‘Thank you,’ she said in a small voice.
As the police walked back to their car Sam shrugged Hal’s arm off. ‘Why did you let him think that?’
Hal picked up the can of petrol. ‘What?’
‘That I was your wife!’
He grinned. ‘Well, it’s not entirely untrue, there’s a contract somewhere that makes you my wife on a “for hire” basis, I believe. Or so you keep reminding me.’
Sam rolled her eyes. The toot of a car horn sounded behind them, and they both turned and waved as the police pulled away. Hal opened the driver door of Sam’s car and felt under the seat for the lever to open the petrol tank.
‘You know, you didn’t have to do this,’ said Sam, watching him. ‘I’m not useless, you know.’
‘I never said you were useless,’ he said, closing the door again. He walked around to the other side of the car and Sam followed him.
‘Like I was telling the policeman, it’s just that the four-wheel drive had an auxiliary tank, I didn’t realise the petrol would run out so quickly.’
Hal undid the petrol cap and handed it to Sam.
‘And, okay, I forgot about swapping my roadside service membership over to the new car. I mean I was in the middle of selling a house and taking care of three kids and working, you know.’
He didn’t say anything as he opened the can of petrol and positioned the funnel.
‘And the battery went flat on my mobile. So? That could happen to anyone.’
Hal stopped and looked up at the sky. Sam frowned, looking up too.
‘What is it?’ she said.
‘I was just thinking, despite everything, look, the sky hasn’t fallen in.’ He shook his head. ‘What do you know?’
Sam put her hands on her hips, scowling. ‘I’m just saying, you didn’t have to come, I didn’t ask you. Can we just have that on the record, please? I could have taken care of this myself, really.’
‘Really, you couldn’t. Not this time.’ He drained the contents of the can into the tank and held his hand out for the petrol cap. Sam passed it to him.
‘Sure, I could have left you stranded here with a dead cellphone and no gas,’ said Hal. ‘But instead I left work and drove to a gas station and bought a jerry can and filled it and drove out here to help you.’ He screwed the cap back on the petrol tank and closed the cover. ‘And you know why I did all that?’ he asked, picking up the empty can.
‘Because you’ve got some kind of weird saviour complex!’ Sam blurted.
He stared at her. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You’re always playing the nice guy. What is it that you want from me? Are you trying to make it so I can’t get by without you? Well, I can get by just fine. I don’t need you to look after me, I can look after myself.’
Fuck! Where did that come from? Hal was just glaring at her.
He took a calming breath. ‘I’m sure you can look after yourself, Sam. I’m sure you can look after everyone and everything and that you don’t need anybody. I just came down here today because I care about you, I like you. I like you a lot in fact. God knows why, you’re so damned infuriating.’ He paused, not taking his eyes off her. ‘And you want to know what else? I think maybe you like me too, but for some reason, and I’m not going to presume to analyse you,’ he said pointedly, ‘you don’t want to explore this thing that’s between us, this thing that I happen to think could be pretty good.’
With that he turned and walked to his car, put the can in the boot and closed it. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands. Then he came around to the driver side of her car, opened the door and climbed in. She heard him sliding the seat back and then the engine starting up. Sam realised she hadn’t taken a breath the whole time.
‘So . . .’ He stood up out of the car again, looking across the roof at her. ‘I’ll leave you to it. I’d suggest you stop at the first gas station you come to and fill up. Are you okay for money?’
She nodded meekly.
He paused, gazing up the road for a moment, before turning back to look directly at her. ‘I won’t bother you any more, Sam. You have my number. You know where I live. If you’re ever passing . . . don’t hesitate.’
He walked back to his car, opened the door and climbed in. Sam heard the engine rev and then the car took off up the road. She didn’t take her eyes off it until it was out of sight.
Sam was livid by the time she made it home. She was angry at Max for sending Hal out to her. And she was angry that Hal had left the way he did. She didn’t know why the hell she’d come out with all of that stuff. It must have been the heat, and the anxiety, and the arrival of the police. She’d just been taken by surprise. That was reasonable, wasn’t it? Could she explain that in an email to Hal?
But if she did, she’d be making contact again. And what would he take that to mean? He said he liked her. A lot. And he reckoned she liked him too.
Well, what would he know?
She walked in the front door, slamming it behind her. Max looked up from the magazine she was reading. ‘Hi, how’d you go?’
‘Hal showed up just after the police did.’
‘Oh God!’ She stood up. ‘Is everything okay? Did they let you off?’
Sam nodded. ‘Where are the kids?’
‘They’re all next door. Maria asked me in too, but I thought I’d better stay close to the phone. I’ve been feeling a bit redundant though.’ Max frowned, considering Sam. ‘You look pissed off. Want me to make you a cuppa? Or do you need something stronger?’
‘What I need is for you to stop butting in and deciding what you think is good for me,’ said Sam angrily. Max just stared at her. She obviously wasn’t expecting this outburst, but Sam couldn’t help herself now that she had started. ‘Stop trying to fix me up with Hal! I don’t want to complicate my life with a man. I don’t need it, okay? Just because it’s alright for you to screw around, doesn’t mean it’s okay for me, do you understand? I can’t be irresponsible like you, doing whatever I feel like with no one to answer to. I have a life, and I don’t need you interfering in it any more!’
Sam realised she was shouting. She stood there, breathing heavily, while Max picked up her bag and walked quietly past her and out the front door.
Sam sunk into a chair nearby, trembling, tears stinging her eyes. She dropped her head in her hands. Great. She’d lost a friend or a client or whatever the hell Hal was, and now a sister as well, all in the same day. At this rate, losing her mind was not far off.
The next day
Sam usually didn’t bother to call in home when she was out so close to Ellie’s pick-up time. There was milk in the car that needed refrigerating, but more to the point, she had a thumping headache that needed medicating.
She put the milk away, poured herself a glass of water and swallowed down a couple of Panadols. She walked into the living room and sat heavily on the sofa, leaning her head back. If she could just have five minutes of quiet, it might be enough to ease the pain throbbing away at her temples.
But she doubted it. The headache had started after Max left yesterday. She’d slept fitfully and woken up with it again this morning. And a visit to Patricia Bowen’s house of horrors was enough to keep it going strong.
But none of that was the reason she had a headache. Sam was not worried about Max. She would apologise to her and then it would be over. One of Max’s most endearing traits was that she didn’t hold a grudge.
No, her headache had persisted all night and all day because she couldn’t get the whole scene with Hal out of her mind. Her behaviour yesterday was atrocious. It would have been a disaster if he hadn’t come along when he did, and yet the way she’d carried on, anyone would have thought the entire thing was his fault.
The truth was, Sam didn’t know what to do about Hal. She was only too aware of the attraction between them. What did they call it in the movies? URST – unresolved sexual tension. Well, there was URST in buckets whenever he was around and Sam was finding it harder
to deal with. That’s why she had put him off when he asked her on another date. That’s why she had acted like an idiot yesterday. Her body was willing, but her mind and her heart were staying put, peering at him through a chink in the curtains, suspicious, uncertain, afraid.
Physically, he was all she could think about. At night she found herself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, picturing him coming to her, imagining the way he would touch her, his lips skimming over the surface of her skin . . . and then she would get out of bed and go and splash cold water on her face. She would pace around the house like a caged animal until she felt so tired she was certain she would get into bed and fall asleep. But as she’d drift off he’d be there again, curled up behind her, enfolding her in his arms. And sometimes that was enough, while other times she’d weep quietly, feeling so lonely she almost couldn’t stand herself.
Why was human nature so contrary? Always wanting what you didn’t have. When sex had been on tap in the marriage, Sam had been disinterested, to say the least. Then it had been all about avoiding sex. But she’d been no different to other married women she knew. The husband always wanted it, the wife always had a headache. It was so common it was a cliché.
So why not just go for it with Hal? He was willing, she was desperate, clearly. They were consenting adults. It all sounded so reasonable, yet the idea made Sam’s blood freeze. Fantasies were all well and good. In her fantasies she had firm breasts and a flat stomach, and she was always taller. She was also supremely confident, lying back, letting him revel in her fabulous body.
As if that was going to happen! She hadn’t even been able to bear the light on when she’d had sex with Jeff, who’d known her forever and had been there when she’d had babies, for crying out loud. She’d had nothing to hide from him, yet hide it she had, nevertheless.
But her reticence was not just about sex. Hal would be far too easy to fall in love with. He was kind and funny and considerate. And Sam was needy and vulnerable and had been discarded by her husband of sixteen years as though she was a piece of clothing that no longer fitted. If she allowed herself the comfort of Hal’s arms, she was quite sure she would fall head over heels and never, ever recover when he went away.
So much for the Panadol, her head was now throbbing so hard it felt as though she’d just walked out of an all-night dance club. Sam wished there was a switch behind her ear so she could turn off all but the most basic brain functions. Then she could operate on a kind of automatic pilot. Think nothing, feel nothing, just get through the day.
She sighed, getting to her feet. She looked at her watch. Josh and Jess should be home by now; in fact, they should have been home when Sam got here. She wasn’t worried, they were probably next door. But then she thought she heard voices coming from up the hall. The girls’ room was empty, but she could still hear talking. At the end of the hall Josh’s door was closed. There were definitely voices coming from inside.
‘Josh?’ she said, knocking lightly.
‘What?’
Sam opened the door slowly. Josh was leaning against his desk, an odd look on his face. There was no one else in the room.
‘I didn’t realise you were home.’
He gave a slight nod. ‘Same here.’
‘I thought someone was in here with you.’
He shrugged.
‘I heard voices . . .’
Josh sighed heavily. ‘I was just practising this stupid speech.’
‘Oh?’ Sam leaned against the doorjamb. ‘What’s it for?’
‘English. It’s so crap, Mum. Why do they make you do speeches?’
‘Well, to give you practice. There are a lot of jobs where you have to be able to stand up in front of people and speak confidently.’
‘But I don’t want a job like that.’
‘Okay Josh,’ Sam tried not to smile. ‘Just say your dream of becoming a professional skateboarder doesn’t quite come off, you might find you need to develop some other skills.’
‘I don’t like speaking in public. I suck at it, Mum.’
‘You must have done this a dozen times at your old school.’
‘Yeah, but I knew everyone there. No one took it seriously.’
‘Oh, I’m so pleased to hear that,’ Sam remarked sardonically. ‘Look, take the speech with you this weekend, get some help from your dad.’
‘No way.’
‘Why not? He gives speeches and presentations all the time.’
‘Yeah, so he’ll think I’m crap.’
‘No he won’t, Josh –’
‘He will, Mum, he’s good at like, everything.’
‘No he isn’t.’
Josh looked embarrassed. ‘I meant work and stuff.’
‘I know what you meant.’ Sam stepped into the room and perched on the end of Josh’s bed. ‘He’s a grown man, Josh, he’s had years of experience. But he was “crap” once too.’
Josh looked at her doubtfully.
‘You should have heard the speech he gave at our wedding,’ Sam insisted, grinning. ‘He was so nervous, his head was jerking all over the place, and he kept tripping over his words and stammering. But the worst thing was, he actually forgot my name.’
‘He forgot your name?’ Josh repeated incredulously.
‘He stood there saying, “My wife, um, my wife, ah, ah . . .” until finally the table of his surfing mates all yelled out at once, “Her name’s Samantha!”’
Josh laughed despite himself. It was good to see a smile on his face. He was such a handsome kid, so much like his father at the same age. Sam had never thought about that before. Josh was almost the age that Jeff was when they had started going out. But he was just a child . . .
The phone started to ring from the kitchen.
Sam jumped up. ‘I’d better get that.’ She hesitated in the doorway. ‘Take the speech with you this weekend, Josh. I’m sure Dad would love to help.’
She ran to the phone and picked it up. ‘Hello?’
‘I was just about to give up! Where were you?’
Sam took a calming breath. ‘I was in the middle of something with Josh, Mum. Sorry.’
‘Is he in some kind of trouble?’
God, why did Bernice immediately imagine the worse? No wonder Sam had a pessimistic streak. ‘No, Mum. Josh is fine. Thanks for asking.’
‘Don’t get that tone with me, Samantha. You sound just like your sister.’
Sam ignored that. ‘What were you calling about, Mum?’ she said as brightly as she could manage.
‘Why, am I keeping you from something more important?’
‘No, but I will have to pick up Ellie shortly –’
‘Would you rather I phoned back at a more convenient time?’ her mother said without any attempt to hide her rancour.
‘If you’d like to have a nice long chat, Mum, it would be lovely to talk to you later,’ Sam said sweetly, hoping some poor angel somewhere was not missing out on getting its wings because she was lying through her teeth to her own mother. She had a feeling she was confusing her myths there, but anyway.
‘Actually, I was just calling about next weekend. You haven’t forgotten?’
As if Sam had a hope of forgetting the annual Christmas-cake-and-pudding-baking day. Bernice Driscoll phoned her daughters religiously every January to remind them to write it on their new calendars. And she mentioned it each time they spoke from September onwards.
‘I’ll be there, Mum.’
‘And the children?’
Sam steeled herself. ‘Ellie’s really looking forward to it.’
‘Of course she is. And what about Jessica and Joshua?’
‘Well, Mum, I don’t think Josh will come –’
‘Why not?’ she demanded.
‘Mum,’ Sam pleaded. ‘He’s a fifteen-year-old boy, he’s just not interested.’
‘I suppose he thinks it’s sissy? Doesn’t he realise that all the world’s best chefs are men?’
‘I don’t think he could care less about the world�
��s best chefs, to be honest, Mum.’
‘Well, there’s such a thing as duty, Sam. I taught you that, but it doesn’t seem you bothered to pass it on to your children.’
‘Mum, maybe you’d understand if you had a boy.’
‘Rub it in, why don’t you, Samantha? If I had a dollar for every time someone said that to me when I was raising you girls, I’d be a wealthy woman.’
Sam had stopped paying attention. She was contemplating locking Jessica in a room with her grandmother for a day. Then she’d think that Sam was not so bad after all.
‘I hope Jessica’s coming? Or do you have no control over your children whatsoever?’
Jess had turned up her nose when Sam brought up the subject a couple of weeks ago, and she was considering letting her off the hook this year. But now she would have to bribe her.
‘Of course she’s coming, she wouldn’t miss it,’ Sam said, crossing her fingers. ‘Oh, look at the time! I have to run, Mum, I’m going to be late for Ellie. See you next week.’
Saturday
‘Yoohoo,’ Sam called from the front door of Max’s flat. She’d opened it with her own key as usual, expecting to find Max still in bed. But that sounded suspiciously like a vacuum cleaner coming from her room. She walked over to the kitchen and put her bags down on the table. She’d bought bagels and sticky cakes and cappuccino from the deli Max liked. Plus a bunch of bright orange gerberas she was hoping would make her smile.
The vacuum cleaner went silent and Sam turned around as Max appeared in the doorway. There was an awkward moment while they just stared at each other. Sam knew she had to be the first one to speak.
‘I brought you breakfast! I didn’t think you’d be up and about yet.’
Max just looked at her.
Sam picked up the gerberas. ‘And flowers. I brought you flowers.’ She breathed out heavily. ‘And I also brought an apology.’
‘You’re taking a while to get around to that.’
She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry for shouting at you, Max. I’m sorry for the rotten things I said – they were completely unfounded, I only said them because I was angry and hot and tired. That’s not an excuse, just an explanation.’
Wife for Hire Page 33