‘What’s wrong with you, Sam?’ Max frowned.
‘Nothing,’ she cried happily.
‘Well, I’m going out to check the fuse box,’ said Hal.
‘I’m coming with you,’ said Max. ‘I’m not staying in here in the dark. Come on Sam.’
‘But I’m okay here in the dark,’ Sam grinned up at her.
Max walked over and pulled her up off the floor. ‘I don’t trust you on your own. I think you may be sniffing the floor polish or something.’
They walked around to the side of the house and found the meter box. Hal lifted the lid and inspected the fuses.
‘Gosh, this is ancient. I haven’t seen these old ceramic switches for a long time.’
Sam started giggling again but Max elbowed her.
‘Can you tell what’s wrong?’ Max asked.
‘Probably a blown fuse, but I’m not game to touch anything. I’m going to turn off the main switch so there’s no more trouble. But it means you won’t have any power tonight.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ shrugged Sam, grinning.
‘Still, you’d better call an electrician. There’s probably some kind of emergency service,’ he said, closing the cover of the meter box. ‘In the meantime, I’ll check up in the ceiling in case there were any sparks. We don’t want a fire up there.’
‘We certainly don’t!’ agreed Sam, trying to take it seriously, but failing.
Sam found the stepladder for Hal and he took it into the hall where the trapdoor to the roof was located. They watched him climb the ladder and lift the door and then his head disappeared, along with the beam of light from the torch.
‘You see, this is why I like men, why I can’t write them off altogether,’ said Max. ‘I would no sooner stick my head up into that narky old roof than fly to the moon. But blokes just do it.’
Hal appeared again. ‘Seems to be all clear up there.’
He stepped back down the ladder and propped it against the wall out of the way. ‘You’d better call an electrician.’
Sam shrugged. ‘I’ll do it in the morning.’
‘Call somebody now,’ said Max. ‘Then at least they’ll be here first thing.’
‘She’s right,’ Hal agreed. He took his mobile phone out of his pocket and dialled a number. ‘Yes, I’m after electrical services, emergency, after hours if possible.’ He paused. ‘Marrickville.’ Another pause. ‘Yes please.’ He passed the phone to Sam. ‘They’re connecting.’
Sam stirred, trying to focus. She gave a vague explanation to the person on the other end, who took her details and promised someone would be out first thing in the morning.
‘Come on,’ said Max. ‘We’d better eat the pizza while it’s still warm. We won’t be able to reheat it.’
They made their way out to the kitchen and stood around the bench eating. Sam didn’t feel all that hungry, but in the dark they didn’t notice that she was nursing the same piece.
‘You’d better come home with me tonight,’ said Max.
‘No, I have to be here bright and early for the electrician. I wouldn’t want to miss him.’
‘Then I’ll stay here with you.’
‘There’s no point both of us being uncomfortable,’ Sam maintained. ‘I’ll be fine, I’ll just go to bed. I’m dead tired anyway.’
‘I could stay,’ offered Hal.
‘You wish,’ Sam scoffed.
Hal turned to Max. ‘She has this idea I’m always trying to get her into bed.’
‘Methinks she doth protest too much.’
‘Okay, you two can leave now,’ said Sam, closing the lid of the pizza box. They started to argue with her, but she eventually convinced them she was dead on her feet and just wanted to get some sleep.
But when Sam closed the door behind them, she wished she hadn’t been quite so insistent. She felt an ache rise up in her chest. She was just tired. She found her way through to her bedroom with the torch they’d left her, and then she saw the unmade bed. She started to read the labels on the boxes, looking for linen, but her eyes were stinging. Where were the sheets she’d taken off the line? Probably still in the car. Sam suddenly felt overwhelmed. She didn’t have the energy to walk out to the car, or even to make the bed for that matter. She found her way back to the kitchen and the torch beam fell on the bottle of champagne. She picked it up and realised there was still a little left. She emptied it into a coffee cup, walked out the back door and sat on the step, looking out into the backyard. No pool, no pergola, just a cracked cement path leading to the Hills hoist, a lemon tree, some nondescript shrubs and a rickety fence with palings missing.
The ache in her chest welled up, constricting the back of her throat. Tears pooled in her eyes before falling over her lashes to trickle down her cheeks. She sniffed, and gulped down half the cup of champagne. She sobbed, just once, involuntarily. Then she drank some more. She wiped the tears with the back of her hand. But they kept coming.
‘Sam?’
She sniffed again, looking around. Hal was standing at the side of the house. Light from next door illuminated his silhouette from behind. It made him look ethereal, otherworldly, like he was her guardian angel or something. God, she was so tired she was becoming delusional.
‘I tried knocking,’ he said. ‘There was no answer.’
‘Sorry. I didn’t hear you.’
‘You know you’re not very secure here, anyone could just walk straight through that side gate.’
‘Oh.’ More good news.
‘So,’ he said, holding up a plastic shopping bag as he walked towards her. ‘I saw a Seven Eleven, so I bought you some candles and a bigger flashlight. I didn’t like to think of you alone here in the dark. And turns out I wasn’t laughed at when I asked for a flashlight. Max can put that in her thesaurus and . . . look it up.’
A noise like something between a hiccup and a sob escaped out of Sam’s throat.
‘What’s the matter?’ Hal said as he came closer. She could see his features more clearly now, which meant he could see her tears. ‘Hey, I know the thesaurus joke wasn’t one of my best, but . . .’
Sam attempted a laugh but it came out strangled. She covered her face as more tears flowed. Hal didn’t say anything as he sat down on the step beside her and put his arm around her.
‘What the hell have I done? What the hell was I thinking?’ she whimpered.
Hal rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. ‘Come on, I’ll show you,’ he said, standing up and putting his hand out to her. She looked up at him, frowning. ‘Well, come on,’ he urged.
Sam stood and took his hand. He led her to the back corner of the yard and then started walking along the length of the fence.
‘This is the boundary of your property,’ said Hal. ‘Your property! You own this.’
‘Well, the bank’s letting me pretend I do.’
He ignored her, continuing on to the opposite corner, where he turned, leading her along the side fence back towards the house. ‘All of this is yours,’ he said, continuing up the side path past the house. ‘An entire building that will give you shelter, keep you warm . . .’
‘Not until the power’s back on.’
They came out to the front of the house. Hal led her to sit down on the squat brick fence.
‘Sam,’ he began. ‘“What the hell you’ve done” is an extraordinary thing. You’ve bought a house all on your own. That’s a big step, and okay, there are risks. But think about it, Sam, you’re one of the lucky ones. Only something like, um, I forget the exact figure, but I’m sure it’s less than ten per cent of the world’s population owns property, and barely any women. There are people who don’t even have a pillow to lay their heads on at night.’
‘Did your mother used to tell you to eat your dinner and think of the starving people in Africa?’
Hal looked a little frustrated. ‘Are you always so damn negative?’
‘Sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I know everything you’re saying is true. I was just feeling sorry for mysel
f.’
‘Well, that’s allowed now and then,’ he smiled. ‘Come on, let’s go inside and light some candles and get you comfortable.’
She stood up, returning his smile faintly. She knew she should probably insist that he go home, that she would be alright. But Sam didn’t want to be alone. And it was nice to have someone to lean on for a change.
So she let Hal arrange the candles on a tray, and clear a space in the living room. She let him find blankets and a pillow for her. And he let her talk. She told him about Alan Mitchell, and Guy Hennessey, and poor Vanessa, and dear Ted. And sometime either very late at night or very early in the morning, he checked that all the doors were locked, covered her with a blanket, blew out the candles and left her curled up on the sofa where she had drifted off to sleep.
Eight a.m.
Sam blinked. She was lying under the covers on her own bed, on a sheet. When did she make the bed? She looked around the room. Her room in Ermine Street. Everything was unpacked and in place, as far as she could tell. She hadn’t realised the walls were so white, they almost glowed from the sun streaming through the windows.
She got up and walked down the hall. The living room was all in order, there were no boxes around, not even empty ones. There were flowers on the table, oddly like the arrangement Alan Mitchell had sent her. What day was it? She knew she didn’t get all this done on Friday. There was the blackout, and last thing she remembered was getting sleepy on the sofa, talking to Hal . . .
She heard a car pull up outside and peered through the curtains. It was Jeff. Had she lost an entire day? Was it Sunday already? She watched as the children all bounded out of the car and ran for the house. She walked over to the door and let them in.
‘Hi Mum!’ they chorused. Their faces were all pink and shiny and smiling. ‘Can we see our rooms?’
Why were they all talking like that, in unison? This was very bizarre. They ran off down the hallway and disappeared.
‘Hi Sam!’ Jeff chirped. ‘Wow, the place looks great. Sorry we’re early, the kids couldn’t wait to get here. Mind if I put the kettle on?’
‘There’s no power,’ she said vaguely.
Jeff laughed. ‘Of course there’s power!’
He walked out into the kitchen and Sam went to close the door. But as she turned around, Hal appeared on the doorstep, smiling broadly.
‘Hey Sam, how’re you doing?’ he said, walking past her into the house.
‘Who’s this?’ said Jeff warily, coming out of the kitchen.
‘This is Hal Buchanan. Hal, this is Jeff.’
‘Are you dating my wife?’
Sam was shocked. ‘Jeff! That’s none of your business.’
‘I think I’ve got a right to know what the mother of my children is getting up to.’
‘Stop this, Jeff, you’re embarrassing me. Hal is a client.’
‘But I think we’re friends now. Aren’t we friends yet, Sam?’
‘Well, I’m her husband.’
‘Only on paper, I believe, Jeff,’ said Hal.
‘I don’t think that’s any of your business.’
‘Jeff!’ Sam exclaimed, moving between them. ‘There’s no need to be so rude.’
‘I just want to know what he’s doing here.’
‘It’s top secret, I’m with the CIA.’
‘I suppose you think that’s funny?’
‘No, I don’t have a sense of humour, I’m American.’
Sam frowned, looking at Hal. He winked at her.
‘Why are you here?’ Jeff was almost shouting.
‘I’m on a contract –’
‘Well get this,’ said Jeff. ‘Your contract expires now!’
‘I don’t think that’s for you to say, Jeff.’
‘Oh yeah?’ he leered, taking a step closer.
This was ridiculous. ‘Jeff, stop this. You should go.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he snarled.
Sam stared at him. There were two small lumps protruding from the top of his head, just above his temples. They seemed to be growing as she watched them.
‘Look at your head!’ Sam screamed as the skin broke and antlers sprouted up and out of Jeff’s skull. ‘Do something!’ she shrieked, turning to Hal. But now he had antlers growing out of his head as well. The two men started to circle each other slowly.
‘Stop this,’ Sam cried. ‘You have to stop it at once!’
She heard loud knocking at the door. ‘Is there anyone there?’
‘Oh thank God,’ she sighed.
‘Hello? It’s the electrician.’
Sam jumped up with a fright. The living room was gloomy, there were boxes stacked in front of the window, blocking the morning light.
‘Anyone home?’ the voice called again from the front door.
‘Coming!’ Sam replied. She struggled to unravel herself from the blanket and ended up rolling off the sofa and landing with a thump on her knees.
‘Just a minute!’
She sat back on her haunches and saw the tray of half-burned candles on the coffee table. She felt a little spaced out. She smoothed her hair and adjusted her T-shirt, before getting up and squeezing past boxes to the front door.
‘Hello,’ she greeted the man as brightly as she could manage. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘No worries, love. I better take a look at this meter box then.’
She led him around the corner of the house and down the side path. He lifted the lid of the meter box and frowned, shaking his head. That wasn’t good.
‘Jeez, it’s an antique.’
Sam sighed. She thought she could hear a faint ringing sound coming from inside the house.
‘I think that’s my phone.’
‘Go ahead, love, I’ll be right.’
Sam dashed inside and stumbled over boxes and furniture till she reached the kitchen.
‘Hello?’ she said breathlessly after grabbing the phone off the shelf.
‘Hey Sam.’
It was Hal. With huge antlers. God, she was going to have to try to wipe that mental picture from her brain.
‘How did you sleep?’
‘Oh, um, alright,’ she faltered. ‘Thanks, you know, thanks for last night.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Mentally break off the antlers and throw them away. It won’t hurt him, they’re not even real.
‘Is he there yet?’ Hal continued.
‘Who?’
‘The electricity guy.’
‘Oh, sure.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Well, not a lot yet. He just got here.’
‘Let me talk to him.’
‘No!’ Sam declared. ‘I can handle it.’
‘I’m sure you can. I just want to talk to him.’
‘Why?’
‘I want to ask him something.’
‘Wait a sec,’ she sighed begrudgingly, walking out the back door and up the side path to where the electrician was working.
‘Excuse me,’ Sam began. ‘Um, a friend of mine, well, he was here last night when the power blew, and, well, he wants to talk to you.’
‘No worries.’
Sam handed him the phone and he held it to his ear. ‘Gidday. Yeah . . . Yeah . . . Yeah, it’s a shocker alright. Yeah.’ He turned and looked straight at Sam, grinning broadly. ‘I reckon.’
Sam frowned.
‘She is,’ he continued. ‘Okay, mate. See ya.’
He passed the phone back to Sam and she walked down the path out of earshot.
‘What was that about?’
‘Nothing. I just needed some electrical advice.’
‘You were talking about me.’
‘You see, what you have is a condition called paranoia, Sam.’
‘What electrical advice could you possibly need?’
‘I wasn’t sure which way the batteries went in my electric shaver.’
‘I’m hanging up now.’
‘Wait a second. Do you need a hand today?’
‘No, it’s okay, Max is coming, and a couple of other friends.’
‘So? It’ll be like a party.’
‘Unpacking?’ Sam said dubiously.
‘Sure! We can drink Coca-Cola and dance and act zany, just like in the commercials.’
‘You’re a fool, you know that.’
‘Ah, come on Sam, can I please come over to your place and help unpack for hours and lift heavy stuff and get a sore back and make your life a little easier?’
He has no antlers. He has no antlers.
‘Please?’
‘If you insist.’
Fortunately Max was the first to arrive, giving Sam the opportunity to recount the whole dream in detail.
‘What do you think it means?’
‘Well, what do you think it means?’
‘I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you!’ Sam cried. ‘You’re the psychologist.’
Max looked surprised. ‘I’m barely half a psychologist, Sherl.’
‘Which is double what I am. Come on, you must know something about dream interpretation?’
‘Strict symbolic interpretation of dreams is passé. You have to work out what the dream means to you.’
‘It means I’m going crazy.’
‘I’ll tell you one thing. Usually the people in your dreams are not actually the people themselves, they represent aspects of yourself. The fact that the two main figures in the dream were men could simply mean that you’re struggling with your masculine side. You have to ask yourself, what does Jeff mean to you? What does Hal mean to you? Is one freedom and the other commitment? Is your new life battling it out with your old life?’
Sam listened to her, wide-eyed.
‘And the antlers are obviously very significant.’
‘What do they mean?’
‘Well, they’re a powerful male symbol of aggression, domination, even sexuality. You could be wrestling with the need to take your position as the head of the family.’
Sam chewed the edge of her thumb, contemplating.
‘Or it could mean . . .’ Max said thoughtfully.
‘What?’
‘That you want to have sex with Hal.’
‘Shut up.’
Sunday
Sam lay on her freshly made bed looking around the room, where pretty much everything was in its place. The walls weren’t so white, in fact they could probably do with repainting. She wasn’t dreaming this time. She hadn’t lost a day. Yesterday was very clear in her mind.
Wife for Hire Page 27