In the end I decided to take myself off to the art gallery to see a new French Impressionists exhibition just arrived from Paris.
As it happened, the postman brought me a big parcel just before I stepped into the shower. He brought it onto the verandah and rang the doorbell and I was so lonely I asked him if he’d like to have a cup of tea with me, but he said he had a busy morning and couldn’t spare the time. I opened the parcel mechanically, my thoughts of holidays and getaways dashed. Even the bright colours and soft fabrics of the clothes I’d ordered did little to cheer me up but I decided I’d wear the new green linen dress once I’d washed my hair.
Wrapped in my kimono, I blow-dried my red locks. Mum had always said my hair was my crowning glory and as I brushed it I missed her even more keenly than usual.
I pulled the dress over my head and was surprised when I looked at myself critically in the full-length mirror. The garment had been so skillfully tailored that it took several kilos off my hips and bum. And even I thought that my hair, swinging across my shoulders, looked pretty good against the green fabric. I remembered some jewellery Mum had left me. I usually didn’t wear any adornments except a watch but today, in my new dress, I needed to prove to myself that I could sparkle without Magnus Winchester.
I opened the rarely touched bottom drawer of the dressing table and drew out a faded silk box. Lifting the lid, I ran my fingers over Mum’s modest single strand of pearls, the coral beads she’d loved, the wedding ring worn thin as wire over the years. The faintest breath of Mum’s floral perfume came to me and I had to bite my lip so I wouldn’t cry. Even after all these years I was still a sad little girl who wanted her Mum.
Under these well-used things was a small velvet bag. Inside, nestled a pair of emerald earrings Mum had only worn a few times. They’d been too special for everyday use and had only been taken out for occasions such as that fateful wedding, the last time she wore them. But today I needed the glamorous jewellery against my skin. Needed the confidence boost they’d give me. The emeralds flashed as I fastened them on and even I noticed that they emphasised the green of my eyes.
I walked the length of my street to the train station but the morning sunshine on my skin didn’t make me feel any better. As I passed the deli, Jake whistled from the footpath where he was unloading a tray of apricots.
“You look stunning,” he said, “Off to meet that handsome fella?”
“Oh him!” I said. “No way. What a dud he turned out to be.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. He seemed like a decent enough chap. Not good enough for our Ginny, though, I said to Josie. But I’m surprised to hear he wasn’t up to speed. I could’ve sworn he’d turn out all right.”
“How is Josie today?” I asked. I wanted to change the subject, but I was also very anxious to hear.
“Not too bad, according to the nurses.”
“I’ll have you both in for a slap-up celebration when she’s out of hospital.”
“Your cooking’s the best medicine, I reckon. You don’t seem to have been doing much of it the last few days,” Jake said. “Normally, the whole street knows when you’re making a chocolate cake or a marinara sauce. The lovely aromas that waft out of your place! I never give up hoping you’ll leave that job of yours in the city and make a living as a chef instead. I can still taste those sausage rolls you brought along to the street Christmas party, jazzed up with herbs from your garden, and that cake! You don’t have to give away the secret old family recipe handed down from mother to daughter but I reckon it’s your duty as a citizen to share the finished product with the rest of us!”
“Oh Jake, flattery will get you everywhere!”
I knew what Jake was thinking. I’d heard him say it often enough: “Generous to a fault, you are Ginny. When are you going to let us do something for you, for a change? Minding Barney for a day when you go off on assignment once in a blue moon to a nearby winery or cheese factory isn’t enough for us to do to repay you all the hospitality you’ve shown us.”
“Tell you what,” Jake said. “Come inside for a jiffy. Tell me what you think of this cheese. It’s just in.”
He cut me a fine slither of honey-gold cheese and I took it from the end of the knife. It was divine. Some sort of cheddar, magnificent. “Where did you find it?” I asked.
“Bloke I know has a herd of jersey cows, down south. He and the missus have just embarked on cheese production. He came in half an hour ago with their first produce. I’m glad you approve.”
“Does he want you to sell it for them?” I asked, genuinely interested. The idea of keeping cows and making cheese appealed to me enormously. I’d always been a country girl at heart.
“Yeah, I’ll be one of only a handful of suppliers.”
“Better keep some by for me then. It’s so good you’ll have sold it all by the end of the day,” I said, savouring another morsel. “I’ll go and see Josie again soon.”
“So where are you off to now, all dressed up?”
And nowhere to go, I thought. But I didn’t want Jake to worry about me on top of all his concern for Josie so I said as brightly as I could, “To the art gallery. There’s an exhibition I’ve been dying to see.”
I knew that if I asked Jake if I could help him in the shop on a voluntary basis, which I’d have loved to do, he’d jump at the chance. But that would have been admitting defeat and I wasn’t ready to do that. Not just yet.
I endured the train ride into the city. It was the long summer school holidays and mothers with children had crowded into the carriages, excited about outings to the shops, museum or zoo. I’d given up hoping for a family of my own long ago but the sight of pregnant women and mothers with toddlers still made my heart lurch.
A girl who’d been standing in the aisle, holding onto the seat on which her sister sat, tumbled when the train came to a sudden stop at a station. I helped her to his feet and the feel of her sturdy little body and the tight, trusting grip of her hand made me want to weep.
At last the train came to the court house and art gallery stop and I got off, paid the entrance fee and was admitted into the spacious silence where only the Impressionists’ splashes of paint broke the monotony of white walls. The glorious pictures, created so long ago and still fresh and evocative, briefly transported me to another time and place.
I was so completely involved that I gasped with shock when I was knocked hard by a kid hurtling across the floor, pursued by an attractive, slim woman.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, “He’s having one of his tantrums. I hope he didn’t hurt you.”
I was about to assure her that I was fine, and understood how difficult two year-olds could be, when I saw, rapidly approaching the perturbed mother, the unmistakable form of Magnus Winchester.
“Magnus, do something,” the mother begged, turning to him while trying to hold her son, who was struggling to run.
I heard him call my name but I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I ran too, out of the gallery, Magnus shouting after me.
Somehow I got myself home. I couldn’t remember whether I took the train or a taxi. And I ignored my mobile, which rang insistently for the rest of that long, miserable day.
My thoughts chugged around my brain, as noisy as a steam engine, making my head throb and crowding out everything else. Who were the beautiful woman and little boy? Why did Magnus even waste even a minute with me when he had her in his life? How could I have been so wrong about him? Even Barney and Jake and Josie had liked him. How could they have been so wrong as well? All day these forceful, demanding, furious, terrible questions flew round and round until I had to hold my head and squeeze my eyes shut to try to block them out. But they wouldn’t go away and I felt as if my brain would burst in an explosion of fiery hot steam. My heart pounded, my lungs felt tight, I knew I’d never get to sleep, no matter how exhausted I was.
I was clutching a cup of cold tea, still wearing my dress and my mother’s precious emeralds, when there was an urgent knockin
g on the front door. I looked up, startled by the noise, and surprised that it was almost dark.
“Go away!” I shouted, not caring who it was.
“Virginia, I can explain,” came the voice from the other side of the door. Magnus.
“I don’t want to see you. You of all people. Leave me alone.”
But of course I was lying. I was desperate to see him one more time, to etch every centimetre of his perfection into my brain so the memory of him sprawled on my couch, sharing chocolate, watching the movie with me, talking to me as if we’d known each other forever, would be with me always.
“Please, Virginia.”
But I ignored it, knowing that he’d be relieved to be dismissed, glad to be going home to the people he loved. He’d tried, for whatever reason, and now the hammering stopped. I let my head fall onto my arms, outstretched across the table.
What seemed to me an eternity later, I heard the key turn in the latch and Jake saying, “It’s only me, lass, letting myself in. Magnus is with me. He’s been trying to raise you to explain something to you.”
“I don’t want to see anyone,” I said, wincing when the light was switched on, knowing they’d see my mascara-streaked face, distorted from crying and my thumping headache.
“Come on girlie,” Jake said, stroking my back comfortingly. “Magnus is waiting on the front verandah. You’ll be right when you’ve heard him out. He’s been with me for the last half hour, desperate to know what to do, how to get to see you. He thought me and Josie’d be able to help. He’s a good man, Ginny. Give him a go.”
“I can’t see him like this.”
“Well go and rinse off the tears and I’ll show him in.”
When I’d made myself look a little less horrible, Jake led me into the room where, a few nights earlier, I’d laughed at a movie with the handsome, desirable man who now sat in my favourite chair. Jake must have let himself out but I didn’t notice. All I could see was Magnus.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
He was still in the expensive Italian suit and silk tie he’d been wearing at the art gallery and he looked, more than ever, even in my own house, completely out of my league and beyond my reach. He was an enigma and I wondered yet again why a man like him would want to drive away in an old Kombi with a total stranger – least of all one who looked like me.
“You’re a bastard. You should’ve told me you were married, had a little boy…”
“I’m not… I’ve been caught up in something pretty awful and…”
“Magnus, please. This whole travelling thing is just a mad dream. I was crazy to reply to your ad. You were dishonest to have placed it in the first place. Please go away.”
“I want so much to get into Matilda and drive away into the sunset with you. Believe me. Won’t you let me explain what I was doing in the gallery and why I didn’t come over, as I’d said I would, to plan our trip?”
“I know why. Look at me. Look at you. I’m not in your orbit.”
“Look at you? I can’t take my eyes off you,” he said and his voice sounded hoarse, as if he was getting a sore throat. “You look fabulous. Titian would have given his right eye for the chance to paint you. Your body shape may not be in vogue right now, but that doesn’t mean red-blooded men don’t hunger after it. Real men who love real women.”
Despite my confusion and anguish I recognised the sincerity in his voice. I was familiar with reproductions of Titian’s work as I’d done a few art appreciation courses. One miniscule, doubtful part of my brain supposed Magnus could be right. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder.
“Do you know what I see right now?” he asked.
“A stupid fat chick who…”
“A glorious femme fatale with gorgeous russet hair that ripples down her back, setting off the dewy whiteness of her throat and the emerald sparkle of her eyes.”
“Rubbish. I don’t want to hear your platitudes and excuses. I’ve decided I’m going to stay here for my holiday. I’m going to learn Italian.” Even as I said it, I amazed myself. I’d never seriously considered learning a foreign language, but perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea.
“You can learn Italian in Italy if you come with me, or Chinese in China. Or…”
“I don’t trust you, Magnus. For a short moment I was deceived by the promise of a wonderful holiday with you. What a misguided fool I was! It was a fairytale, but I’m no Cinderella though I’d like to be.”
“Let me regain your trust. Let me come and see you tomorrow and we’ll go and visit Josie together. Would you like that? I’ll cook you breakfast. I’ll bring all the ingredients. Please, Virginia. I know we’ll be good friends, at least. I don’t remember talking to anyone the way I talked to you.”
I was falling for it again. His earnest caramel-coloured eyes, his curling lashes, his mellow voice, his God-damn good looks, made me powerless against him, against my better judgment. Why didn’t I put up a fight, instead of being such a pushover?
Barney chose that moment to answer my question. The big cat launched himself joyously into Magnus’ lap and was rewarded with a gentle stroke. And I knew Jake and Josie liked him too. He’d pretty much charmed the bedsocks off the old lady, sick as she was.
Perhaps Magnus was playing with me, like a cat with a mouse. But I didn’t have the will or the energy to struggle against him. Not tonight.
He must have read surrender in my eyes because his face lit up as he said, “See you first thing.”
Crushed as I was, I hoped he’d be early.
This time, he was as good as his word. He was at my place at seven o’clock with three bulging brown paper bags stamped with the name of Jake’s deli. I was already up, having showered and dressed in new black linen trousers under a loose-fitting hot pink blouse. I’d never worn pink or red with my hair colour, but I was tired of being constrained by silly rules, even if they were my own. I also put on the emerald earrings. I thought I detected a luminous glow to my skin when I gave myself a final check in the mirror, but it might have been wishful thinking. Peta was always telling me, I reminded myself to give myself a much-needed confidence boost, that I looked ten years younger than most women my age because out of shame for my elephantine body I’d never sunbathed like the rest of our generation.
“Wow!” he said when I opened the door to him.
“Ditto,” I said, sure I was the only one being honest.
He looked amazing. In his old jeans and faded tee-shirt he looked every bit as good as he had in the Versace suit of the day before. And more believable. He didn’t seem the type to be comfortable in expensive clothes.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, flourishing a bunch of sunflowers.
“Always!”
“Come on then, let’s cook.”
“I thought you were a vegetarian,” I said as I saw what he was unloading onto the bench-top.
“It was a white lie, just to get invited inside your house.”
In no time we’d concocted a feast and laid it out on the patio table under the grape vine. There was pineapple, orange and passionfruit frappe; dill potato cakes with smoked salmon; gruyere, leek and bacon tart; Danish pastries bursting with vanilla custard and summer fruits, all washed down with champagne and café au lait.
A cheeky willy wagtail, knowing Barney was no threat, hopped onto the edge of the table, his head on one side inquisitively and pretty soon Magnus had him eating out of his fingers. I was impressed but didn’t show it. I was eating out of his hands, too. I tried not to watch him devour our breakfast because it was making him fall under his spell even more. He loved food and I loved that. He savoured every flavor, every texture, making appreciative noises. His fingers, long and elegant, caressed each mouthful before he slid it between those sensual, full lips. I glimpsed his tongue, saw the Magnus’s apple tilt as he swallowed. Even lifting a small piece of food made the biceps flex and bulge and I could see that he was very strong, though naturally so, unlike a body-builder. He was so close I could smell h
is clean odour, untainted by after-shave. And I admired the bronze sheen that the early sunshine was coaxing from his tanned skin and newly washed hair. My hunger for him, my greed for him, translated into my usual appetite for food and I matched his consumption, mouthful by mouthful. No delicate refusals from me. I knew he was watching me, probably disgusted, but I didn’t have the willpower to deny myself. If I couldn’t have him – and I wanted to taste all of him – then I’d damn well eat my fill. I hadn’t eaten a single thing the day before and I was going to make up for it.
When there were only a few crumbs let, he pushed aside the platters, glasses and cups and said, “Now. I’m going to spread out a map of the world, not necessarily the right way up, and you’re going to close your eyes and point to our first destination. Whatever happens, we’re setting off tomorrow.”
But what about that woman, and the child? What about your job? I wanted to ask. I remembered him telling me, during that magical night we’d spent eating, watching television and talking, that his life had come tumbling down around his ears and I recalled the pain in his voice, the anguish in his eyes. For half a second I let myself think that perhaps he needed me as much as I needed him. Maybe one day, when he’d learnt to trust me, he’d tell me why he hadn’t been able to call me. I knew I’d wait for his explanations for as long as it took.
I looked into his incredible brown eyes, gazed longingly at the wide mouth with smile-lines radiating from it. Then I glanced down at the map. Anywhere in the whole world, and I’d be going there with him. It was a dream come true and I couldn’t suppress a laugh although the wise part of my brain told me I was heading for a fall. I didn’t care. I’d risk everything for the thrill of being with Magnus Winchester, just for the spark he gave me when he moved close enough for me to feel the curly hairs on his forearms.
Love: Classified Page 5