Love: Classified

by Jones, Sally-Ann

  Through the window above the sink I could see Magnus looking thoughtfully at the older man.

  Mrs Smart paid Magnus a visit eight days after the fight. Dr Jenkins had told me to expect her and I’d cooked scones in the camp oven and brewed a big pot of tea.

  “I wish there was some way I could repay you,” the old woman said.

  “There’s no need,” Magnus assured her, struggling to his feet. “I was glad to be able to help you and put those four characters in hospital. The constable came to see me yesterday and said they’d be cooling their heels in jail for a few months. That’s reward enough for me.”

  “Sit down, sit down,” Mrs Smart said. “You’re still pretty battered and bruised. But I bet the bikies are worse off. I just want you both to know that if there’s ever anything I can do, be sure to let me know. If you can’t find me at home, I’m in the telephone book.”

  “I will, thank you,” Magnus said. “Now, Virginia’s cooked us a feast. I doubt the poor table will be able to hold it all. Would you like a scone?”

  “Oh they look so light! Yes, a scone would be delightful.”

  “Fig or strawberry jam?” I asked.

  “Fig please, dear.”

  I buttered Magnus’ scone because his fingers were still too swollen to properly hold a knife.

  “Are you liking it here, you two?” she asked.

  “It’s beautiful,” I answered. “And we saw a pretty little ruin on the way here, before the fight. You might know something about it.”

  “Ah yes,” she said, her face becoming dreamy. “It was an inn, long ago. There’s a fresh water spring there which keeps the garden alive even in the hottest summers. And in winter there are mushrooms, daffodils and Easter lilies. I used to play there as a girl.”

  “It’d be so good to live there,” I remarked.

  “Here, here,” Magnus agreed.

  Mrs Smart looked at us both and smiled.

  We were in no hurry to leave York. I rang Jake most days to find out how Josie was and Magnus and I were relieved to know she’d soon be out of hospital. I’d sent her several quick postcards, each with different pictures of the quaint little town, and a letter telling her how Magnus single-handedly defeated the bikie gang.

  The constable came to see us one morning, inviting us to a country dance to be held that evening in the town hall. “There’s a brilliant bush band and I know you’ll enjoy it,” he promised.

  Magnus was so much better he was eager to attend and I was happy to go with him.

  He was in jeans and a checked shirt waiting at the card table while I showered and changed, trying different combinations of clothes until I found the one I disliked the least. I finally emerged from Matilda wearing something I’d ordered from the catalogue but, until now, lacked the courage to wear. It was a peacock blue, straight, sleeveless dress in gauzy Indian muslin, tiny beads in every shade of blue embroidered around the hem.

  Magnus wolf-whistled when he saw me. “You’re like a gorgeous, exotic mermaid in that. I’ll be fighting off the other men, I just know it.”

  “No more fights!” I laughed, punching him softly in the side. He still sported a bandage over one eye but most of the swelling had gone down, leaving a few yellowing bruises.

  We walked the short distance into town. Magnus must have thought about putting his arm around me, because I noticed him raise it. However he let it fall to his side. I knew he was only pretending he thought I looked presentable.

  The band was warming up when we arrived and many of the locals were already letting loose on the shiny dance-floor, made hazardous by several generous sprinkles of cornflakes. We exchanged knowing smiles. We’d both been to country dances where cornflakes had been de riguer.

  We called greetings to the other dance-goers and took seats on the edge of the floor before Magnus bought us each a beer from the makeshift bar. As night fell and the hall filled, the band swung into serious action and soon Magnus said above the loud music, “I feel better than I have in months. My feet are itching to dance, and I bet yours are too. Come on, let’s show them how it’s done.”

  He pulled me up and into his arms.

  I nearly fainted from the suddenness of his movement and the strength of my craving. One moment we were sitting demurely beside each other and the next I was so close to him I could feel his breath on my forehead and smell the healthy male scent of his skin. He held me so tight the buckle of his belt pressed against my belly but I could also feel the urgency of his body and put it down to the fact that there were several very attractive young women on the floor.

  I’ve never been able to dance but years of enforced ballroom and folk dancing lessons at school ensured I remembered some of the moves. Magnus, though, was a natural and was so strong he was able to take the lead and make me feel like an expert.

  I was relieved, though, when we sat down in a break. I was afraid to let my feelings for him show. I was delighted to accept Dr Jenkins’ invitation to dance with him. “You look so pretty this evening,” the doctor said to me. “Doesn’t she, Magnus? She positively sparkles in that dress and her hair’s like a silken banner flying out behind her.”

  Before Magnus could say a word the doctor had swept me onto the floor and I was so relaxed with him that I caught myself behaving a little coquettishly, which was out of character. As the Pride of Erin drew to a close, a farmer about Magnus’ age and build – carrying on the country tradition of asking the man if he could dance with his partner – booked me for the frangipani waltz.

  “I’d love that, but could we get some fresh air outside first?” I asked, hot from all the exercise.

  “Sure,” he agreed, leading me outside.

  We began chatting, leaning on the verandah railings. We exchanged names and I asked him about the harvest and before I knew it he was telling me of his plans to grow sandalwood and tee-trees as an alternative to wheat and sheep.

  Then I heard Magnus calling my name. It was dark to see him, so I said, “Here I am. Just cooling off. Meet…”

  “Come and dance with me,” he broke in.

  “Later. I’m hot. I’m interested in talking to…”

  “Now,” he insisted. “Please.”

  I heard urgency in his voice and with a backward, apologetic glance at the farmer, walked inside with Magnus’ arm possessively around my waist.

  “What was that about?” I spat as he drew me close and began swaying to the music.

  “I missed you,” he breathed, his mouth brushing against my hair.

  I looked up at him with a smile and saw with surprise that he seemed deadly serious.

  We moved to the music, my desire so overpowering I could barely hold myself up and relied on Magnus’ strong arms. I thought he must have been a little drunk. After all, we hadn’t touched alcohol while he’d been recovering. He’s just had too much to drink. He didn’t miss me, I told myself, while allowing myself to revel in the feel of his hard cock against me.

  Just as the music was finishing, another man came towards us.

  “May I have the next dance?” he asked.

  “This one’s mine too, mate,” Magnus said, his voice flinty.

  “Okay, okay,” the man replied, backing away. He probably didn’t want to end up in hospital like the bikies.

  “Magnus!” I warned, outraged, wrenching myself from his grip. “You don’t own me. I would like to dance with him.”

  “It’s all right,” the man said, his tone conciliatory.

  “No, it’s not all right,” I insisted. “Magnus has no authority over me.” I broke from his reach and stood angrily beside the man, glaring at Magnus.

  “I’ll see you later then,” Magnus bit out, walking away.

  “Whew!” the man said, relief flooding his face as Magnus stalked out of the hall. “He’s crazy about you. That’s obvious.”

  “Rubbish!” I mumbled shakily.

  I stayed until the dance finished at almost two in the morning, refusing to run after Magnus who’
d behaved like a spoilt child. His boyishness, however, while it had enraged me, also endeared him to me. I often caught glimpses of the vulnerable boy the man had once been. His childlike enjoyment of the novel I’d read him, his eager, laughing eyes when we played cards, aroused my maternal instinct as well as some baser instincts. Although I wasn’t off my feet for the rest of the night, my enjoyment of the bush dance had gone with his departure.

  I walked back to the caravan park alone, wondering where I’d sleep if he’d been really petulant and locked Matilda. Luckily he hadn’t and I pulled open the door and climbed in. Sure he was asleep, I slid my dress over my head, slipped on my nightie and slid under the sheet.

  “Virginia,” he whispered huskily from the mattress next to mine.

  “I thought you were asleep!” I said, aghast. “Did you see me getting undressed?”

  “Yes. And I’ll never get to sleep now. You’re a goddess.”

  “You’re drunk!”

  “Virginia, listen. I watched as you undid your bra and your generous white breasts spilled out. In the moonlight I could see the whiteness of your skin, the auburn V of hair between your legs. You’re divine. You’re so different from my wife. I was afraid of touching her in case I broke her. With you I could let go…”

  “In your dreams. You behaved abominably back there. You’re impossible.”

  “I’m sorry. I was an idiot. I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself, if it’s any consolation.”

  I’d probably had a few too many drinks too and my guard was down. “I was flattered, actually,” I confessed. “I’ve never had so much attention. But really, I only wanted to dance with you.”

  “We could indulge in a little tango right now, if you were in the mood.”

  I hesitated. It would be the most natural thing in the world, to be enfolded in his arms, to… But I slammed the thought from my mind. What a fool I was, I told myself. I couldn’t allow myself to fall for Magnus Winchester, only to have my heart in tatters a week or so later. I knew I’d never get over him.

  “Well?” he asked. “I’m waiting, pencil poised, for your reply.”

  I laughed sourly. “You’ll have to put your pencil down. I’m all danced out.”

  “What if I told you I was in love with you?”

  “I’d say you’d had too much to drink.”

  But I was too excited to sleep. Magnus’ jealous outburst had moved me. In my meagre experience of dances, boys and, later, young men had never argued over me. In fact, to my deep humiliation, teachers had been known to force a reluctant male to partner me, or even another girl.

  While curvaceous women were becoming models – and even supermodels – there was still a stronger compunction for women to be stick-thin like Victoria Beckham or even the new generation of European royal princesses. Rubenesque women might be accepted in some circles, but in the most part, hip-bones were preferred to love-handles.

  Wondering about all this and reliving the few exhilarating minutes when I’d been in his arms on the dance floor, every cell of my body tinglingly aware of him, I reveled in being awake. Still not a hundred per cent well, Magnus had fallen asleep and I relished hearing his smooth, regular breathing so close and the the occasional squawk of a roosting waterbird. I could easily have been asleep at home, only Barney for company. Instead, here I was in a caravan park in York, my mind flooded with sensations that, only weeks ago, I’d never have expected to feel. And, less than an arm’s length away was the man of my dreams.

  It was too perfect a night to allow niggardly doubts to intrude. I was sure Magnus was merely playing games with me, that to him I was an interesting diversion, a challenge even. But tonight I forced such thoughts away.

  Tonight I’d pretend I really was a woman who’d been argued over at a dance, that several men had wanted to partner me, that I was an attractive, desirable person. Thinking this, for the first time in my life, I drifted off to sleep only to wake soon afterwards. Opening my eyes, the first thing I noticed was that Magnus’ mattress was unoccupied.

  Chapter Five

  I also saw that it was less dark. Thirsty after my night of dancing I pulled on my kimono and climbed from the Kombi to fill the water-jug from the shower-block tap. It was then I caught sight of a shadowy figure in the semi light. Squinting, I realised it was Magnus sitting at the card table and watching the river where the birds were noisily wakening.

  “Hello,” I said, offering him a glass of water. “Mind if I sit with you?”

  “Not at all,” he replied, his voice warm. “Come here beside me. We’re just in time for the greatest free show on Earth.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The sun’s about to rise. I’ve watched it here for several mornings while you’ve been sleeping and it’s spectacular. Mind you, the only reason I’ve been coming outside is that I’ve been getting so frustrated lying beside you and not being allowed to touch.”

  “Nonsense. You’re just saying that,” I bit out angrily. “But I’ve never actually seen the sun come up. I’ve always been a night owl.”

  “I noticed,” he said wryly. I guessed he was referring to my late night home from the dance and decided to ignore it.

  As we watched, the pearly grey sky in the east was gradually flooded with soft yellow. Then, through the black silhouettes of the paper-barks and she-oaks, a wisp of pink appeared like a transparent silk scarf flung across the horizon. More splinters of colour pierced the sky: red, crimson, purple. A long-necked crane flapped slowly across my field of vision, the light flashing off its shiny feathers. Then, above the still water, a blob of gold appeared.

  “There she is,” he said.

  Like a beloved queen, the sun climbed slowly from the surface of the river to the tops of the trees where it hovered, the sky around it deepening to orange and rose while every bird in the district seemed to fly to the trees to herald its arrival and swoop joyfully in its light.

  I was embarrassed to realise tears were streaming down my face.

  “Are you all right?” Magnus asked.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I whispered. “And I’ve never seen it until now. I wouldn’t have even stopped to look if you hadn’t been sitting there.”

  “I’m chuffed it moved you. I know from bitter experience that some people don’t appreciate a sunrise. It happens every day. So what? they say.”

  “Your wife?”

  “Mmm.”

  “You’re not missing her, I take it.”

  “Far from it. “

  Another morning Magnus decided to walk into town for milk and bread. While he was gone I started preparing bacon and scrambled eggs for our breakfast, having lit the communal barbecue near the card-table we’d set up next to Matilda. The bacon was sizzling when I heard heavy footsteps behind me and for a second I was scared one of the bikies might have escaped from custody and come to find Magnus. I turned and grinned with relief when I saw it was only an untidy-looking elderly man.

  “Smells good,” he remarked, sniffing appreciatively.

  “If you’re hungry, you’re welcome to have some with us,” I said, feeling sorry for him. He was gaunt, despite his heavy walk, and looked as if he hadn’t had a chance to wash either himself or his clothes for a while.

  “You sure, missus? I didn’t mean to muscle in. I was just walking past.”

  “No, it’s fine. Look at me. I could definitely eat less.”

  “You look gorgeous to me,” came Magnus’ chocolately voice.

  “Yer missus has just asked me to eat with you, but it’s probably best if I get going,” the man said, backing away from Magnus.

  “No, stay and have breakfast,” Magnus said. “Sit down and I’ll get you a cuppa.”

  The meal wasn’t the relaxed affair it normally was when it was just the two of us as we couldn’t chat between us about nothing in particular and the stranger wasn’t talkative until the meal was finished, as if he was desperate to get the food into himself as fast as possible.

  “Yer o
ld lady’s a fantastic cook,” he said to Magnus when he’d wiped up every bit of egg and tomato off the plate with the last piece of toast.

  “I know,” Magnus chuckled. “I’m a lucky bastard, eh?”

  “You sure are,” the visitor agreed. “Who was it said kissing don’t last, cookery do?”

  Magnus and I exchanged amused glances before Magnus replied, “I’ve absolutely no idea, but it sounds pretty true. However, I admit to enjoying the kissing more than the cooking.”

  For that he got a kick on the shin under the table from me.

  “Where are you two heading?” the stranger asked.

  Again our eyes met and I lifted my eyebrows questioningly.

  “Not sure,” Magnus said with a shrug. “Who knows where the road leads? The travelling’s the thing, not the getting there – as you’d probably know. We’re taking each day as it comes, enjoying ourselves, not making any plans. It’s a luxury after what I’ve been through lately. And I couldn’t think of anyone better than my wife here to do the travelling with.”

  His emphasis of ‘my wife’ caused me to blush furiously and he grinned at me wickedly.

  “You’ve got something rare, you two,” the man said. “Blind Freddy could see you’re made for each other. Statistically you’re in the minority. Most marriages don’t last these days.”

  “You’re great,” Magnus said to me when the vagrant had left and Magnus had washed the dishes. We were reading novels at the card table. “I love the way you asked that old guy to have breakfast.”

  I looked at him quizzically. Was he being sarcastic?

  “No, I mean it,” he said. “Being easy with all kinds of people is a gift.”

  “Do I take it you’re the sort who picks up hitch-hikers then?”