“We were. Mum’s mother died when mum was not much older than me from breast cancer. When that happened my grandfather spent a lot of time with us, because we lived so close.”
She nodded again as she ate. “That makes sense.”
“What about you? Do you have any other family around?”
I watched a sadness descend over her shoulders and I immediately wished I hadn’t asked that question.
“I don’t have any family left. Not for many years,” she said flatly and I knew instantly that it was a topic that held memories that were still raw. It was times like these that I almost felt as if I should apologise for having a “normal” upbringing with a mother and father that both lived in the same house and loved the three of us kids. When I heard about how tough others had, had it—it was hard not to feel guilty. Certainly fortunate.
The most I could manage was an “I’m sorry to hear that.” She nodded in acceptance of my sentiment. It was inadequate and we both knew it. But what did you say?
We finished and both pushed our plates aside before ordering coffee.
“So have you always lived here?” I asked.
“Isaac and I moved here last year. We used to live in Melbourne.” And I watched a darkness come over her. It was obvious to me that she’d lived in Melbourne when she’d been with Marcel. “I always wanted to move to the Gold Coast because the weather was better. The problem was I couldn’t afford to get a house on the Gold Coast so I had to settle for Logan. At least the coast is still a manageable distance.”
“True,” I agreed.
“Isaac loves the beach. He has that addictive personality type as I think you discovered yesterday. Once he finds something he loves he wants to do it or talk about it all the time. He doesn’t understand the social nuances that other people don’t want to hear about something all the time,” she explained.
“Maybe.” I shrugged in an off-handed way. “There’s no doubt he’s really smart.”
“Oh he’s very smart. His Maths skills are off the charts and his memory is very close to photographic. Intelligence is not the issue. It’s social understanding. Where you or I would instinctively know or understand a social nuance, people with Asperger’s have little or no idea or understanding that their approach is not suitable or acceptable to society and what you or I would consider normal.”
I nodded, then something occurred to me.
“It’s amazing how the collective we of society seem hell bent on ensuring everyone complies with our social norms. I mean really, who’s to say we’ve got it right other than society ourselves?”
I watched Arianne think about that for a moment. “I’ve never thought of it that way before, but you just might be on to something, Dane.” She ended with a smile and a little giggle.
I shrugged and gave a little chuckle as well. We both knew that regardless what I hypothesised society had had a set of social norms and polite behaviour needed to operate within those boundaries.
Our coffees arrived and we took a few sips in silence.
“Does Isaac play any sports?”
She shook her head and I could see the regret in her eyes. “I wish he could, but team sports don’t really suit. His coordination isn’t really at the same level as other nine year olds and well his outlook on life kind of limits his ability to really mesh with a team.”
“What about individual sports?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “He swims well. I made sure of that. Nothing else really. Nothing seems to have interested him, and it’s my fault to a big degree. I’m not the least bit sporty so I probably haven’t encouraged him as much as I should have.”
“Not every kid is sporty and sometimes it takes a while to find something that clicks. Have you considered martial arts?”
At the mention of marital arts her back went stiff and she seemed to shut down. A couple of long seconds ticked by, then she looked me directly in the eye. “I don’t like or condone violence.”
And right there was my answer.
This was exactly why she’d bolted from me yesterday. I’d mentioned I taught martial arts and she’d tensed up and fled at the first opportunity. Violence or Arianne’s perception of such, was the trigger.
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard this argument against martial arts. There was no mistaking how adamant she was about her opinion and I would guess it all stemmed from her experience at the hands of her ex-husband.
“A lot of people have that opinion about martial arts, particularly if they’ve never trained or been properly exposed to them.” I just left it hang there. I wasn’t going to deliberately ram something down her throat or refute her beliefs. More to the point, I was keen to see if Ari was open-minded enough to consider another point of view.
She looked at me and I felt as if I was being studied. “Explain what you mean, to me please.”
I took a couple of seconds to gather my thoughts. I knew that I’d only get one shot at this. There wasn’t room to blow it. “You said you don’t condone violence. I don’t either.” I watched her back stiffen once again.
“But martial arts are violent.” I could see the confusion on her face.
“It is, but that’s only the crude obvious outer layer you’re seeing. It’s not what’s at the core or heart of the styles or form.” I could see the scepticism in her eyes changing to curiosity. “Let me explain.” She nodded for me to go on. I’d call her expression guarded but interested.
“I’ve studied martial arts since I was about six. I use the term study because that is exactly what it is. Like any other art form if you want to be truly good at it you have to study and make a heartfelt commitment to it. Yes, martial arts do involve violence, but it’s about discipline and decision making. It’s about having supreme control of every muscle in your body and your surroundings with the intent of achieving a higher level of awareness and appreciation. It’s about respecting yourself, your teacher, your peers and the heritage of the style and school. We do this through learning a variety of strikes, holds, blocks, kicks, patterns and perfecting them over time.”
I watched Ari narrow her eyes. “But it’s still about fighting.”
“Yes, it is. However, if you’re a true student of martial arts you don’t learn the skills to use them as a violent act towards another.”
“Then why would you study them?”
I looked away and wondered how I could put it, without sounding weird. “I study to achieve the best possible version of me. For me and most true students it’s about learning as much as we can and being the best we can. Part of that is being able to protect myself and others from danger. I can honestly say I’ve never started a fight, but I can admit to finishing a few. Just like yesterday. Marcel came at me with violence. There was nothing schooled or considered about his actions. That was a man hell bent on lashing out and using violence to get his point across. He was trying to intimidate and injure.” I could see my description of Marcel was striking true and I knew without asking the question that Arianne had been on the receiving end of his violent behaviour more than once.
“Violence is never the answer,” she argued.
I shrugged, “In a perfect world, no. Unfortunately, we don’t live in a perfect world. There will always be people that think the best way to make their point is by force or violent acts. I don’t condone their actions. I just choose to have the skills to counter them at their own game should I need them.”
Arianne was tossing my points around in her pretty little head. I could almost see her mind racing to consider them from every angle.
Finally she spoke, “I guess that’s easy to say as someone that has the skills to do what you do.”
“It is, but I’ve trained seriously minimum five days a week since I was about thirteen or fourteen. If you do that, it’s only natural you get good at something. That’s the base I’m coming from.”
Arianne tilted her head to the side in a manner that I read as dismissive. She may not be saying anything b
ut she sure was thinking it.
“Look I get that you’ve been on the receiving end of some violent actions. I’m sorry you had to go through that. Unprovoked violence is something that I despise, but I can’t see it going away anytime soon. Martial Arts don’t make people violent. Violent behaviour is generally a symptom of people not being able to express themselves any other way. Hell, some people are just damn mean and enjoy being bullies. They use violence to hurt, intimidate and injure. They’re the Marcels of the world; they deserve to be shut down. Problem is they rarely come up against someone capable or prepared to act. So their behaviour goes unchecked.”
“But you struck him in the face yesterday!” she argued.
I nodded in agreement. “I did and I’m not going to apologise for it. If I hadn’t blocked his punch, locked his arm up and hit him, he would have hit me or worse, you or Isaac. No way was that going to happen when I was wandering past. I had the skills to stop it. I knew that going in. He started it. I finished it. I hope he learned a lesson, but I don’t think once was enough to truly make the point.”
She was silent for a moment.
“I guess I can see your perspective but I don’t know if I agree with it.”
“You don’t have to. You stated your perspective and I gave you mine based on the experience and skills I’ve acquired over a period of twenty years. At the end of the day—you’ll make up your own mind. I just merely gave you another perspective.” I didn’t add an educated one. Arianne was going on her own experiences and they hadn’t been good. I was coming from the background of being a student of the arts. “I don’t practise martial arts because I like violence. I do so because I enjoy and appreciate the art, the discipline and the challenge to always be better.”
The conversation kind of died between us. We’d hashed it to death almost. There was just one further thing I wanted to add, then I’d shut up.
“I didn’t mean to bring up something uncomfortable. I just thought martial arts might be a good activity for Isaac. It’s great for building coordination, balance, self-confidence and discipline in kids. I know there are other kids like Isaac that do it. I used to teach one before his family moved to another state.”
That pricked her interest and I could almost see the desire to ask me about the kid. I could tell she was toying with the idea when her phone rang.
“Do you mind? I need to know if it’s to do with Isaac.”
“Of course. Go ahead.”
Arianne took the phone from her handbag and stiffened when she noticed whoever it was calling. She motioned that she needed to take the call and got up and moved to the table outside the cafe. I wondered if it was a display of manners or whether she didn’t want me to overhear or ask about whom the caller was.
While she was gone, I took the opportunity to fix up the bill and to take the purple wallet from the inside pocket of my jacket which was laying on the seat beside me. I placed the wallet on the table.
She joined me once again a few moments later. “I’m sorry but I’m going to have to head off.” A haunted look had come over her face and my mind immediately raced to Marcel.
I’d promised myself I wouldn’t ask but I couldn’t help myself. “It wasn’t Marcel again, was it?”
Arianne shook her head no. “But it’s only a matter of time. He’ll pop up again soon. He wanted something yesterday. Sooner or later I’ll find out what.” She grabbed the wallet off the table and opened it reaching for some cash.
I held up my hand. “My treat.”
“But…”
“Don’t Arianne. I asked you to lunch. I enjoyed your company and I hope you might join me again sometime. Take the gesture for how it was meant.”
She looked at me and I’m not sure what she was expecting to see or wanting to find.
“I’m really sorry, I need to get to work.” She threw her wallet and phone in her handbag and made to leave, but not before I stood and pulled her into a loose hug and brushed a kiss on her cheek.
What she did next caught me completely by surprise. She kissed her fingertips and pressed them to my mouth. Our eyes held but I couldn’t read her meaning, before she turned and left.
My lips still tingled as I watched her stride from the cafe, the long skirt she wore whipping with every step she took.
That little move she’d just pulled felt more intimate than if she’d locked lips with me. I didn’t have a clue what she’d meant by it and now I just felt well—off balance.
Arianne Le Flegg was one hell of a complex woman—probably far too complex for this simple boy.
But that didn’t stop me wondering.
Chapter 3
Arianne
All I could think about as I headed over to meet Leo was what on earth had possessed me to kiss my fingertips and press them to Dane’s lips? I mean seriously, Arianne, what was that about? My cheeks felt hot just thinking about it. God, what must he have thought? How embarrassing!
I didn’t do things like that. Controlled, measured, capable, focused. They were all terms that I defined myself by. Impulsive and flirty were not on my list. Embarrassment sluiced through my veins. The only saving grace in the whole thing was I’d more than likely never see him again and if that was the case, then why couldn’t I get him out of my mind?
As I kicked that thought around, I had mixed emotions. The whole martial arts thing might make sense to him, but I was far from convinced. Violence was violence—wasn’t it? He’d made a solid argument, but his experiences were obviously vastly different from mine.
I’d be lying to myself though, if I didn’t admit that I was interested in what his experiences had been with the child like Isaac. Since Isaac had been diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome I’d made it my business to investigate and consider every possible means of improving his abilities to socialise, his education and general wellbeing. It was my responsibility as a mother and a teacher to be the best informed I possibly could.
Finally, my mind slid to the real reason I was so put out by my own behaviour. I was attracted to Dane Roberts in a big way.
There, I’d admitted it to myself as much as it pained me.
He was oh so masculine and attractive. Just looking at him yesterday had told me those things. Today, he just added more to the mix by actually being able to hold a conversation and being good company for a meal. Plus, his manners were spot on. He’d stood when I’d arrived and been a perfect gentlemen the whole time. Most men lacked those social graces. They were important.
Worse though, was every damned essence of me as a woman recognised it. Sitting there today listening to him speak with such passion and conviction for martial arts had made me all kinds of hot and bothered. I hoped to God he hadn’t realised it. That would have been totally embarrassing.
My needs as a woman were a set of feelings that hadn’t raised their complicating heads in me for years. Not since in the beginning with Marcel. I’d met many attractive men before, men like Marcel, men that were totally different—all sorts of men. None of them had affected me like Dane. Was it because he’d ridden in and played the knight in shining armour?
I didn’t know, regardless I would have to remain on guard around that man or I knew categorically I’d succumb to his charms far too easily.
Then where would I be?
Right back where I’d been with Marcel. Attracted to a violent man.
Was violence my Kryptonite?
It wasn’t the first time I’d been left to wonder that.
Now I had another more pressing problem to deal with and the real reason behind my quick exit from lunch with Dane.
Arnie had called. Leo wanted to see me stat! That alone was enough to send shivers of concern through my body. Leo wasn’t a man you crossed or pissed off.
I took the last couple of turns and pulled up outside the large white mausoleum of a house in Sunnybank. The house stood behind a solid rendered block wall fence and had a big set of electronic gates that protected the driveway. The house was a veri
table fortress.
No sooner had I pressed the talk button on the electronic pad at the personal access gate, than it swung open. I forced myself not to give them the satisfaction by glancing up at the surveillance camera that had facilitated my entry.
I was thankful that I’d selected ballet flats today and not heeled shoes. Heels would have clacked against the ceramic tiles that led to the ornate double front doors. The brass knocker felt cold in my hand as I picked it up and let it fall. A second later the door swung open and Arnie, stood before me.
He was all bulky muscle with a pin head on top. To me he looked like one of those cartoon characters complete with the choppy blonde hair on top. Regardless of his appearance, he’d always been incredibly polite to me, for which I was thankful. Congeniality wasn’t always the norm in my line of work.
“Hello Arnie,” I said politely in greeting. Although I was well known to both Leo and Arnie, we’d always had a relationship that you could only describe as formal and business like.
“Good afternoon Annie. Go on through, Leo is expecting you.”
I nodded and moved through the large marble tiled foyer with the vaulted ceiling, to the double doors that were off to the right. As customary I knocked once, took a deep breath then walked through the opened door.
The cold hard tiles changed underfoot to a rich red wool carpet. It was of incredible quality but was gaudy and screamed gangster. Which was exactly the appearance and image Leo was wanting to project I thought.
I crossed the ocean of red carpet and made my way to stand behind one of the visitors chairs. Leo looked up at me and smiled. As always, his thinning hair had been recently dyed black and combed back with what I guessed was old fashioned barber’s oil. The skin of his face was wrinkled and over tanned. Leo’s natural complexion was olive but I suspected he had a lot of help now to maintain his year round glowing tan.
“Annie. So good to see you. Won’t you please take a seat?”
I plastered my best polite and obliging smile on my face. “Likewise Leo. Always a pleasure.”
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