman’s support for things to go as planned.

  “Certainly, Sir. I mean, whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll be well able to keep my own counsel on it. I’d never do anything to hurt those children, and my last employer knew I was able to be trusted. You have already checked my references…” She trailed off, unsure what else to say.

  “Thank you, Leonora. Yes, your references were excellent, and of course you will be able to expect the same from me in time.” He put the pen back on the table and flicked it so that it spun around. He stood up then and put his hands in his pockets, pacing as he thought yet again about what he needed to say and wondered how much to hold back. Finally, he stopped still and turned to face her.

  “The reason the children are a little more settled this week is that on Sunday we met up with their mother. She and I have been estranged for these past few months due to a situation outside our control back in New Zealand. However, Mrs Cook, er, that is to say, my mother does not like um, my, um, well. Oh it’s a bit complicated and I’d best explain a little better.” Nathaniel resumed his pacing, while Leonora sat quietly, taking it all in. “The children’s mother is my mistress, and has been for many years. As I think you may be aware, my wife died unexpectedly early this year, and my mother was far closer to her than I myself was. In fact, my mother is quite distressed about that, but also sees having Lewis and Maureen here in Sydney as a means of keeping me from marrying Margaret, er, Mrs McKenzie. And so, the thing is you see, Mrs McKenzie’s presence here in Sydney must not be made known to Mrs Cook, and yet I also need for the children to see their mother, even while I’m away, as I will be next week.”