by Susan Napier
‘Olivia’s got to make her own mistakes,’ Julia offered wisely, while sympathising with Ros’ attitude.
Ros sighed. ‘I know, unfortunately. I wish I could get Hugh to talk to her.’
Julia’s ears pricked up. ‘I thought he didn’t like to get involved in family turmoils.’
‘He doesn’t—that’s the point. Only, when you really need him he won’t turn you away. He sort of clarifies everything.’
‘So why don’t you tell him about Olivia?’ Julia had noticed Hugh’s talent for staying strictly neutral at dinner-time squabbles, illuminating all the stated points of view instead of stating his own.
‘Livvy would kill me, that’s why.’
Julia followed her frowningly down to the sand. The others could go to Hugh in need, but who did he turn to when he had problems? She couldn’t imagine him sharing his doubts with anyone, he was too fiercely independent, too wary of involvement, lived far too much of his own life inside his skull. Last night she had sensed untapped depths of tenderness in him, and the unbidden thought came from nowhere: what a wonderful father he would make, strong but gentle, kind but firm.
There was no one else on the beach. The melon-rind of white sand was smooth and untasted. The girls squealed as they peeled off shoes and socks and paddled in the icy water. Only Richard was aloof, moodily skipping pebbles across the small, swelling waves. Julia, who never sulked, found his attitude childish and annoying. Ignoring him she turned to Steve:
‘Fancy a walk before lunch? You’re a history buff, aren’t you? You can point out the spot where Captain Cook anchored the Endeavour in … when was it?’
Steve grinned. ‘1769. OK, history lesson coming up.’ He raised his voice. ‘Anyone else for a walk?’ There were no takers and they began to stroll along the water-line, away from Richard’s scowling stare.
‘What’s the matter with Rich?’ asked Steve, when they were out of earshot. Julia was surprised. Until now his self-absorption had precluded interest in anyone else.
‘He wanted this to be just the two of us.’
‘Ah.’ He caught on straight away. ‘And you aren’t buying?’
‘I can’t work out why Richard has suddenly developed this consuming passion for me,’ Julia blurted out. ‘We’ve been friends more or less for six years, if we were going to click we would have done so before now.’
‘You know what Rich is like—he’s prone to these sudden, intense enthusiasms.’
‘Oh, yes, I know what he’s like,’ Julia said drily. ‘That’s one of the reasons I’m not interested. We used to have great fun together, but I can’t enjoy his company if I’m having to slap him down all the time. I want to be friends again.’
Steve kicked at a lump of seaweed. ‘He might actually be falling in love with you, have you considered that? You’re bright, you’re pretty, why shouldn’t he?’
Julia brushed off the compliment. ‘He’s cried wolf once too often for me to believe that. I’ve seen him do this routine before—you know, the soulful looks, the poetic outbursts—but with other women. I never thought he’d be dumb enough to try it on me. No, he’s just playing some game of his own … unless …’ a thought occurred to her, ‘… unless it’s frustration. I’m the only eligible female for miles, Richard’s not used to such a dearth of prospects. Maybe it’s his way of fighting withdrawal symptoms.’
Steve seemed to freeze beside her. She felt the physical change in him, the drawing in, the tension back in full force. They both stopped walking and Julia zipped up her leather jacket as her feet sank into the silky cool sand. Steve’s thin, bony profile was screwed into an expression of pain as he watched the swooping glide of a gull above the estuary. There was a faint tic at the corner of his eye. Suddenly it all fell into place as Julia remembered …
‘Steve?’
He looked at her with hollow, haunted eyes and was still. ‘You know, don’t you.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘I think so. I had a flatmate in London, a law student. She fell behind with her studies, then had to work twice as hard. She started taking things to keep her awake, then something else to make her sleep. Yet she still never seemed to make any ground.’
Steve gave a raw laugh of self-contempt. ‘How well l know the feeling.’
‘You’re not …’ Julia took a breath. ‘It’s not heroin, is it? You’re just …’
‘ “Just”?’ he repeated viciously. ‘Oh, yes, I’m “just” uppers and downers. I thought I was being clever. I knew amphetamines weren’t physically addictive, I thought I could handle the psychological side … I only needed them for a short time, you see, to get me through a bad patch. Classic tale, eh?’
It was, sadly so. ‘How much are you taking,’ Julia asked tentatively, remembering how Cathy had lashed out at attempts to help, but Steve seemed relieved that someone had guessed his burden.
He gave her a grim, death’s-head smile. ‘None, now. Why do you think I’m such a wreck? I haven’t for three weeks. And it’s not getting any easier!’ The last was an agonised cry.
Words that had been dammed up for months came pouring out, Julia couldn’t have stopped him if she had tried. Squeezed dry by the daily demands of rehearsal, recording, performance, Steve had resorted to drugs to fight off his exhaustion. Nights were spent writing music—all of Hard Times’ material was original—and as time went by he had felt less and less able to produce the kind of music the rest of the group wanted. Then his voice showed signs of being affected by the strain and the drug-taking.
‘We were committed to the hilt, I couldn’t just take off for a few weeks’ rest. That last Aussie tour I can’t even remember what we did or where we went. It was like a bad dream. Since then I haven’t been able to write anything worth a dime. I can’t think, I can’t concentrate and it’s getting to the stage where I’m afraid to even try.’
‘Does anyone else know?’ It was possible they didn’t. The lack of appetite, ultra-sensitive nerves, alternate bouts of restlessness and lethargy could all be attributed to simple stress.
‘The guys … how could they help it? We live on top of each other most of the time, especially when we’re on tour. But nobody here, and I don’t want them to know, Julia,’ he said urgently, the second member of the family to seek confidence of her, ‘it’s something I have to handle myself.’
Pointless to say that it was because he hadn’t sought help that he had got himself into this mess in the first place. ‘Not even Richard?’
‘Especially not Rich. He’s always been the stronger one, the dominant one. He’d help all right, but he wouldn’t understand. Rich would never touch drugs, for any reason, none of them would. I have to do this myself. If I don’t, then I haven’t beaten it, it’s just exchanging one crutch for another.’
He was so wrong, but Julia knew from experience that there was little she could say to persuade him otherwise. It wasn’t his family’s shock, or disapproval, or lack of understanding he couldn’t face, it was his own sense of guilt and shame.
‘Three weeks, though, that’s good isn’t it?’ she asked gently, careful to be optimistic rather than pitying.
‘Is it?’ he searched her small, compassionate face intently. ‘I hope to God it is. I hope it doesn’t get any worse. I’m so damned scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I have to do it, I have to make it, but I don’t know if I can.’ He took a half-sobbing, desperate breath and Julia moved to put her arms around him, hugging him fiercely, protectively, feeling a strong maternal urge at his helplessness. It seemed as though she could feel every bone in his body, tense and trembling. Above their heads a gull mewed plaintively.
‘You’ll do it, I’m certain you will,’ she told him with soft conviction. ‘I think you should tell Michael and Connie, they love you, they accept you as you are. But if you can’t … and things get too bad—there’s always me.’
Steve pulled back, eyes glistening greenly, and cupped her face within his hands. ‘Thank you for that. I don’t know why I
can talk to you when I can’t to anyone else, but thanks. Now I know why Rich has such a passion for you. You’re a sweet and lovely lady, and I’m a bastard for hassling you last night.’
He kissed her, a vastly different kiss from the kind his brother had given her. This was one of hungry desperation, searching for certainty and Julia submitted, unable to reject his fragile faith.
She followed his lead as they slowly made their way back to the others, responding to his transparent attempts to lighten the mood, and they were laughing as they threw themselves down on the rug to tackle the food. Coy little comments from Ros and Olivia, and more moroseness from Richard soon made it clear that they had all seen that kiss. Ordinarily Julia would have tried to smooth things over, but it occurred to her that here was the way to show Richard she wasn’t interested. Steve seemed to realise what she was doing and obliged by playing up beautifully. They exchanged frequent secret smiles and Steve came protectively to her aid against Richard’s disgruntled digs.
It was only a few days later that she realised where her foolishness had landed her. Now she had both twins competing for her attention, each with the semblance of sincerity, each equally intent on thwarting the other. Julia, unsure of Steve’s motives, was afraid to try and shake him off with the same ruthlessness she used with Richard. His skin was particularly thin at the moment, who knew how he would take it if she appeared to withdraw her support?
Reduced to trying to avoid one quarter of the household Julia slipped out the back door one morning, intending to escape on a little shopping expedition on her own. It wasn’t until she saw her incomplete VW that she remembered her predicament. She heard Richard’s voice calling her in the kitchen and belted around the side of the house, almost straight into the path of the Maserati.
‘Are you going to the store? Could you give me a lift?’ she panted hopefully through the window.
‘I’m going in to Whitianga,’ Hugh replied smoothly.
‘Oh.’ Julia looked at him and he sighed.
‘Can you do your shopping in Whitianga?’
‘Terrific!’ Julia scrambled in beside him as he released the handbrake. ‘But I’ll have to be back to get lunch.’
‘I’m at your command.’
Julia grinned at his dryness. ‘Quite like old times, isn’t it?’ She turned to wave out of the window as they passed an open-mouthed Richard.
‘I hope not,’ came the reply, with soft fervency.
‘I wasn’t that bad, was I?’
‘You … were Julia.’
‘You make me sound like a noxious pest.’
‘Not noxious. Obnoxious, perhaps.’
‘Are you making a joke?’ she asked, astounded.
‘I never joke, Julia, you told me so yourself. I don’t know how to laugh.’
‘That’s not fair, I apologised for all that,’ Julia protested, flooded with renewed guilt about what she had said to him. ‘Anyway, I’ve changed my mind about that, you do have a sense of humour … somewhere.’ She decided a change of subject was also in order. ‘You know it was really this car that threw me off the track the day we met. I couldn’t believe that the brother Richard described could drive a Maserati.’
‘How did Richard describe me?’ Mildly amused.
‘Oh … Mercedes, BMW ..
‘Ah … solid, dependable, Teutonic’
‘Certainly not a rich and dashing Italian.’
‘Do you always deal in superficialities?’
‘Only when they’re all I have to go on,’ Julia shot back. ‘What does the G. B. stand for? Not Grievous Bodily by any chance?’
A slight twitch of the straight mouth showed that he followed the reference. ‘George Bernard.’
‘Was your mother a Shaw fan?’
‘I doubt that she ever read a play in her life.’
Julia hesitated, considering the inadvisability of probing the flat statement any further. Was that resentment towards his mother that she detected? Had she been lacking in intellect, or just uneducated? Julia badly wanted to know, but the desire to shield him from summoning ugly memories was stronger.
‘I like Hugh,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s just the name for a large man.’
‘You are obsessed by my size, aren’t you,’ he murmured, hand moving to change down gear fluidly as he approached a corner.
‘I know, I can’t help it. I’ve had some traumatic experiences with big men.’ She told him about the enormous Italian she had worked for in Rome, the one who kept pinching her.
‘You needn’t fear that from me.’
‘I know.’ He wasn’t a man who encouraged any kind of familiarity. ‘I bet you don’t go much for small women, anyway. I bet all your girlfriends are tall and slim and keep their hands in their laps like Miss Farrow.’
‘Let’s keep Ann out of this, shall we?’
‘I think she thought I had a crush on you and was trying to attract your attention by the pool,’ said Julia, and pounced on a tiny change of expression. ‘She did, didn’t she? Did she say something afterwards … delicately of course … to suggest I shouldn’t be encouraged in my infatuation?’
‘Julia.
‘She did!’ Julia could laugh about it now. ‘I hope you were horribly pompous in reply.’
‘What did you do about Signor Gianelli?’
‘Who? Oh …’ she smiled, successfully diverted. ‘I threw a plate of Spaghetti Marinara at him one night, but he ducked and it hit his wife. She was fat too, but she didn’t have much of a sense of humour. She fired me in front of the whole restaurant, but at least I still had my self-respect. I was given a standing ovation as I—stop the car!’
‘What’s the matter, are you ill?’ But he obeyed her immediately, swivelling to look at her, sharp-eyed. ‘Are you all right?’
‘You smiled!’ she breathed, full of the discovery. ‘I’ve never seen you do it before.’
‘I can hardly grin like a maniac all the time just for your benefit. Is that why I stopped the car?’
‘You don’t look in the least like a maniac. You looked rather cute.’ Julia wasn’t to be diverted again.
This time she received it head on and she stared in fascination. His whole face changed, eyes crinkling endearingly at the edges, the grey irises hazing into blue, like a sunwarmed sky after a rainshower. His smile was slightly crooked, revealing the fullness of his lower lip and straight, even teeth. It was a beautiful, masculine smile, one that made you want to smile back, and keep on smiling.
Julia could hardly believe the difference it made to this careful, controlled man and it further strengthened her belief that he was worth cultivating. She wouldn’t be satisfied with a nodding acquaintanceship with his strange, complex personality. She wanted more, more perhaps than he was willing to offer, but it was unthinkable that she should retreat now to the safe, uncontroversial distance that he kept everyone else at. She had trespassed this far, and now she must cling to her advantage.
‘Admit it,’ she teased softly, with more confidence than she felt. ‘Under that grizzly skin is hidden a sweet ole honey bear.’
He restarted the engine, casting her a brooding glance as if he sensed her purpose. ‘Don’t you ever give up?’
‘Nope. I may be small, but I’m sassy!’
‘I had noticed.’
They drove on, Julia content to let the conversation take a less personal turn. She felt she had achieved a major victory. They were no longer locked into that circle of challenge and counter challenge, now a new element had entered their relationship. She found herself liking his articulate intelligence. He was talking to her as an equal, and what a difference it made!
They parted by the Post Office and arranged to meet in an hour at the wharf.
‘While I’m here I may as well stock up on some fresh fish, if you don’t mind, said Julia, taking it for granted that he wouldn’t. She wandered around the nearly empty streets of the quiet town, making a number of small purchases before strolling in the direction of a circling c
loud of seagulls that told her one of the fishing boats had arrived.
She was skilfully haggling over a small box of shiny-eyed schnapper and some very active crayfish when Hugh found her. He didn’t join her immediately but watched from a distance, his bulk leant on an iron bollard, as she carried on a subtle flirtation with the fisherman. Long experience in the markets had taught Julia that men didn’t resent a woman’s hard bargaining if it was leavened with good-humoured repartee. Ros’s hair would stand on end, but Julia enjoyed it in the same spirit as her adversaries.
‘Do you always operate like that?’ Hugh asked as he helped her with her bargains.
‘Why not? I’ve got the equipment!’ She put the plastic bucket of crays into the boot of the Maserati. ‘I hope you don’t mind if your car smells a bit fishy for a while.’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘I could always put my thumb out,’ she said, tongue in cheek. ‘There are people who would pick me up, fish and all.’
‘As you say, you have the equipment.’
Julia looked at him quickly, wondering if he was smiling again. His face was bland. ‘You have a body too you know, everybody uses non-verbal language.’
‘But not quite so blatantly as you.’
‘Rubbish!’ scoffed Julia. ‘You’re as blatant as Mt Egmont, without even moving. You just stand and stare and the rest of us quail.’
‘I hope you don’t have the audacity to include yourself in that “us”.’
‘No, well, I think we’ve already agreed I have a big mouth.’
Hugh had his hand on the key in the ignition, but before he turned it he looked at her, his eyes dropping involuntarily to her mouth as she spoke. It definitely wasn’t big, though her lips were full, the upper lip a perfect bow even without an outlining of lipstick. She felt an uncharacteristic surge of self-consciousness as he stared at her and moistened her lips one against the other as if she could hide them from his gaze. The grey eyes rose to meet her startled blue ones and for an instant Julia saw masculine curiosity. He looked away and the moment was gone but she was left with a quickening sense of excitement that dismayed her. He was so big, so strong, so controlled … not at all the kind of man who attracted her.