by Carla Caruso
‘Just one more,’ he said gruffly, quickly breaking her gaze by looking out the window at the busy traffic in the hope she’d take the hint.
But she seemed undeterred as she poured his drink from the tap. ‘Up to much this evening? It’s too gorgeous a night not to be. Glad my shift’s nearly over. After that heatwave, you want to make the most of weather like this … with the right company.’
‘I’m looking forward to a quiet one,’ he said pointedly.
She pushed forward a pint of golden-coloured cider and he left a few notes on the counter in exchange, insisting, ‘Keep the change.’
Still, she trotted off to the cash register, returning to slip silver coins into his palm with a meaningful look. ‘I wouldn’t want you to think you were paying for anything you didn’t have to.’
Geez Louise.
A sharp rap on the bar-top both saved him and made him jump. Turning, he saw that an old man had slipped onto the barstool beside him, his wooden cane resting on the counter. Obviously the character used it as much for getting around as garnering attention.
‘What does an old bloke have to do to get served around here?’ the guy asked the barmaid. He wore a tweed driver’s cap and an old trench coat.
‘Smile,’ she said, offering him a fairly pretty one of her own.
He flashed his dentures in a grimace. ‘I’ll have a stout.’ As she turned away, the old guy looked at Lenny, waving a dismissive hand in the air. ‘I used to be young and good-looking once, too. Then one day it’s as though you disappear into thin area. Nobody sees you anymore.’
‘Ah, I’m sure you wouldn’t let anyone get away without noticing you.’
The old guy grinned. ‘You’re on the money there.’ He extended a wrinkly, vein-ridged hand in Lenny’s direction. ‘The name’s Bernard. Bernard Thistle.’
Lenny shook it. ‘Lenny Muscat.’
‘You use your hands for a living?’ Bernard guessed, releasing his grip.
‘Yes, I’m a builder actually … Are you saying I should use more hand moisturiser?’
‘You do what you like. I can’t keep up with you men of today — earrings and hair “product” and who knows what else. But there’s nothing wrong with being handy. It’s a skill.’
Lenny smiled. ‘What about you? What did you used to do for a crust?’
Bernard let out a throaty laugh, which turned into a semi-cough. He quickly recovered. ‘At least as a builder, you make an honest living. I used to be a bookie! So … a handsome gent like yourself, I imagine you have a wife and kids at home, then?’
Lenny noticed the barmaid lean in closer, as though waiting for his answer with bated breath, as she handed Bernard his dark frothy beer.
‘No, no, I’m a bachelor. And that’s the way I like it for the moment.’ Lenny shook his head. ‘I want to have all my ducks in a row before I head down that path.’
‘Ah, you young people of today,’ Bernard exclaimed, waving his hands about some more. ‘You think you’ve got all the time in the world, but it’s just an illusion. Take it from me, time disappears before your eyes. Want to know the biggest gamble I ever took?’
Lenny swallowed another mouthful of cider. ‘What was that?’
‘It was one of the heart. I had my eye on this beautiful girl. Mary. She was no Marilyn Monroe, but there was just something about her, you know? A pizzazz. I used to see her out, and even danced with her a few times, but I never properly asked her out, even though I wanted to — I was too scared. One night I worked up the courage, knowing she’d be at the usual dancehall again, but my friend persuaded me to go to another party last-minute. Meaning I was saved from rejection for another week. You want to know what happened?’
‘I do!’ Terina cut in. Yes, she was still there.
Bernard just shot her a scathing look, turning back to Lenny. ‘The next time I saw Mary, she was engaged to some drop-kick. A jock with no brains, who sold used cars for a living and had a big nose to boot. A year later, they left for their honeymoon in Sydney, and on the way his fancy Chevrolet was hit by a truck. She died; he didn’t. And I never got over it.’
‘Wow … that is a sad story.’
‘Oh sure, I’ve been married and divorced since — no real sparks or even kids to sweeten the deal — but with Mary, I’ll always wonder what if. What if I’d asked her out? Would my life have worked out differently? Would she even still be here today?’ Bernard reached to clasp Lenny’s elbow, taking Lenny by surprise. ‘I learned a valuable lesson, son. Life never goes as planned. You’ve got to grab life by the horns, take opportunities when you see them. They may never come your way again.’
It had all gotten rather deep and meaningful for beer o’clock on a Tuesday. Lenny nodded curtly. ‘I get what you’re saying.’
‘I’m glad you do, son. I’m glad you do.’ Pulling away again, Bernard drained his stout. ‘Well, that takes the edge off. Makes me almost forget the arthritis and the hip pain. Nice meeting you. I’d best be on my way.’ He readjusted his driver’s cap and stood with the help of his cane.
Terina hovered. ‘Sorry, sir — you haven’t paid yet.’
‘Oh.’ Bernard felt around in the pockets of his coat and trousers. ‘I seem to have forgotten my wallet.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Lenny waved him off, ‘it’s on me.’
‘Thank you, young man. It’ll be my shout next time.’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’
Moments later, as Lenny was enjoying the last of his cider and mulling over Bernard’s story, a honeyed voice sounded in his ear.
‘Excuse me, is that seat taken?’
So much for his quiet night at the pub. At least Terina was busy with a customer at the other end of the bar for a second. Lenny turned to find a Gisele-lookalike with tousled, sun-bleached waves and endless denim-clad legs staring at him, her lips slightly parted. Was this the kind of opportunity Bernard had been talking about seizing? Because, in such circumstances, Lenny would usually take the bait. Maybe it was even Fate. Did he want to be alone in a bar in his golden years, full of regret and finding solace at the bottom of a glass? Such a girl wasn’t the usual type to walk into this bar.
He waved at the adjacent stool. ‘It’s all yours.’
The woman’s hair seemed to purposefully flick his face as she sat down. ‘Quaint pub, isn’t it? I’m doing an evening course down the road and I was hoping to find a place with a cheap counter-meal beforehand. What luck!’
‘This place ought to do it for you. What are you studying?’
‘Italian.’ She looked at him from beneath lowered eyelids. He was used to getting hit on — he put it down to his confidence — but tonight was getting a little ridiculous. ‘You’re not, are you? Italian?’
‘No, my background’s Maltese,’ he said easily, ‘but Italy’s a close enough neighbour, so good guess.’
‘Darn, I could have practised my Italian on you!’ She tossed her hair to the side once more, showing off her swan-like neck. ‘I’m Shardonae, by the way.’
His stomach tightened. ‘Like the drink?’
‘Oh, haha. Well, actually it’s spelled S-H-A-R-D—’
But he’d already slipped off his stool, not bothering to listen to anymore. After Bailey, Shandee and, well, the rest of them, it was last drinks for him.
‘Look, I have to go. You have a nice night, Shardonae. Enjoy the Italian class.’
Her pout was luscious and ripe and would have stopped many a man in their tracks. ‘But I didn’t even catch your name,’ she whined.
It could have been so easy for him, there was no need to even read between the lines, but tonight just wasn’t the night for that sort of caper.
‘Sorry, I’m due home.’ Alone.
He could hear her childishly murmuring ‘that’s a funny sort of name’ at his back as he headed for the door, and knew he’d made the right decision.
Because beautiful women were often like beautiful cars, houses and gardens — too high-maintenance and too man
y headaches, even for one night. And more importantly, in many cases, they were all style and no substance. Perhaps it was a lesson he’d learned.
22.
Celeste was just grabbing her keys and tote, about to head out her front door when the doorbell rang. Good timing really. Unless it was a door-to-door salesperson, trying to get her to switch electricity companies, then she’d just tell them she had to run so she could even pay her bills.
Flinging open the door, Celeste opened her mouth in surprise when she saw who was actually there. ‘Oh … I know you!’
Kaiden, the mail contractor often at Natalia’s, stood on her porch, a long, white, rectangular box under one arm. He broke into a nervous smile. ‘Hi, you work at Natalia Samphire’s place, right? This isn’t usually my area, but another guy’s off sick, so I’m helping cover his shift. It’s a small world. I’ve delivered some stuff to Minka’s place, too.’
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he clamped it shut again. Maybe it was a confidentiality thing and he wasn’t meant to talk about where his parcels wound up. But Celeste was suddenly too excited to care.
She clapped her hands together, eyeing the package. ‘Oh my gosh, it’s my new Dyson upright vacuum cleaner, isn’t it? I can’t believe I forgot I’d ordered it. Work’s just been so crazy! The vacuum’s meant to be super-powerful and sleek and comes in this trendy purple colour. You use a hand-stick and there’s no cord or bag. It’s amazing.’
Okay, so she had a lot of words when it came to cleaning appliances, too.
Kaiden’s smile wavered. ‘I’ve never heard someone be so excited about a vacuum cleaner before. It’s, uh, good to see. Now if you’ll just sign here …’
After autographing the screen of the gadget he held up, Celeste hugged the box to her chest. It was a small ray of happiness in an otherwise uncertain time. She nodded at Kaiden. ‘Guess I’ll catch you at Natalia’s again sometime soon.’
Kaiden nodded, his hair gel glistening in the morning sun. ‘I’m sure you will.’
He was halfway down the drive before she suddenly remembered the question she’d been burning to ask him, being so swept up in her new vacuum cleaner as she was. ‘Kaiden?’
He paused, looking back.
‘Sorry, I know you’re busy, but I just had a quick question for you before you go.’
Had she imagined the apprehension crossing his features? Or maybe it was just a reflection of her own jumpiness at now having to try to pry. Something she wasn’t very good at.
He swallowed. ‘Sure.’
Across the road, Celeste’s yummy-mummy neighbour could be seen trying to round up the real-life version of the stick-figure family decal on her SUV into said vehicle.
‘At Natalia’s the other day, I found a cream envelope on the floor inside, which seemed to contain a note, but had no name on the front. I was just wondering if you delivered it and, if so, if you might know who sent it?’
Kaiden frowned, sweat suddenly beading on his waxy-skinned forehead. To be fair, though, the morning sun was hot. ‘It doesn’t ring a bell. You didn’t open it, did you? Because, you know, it’s illegal to open another person’s mail.’
‘No, no,’ Celeste lied. ‘I just put it back where it found it and I presume the right person picked it up again — or at least I hope they did — because later it was gone.’
Kaiden’s smile returned and looked far less wobbly. ‘Well, if the letter got to its intended recipient, then the job is done. There’s no need to worry.’
‘I suppose,’ Celeste conceded slowly, watching him head down the drive again.
Well, that was a complete waste of time. She didn’t know why she thought he might know something. Now she would just feel uncomfortable about snooping around the next time she saw him. To improve her frame of mind, she went back inside and did a quick test of her new Dyson vacuum on the kitchen floor. It worked like a charm — on her floor and her mind.
Later that morning, when Celeste headed into the Ballet-Tastic fitness studio, she discovered it looked completely different from last time. Downstairs was themed in Natalia’s signature gelato pastels, with the ballet barre, mirrors and funky flooring in place, almost ready to have its doors opened to the public. There was no denying that Lenny and his team had done a fabulous job in a short time — not that the builder was anywhere in sight.
Unfortunately, in comparison, the office and staff room on the mezzanine floor, which Celeste and Flip still had to organise, was a hodgepodge of cardboard boxes and office furniture. But, hey, Celeste thrived on a challenge, plus it’d help keep her mind off the whole blackmail saga. It was hard to feel uneasy among the bright lights, pretty colours, and upbeat dance music. Which was perhaps why the Ballet-Tastic brand was so popular.
Natalia swept in herself around eleven, looking like the epitome of the label in a grey Ballet is Fantastic slogan tee and mauve three-quarter-length leggings. Her blonde curls were scraped up into a high ponytail, and an orange sports bag was slung over one arm. She almost looked too perky for someone currently being blackmailed. Alongside the fitness guru was Minka, appearing beiger than, well, Celeste’s abode.
Natalia blinked azure eyes at Celeste and Flip. ‘Hi, ladies. Are you girls joining us for the dance class today? We’re doing a soft-launch of the studio with a select few and I’m personally running the session.’
Flip put a hand to her back, wincing. ‘Unfortunately I think I pulled something on the dance-floor at a work ’do last night, but I’m sure Celeste will give it a go. I’m fine organising things up here, but anything more strenuous is a no-go, I’m afraid.’
The rat.
‘That’s understandable.’ Natalia nodded energetically at Celeste. ‘So you’ll join us? We start in half an hour. I think it will give you a good understanding of the brand and everything you’ve been working on.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Celeste said over-enthusiastically, as though she didn’t have a thousand other things to organise, courtesy of Natalia herself. ‘Um, the only teeny problem is I don’t have anything appropriate to wear …’
Natalia waved a hand in the air. ‘Not a problem. Feel free to raid the retail space downstairs and use the showers afterwards.’
Darn. Why did she always have to come up with such flimsy excuses? Attempting a Ballet-Tastic session would just take her back to trying to keep up with the popular schoolgirls in dance class, and failing. With her mum’s health woes, her parents hadn’t really had the time to take Celeste to ballet, jazz, tap and beyond.
Well, if she was going down, she was going to take someone with her. ‘Minka, are you in, too?’ she asked sweetly, assessing Natalia’s assistant.
Minka smiled, pushing her short, mousy brown fringe to one side. ‘I’m not really a sneakers kind of girl. Haven’t you seen my new Marc Jacobs?’ She stuck out a foot beneath the general beige-ness. The shoes were black-and-gold, strappy, and impossibly high. ‘Natalia knows that.’ Somehow the PA got away with murder. Perhaps it was the killer heels. As if on cue, Minka’s phone chirruped in a pocket and she reached for it. ‘I’d better take that.’
As Minka slunk off to answer the call, Celeste decided to show Natalia around the floor and what they’d done thus far, while Flip busied herself with the label-maker. Midway, Natalia unexpectedly ripped out a yawn, which gave Celeste the chance to peer at the fitness guru more closely. Beneath the bronzer and hair bleach, maybe Natalia wasn’t as bright-eyed as Celeste had originally thought. Reasonable, given the circumstances.
‘You look tired, if you don’t mind me saying so,’ Celeste said softly, before she could help herself. ‘Is-is everything all right?’
Maybe Natalia just needed someone to offload her worries to. Perhaps even, with Celeste’s help, Natalia might go to the police about the whole blackmail lark — depending, of course, on what it was she had to hide.
‘Me?’ For a millisecond, Natalia looked like a lost, little girl, her shoulders stooping and her cheeks g
rowing pink. ‘I … I …’
‘Yes?’ Celeste pressed breathlessly.
Natalia swallowed, pressing a hand to her stomach. ‘I’ve just been a bit stressed in the lead-up to the big launch at my place, worrying about … everything.’ She straightened again, her signature beam and stance back in place. ‘But I’m sure things will work out fine. They always do.’
Bugger. Celeste had thought she might be on the brink of some secret-sharing. She gave it one last, red-hot go. ‘It’s good at least that you’ve got people like your fiancé to lean on when things get a bit much.’
Natalia’s eyebrows resembled a certain fast-food chain’s Golden Arches, which might or might not be a favourite of the fitness guru’s. ‘My— my fiancé? I’m sorry, it’s just I don’t usually tell people I’m engaged. I’ve told Mike that! I don’t even wear my engagement ring.’ Natalia blew out a breath. ‘You know what the tabloids are like. You share an inch of your personal life with them and they take a mile.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t realise it was a secret. My lips are sealed.’
‘Don’t worry. I trust you.’ Natalia’s shoulders relaxed again. ‘By the way, I invited your friend from the newspaper to today’s class. My personal life aside, good business promo never hurts.’
‘Ursula Zink? Oh … great.’
‘I have something for you, too.’ Natalia suddenly rummaged around in her sports bag, pulling out a pink jewellery box with tiny figurine ballet slippers perched on top. She handed the sparkly container to Celeste.
Was this Natalia’s version of a goodbye-and-thanks-for-a-great-job present?
Celeste put a hand to her chest. ‘It’s so pretty, I love it already.’
‘Open it,’ the fitness guru urged.
So Celeste did. Inside a little ballerina twirled against a musical backdrop of Robin Thicke’s ‘Blurred Lines’, of all things. A tiny, rolled-up note was clutched in the doll’s hand. At Natalia’s encouragement, Celeste reached for the bit of paper and unfurled it.
The message began: You’ve heard of Ballet-Tastic? Now it’s time for you to celebrate its arrival in Astonvale in grand style at Natalia Samphire’s private residence …