Playing the Spy

by Maggie Brown

  “You bet. He wouldn’t have missed it. He was wrapped in your performance.”

  Eleanor felt a flush of pleasure. “Well, there you go. If I can win that crusty old fellow over, I must have passed muster.” She took a sip of wine and glanced at Austen, who watched with narrowed eyes. “Why are you here, Austen? This is hardly your ideal holiday destination.”

  “Believe it or not, I do require peace and quiet sometimes. I’m working on an album I’m bringing out early next year.”

  “Are you here alone?”

  “Yep. Just me. I wanted to get away by myself. We’ve just finished a UK tour and the band is on holidays.” She sidled over to Sophie and placed a hand around her waist. “So Soph here is your housekeeper? Maybe you could lend her to me occasionally. I could do with a bit of…ah…help.”

  Although Eleanor was well aware she was being baited, anger still came in a haze of red. She shot her a look of intense dislike. “Sophie’s not a slave, Austen. She’s a valued employee and I expect you to treat her like one. If she wants to help you on her time off, then ask her, not me.”

  Sophie stepped away from Austen and moved over to a goggle-eyed Lisa, who made room next to her at the bar. There was an awkward silence before Ginny announced in a jolly voice, “The wine is superb. Shall we have one more, Eleanor?”

  “No, I’m tired…I’d like to go home. We can have another there.” She looked at Lisa. “Ginny is staying with us tonight, so could you give Sophie a lift home, please, if it’s not too much trouble?”

  “No worries. Do you want to go now, Soph?”

  “No hurry. Let’s have a few more before we go.” She fished in her pocket for the buggy key, which she passed over to Eleanor. “Here. I’ll see you both in the morning. What time do you want breakfast?”

  Eleanor bit back the flash of hurt. She slipped on her cool professional mask and said in a mild voice, “We’ll get our own. You have a good time.” With a last smile at Lisa, she threaded her arm through Ginny’s to walk out the door.

  Outside, the night was warm and balmy, the air thick with the perfume of the night-scented jasmine and the perpetual hint of salt. After Ginny settled her ample behind onto the seat, she cast a sly look. “You’re very friendly with the help, Ellie.”

  Eleanor felt the blush rise. “Sophie’s a very nice person, as well as a marvellous cook.”

  “Hmm…a good cook, eh. So is Hanna my housekeeper, but we aren’t such close…umm…pals, if you get my drift.”

  Eleanor’s knuckles whitened on the wheel and she jammed down the accelerator, pleased to see Ginny’s foot press sharply down on the floorboard as if it were a brake pedal. “You and Mum are just the damn same. Always trying to find some gossip where there’s nothing.”

  “If you say so, dear.”

  “And I expect you not to mention Sophie to mum.”

  Ginny chuckled. “Why not? You said yourself there’s nothing going on. Though mind you, if you are having a little…ah…fling, I wouldn’t dream of telling her.”

  “I am not having a fling as you so crudely put it. Sophie works for me, for God’s sake,” Eleanor snapped.

  Ginny sat up straighter and looked at her curiously. “Oh. I hadn’t realized your feelings were involved.”

  Eleanor nearly groaned aloud. It was impossible to pull the wool over her eyes for Ginny was the master of intrigue. Maybe she should just come clean and get her advice. After all, she was the self-help guru. She must know something. “The house is just up this hill. I’d like to get out of this dress and into something more comfortable and then we can talk. You’ll have to sleep in your undies…I wouldn’t have anything that would fit you.”

  “That’s no problem. I’ll get someone to bring my suitcase up tomorrow morning from the boat. You do know there’s a luncheon on board tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Deirdre mentioned it. Now here we are.”

  By the time Eleanor had a quick shower and slipped into her tracksuit, Ginny had a plate of cheese and bickies and a bottle of red on the table in the lounge. “My word, this is certainly impressive. The view with the moon over the ocean is stunning.” Ginny pointed to the seat opposite. “Now, sit down and tell me all about Sophie.”

  “There’s not much to tell really. She’s employed to be my home help over here, and…well…we seem to click. She’s smart, caring, and a great cook, but that’s not the main thing. We’ve become good friends. She’s so easy to get on with. I really like her, but I don’t know what to do. We’re worlds apart, socially as well as geographically. But I know if I let her go, I’ll be losing someone I’m beginning to hold dear.”

  Ginny plucked a piece of cheese from the plate, and regarded it thoughtfully before she popped it into her mouth. “You know…people are like cheese. There are all sorts: bland, spicy, hard, soft, cream, young, aged, matured. Not all of them suit your palate, but when you find the one that does, you always buy it again.” She shot a piercing look at Eleanor. “I’m just wondering whether you like her because she reminds you of Maria.”

  Eleanor felt a wave of irritation. “Sophie’s not anything like Maria.”

  “Why is that? She certainly looks like her.”

  “I thought so in the beginning, but then when I got to know her, I can’t see it now. It’s not about looks anymore.” She looked at her in surprise. “You know, Ginny, I’ve just realized something. I’m an entirely different person now. Then I was young, impressionable, and struggling professionally. Maria was…well, the closest thing to perfection I had ever seen. Sophisticated, beautiful and so full of life.”

  “And very married, dear. Don’t forget that little snippet. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  Eleanor cleared her throat, which suddenly seemed choked. “She didn’t make a secret of it. I went into the affair with my eyes wide open.”

  “I’m not judging you…you’ve done your penance. Years of hard labour. And I’ve no doubt she was the one who seduced you. She was a cheat, pure and simple. She cheated on her husband.”

  Eleanor closed her eyes, just wanting this conversation to go away. Ginny was opening up something she didn’t want to hear. “She loved me,” she ground out.

  “You were just a good fuck to her.”

  Eleanor blinked. She’d never heard Ginny say that word. “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? Has she ever contacted you again…ever acknowledged you’re still alive.”

  “You know that would have been impossible in her position.”

  “Rubbish. It wouldn’t have hurt to at least congratulate you for winning the Oscar.” Ginny reached over and took her hand. Eleanor let her, too upset to pull away. “I’m not doing this to hurt you. I’m trying to get you to help yourself. You’ve been emotionally crippled ever since Maria. Now you’ve found this lovely woman, you’ll have to decide what you’re going to do about her.”

  “What should I do?” asked Eleanor, unable to hold back her tears.

  “You have to decide that and I wouldn’t be too slow about it. That Austen is a very sexy woman and she’s got her eye on Sophie.” Ginny fanned her face with the napkin. “Whew! She put my heart into a flutter and I’m old and straight.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  With some misgivings Sophie watched Eleanor walk away. She knew she was hurt because Sophie had decided to stay in the bar, but this was an opportunity to get to know Austen. If she found out something sensational about the singer, then maybe the article could be about her and not Eleanor. Owen wouldn’t give a fig who she wrote about, so long as it sold.

  After she finished her beer, she took one of the delicate little caviar nibbles from the plate on the bar. “Oh this is so good,” she moaned.

  “You wanna do something really good, babe?” Austen whispered into her ear. Her hot breath on Sophie’s earlobe sent shivers down her spine. Hell, the woman even breathed sex.

  “Back down, lover-girl. Another drink will be just fine for the moment.” She signalled the bartender. �
��I’ll have a vodka and lime. What about you?”

  “A scotch on the rocks. Make it a double.”

  “Lisa?”

  “No more for me. I want to check on Giovanni in the kitchen. I’ll be back to take you home.”

  “Okay. See you then,” said Sophie, sorry to see her go, though understanding why. Lisa wouldn’t know how to say no to Austen. The staff had a strict policy about fraternizing with guests and if Austen made a play for Lisa, she could lose her job.

  When she disappeared from view, Austen edged her stool closer until their thighs pressed together. “You and Eleanor seem very chummy. You’re certainly a sneaky dark horse, aren’t you? How’d you get into her pants? I don’t think anyone’s seen that sacred site for years. What’s she like to shag? I can’t imagine her letting out a good scream.”

  Sophie fought the urge to throw her drink into her face, but studied her instead. She drew back, surprised that behind the façade Austen looked upset. Now that was interesting. She slid into reporter mode. With a wriggle, she moved her stool away until they were no longer touching and murmured, “I don’t kiss and tell. You’ll just have to imagine what it’s like.” She ran her finger down the tattooed arm in a slow stroke. “I bet you’ve fantasized about it though. She makes you all hot and bothered, doesn’t she?”

  Austen stared at her then half emptied her glass. “What the fuck makes you say that?”

  “Come off it. It’s written all over your face. You’re jealous.”

  “Don’t get too worked up about it. You’re only in her bed because you look like someone else.” She signalled for another drink.

  “Maria?”

  “She told you about Maria?” Austen looked at her incredulously.

  Sophie ran the same finger round the rim of her glass and said offhandedly, “So you know about Maria too? Why would she tell you? She dislikes you.”

  “Because we were friends. I was there in Rome when she met her,” she snapped.

  “Oh, she didn’t tell me that. Perhaps she didn’t think you were important enough to mention.” At those words, Austen seemed to deflate. Moisture welled in her eyes and she looked like a little girl who had lost her favourite doll. Sophie suddenly had an urge to comfort her. “Oh, Austen. You were in love with her, weren’t you?”

  Instead of denying it, Austen was silent.

  “Why does she hate you now?”

  She shook her head. “You’ll have to ask her.”

  “Okay, I won’t pry. Come on…we’ll have one more and then I have to go.”

  They sat there in silence after the drinks arrived and unexpectedly Austen asked, “How did you get to shag her? So many have tried but she doesn’t seem to notice them.”

  Sophie laughed. “I’m just her housekeeper. I’m not in her bed.”

  Austen looked at her shrewdly. “But you’d like to be?”

  “Hell yeah. I think she’s wonderful. But seriously…look at me, Austen. I’m not in her league. She can have anyone she wants.”

  “Don’t you believe it. She wants you all right. When she saw us together, she was ropable. I’ve never seen her so put out.”

  Sophie snorted. “I wish.” She gave Austen a nudge with her shoulder. “You know, you’re barking up the wrong tree with her. You two wouldn’t last a month together.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re both alpha females. Your partners need to be easygoing. And as well, you’re extra-fiery and she’s extra-reserved. You wouldn’t suit at all. You’d stifle each other’s creativity.”

  Austen stared at her. “What makes you an authority on love?” She ran her eye over Sophie. “What…you’re like thirty? I bet you haven’t been with too many women either…you have that look about you. And believe me, babe, I can tell.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” replied Sophie unconcerned. “I come from a very large extended family, and you haven’t heard drama until you’ve lived amongst them. Cripes, I’ve listened to so many crappy sob stories it would make your mind boggle.” She plucked a piece of fluff off Austen’s sleeve. “Now you…you take them to bed, then disappear. You wouldn’t have a clue about the heartache you leave behind.”

  “They never complain.”

  “No, they wouldn’t because I bet you’re good. But I imagine they don’t get a repeat.”

  “Only occasionally I’ll go for a second night. It’s better that way. A clean break…no expectations.” Austen downed the last of her drink. As she looked at Sophie, a discernable heat built in her gaze. “So what about it? It’s been a long day and I want one of those hugs that turns into sex. Want to see what all the fuss is about? No strings.”

  Sophie had to admit it was tempting. Reflected in those sultry eyes was a promise of an amazingly hot wanton night. And Austen certainly wasn’t expecting a refusal. “Hmmm…I can’t say the invitation is not appealing, but no thanks.”

  “You’re knocking me back? Why?” Austen looked more incredulous than put out.

  “I might be extremely inexperienced by your standards, but I’m not an easy lay. I expect to be dated and wooed.”

  “Geez, what century are you from?”

  “I dislike being a sure thing.”

  “How many dates before you come across with the goodies?”

  “Don’t be crass. I like to get to know someone first.”

  Austen shifted closer. “How many girlfriends have you had?”

  “Not many.”

  “No wonder. They probably died of frustration.”

  “Very funny. Some of us live in the real world, Austen. Everyone doesn’t leap into bed together at the first twitch of their hormones,” Sophie muttered, exasperated. “But that’s not the problem with me. It’s a bit difficult to find someone when you’re not out. All my good friends are straight. I’ve met a few nice girls online, but nobody wants to sneak around so nothing has lasted.”

  “So why aren’t you out? It’s accepted now.”

  Sophie moaned. “Not in my family.”

  “Then you’ll have to change their minds.”

  “I’ve decided I’m going to when I get home. I want a life. I would have done it before this, but I haven’t loved anyone enough to go through the drama. Let me rephrase that…I’ve never been in love, full stop.”

  Austen looked at her with a measure of compassion. “You’re going to have difficulty after Eleanor, aren’t you?”

  “Yes I am,” Sophie whispered. “I have never felt this way about anyone in my life. The thought of not seeing her again is starting to hurt. I almost wish she wasn’t so great.”

  Austen patted her on the shoulder. “Come on. We’ll have another one and hit the road. Run and tell Lisa I’ll take you home. When we get there, ask me in for coffee. Eleanor’s going to be properly pissed when she sees me there. It’ll stir something up.” She chuckled. “If she tosses you out, you can come and cook for me. Believe it or not, I like staying home most of the time, but I’m a damn awful cook so I eat out.”

  * * *

  “Do you think she saw that?” said Austen in a loud stage whisper when the security light flashed on.

  Sophie giggled. “Nah. Come into the kitchen and I’ll get us something to eat. We’ll clatter around a bit. That should wake her up.”

  “Got any grog in there?”

  “There’s some wine in the fridge.” She peered at Austen. “Should you be drinking anything else? You’ve been guzzling doubles and you look pretty full.”

  “Aw Soph, you’re not going to turn into a wowser, are you?”

  “No. But you’re not getting any more until I get some coffee and food into you. We haven’t eaten all night. Those dainty little nibbles wouldn’t have filled up a flea. Some good solid Italian cooking…that’s what we need.” Sophie propped her up against the door while she searched for the key. The fresh air had hit Sophie too. She was a bit wobbly in the legs and her face felt flushed.

  Then she grimaced when the big terra-cotta pot at the si
de of the door, toppled over with a loud crash and rolled off the landing. “Shush. Be careful. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I don’t want her to see us drunk. We’ll sober up a bit then make a noise.” She flipped open the door, dragged Austen down the hallway and dumped her in a chair at the kitchen table. After she put a strong cup of black coffee under her nose, she went to the pantry. “I’m going to make us a big bowl of pasta. That’ll sop up the alcohol.”

  “Oh, this coffee’s good,” Austen said. She began to tap out a beat on the table and sing softly.

  Sophie enthusiastically swayed to the tune as she chopped the vegetables. She looked in awe at Austen—the woman could really sing. And the hands that played on the table were beautiful: tanned, long-fingered, and strong. When she noticed Austen gazing at her hips as she rocked to the rhythm, she exaggerated the motion. So engrossed was she with the dinner preparation and song, she failed to hear someone come to the door.

  “Can anyone join the party?”

  Startled, Sophie turned to see Ginny standing at the doorway. Still dressed in her flowing pink kaftan, she seemed to float into the room as a bosomy ethereal being. She smelt wonderful, like rose petals and talcum powder. Without makeup, she seemed younger than at the recital, and despite her size, she definitely was alluring and voluptuous. She appeared to be in her early to mid-sixties, but was one of those women that never look much older when they are eighty. Sophie smiled and pointed to a chair. “Of course you can. I’m whipping up something for us to eat. We’ve had a bit to drink and need food. Would you like some pasta?”

  “Yes please. Ellie told me about your cooking.”

  Austen jumped up and pulled out a chair. “Sit next to me, you gorgeous thing. Would you like a coffee or perhaps a wine?”

  “There’s a half a bottle of red in the cupboard. I think I’ll have a glass. Would you girls like one?”

  “Can’t. I have been instructed by the boss over there that I have to sober up.” Austen looked pleadingly at Sophie. “Can I have one? We can’t have Ginny drinking alone.”

  “Finish your coffee first. The food’s not far off.” After she placed the pasta in the boiling water, she looked around to see Ginny gazing at her quizzically.