by Amy Andrews
He was pleased but surprised she’d agreed to this outing. He’d been expecting to be rebuffed, for her to keep putting him firmly at a distance. But then she’d invited him to her secret spot as if she’d made some kind of decision to accept him and their situation and wild horses couldn’t have dragged him away.
He liked Lola and, who knew, maybe they could even become friends? He doubted they were the only two people in the world who’d fallen into bed and wound up as friends.
‘So, we’re taking the ferry?’ Hamish said as Lola led him to the bow and lowered herself into one of the open-air seats. She looked very city chic in her big sunglasses, short and cute and curvy, her hair blowing around her shoulders, her cutesy dress riding up high on her thighs.
Hamish felt very country next to her.
‘Yep. Have you been on the harbour before?’
He nodded. ‘When I was in high school. Mum and Dad took us on the ferry to Taronga Zoo.’
The engines rumbled out of idle and the boat pulled away from the wharf. She breathed in deeply and sighed. ‘I love taking the ferry. We’re so lucky here, the harbour is gorgeous. The best in the world.’
Hamish laughed. ‘Biased much?’ It was a beautiful day, though. The sky was a stark blue dome unblemished by clouds, the sun a glorious shining bauble, refracting its golden-white light across the surface of the water like a glitter ball.
‘Nope.’ She shook her head and her curls, already fluttering in the breeze, swung some more. ‘Trust me, I’ve been to a lot of harbours but Sydney wins the prize.’
‘Well travelled, huh?’
Hamish realised he didn’t know much about Lola at all. And the only person he could ask was his sister, who would have been highly suspicious of his interest.
‘I’ve done quite a bit of travelling, yes.’
‘What’s quite a bit?’
She crossed one leg over the other and Hamish tried not to look at the dress hem riding up a little more. ‘I lived in the UK for several years after I finished my degree. I did a lot of agency nursing to support my travel obsession. I’ve been back here for four years but go travelling again at least once a year. I’ve backpacked extensively through Asia, Europe and America and seen a little of Africa.’
Hamish whistled. ‘Intrepid. I like it. Got any favourites?’
She didn’t hesitate. ‘India. It’s such a land of contrasts. And Iceland. So majestic.’ She glanced at him and he could just make out her eyes behind those dark brown lenses. ‘It’s my goal to go to every country in the world before I die.’
‘A worthy goal.’
‘I’m off to Zimbabwe next April.’
‘On a safari thing?’
She smiled. ‘For some of it. What about you? Ever had a hankering to see the world or are you one of those people who think living in the country is the be all and end all?’
Hamish blinked at the fine seam of bitterness entrenched in her words. ‘Hey,’ he protested, keeping it light. ‘What have you got against living in the country? Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.’
She snorted and even that was cute. ‘No, thanks. I spent seventeen years in the middle of bloody nowhere. I’ve paid my dues.’
Hamish stared at her. Lola Fraser had come from the sticks? He’d never met a female more urban in his life. ‘Whereabouts?’
‘You won’t have heard of it.’
Hamish folded his arms. ‘Try me.’
He was pretty sure she was rolling her eyes at him behind those shades.
‘Doongabi.’
Yeah...she was right. He hadn’t heard of it. ‘Nope.’
‘Imagine my surprise.’ He could hear the eye-roll now. ‘It’s a rural community way past west of Dubbo, population two thousand.’
‘And you couldn’t wait to get out?’
‘You can say that again.’
‘Was it that bad?’ Hamish was intrigued now.
She sighed. ‘No.’ Her strap slipped down giving him a peek at the slope of her breast before she pulled it back into place. ‘It’s a nice enough town, if that’s your thing, I suppose. But it’s hard to be put in a small-town straitjacket when you were born a free spirit.’
‘So you’re a gypsy, huh?’
Physically she was far from the traditional gypsy type—she was blonde and busty rather than exotic and reedy—but he supposed gypsy was a state of mind.
‘Yes. I am.’ The ferry horn tooted almost directly above their heads. ‘Always have been. I’m a living-in-the-moment kinda woman, although I suspect...’ A smile touched her mouth. ‘You probably already know that.’
Hamish acknowledged her reference with a slight smile of his own and she continued, ‘I’ve always craved adventure. I wanted to bungee jump and climb mountains and parasail and deep sea dive and jump out of planes.’
He nodded. ‘And you can’t do any of that in Doongabi.’
She laughed and Hamish felt it all the way down to his toes before the breeze snatched it away. ‘No.’
‘Have you ever gone back?’
‘I’ve been back a few times. For Christmas.’
‘Are your parents still alive? Don’t you miss them?’
‘Yes. They’re both still on the farm.’
The farm? Try as he might, Hamish couldn’t believe Lola had come from a farming background. She was as at home in Sydney as the sails of the Opera House.
‘And, yes, I do miss them in the way you miss people you love when you haven’t seen them for a long time. But they don’t really get me and I think it’s honestly as much a relief for them as it is for me when I head back to Sydney.’
‘Why don’t they get you?’ Hamish felt sorry for Lola. Sure, his family had their disagreements and their differences but he’d always felt like he belonged. Like his parents got him.
She glanced away, the back of her head resting on the wall behind. ‘Doongabi’s the kind of place that people tie themselves to. Generations of families, including my father’s and my mother’s, have come from the district. And that’s fine.’ She rolled her head to look at him, the frown crinkling her forehead speaking of her turmoil. ‘It’s their lives and it’s their choice. But...how can it be a choice?’
Her eyebrows raised in question but Hamish was sure the question was rhetorical.
‘They don’t know anything else. Women...tie themselves there to Doongabi men and have Doongabi babies, without ever venturing out into the world to see what else is on offer. They’re so stuck in their ways. Unwilling to change a century of this-is-the-way-we-do-it-here.’
She sighed heavily and, once again, Hamish felt for Lola. She obviously grappled with her mixed feelings.
‘And I...wanted to fly. So...’ She shrugged. ‘My mother blames her aunt.’
‘Her aunt?’
‘My Great-Aunt May.’
‘Oh...the postcards on the fridge.’ She smiled at him then and it was so big and genuine it almost stole Hamish’s breath.
‘Yes. She’s the family black sheep. Hitchhiked out of Doongabi when she was eighteen. Never married, never settled in one place. She’s lived all over the world, seen all kinds of things and can swear in a dozen different languages. I have a postcard from every place she’s ever been. I was five when I received my first one.’
Hamish nodded. ‘And you knew you wanted to be just like her.’
‘No.’ Lola shook her head, her curls bounced. ‘I knew I was just like her.’ She gave a half-laugh. ‘Poor Mum. I don’t think she’s ever forgiven May.’
‘She sounds fabulous.’
‘She is.’ Lola’s gaze fixed on the foam spraying over the bow and Hamish studied her profile, as gorgeous as the rest of her. ‘I can see the bridge.’ She pointed at the arch just coming into view and sighed. ‘I never get tired of that sight.’
Hamish dragged his gaze off
her face, following the line of her finger. But he didn’t want to. He could look at Lola Fraser all damn day and never get tired of that sight either.
* * *
They alighted from the ferry at the North Sydney Wharf about fifteen minutes later. ‘It’s a few minutes’ walk from here.’
Hamish fell in beside her as they sauntered down what looked very much like a suburban street. ‘What suburb is this?’
‘It’s Kirribilli.’
‘So the hospital’s not far, then?’
‘Um, yes. Up that way...somewhere.’ She waved her hand vaguely in the general direction they were heading. ‘At the dodgy end.’
Hamish laughed as they passed beautifully restored terraced houses, big gnarly trees that looked as if they’d been in the ground for a century and cars with expensive price tags. It was hard to believe this harbourside suburb—any harbourside suburb—had a dodgy end.
She turned right at an intersection. ‘So, are you going to tell me what’s so special about this street?’
‘Nope.’ Lola shook her head. ‘You’ll see soon enough.’
‘Mystery woman, huh?’
She just shrugged and kept walking but there was a bounce to her step. Like she couldn’t wait to get there. Like maybe she couldn’t wait to show him? It was intriguing that a woman who’d just confessed to having itchy feet and being a bit of a daredevil would choose a place so quiet and unassuming to take him.
They passed a park and Hamish could see down to the harbour again, glittering like a jewel and the massive motor boats moored at what looked like a marina. A personal trainer was putting a group of people through a session and a large gathering of people were picnicking under the shade of a tree.
‘This,’ she said as she turned left at another street, ‘is my favourite place to visit in Sydney.’
Hamish turned the corner to discover an avenue of massive Jacaranda trees alive with colour. The dry, gnarly branches knotted and tangled together overhead to form a lilac canopy down the entire length of the street. A carpet of dropped, purple-blue flowers covered the road.
It was stunning. Toowoomba had plenty of Jacarandas as well but this avenue was something else, the trees all lined up together to create an accidental work of art. A sight so purple it was almost blinding.
The kind of purple usually only found on coral reefs or in magic forests.
He glanced at Lola. She’d taken her sunglasses off and was staring down the street with rapt attention, like she’d discovered it all over again. Like she was seeing it for the first time.
She switched her attention to him and caught Hamish staring at her, but she didn’t seem to mind. ‘Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?’
It was. She was. Looking down the street like a kid staring at an avenue of Christmas trees just lit up for the season, giddy with the magic shimmering in the air.
And she’d shared it with him. This beautiful place she loved so much.
‘Yes. It’s stunning.’ Just like you.
She smiled at him and for a crazy second he wanted to pull her close and kiss her. Kiss her in this place she’d taken nobody else, so every time she came here she’d remember that she’d taken him.
But he didn’t. He just said, ‘Shall we walk up and down a few times?’
She gave a half-laugh, a girly edge of excitement to it as he offered her his arm and she looped hers through it. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’
They didn’t speak for a while, just strolled along, admiring the scenery as lilac flowers floated down all around them, quiet as snowfall. It was like walking in a purple wonderland. He turned to tell her that as two almost luminescent blue-purple flowers drifting in the gentle harbour breeze landed in Lola’s hair.
It couldn’t have been more perfect. ‘You have flowers in your hair.’
‘So do you.’ She stood on tippytoes and plucked out the trumpet-shaped blooms. Their eyes locked for a moment and Hamish’s pulse spiked before she dragged her gaze to the flowers in her palm. ‘Only in nature could you get this colour.’
She blew them both off her hand, her gaze tracking them as they fluttered to the ground. ‘Where are mine?’ she asked, fixing him with a gaze that was all business now.
Hamish lifted his hand to remove them then decided against it. ‘Wait.’ He pulled his phone out of his pocket. ‘I think this needs a picture first.’
She rolled her eyes but acquiesced. ‘I get to veto it if it’s terrible.’
He took the pic, zooming in tight on her face but conscious of snapping the background blaze of purple too, of framing this woman just right. He took several in quick succession then handed over his phone for Lola to approve what he’d taken.
‘They’re all pretty good,’ she said, her thumb swiping back and forth between them. ‘Hard to screw up with that background, I guess.’
Hard to screw up with the foreground too.
‘This one.’ She handed the phone over. ‘Can you send it to me?’
Hamish glanced at it. She’d chosen one he’d zoomed out on a little but she was smiling a big, crazy smile that went all the way to her eyes and squished her full cheeks into chipmunk cuteness. The flowers in her hair drew attention to its blonde bounciness and the way it brushed her shoulders drew attention to her fallen-down strap.
‘Sure.’ His fingers got busy as they walked on again.
‘So, Grace’s big brother...’ She smiled at him. ‘Have you travelled?’
‘Sure. I’m afraid it’s kinda tame compared to you.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not a competition.’
Hamish thought back to that first trip, a smile spreading across his face. ‘I did a tour of the Greek Islands with some mates when I was nineteen. Got a snowglobe from every place we stopped.’
Lola blinked. ‘A snowglobe?’ In Greece?
‘Yeah. You know, those terrible, tacky things they sell in tourist traps everywhere.’
Lola laughed. ‘I know.’
‘Had to get something to remember the best damn trip of my life.’
‘The Greek islands are beautiful, aren’t they? And the people are wonderful. So generous.’
His smile became a grin. ‘You have no idea.’
‘Oh, really?’ She cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘I take it you were a recipient of some generosity? Of the female kind maybe?’
He laughed. ‘I lost my virginity in Mykonos.’
‘Ah. Was she a local or one of the women on the tour?’
Hamish shook his head. ‘She was Greek. The daughter of the innkeeper. She couldn’t speak much English and all I could say was please, thank you, good morning and can I have some ouzo.’
She laughed. ‘What else do you need?’
‘Nothing, as it turned out.’ Hamish laughed too. ‘A little ouzo and good manners go a long way.’
‘That’s a great life motto,’ she said as they crossed to the other side of the street, trampling a sea of fallen purple flowers. ‘I don’t suppose there was an I lost my virginity in Mykonos snowglobe?’
‘No, sadly... I would have bought the hell out of that.’
Lola shook her head as they headed back the other way. ‘Where else?’
‘I did a tour of Europe the following year. Fifteen countries in twenty-five days.’
‘Oh, God,’ Lola groaned. ‘This isn’t where you tell me that you could only ever get laid on a tour so that’s all you’ve ever done?’
‘No.’ He grinned. ‘But it is surprising how...accommodating being on holiday makes a woman.’
‘I would say that is most definitely true.’
Hamish didn’t really want to think about how much travelling Lola had done and how much adrenaline she must have had to burn off after all her death-defying adventures. But he was jealous as hell of whoever had been in the righ
t place at the right time to be the recipient of all that excess energy.
He knew how mind-blowing she was in grief. He could only begin to imagine how amazing she’d be pumped with devil-may-care.
‘Since then I’ve been to LA and New York for brief visits. And to New Zealand for a ski trip last year.’
‘Let me guess, you have snowglobes from all of them?’
‘Absolutely. It’s worth, like, fifty bucks, that collection.’
She laughed. ‘And where’s your favourite place out of everywhere you’ve been?’
‘Well, Mykonos, obviously.’
He smiled and she rolled her eyes. ‘Obviously. What about your second favourite place?’
‘London. I was only there for three days and I need to go back because I loved it. What about you? What’s your number one pick of all the places you’ve been?’
She sucked in air through her teeth. ‘That’s a hard call.’
‘I bet. But there must be something that just grabbed you by the gut?’
‘Last year I went on a tandem hangglider flight over an Austrian lake. It was...magical. We hovered for so long, riding the air currents I actually felt like I was flying and the Alps in the distance were all snow-capped. It was almost...spiritual, you know?’
‘It does sound spiritual but I’d rather get my thrills with both feet planted firmly on the ground.’
‘Afraid of heights?’
Hamish’s breath caught at the amusement in her voice. She was something else when she teased him. She wasn’t flirting exactly but it felt good to have her green eyes dancing at him.
‘Afraid of plunging to my death attached to some dude I don’t know is more like it.’
She shrugged. ‘Life’s too short to worry about the what-ifs.’
‘Maybe. But I tend to see all the disastrous things that go wrong for people indulging in high-risk ventures. I think it skews my view somewhat.’
‘Hey, there are plenty of ICU patients who were doing risky things that didn’t work out. But you could trip over your feet tomorrow, smack your head on the ground and die. Just getting out of bed each day is a risk.’
‘Exactly.’ Hamish grinned. ‘Which is why I plan on dying in my bed at the grand old age of ninety-six after having sex with a beautiful woman.’