He frowned as he reached for the bottle and refilled her glass. ‘Flat? What do you mean? Is it your mother? Your job? Us?’ There was a hitch in his voice on this last word.
‘That’s just it, it’s none of those things. I can’t even really pinpoint the problem but I just feel there’s something missing from my life. That I should be doing something more meaningful.’
Samuel raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re one of the most successful radio interviewers in the country, and you’re a woman and half the age of most of the others.’ She knew he didn’t mean offence by the ‘woman’ comment—he believed in equal rights for all, but he knew that not everyone felt that way and that women often had to work harder than men to prove themselves.
‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘I told you. I just can’t explain it. I was thinking maybe we should get a pet.’
He startled as if she’d suggested they get an alien. ‘Look, in theory a dog or a cat would be nice, but you know we’d both end up feeling guilty about neglecting it because we’re out of the house so much. And animals tie you down—it’d be like having children. We couldn’t just take off for the weekend on a whim.’
Before she could ask him when exactly they’d last had a weekend away together, he reached out, took her drink and put it on the bedside table next to his. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so occupied lately …’
She refrained from mentioning that he’d been occupied from the moment they’d met—he hadn’t changed, but something inside her had.
‘But I promise I’ll make it up to you when I make partner. We’ll go on holiday to Europe to celebrate. In the meantime, how about I give you a little taster of some of the things we might get up to when visiting Rome, Paris—all those wonderful places we’ve dreamed of going together?’
‘Won’t you be even busier when you make partner?’ she asked. ‘And anyway, I don’t think that’s the issue, I …’
Her voice drifted off again, but Samuel didn’t appear to be listening anymore anyway. He carefully removed the tray from the bed, placed it on the floor and then dived under the covers.
While he did his best to distract her, she stared at the ceiling and thought of England. He was a talented lover and could usually turn her into a panting mess very quickly. Today however, her body refused to get with the program and she had to do something she’d never needed to do with him before. She did a Meg Ryan, and it must have been an impressive performance because seconds after she’d finished moaning, groaning, writhing and shuddering, his face reappeared from under the covers wearing an expression that said he was pleased with his efforts. Seconds later he was inside her.
Afterwards he held her for the obligatory few moments, before planting a quick kiss on her forehead and then rolling over to climb out of bed.
‘I’m going for a ride and then I have to work for a bit, but how about we go out for dinner tonight?’
He was making an effort to cheer her up, saying all the things he was supposed to be saying, but the thought of having to dress up and leave the house made her even more depressed. ‘That would be lovely.’
‘You know,’ Samuel said, his back to her as he rifled through his drawers for his cycling gear, ‘you could always come out with me.’
‘What? Now? Go riding with you?’ She laughed at the notion. ‘I’d never be able to keep up.’ A graceful swim through the pool three mornings a week gave her all the exercise she needed.
He chuckled. ‘It was just a thought.’
‘And it was a lovely one, but I think I’ll have a shower and then spend a lazy morning reading the Saturday papers. Have fun, and don’t pull any muscles.’ She tried to sound chirpy, giving Samuel a free pass to go off and enjoy his morning without worrying about her. Like most men, whenever she admitted she had a problem, he wanted to fix it, but she wasn’t sure he could fix this one.
This niggling feeling of disenchantment was something she needed to sort out for herself, and she doubted a day in bed flicking through the papers and watching more episodes of Friends would give her the answer, but she didn’t have the motivation for anything else.
‘Bye, babe.’ Samuel came across to the bed again a few moments later when he was all suited up in his expensive lycra. ‘I look forward to our dinner date tonight.’
Then he kissed her again and swaggered out of the bedroom.
Chapter Four
FEBRUARY 2011
‘I can’t believe you’re driving all the way to the Hunter Valley to spend the night with a guy you’ve only met once,’ Polly said, standing next to Claire’s car as she threw her overnight bag onto the passenger seat.
‘Says she who didn’t come home at all yesterday because she was spending the night with a guy she’d met only once before.’
Polly opened her mouth, no doubt to explain how that was different, but Claire got in first.
‘Anyway, I’m not spending the night with him in the way your dirty mind would like to think. He lives with his parents and I’ll be staying with them, in the spare room.’
Polly sniggered. ‘If he’s got to—what is he? Twenty-six? Twenty-seven?—and he’s still living at home, then I’m sure he has tricks for sneaking you into his boudoir.’
‘Oh stop!’ Claire waved a hand at her friend and then turned to walk around to the driver’s side, which meant Polly couldn’t see the blush on her cheeks. The truth was if Jasper should decide to make a midnight visit, she probably wouldn’t turn him away.
‘Don’t forget to feed the cats and bring them in from outside tonight,’ Claire called as she climbed into the car.
‘You can count on me,’ Polly said, already waving. As Claire reversed out of her car spot, Polly called out loud enough for half of the suburb to hear, ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’
‘That leaves the options wide open,’ Claire muttered to herself as she started down the road, ready to navigate the afternoon rush hour traffic out of the city. She turned her radio up and tried to ignore the little voice in her head that kept asking her what game she was playing. She’d been arguing with it ever since she’d agreed to make this trip.
Although she’d only met Jasper once, this pesky voice kept insisting that he was family man material, and thus wouldn’t want to be with someone like her. She argued back that it was possible for a man and a woman to be good friends and that they lived so far from each other that that’s all she and he could ever be anyway. Despite this reasoning, on the two-and-a-half hour drive up the freeway she almost turned back more than once. Her head swam with potential excuses. Yet, once she passed Newcastle, she decided she was going to do this whether it was a bad idea or not. If her heart got hurt, at least she’d be able to say she’d been up in a hot air balloon. And, if you were going to do it, the Hunter Valley had to be one of the most gorgeous places in Australia to do so.
Following the directions Jasper had given her when they’d spoken on the phone, Claire drove through seemingly endless paddocks of vineyards in full leaf until she finally reached Lovedale and slowed her car in front of a handsome wooden gate. Her stomach tightening, she followed the tree-lined gravel drive until she came upon a traditional whitewashed Australian homestead. The gardens surrounding it were perfectly manicured but they didn’t feel showy or pompous at all. Of course she noticed the flowers—among a number of native shrubs were beds of stunning roses—and it pleased her to think that someone in Jasper’s family had a green thumb. If she lived here she’d spend all day every day out in the garden and she would never want to leave.
In the middle of the garden a hot air balloon sculpture had pride of place—she’d obviously come to the right address.
As she parked her car out the front, she saw Jasper stepping off the verandah, waving as he came towards her. Her breath left her lungs and all her nerves and second thoughts fled with it.
Too late to back out now. And anyway, she didn’t want to. She couldn’t get out of the car fast enough and almost tripped in her haste.
‘Y
ou okay?’ Jasper asked, rushing over and reaching out to steady her. Claire’s mouth went dry—he was even more gorgeous than she remembered.
She managed a quick nod. ‘Guess my feet are a little unsteady after the drive.’
‘It’s good to see you. To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether you’d come or not.’
She smiled up at him. ‘If you think I’d pass up a free ride in a hot air balloon, you don’t know me at all. This is bucket list stuff. I have to confess I did look your family up online and check out your story to make sure this wasn’t some elaborate scheme to lure me to a cabin in the woods and have your wicked way.’
‘Thank God for Google, hey?’ He laughed, then nodded towards her bag on the front seat. ‘Can I get that for you?’
‘Oh, I can carry it,’ she said, rushing around to the passenger side.
Jasper was right behind her. ‘I’m sure you can, but my mother is very old fashioned and if she sees you carrying your own luggage inside, she’ll box my ears.’
Claire couldn’t imagine anyone daring to box any part of Jasper’s muscular physique but she liked the sound of his mother. ‘We can’t have that,’ she said, conceding.
His parents must have been lingering just inside, for the moment she and Jasper stepped onto the verandah the fly screen door flew open. A tall, wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair, matching beard and silver-rimmed spectacles held it open as a woman who couldn’t have been much taller than five foot stepped out. Two words came to mind when Claire looked at her—cuddly and chirpy. She wore an apron with a hot air balloon print around her waist and had smile lines round eyes that were the same unusual colour as Jasper’s.
‘Good evening,’ Jasper’s dad said at the same time his mother grabbed Claire in a hug. ‘Welcome, my dear. You must be tired after such a long drive from Sydney.’
‘It’s not that long, Mum,’ said Jasper.
His mother ignored him. ‘I’m Wendy and this is my husband Jean-Paul, but we all call him Paul and you must too. Now, can I get you a cup of cocoa or would you prefer a nice glass of wine before bed?’
It was barely eight o’clock but Jasper had warned her that in the world of hot air balloons people went to bed early and rose before the sun. ‘Cocoa sounds lovely,’ she said.
‘That’s settled then. You come into the kitchen and we’ll have a good natter while the milk heats.’ Wendy linked her arm through Claire’s and ushered her down a hallway lined with photographs and paintings of hot air balloons, calling back over her shoulder. ‘Jasper, put Claire’s bag in the guest room.’
‘Yes, Mum.’
Claire smiled at his bemused tone and hoped he’d join them in the kitchen soon. This situation was weird enough without being grilled by the mother of a guy she’d only just met. Wendy, with Paul following closely behind, led her into a large, country style kitchen with a table in the middle of the room. Yellow roses sat in a vase shaped like a hot air balloon and as she looked around, she couldn’t help but notice all the other hot air balloon–themed stuff: balloon placemats on the table, multi-coloured balloon ornaments hanging from the ceiling, balloon magnets on the fridge, balloon print tea towels hung over the big Aga oven.
‘You’d be forgiven for thinking we like balloons,’ Paul said.
‘I love them. They’re amazing,’ she gushed, one hundred percent genuine in her praise. The room was almost like a hot air balloon museum—or perhaps the gift shop. ‘I always wanted to collect something but I never found anything that kept my interest long enough.’
Wendy crossed over to the fridge and retrieved a carton of milk, speaking as she proceeded to pour some into a saucepan over a stove. ‘Take a seat, love. And fetch my biscuit tin, will you, Paul.’
Both Claire and Paul did as they were told and Wendy kept talking as she worked. ‘Jasper tells me you’re a florist.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘And that your parents own a bookshop?’
Paul returned to the table with a balloon-shaped biscuit tin. He removed the lid and offered it to Claire. ‘Wendy’s a big reader,’ he said as she took what looked to be a homemade melting moment cookie.
‘Thank you. What kind of books do you like?’
‘I’m a sucker for a good romance,’ Wendy admitted, whisking the milk. ‘Speaking of which, Jasper tells me you two were reluctant attendees at a BYO Eligible Friend party.’
‘A what?’ Paul asked, his chair scraping on the floor tiles as he pulled it back to sit.
‘Scotty dragged me along,’ Jasper said as he entered the kitchen.
Claire’s belly did a somersault as she laid eyes on him again and she almost choked on a mouthful of the most delicious melting moment she’d ever tasted.
Paul gave a brief nod. ‘Scotty, huh? Ah, that explains it.’
‘You okay?’ Jasper crossed to Claire and put his hand on her back, gently patting it as she coughed. ‘Can I get you some water?’
She nodded, unable to speak.
Moments later he handed her a glass of ice-cold water and she downed it, hoping to clear her throat and to lower her temperature—which had skyrocketed when his hand landed on her back.
Get a grip, Claire.
‘I was just admiring your parents’ hot air balloons,’ she said when she’d recovered.
‘You should see their bedroom,’ he muttered as he sat down on the seat next to hers.
I’m more interested in yours, she thought.
Wendy arrived at the table with the hot mugs of cocoa and immediately started her motherly interrogation. First thing she wanted to know was why Claire had become a florist.
‘Actually,’ she said, lowering her glass back to the table, ‘I developed a thing for flowers when I was in hospital as a child.’
‘Did you have your tonsils out?’ Paul asked. ‘I remember when Jasper got his tonsils out when he was five. He refused to wear the operating gown because he said dresses were for girls.’
Claire looked up to see Jasper blushing and forced a laugh. ‘It was a little more serious than tonsillitis. I had a form of leukaemia.’
‘Oh Mary, Joseph and Jesus,’ Wendy gasped. ‘How terrible.’
‘It’s okay,’ Claire reassured her. ‘I survived. Obviously. But there were a few awful years there and flowers became the thing to take my mind off the pain and my hair falling out. Whenever I saw a flower, I couldn’t be sad or even scared that I might die. I became obsessed—friends and family bought me flowers, even the nurses—and when I went into remission, Mum and Dad celebrated by giving me a patch of the garden for my own. I grew every flower I could possibly get my hands on. Then I’d pick them and arrange them and give them to my friends. In fact, I love flowers so much I even named my cats after them.’
‘Oh really?’ Wendy’s face lit up at this news. ‘What are their names?’
‘Gerry and Sunny, short for Geranium and Sunflower.’
‘Aw, that’s just lovely.’ Wendy sniffed and reached across to grab a tissue from the box on the table. It might have been the only thing in the room (maybe even the house) without a balloon on it.
Claire felt Jasper’s knee press against hers under the table and she could tell from the way it lingered there that it wasn’t an accident. Warmth spread from that spot right through her body.
‘I really like your garden,’ she said, looking from Wendy to Paul as she tried to take her mind off their son’s knee and also ward off any further questions about her childhood illness. She didn’t often talk about it and couldn’t quite understand why she’d opened up to these virtual strangers. Perhaps because they didn’t feel like strangers.
‘Paul’s actually the green thumb around here,’ Wendy said, ‘but I do love to spend a Sunday afternoon sitting among the blooms reading a good book. Speaking of books, I’m trying to recall if I’ve ever visited your parents’ bookshop in Sydney. How long have they owned it?’
‘For as long as I can remember,’ Claire replied. ‘They were both teachers before then,
but it was always Dad’s dream to either write a book or own a bookshop, and the latter seemed the easier option.’
Everyone laughed. Wendy seemed to want to know as much as Claire was willing to share about her family, so as they sat drinking cocoa and eating biscuits, she told them more about her parents—both only children—and her grandparents—both sets alive and kicking. ‘They’re actually very good friends and at the moment they’re grey-nomading around Australia together.’
‘Sounds like fun,’ Paul said, dusting biscuit crumbs from his beard.
‘And do you have any siblings?’ Wendy asked.
‘I have one brother. Tim. He got married a year ago and doesn’t live far from me, so I see him and his wife quite a lot.’
‘Do they have children?’
‘Give them time, Mum. They’ve only been married a year.’
Wendy and Paul laughed and Claire forced herself to chuckle alongside them, even though the mention of children always set the hairs on the back of her neck on edge. ‘No children yet,’ she said.
‘I became a grandmother on Monday—a Valentine’s baby—can you believe it?’ Wendy asked.
‘Congratulations. Jasper told me at the party. It must be very exciting for you.’
The older woman beamed. ‘It is. Would you like to see a photo?’
‘I’d love to,’ Claire lied, the cocoa and biscuit suddenly sitting heavily in her gut.
Wendy bustled out of the room, quickly returned with an iPad and then sat again, dragging her chair closer to Claire. She swiped her finger across the screen and seconds later the first baby photo appeared. Claire tried to smile as a chubby, red, squished up face stared back at her.
‘Isn’t she simply divine? I could just eat her up. Her name is Cadence Rose. Isn’t that beautiful?’ Wendy kept swiping, sentencing Claire to photo after photo of newborn baby in different positions and various states of undress. Then she came to a photo of a woman—gorgeous despite her messy golden-blonde hair, sweat-glistened face and tired eyes—lying on a hospital bed snuggling the baby. Her love for the child shone from the screen and Claire felt her throat closing over.
The Greatest Gift Page 4