by Cathryn Hein
With Josh’s buck’s party an all-day affair, Digby had driven down for Friday-night dinner but left soon after. In preparation for her own busy Saturday, Jas had gone to bed early and much to her amazement slept through. Worry had been playing havoc with her sleep patterns, leaving her waking tired and even more stressed, but a solid, uninterrupted night’s rest had done wonders.
After a long drive from New South Wales, Em and Jasmine’s friend Teagan and her handsome fiancé Lucas had arrived in Levenham the day before. Jas had offered them her spare bedroom but Teagan had refused, not wanting to intrude. With two weeks still to go until the wedding, and with Teagan’s parents plus her aunt and her aunt’s partner due to arrive the week leading up to the big event, she and Lucas had instead rented a serviced farmhouse on one of the winery properties to the west of town. Jasmine couldn’t help but feel relieved. She loved her friend, but Teagan’s presence would have made seeing Digby difficult, and as much as Jas was trying to steady her wayward emotions the thought of not seeing him left her feeling as angsty as an adolescent.
There was also the risk of Jasmine’s harasser starting her antics again, regardless of Digby’s assurances. Teagan had never hidden her disapproval of Jasmine’s affair with Mike and, unless Em had let on, she’d be unaware it had resumed after the earlier break-up. Discovering it had endured for almost another year would not make for friendly relations. This was Em’s special time and Jas didn’t want arguments, especially hackneyed ones that should have been buried long ago.
Unlike Josh’s buck’s party, which was starting in the morning, Em’s wouldn’t commence until midday, when they were all due to gather for a champagne luncheon in the upstairs private function room of the Australian Arms Hotel. Granny B, who’d insisted on having a say in proceedings, had pulled her purse out and some favours in and engaged an Adelaide-based costume designer, complete with vast wardrobe, along with a stylist, three make-up artists and hairdressers, whose job was to transform them all into ’50s-style glamour queens. A cocktail-making class would follow after which they were all to be ferried out to Ryan’s winery for dinner and ballroom dancing, with band and instructors all laid on.
It was, Jas hoped, to be perfectly fabulous and perfectly Em.
Jas spent the morning playing with Oxy. The poor old sweetheart had been neglected of late and his forlorn long face hanging over the fence that morning had swelled Jas with guilt. The horse had been her friend and confidante through all the joys and tribulations of her life, and she owed him her attention and affection.
The morning was glorious, the sky a pristine azure dome, the air salt-scented and fresh. Seagulls swirled on gusts, reconnoitring the beach. A flock of native black swans from the wetlands cruised over, intent on a cleansing sea bath. The road was busy with surfers and fishermen ready to catch the tide, and families with children looking forward to a day at the beach. Jas brushed Oxy’s dappled grey coat until it shone, trimmed his mane and tail, picked his hooves, cuddled and massaged and chatted nonsense, but a corner of her mind remained on Digby.
Jas wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or their own distraction over Josh’s and Em’s parties, but over the last two nights she thought she’d sensed a slight distancing on Digby’s part. It wasn’t something she could pin down. They made love the same as always, with freedom, laughter and ardour. Occasionally though, she’d caught a fine frown that was covered with a smile so fast she wasn’t sure it had been there at all.
When she’d asked if everything was all right he’d been dismissive, yet the lingering sense of not-quite-rightness had remained.
The afternoon and evening proved hilarious. Granny B was in fine form, quaffing champagne as she strutted around, unlit cigar in hand, ordering people about. Possessing an incredible designer wardrobe herself, and not having put on an ounce of weight since she’d married almost sixty years ago, Granny B had turned up at the Arms in a sexy figure-hugging vintage Schiaparelli evening gown and full-length fur coat, leaving everyone—including the stylist—gobsmacked. If that wasn’t enough, she’d flirted outrageously with their mixologist, drunk everyone else under the table, and gleefully flaunted her astonishing stamina by outdancing them as well. If it weren’t for an appalled Adrienne forcibly escorting her out the door, Jas was sure Granny B would have taken off home with one of the male dance instructors.
Em was in fits of giggles. Non-drinking Teagan, as keen as Jas for Em to have fun, had been surreptitiously topping up Em’s glass whenever she wasn’t looking, and the result was a wonderfully relaxed bride-to-be who’d danced the tango and the salsa, and happily joined in a very wobbly cha-cha snake of hysterically laughing women.
‘You’re brilliant, you know that?’ said Em, slinging an arm around Jas and kissing her heartily on the cheek. Despite her champagne consumption, Em remained as stunning as ever in a strapless burgundy satin gown that fitted and flattered her body beautifully. Her hair had been slicked back into a chic bun, exposing her swan-like neck and perfect shoulders.
In a bright blue halter-neck dress that flaunted her generous assets, Jas was feeling equally as wonderful. ‘You should thank your grandmother more than me. She organised most of it. Most of my time was spent calming her excesses. Did she tell you she wanted to hire Puppetry of the Penis?’
‘No, but it doesn’t surprise me in the least. I’m thanking my lucky stars she didn’t hire the Chippendales.’ Em smiled. ‘She was in a class of her own tonight.’
‘She was. I’m not sure Adrienne is going to forgive her in a hurry either. Or Granny B your mother. I swear she was about to drag that dancer off to the loos for a quickie.’
‘Not the loos,’ said Teagan. ‘That’d be far too common. My bet would have been the counter of the wine-tasting room. She could shag and drink at the same time.’
Em clapped her hands over her ears. ‘Please don’t mention my grandmother having sex anymore. It’s too horrible.’
‘Speaking of sex,’ said Teagan, ‘I wonder how the boys are faring.’
Em’s eyes narrowed. ‘If I find out Digby hired strippers there’ll be trouble.’
‘I’m sure Digby organised plenty to keep them occupied without resorting to strippers. Not his thing, anyway.’ Jasmine’s mouth tilted a little as she realised that claim perhaps wasn’t quite true. In the privacy of her bedroom, Digby had proved himself rather partial to her silly stripteases.
When she glanced back at her friends, Em was grinning towards the dance floor where Josh’s sister Sally was untidily attempting to perform the paso doble. Teagan, though, was studying Jas thoughtfully. Cheeks burning, Jas quickly looked away again.
It was well after midnight by the time Jas had changed out of her costume, conducted a quick whip around the venue to make sure nothing had been left behind, and helped shuffle the last party-goer into the minibus. Unlike the other guests, who had been picked up by bus and were to be delivered home the same way, Jas had driven. Forcing the driver to make the trip to Admella Beach had seemed selfish, and with her property under assault, Jas hadn’t wanted to stay overnight in Levenham anyway.
Bar its usual arthritic creaks and protests, the house was quiet and more than a little lonely when Jas arrived home. Yet as weary as she was, after removing the heavy make-up, brushing the spray out of her hair, and changing into her nightie, she couldn’t bring herself to go to bed. Instead, Jas poured herself a glass of the beautifully aged shiraz left over from one of Digby’s visits and settled into the lounge with the television and her mobile phone.
A flick through the channels revealed a dozen movies she either had no interest in or had seen before. She tried the entertainment programs to no avail, finally settling on one of the sports channels and World Cup Showjumping. With two Australians competing it was about as diverting as anything else on offer.
It took ten minutes for acute boredom to set in. Although it wasn’t really boredom, more restlessness. Jas wanted to know how Digby had fared, if the day had gone as well as he hop
ed, but it was late and contacting him seemed needy and intrusive.
After several minutes of umming and ahhing over the wisdom of her actions, Jas caved and sent a brief text—simple words, hopefully to make him smile. Hope you had a great night. We did! Home and tired and need bed. Can’t help thinking it’d be much more appealing with you in it.
She waited, hoping for a reply, but the phone remained silent. With a sigh Jas tossed it on the end of the couch and sipped her wine, staring sulkily at the showjumping. Irritated, she picked up the remote and surfed to one of the easy-listening music channels. Murphy’s Law dictated they would be playing one of her favourite love songs, one she’d spent ridiculous hours mooning over Mike with. An inner morbidity had her leaving it there.
The song should have been a lesson in love’s disasters, instead it only made her longing for Digby worse.
It was wrong. Not just wrong but a waste of emotion. She wanted him. In her bed, in her life, in her heart.
And the worst of it was he would never want her back the same way.
Jas was enjoying the most delicious dream when she roused enough to realise it wasn’t a dream at all. The warm hand on her shoulder was real, not imagined. Her eyes snapped open, adrenaline breaking like a storm as she registered a figure sitting on the edge of her bed. Squealing, she scrambled sideways, arms flailing as she tried to reach for the heavy steel-cased torch she kept on her bedside table.
‘Jas, Jas, shh. It’s me, Digby.’
‘Bloody hell!’ She panted for a moment. ‘You scared me stupid!’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know the best way to wake you.’
Recovering, Jas sat up and scraped curls of sleep-mussed hair from her eyes and forehead. Although her heart was pounding from shock, there was no denying some of those thudding beats were due to joy at seeing him. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I needed to ask you something.’
‘And it couldn’t wait?’
He looked towards the window. It was hard to read his expression. After the magnificent day, the sky had clouded over and now the moon and stars were dulled, their glow ineffectual. ‘Probably.’
She slid closer and placed her hand on his arm. ‘What’s wrong? Was it the party?’
‘No. The party was great.’ He was quiet a moment. ‘It’s you.’
‘Me?’ Jas wasn’t sure she liked the sound of this.
‘You met Mike this week.’
So he’d found out. She sighed, ashamed at not telling him, but even more saddened at being questioned. Bleakness settled in her bones. ‘It’s not what you’re imagining.’
‘How do you know I’m imagining anything?’
‘Your voice.’ Upset, she slid down the bed and turned on her side, away from him.
‘I just want to know, Jas.’
‘Why? What difference would it make? It’s not like we have claims on one another.’
He sighed and stretched to lie behind her, arm curling across her belly, breath tickling the hairs at the back of her neck. ‘I don’t want you hurt.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘I also need to know if I have to make good on my threat.’
She rolled over to stare at his face. ‘What threat?’
‘That he was to stay away from you.’
Digby had threatened Mike? The revelation was astonishing. ‘Or else what?’
‘The specifics don’t matter. What matters is who made the contact. Was it him?’
Jasmine didn’t know whether to be offended or flattered that Digby had gone in to bat for her. Part of her felt outraged that he believed she needed help to manage Mike, the other part rejoiced that he could care so much.
‘Jas?’
‘It was me. I asked him to meet me.’
Digby’s eyes closed in what she could guess was relief. He pressed his forehead against hers and shook his head. ‘God, Jas. Why would you do that? The man’s an arsehole.’
‘I know. And I’m a fool for ever believing he was anything other than one.’
‘So why meet him?’
‘I wanted to return a ring. He’d given it to me as a pledge that he was serious, that one day we’d be together. I thought it was valuable and it didn’t sit right that I should keep it. I thought maybe he could sell it and buy something nice for Tania with the proceeds.’ She sucked on her bottom lip. Even now, the pain that she’d been betrayed so badly, that she’d been so gullible, remained. ‘Turns out it wasn’t real. Just a cheap bit of zirconia.’
‘That must have hurt.’
‘Yeah, it did. My own fault. I should have known he never meant it.’
Digby seemed as content as Jas to let silence drift for a while.
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she whispered.
He brushed knuckles gently over her cheek, eyes shining. ‘Me too.’
‘Did you get my text?’
‘No, I left my phone at home. Anything important?’
‘Not really. Just to say hello. Mention how boring bed was without you.’
She could feel his amusement through the darkness. ‘Aren’t you tired?’
‘Exhausted.’ Smiling back, she reached for him. ‘But after all the naughty things I ate today the exercise will do me good.’
CHAPTER
17
Jas poured a cup of tea and left it to brew, then crossed to the window to stare out at the glum day.
Though she knew she should let it go, Digby’s murmur in the night troubled her deeply. It had happened late, after he’d fallen asleep, restless and muttering. He’d rolled over to press his head against her chest and Jas had smiled and stroked his hair. It had been a contented moment when she’d let her imagination soar into what could be, but it had turned jaundiced. A single whispered name revealed there was only room for one woman in Digby’s heart.
And it wasn’t her.
They had a solid, caring friendship and great sex, but nothing more. Jas had to accept that, and if her sacrifice meant Digby found some peace from his pain, then so be it. Perhaps this would be her penance for Mike. Her gift to set at least someone’s world to rights.
It beat the alternative, which was feeling angry at a universe that seemed hell-bent on causing her unhappiness. Jas refused to be anyone’s victim, even Fate’s.
She finished making her tea and wandered outside, sipping as she went. Digby’s car sat behind hers in front of the garage. He’d wanted a walk and Jas wasn’t in the mood. The tide was in, a big one, and she never liked it when it swept so far up the beach. It felt creepy. The foaming churned edges of the waves seemed cold and covetous, pushing aggressively towards the dunes as if the sea was hungry.
Jas perched on Oxy’s fence and watched him grazing. She should have been cleaning the house or attending to a dozen other chores but they could wait. A moment to breathe, to settle, was what she needed—equilibrium so she could face Digby’s return with strength.
Her tea was almost finished when a car sounded in her drive. Jas frowned, before an onslaught of panic had her leaping off the fence. Digby’s car was in plain sight. Depending on who the caller was there’d be questions, perhaps worse.
‘Please, please,’ she whispered, praying for it not to be Em, but the gods weren’t listening. Stomach muscles clenched and blood racing, Jas stood rooted at the edge of her back lawn as Em’s four-wheel drive slowed to a standstill.
Em alighted, her gaze on Digby’s Mercedes. A small, gift-wrapped box was in her hand. Pausing, she regarded the car with a frown. For several heartbeats she appeared more puzzled than anything else, then her mouth dropped in shock. She glanced towards the house before catching sight of Jas. Immediately her expression frosted over.
Several long strides and Em was in front of her. ‘So it’s you.’
Jas kept her chin up. She would not be ashamed of her relationship with Digby. ‘Yes.’
Em turned away, one hand to her forehead as though trying to soothe a deep headache. Suddenly she swung back. ‘What the h
ell were you thinking?’
‘Em …’
‘Don’t you “Em” me! You know what he’s been through. You know how fragile he is. Yet you do this?’
Jasmine cupped her hands forward, pleading. ‘Em, please. You have to understand. It’s for us both.’
‘For you both?’ She barked a bitter laugh that had Jas shrinking inside.
‘I know I should have told you, explained, but with the wedding and everything it seemed better to—’
‘Better? How can this be better? He’s a mess, Jas. A mess! How could you possibly think that sleeping with him would help?’
A tear slicked out of Jasmine’s right eye. She swiped it away. ‘Because it does.’
Em shook her head, and backed off a few steps as if in disgust. ‘You’ll break his heart.’
Break Digby’s heart? What about her heart? Jas couldn’t believe Em wouldn’t even listen. She couldn’t help it, her voice rose with her surging anger. ‘What heart? He doesn’t have one. She stole it!’
Em crossed her arms, her mouth lifted in a sneer. ‘And you think fucking him will bring it back?’
Jas blinked in shock. Em never spoke like that. Never.
‘He came to me,’ said Jas, wiping once more at tears that refused to stop. ‘He was lonely and wanted someone to talk to. It was never meant to be more than that.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘Don’t, Em. Don’t spoil it just because you don’t understand.’
For several strained seconds they locked eyes. Jasmine’s gaze pleading, the coldness of her friend’s gradually easing as doubt and years of trusting friendship ate at her conviction. But before Jas could say anything further, Em’s focus jerked seaward.
Digby was coming over the dunes at a pace.
‘Please,’ said Jas, whipping back to Em. ‘Don’t fight over this. It’s not worth it.’
But by the time he’d come close enough to catch sight of Jasmine’s tears, a fight was exactly what Digby appeared to want. His expression was dark with fury. His eyes narrowed on Em and filled with blame.
Jas threw one last pleading glance at her friend before stepping forward to intercept Digby, determined to protect what little relationship he had with his sister. ‘It’s okay, Dig. Em’s just a bit shocked.’