by Susan Napier
The night they had gone out to dinner (leaving a house full of mouths agape behind) their conversation had pointed up their differences. Julia was a rock fan, Hugh preferred the classics: Julia was comedy and corny old movies, Hugh was a realist; Julia read widely and indiscriminately, Hugh was strictly non-fiction; Julia was a free-thinking liberal, Hugh a conservative. Still, she had enjoyed his company immensely, finding their differences stimulating, admiring his sophistication and maturity. They had talked about anything and everything, Julia matching Hugh’s logical persuasiveness with her own fierce enthusiasm so that the conversational honours were more or less evenly divided.
Most importantly, their plan had been working. So understated were Hugh’s emotions usually that he had achieved a dramatic effect by merely appearing to notice Julia. A glance, a light touch, a slight smile … to his family these seemed the equivalent of passionate embraces. Julia was vaguely disappointed that her role was so minor … and that there didn’t seem the need for even an occasional kiss. She remembered the taste and feel of him that day on the beach, and how much she had liked it. She sighed heavily. Hugh hadn’t lowered his guard that far … yet.
‘Are you hinting that you’ve done enough for the evening?’ She found herself being observed under lowered brows.
‘Well, it is eleven, but I haven’t finished the rest of chapter six yet,’ she said, over a yawn.
The large grey head moved as he shrugged his shoulders with an unintelligible grunt.
‘I’m a cook, not a typist,’ grumbled Julia, interpreting his impatient rumble. She stood up and wandered over to the chair. When Hugh didn’t look up she subsided on to the rug at his feet, moving her tired neck muscles as the fierce, dry heat of the fire soaked into her back. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Revision.’ The gold pen continued to move smoothly across a typed page. Typed? Julia raised herself to peep over into his lap.
‘Hey! That’s the stuff I did yesterday. What’s the point of my finishing chapter six if I have to start all over again?’
‘I changed my mind about one or two things.’
Julia sat back again, wrapping her arms around her drawn-up knees, bunching her skirt modestly around her thighs as she looked at him in affectionate exasperation. ‘You’re such a perfectionist,’ she complained. ‘I don’t think that anyone can meet your demands, not even yourself. At this rate you could go on revising forever.’
‘The pursuit of perfection is what the law is all about.’
‘If laws were perfect we wouldn’t need lawyers to interpret the gobbledygook for the rest of us,’ said Julia provokingly. She loved to tease him when he was so intense and serious, to draw him out. She knew his face well enough by now to judge the imperceptible signs of strain as they appeared after a long day absorbed in his work. Left to himself he would work all night, and be up again at dawn the next day. ‘That would be you out of work for a start,’ she added, after getting no response.
‘I said the pursuit of,’ replied Hugh, calmly crossing a T. He looked up and found her dancing eyes upon him. After a moment’s hesitation he put down his pen, knowing full well what she was doing but ready to go along with it … for her sake, he told himself.
Julia rested her chin on one raised knee as he elaborated. When all else failed, casting slurs on his beloved law would always get him talking. He was a marvellously fluent speaker in his chosen subject and his soft, sonorous voice sounded a lovely counterpoint to Bach. Such a beautiful voice, thought Julia, closing her eyes and letting his words wash over her, how I love to hear him speak.
‘You must be a very impressive lecturer,’ she opened her eyes and smiled lazily at him when he finally flowed to a halt. ‘I’m not surprised that Connie calls you the heart-throb of the Law Faculty.’
The broad, intelligent forehead creased with disapproval. ‘Do you ever use that mind of yours to its full potential?’ he asked with a hint of weariness. ‘Don’t you take anything seriously?’
Julia sat up straight. ‘And don’t you recognise a compliment when you hear one, even if it is an oblique one?’ She would hate to slide back again in his estimation, to that of a frothy-minded idiot. ‘I listened, I understood—most of it anyway. But I don’t have the depth of knowledge to comment with any authority on the points you made. I have opinions, sure, but they’re uninformed, as yet.’ She didn’t want to tell him that she had actually borrowed one of his books—A Layman’s Approach to New Zealand Law—in an attempt to discover something of the fascination that his profession held for him. ‘Anyway—I’m serious about lots of things.’
‘For example?’ Dry scepticism.
‘My job. I’m very good at it and I want to be better. Cooking is a science as well as an art, it requires discipline and knowledge as well as flair. I admit that sometimes I have problems—after all, I’m not a naturally controlled personality …’ she ignored his half laugh, ‘but in the kitchen I have to subordinate myself to the job. That’s partly why I like to let myself go outside it. I love cooking, but it can be tough—long hours and hard physical labour, especially restaurant work. I’ve studied and worked for years to get where I am today, I reckon I’m entitled to enjoy myself. Can’t you accept that I like to laugh when I can because there are too many reasons in this cruel and unfair world to cry!’
‘Oh, I can accept that,’ said Hugh quietly, with an emphasis that told her he was about to say something that was very important to their relationship. ‘What I have difficulty in coming to terms with is that often your humour seems directed at me … at what I take seriously.’
Julia was aghast that he should think she had so little respect for him, and secretly amazed that he should reveal such an insecurity. Did it really matter to him what she thought? Oh, please let it be so.
‘That doesn’t mean I don’t care!’ she cried, twisting to reach up and lay a small, reassuring hand on the hard knee beside her. ‘Quite the reverse. I admire you tremendously for what you do, for the scope of your intelligence and your dedication—more than I can say. That’s why I can tease you so freely. I only tease people I like … and you’re such an irresistibly large target. You like it too; deep down, inside, you smile.’
‘You know me so well?’ he murmured quellingly.
‘No, but I’m beginning to! Shall I come after lunch tomorrow and catch up on chapter six? I’d rather be up here working than slinking around down there trying to avoid the Inquisition.’
‘I thought the situation was much improved.’ Hugh leant back in the big chair and Julia felt the strong flex of muscle under her hand as he straightened his legs out in front of him. She was tempted to leave her hand where it was, but suddenly she was aware of the flesh under the cloth, of how much she wanted to run her fingers up that warm, hard thigh. Seated at his feet she had a foreshortened view of his powerful body. His head was tilted back, face half-masked by the shadow thrown by the flickering firelight against the wing of the chair, the spotlight reflecting off the white sheets on his lap.
‘Richard and Steve aren’t at each other’s throats so much anymore, if that’s what you mean,’ said Julia, removing her hand reluctantly. ‘They’re on my back instead! It’s all right for you, tucked away up here. I’m the one who has to face all that avid curiosity. I’m such a terrible liar, I always forget what I’m supposed to have admitted to.’
‘You’ll cope,’ came the callous reply. ‘But certainly, you can come up and work if you wish, as long as I know in advance.’
‘Poor Hugh, how you hate company,’ Julia mocked, thinking how lovely it would be to be able to drop in on him anytime, without an appointment, just to talk, or to watch him work.
‘But yours is very necessary,’ he said, unflatteringly honest, and they looked for a moment at his hand, the deep purple bruising on the fingers now beginning to edge into yellow. ‘I’m sorry if you find it a bore.’
‘A bore!’ If only he knew! ‘Hugh, don’t be silly. Even if I find the text a bit heavy going, kn
owing you wrote it makes it interesting. You love it, don’t you?’
‘I find it rewarding and stimulating, yes.’ How carefully he avoided the implications of that little word.
‘Oh poof,’ scoffed Julia. ‘Don’t be so wretchedly cautious! It’s like me and cooking, a love affair. You know, Richard once told me that you chose your career because you didn’t want to get involved in the untidy humanness of criminal law, but I don’t think that’s true. I think you followed your vocation. When you talk about books, your work, you come alive. If that’s not love I don’t know what is.’
‘I must remember to be more careful. I didn’t realise I was so transparent.’
‘What’s so terrible about that?’
‘A good lawyer is like a good poker player. He never reveals his hand in his face.’
‘If you were less poker-faced life might be a bit easier for me downstairs.’ Julia gave a mock-sigh.
‘In what way?’ He sounded lazily interested, eyes screened by thick lashes as he looked down at her. Bach had come to an end some time ago and there was a faint buzz from the stereo speakers. Usually Hugh’s tidy mind would have prompted him to turn it off by now, but tonight he seemed disinclined to move.
‘What on earth do I see in you? You’re too aloof for the likes of me. You’re going to corrupt my innocent youth with your cold-blooded sophistication. You’re too old and staid for me. And …’ Richard had been very particular on this point, ‘you can’t give me the kind of loving I need.’
‘I presume you had an answer for all that.’
‘Oh yes,’ Julia lowered her eyes demurely. ‘I told them that you were the most fantastic kisser I’d ever met. That I’d never be able to settle for second-rate lips again. That you left them in the shade when it came to sending shivers up my spine.’ She looked up. Hugh was laughing soundlessly and she wished she could freeze the image forever. She loved to make him laugh. ‘Well, it’s true, you do. It shut Richard up anyhow, no more remarks about you being old enough to be my father.’
‘Hardly. And I might argue the case on one or two other of his allegations. How he got the impression that your innocence is a point at issue is beyond me.’
Julia laughed, not at what he said but at the way he said it. It had taken her a while but she was beginning to appreciate his dry, ironic sense of humour. And she couldn’t blame him for what he thought—that she was as free and easy with her favours as she was with her words. She wondered at her own reluctance to enlighten him, sensing that it had its roots in the growing attraction she felt towards him. Hugh would run a mile from a virgin … too much of an emotional risk … but an experienced woman he might be prepared to meet on equal ground.
A log fell in the fire, sending out a shower of tea-tree sparks and Julia jumped, startled out of the beginnings of an erotic fantasy. She stood up and stretched, trying to shake off her sensual lethargy. Hugh watched the ripple of tension run through the curving arch of her body, breathing in a drift of the warm, earthy fragrance of the perfume she wore, and stood up, too.
Julia was heart-crashingly aware of the living, breathing man … so big, so strong, so close, and of her own nervous reaction to his nearness.
‘Oh goodness, look at the time,’ she babbled, looking at the grandfather clock by the door. ‘I’d better go down and get supper for everyone.’
She scuttled to the door, barely hearing Hugh’s ‘good night’, so anxious was she to get away before she did something stupid, like throw herself at him.
She had put the water on to boil and was sliding halved muffins under the grill of the gas cooker when Connie entered the kitchen, the girls at her heels.
‘I was going to do that, Julia, I thought you were still upstairs.’ There was no hint of condemnation in the words. ‘Is Hugh coming down?’
Julia regarded her fondly. Since Hugh never came down for supper, the remark was in the nature of a gentle probe.
‘No, he’s …’ she just stopped herself from saying still working, ‘… he’s going to do some more work on his book.’
‘How’s it coming along?’
‘Slowly, I think,’ said Julia, thinking of the re-typing she would have to do tomorrow.
‘Good.’ Connie saw the three girls exchange surprised looks. ‘I mean that it’s good that he’s not overdoing it. Hugh always did work too hard—making up, I guess. He needs a bit of creative diversion.’
‘You can’t get more creatively diverting than Julia,’ said Ros with a sly wink.
‘Don’t let the children embarrass you, Julia darling,’ Connie ordered imperiously. ‘If you can encourage Hugh to relax and open up I shall be eternally grateful. I expect you’ve discovered for yourself that under that crust he’s a very strongly passionate man. What do you think of the four-poster?’
On the surface it was a change of subject, but Olivia evidently didn’t think so: ‘Mother!’
‘What?’ Connie made innocent eyes at her daughters. ‘You don’t think I was …? Olivia, what a mind you have! Julia didn’t think that, did you darling?’
‘Not for a moment,’ grinned Julia. The twins liked to consider themselves as sophisticated and every now and then Connie took it into her head to disabuse them. ‘I think the bed is fantastic’
‘Hugh found it in some deceased estate sale in Thames. He doesn’t usually put himself out for the sake of a possession. His Auckland flat’s like a motel room. But something about that bed really struck a responsive chord.’ Julia knew exactly what she meant … it had struck the same chord with her. ‘Are those muffins burning, Julia, or are they supposed to smoke like that!’
Three pairs of hands hurriedly helped to rescue the slightly singed muffins (‘lovely and crisp, just how I like them,’ consoled Ros). Julia slapped on the butter, silently admonishing herself. The merest mention of Hugh was turning into an occupational hazard; she must try to curb this obsessive curiosity.
‘You’d better watch yourself though,’ Connie continued without pause, ‘I understand that thirteen children were conceived within those four posts … a very fertile breeding ground for love, that bed.’
‘Isn’t she awful!’ giggled Olivia as her mother swept out of the door. ‘I mean, you have to admire her instinct for scene stealing, not to mention her breath control, but she does come out with the most terrible things.’
‘Aren’t all women supposed to become like their mothers?’ Julia grinned, desperately trying to control her blush.
‘I hope so!’ Ros put bowls of jam and honey on the tray beside the plate of muffins. ‘That puts me in line to be the next doyenne of the New Zealand stage. Oh … I’ll miss her when I’m in England. I’ll miss everyone. I’ll be rottenly homesick. How about changing your mind and coming with me, Liv?’
‘I told you, I haven’t got the cash. We’re not due our Trust money until we’re twenty-five,’ Olivia explained to Julia’s surprised look. ‘Meantime the parents have this thing about us making it under our own steam financially. Good for us, really.’
‘If you went back to commercial art for a while it wouldn’t take you long to save the fare. And think of the long-term benefits of going overseas,’ insisted Ros, pouring the tea while Julia dealt with the coffees.
‘Logan says…
‘Oh, forget it,’ Ros interrupted impatiently. ‘It was a stupid idea anyway. I’ll take this tea through for you, Julia.’
Olivia looked after her sister. ‘I can’t just walk out on Logan and the others … not with this exhibition coming up.’
Can’t you? wondered Julia, detecting a certain wistfulness in the pale oval face. Maybe Olivia wanted a nudge towards ‘walking out’, an excuse to break away.
In the lounge Julia took up her favourite supper position on the floor by the brass coal scuttle, sipping her tea as she watched the family chatter about its day. She raised a weak smile when Steve stepped over Charley, sprawling on the floor studying a Mechanics magazine, and sat beside her.
‘I finished my s
ong this morning. Would you like to hear it sometime tomorrow?’
‘I’m not sure when,’ Julia prevaricated. ‘I’ll be up with Hugh in the morning.’
‘I only want you to listen, truly,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s good, Julia, really good … a whole new kind of song for me. Look …’ he cast a brief look ‘at Richard, brooding half-heartedly in the corner of the room,’… I know I was a little crazy for a while there, but I’ve got my head together now. No more heavy stuff, OK?’
‘OK,’ Julia was relieved, but still careful. She lowered her voice. ‘And you’re all right now, about the other?’
The green eyes were clear and sharp. ‘Wait until you hear Julia, then you’ll know. I’ve still got the music in me, with me. And I put my foot down with Zak … no more work until I’m ready.’ He smiled then, one of Richard’s charming smiles, and Julia immediately smelt collaboration. ‘Tell me … are you and Hugh, really, you know … have you really got something going, or was that all just for our benefit?’
Julia opened her mouth to utter the white lie, and to her astonishment found herself telling the truth: ‘No it’s not for your benefit, it’s for mine. He’s the most fascinating man I’ve ever met. I l-like him very, very much.’
Her blush as much as that revealing stumble seemed to convince Steve. ‘I’m glad,’ he said, and she could see that he was. Why hadn’t she gone ahead and said ‘love’? it wouldn’t have been a lie either. She did love him, impossible as it seemed—all those much-discussed signs were there: extreme self-awareness in his presence, the shortness of breath, the tingling, the constant desire to touch him both mentally and physically. When had liking ‘very, very much’ turned into loving? She didn’t know. Nor did she know very much about Hugh’s feelings. He was attracted to her, she could sense that, but he was reluctant to pursue it, she sensed that, too. They were both aware of their extreme personality differences—perhaps, for Hugh, that was the deciding factor. He wasn’t one to be carried away by his emotions, or his passions, everything was tightly controlled by his intelligence. Julia on the other hand was willing to ride with her instincts. This newly discovered love was a heady experience to be explored, a kind of natural high. Was this how Steve had felt when pumped full of his drugs? If so, Julia could appreciate the attraction of maintaining the state indefinitely. She could only hope that her addiction didn’t end as miserably as Steve’s, but she refused to dwell on all the negative possibilities, there were too many of them. For now she would make the most of it, enjoy the next few days in Hugh’s company, and do all she could to nurture the attraction.