Aunt Lucy's Lover

by Miranda Lee

  Jessica knew from talking to girlfriends and reading women's magazines that she had always been shortchanged in the bedroom department. Perhaps she should have complained at the time, but you just didn't when you imagined you were madly in love.

  The thought of going that road again made her shudder. Better she remain alone than involved with one of those. Better she remain unmarried and childless than shackled to some selfish guy who would make a lousy father and who didn't even satisfy her in bed!

  Which left what to cure her present loneliness?

  'A flatmate!' she decided aloud. 'A female, of course,' she added dryly as she strode down the small hallway and into her bedroom, tossing her handbag onto the double bed and kicking off her shoes.

  'Stuff men!' she muttered as she began to strip.

  One particular man suddenly jumped into her mind.

  Her Aunt Lucy's lover—the enigmatic Mr. Slade. She'd been going to ring him earlier at the office, but had kept putting it off. It irked her that she felt nervous about ringing him.

  Ring him now, her pride demanded. What's wrong with you? So he might give you the cold shoulder—you can't help that. Just be polite, anyway. You're used to being polite to some of the rudest and most arrogant men around. Your job has trained you for it. Use some of that training now!

  Jessica glared over at the telephone, which sat on the bedside table nearest the window. Lifting her chin, she moved over to snatch up her handbag from the bed, opened it and drew out the business card the solicitor had given her. She didn't delay once the number was in her hands. She sat down and dialled straight away before she procrastinated further.

  'Hi there,' said a male voice at last. 'Seb here.'

  Jessica frowned. If 'Seb here' was Mr. Slade, then he did indeed sound young. Far too young to be the lover of a woman in her fifties. Unless... Her stomach contracted at the thought her aunt might have fallen into the clutches of the type of unconscionable young man who preyed on wealthy widows. Jessica was not unfamiliar with the species. They often hung around the bars in the hotel, waiting and watching for suitable prey. They were invariably handsome. And charming. And young.

  If Mr. Slade turned out to be one of those, she thought crossly, he would get short shrift after the month was over. He would not get a cent from her. Not one single cent!

  'This is Jessica Rawlins,' she said, simmering outrage giving her voice a sharp edge. 'Would I be speaking to Mr. Slade?'

  'You sure are. Pleased to hear from you, Jessica. I presume Lucy's solicitor has been in touch. So when are you coming over?'

  Jessica's eyebrows lifted. Well, he was certainly straight to the point, and not at all resentful sounding. If she hadn't been on her toes, she might have been totally disarmed by his casual charm.

  'I'm catching the seven o'clock flight from Sydney on Sunday,' she said stiffly.

  'I'll meet you then. Oops, no, I can't. I promised Mike I'd go fishing with him Sunday morning. Tell you what, I'll get Evie to meet you.'

  'And who, pray tell, is Evie?' she asked archly.

  'Evie? She was your aunt's chief cook and bottle washer. You'll like Evie,'

  he went on blithely. 'Everyone does. Now perhaps you'd better tell me what you look like, so she won't have any trouble recognising you on Sunday. Are you tall?'

  'Reasonably,' Jessica bit out after smothering her frustration. She supposed she'd find out everything she wanted to know soon enough. And she could trust her eyes far more than a conversation on the telephone.

  'Slim?' he went on.

  'Yes.'

  'What colour hair?'

  'Black.'

  'Long or short?'

  'Shoulder-length, but I always wear it up.'

  'How old are you? Approximately,' he added quickly with humour in his voice.

  'Twenty-eight,' Jessica said, having no reason to hide her age.

  'Really. You sound older.'

  She tried not to take offence, and failed. 'Well, you don't,' she snapped.

  'I don't what?'

  'Sound as old as I thought you'd be. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were no more than thirty.'

  His laughter might have been infectious under other circumstances. 'You've no idea how many people say that to me, Jessica,' he said. 'But it's some years since I saw thirty.'

  Jessica wasn't sure if she was mollified by that statement or not. She should have been relieved to find he was respectably middle-aged, but she didn't feel relieved. She felt decidedly nettled. Mr. Slade was rubbing her the wrong way, for some reason.

  'I look young for my age, too,' he volunteered. 'But I try not to worry about it.'

  She could hear the smile in his voice and bristled some more.

  'By the way, bring your swimmers and shorts with you,' he added. 'It's pretty warm here at the moment. How long will you be staying?'

  'Just the month.'

  'Ah,' he said with a long sigh. 'What a pity. Still, we can talk about that more when you get here. I'm glad you rang, Jessica. I'm really looking forward to meeting you. I'm just sorry I can't welcome you myself at the airport. I'll try to get back by the time you arrive at the house. Au revoir for now. Have a good flight.'

  He hung up, leaving Jessica not sure what she thought about him now. Clearly, he was middle-aged. He'd been most amused at her saying he sounded thirty.

  If she were honest, she had to admit he'd been very nice to her, and not at all resentful of her inheritance. She wondered what he wanted to talk to her about. Did he hope to persuade her to stay and run the guesthouse? If he did, then he'd be wasting his breath. She had no intention of doing any such thing.

  But she did want to talk to him. She wanted to find out everything he knew about her aunt. Maybe this Evie would know things, as well, depending on how many years she'd been Aunt Lucy's cook.

  Thinking of cooks reminded Jessica how hungry she was. Levering herself up from the bed, she headed for the door and the kitchen, dressed in nothing but her camisole and pantihose. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored wardrobe as she passed and recalled the rather bland details she'd given Mr. Slade. Twenty-eight, tall, slim, black hair, worn up. Not much of a description. Difficult to form a complete picture. But she could hardly have added she had a face that wouldn't have looked out of place on the cover of Vogue, and a body one of her lovers had said he'd kill for.

  He had certainly lied for it, she thought tartly.

  'And what do you look like, Mr. Slade?' she mused out loud as she continued on to the kitchen. 'Tall, I'll bet. And slim. Men who look young for their age are always slim. And you won't be bald. No way. You'll have a full head of hair with only a little grey. And you'll be handsome, won't you, Mr. Slade? In a middle-aged sort of way. And just a little bit of a ladies' man, I'll warrant.'

  Jessica wondered anew if he'd really been her aunt's lover, or just a good friend. He'd said nothing to indicate either way. Really, she hadn't handled that call very well. She'd found out absolutely nothing! Mr. Slade's youthful voice and manner had sent her off on a cynical tangent, and by the time she'd realised her mistake, the call had been over.

  Still, it was only three days till Sunday. Not long. In no time she'd be landing at Norfolk Island airport and be right on the doorstep of discovering all she wanted to know.

  A nervous wave rippled down Jessica's spine, and she shivered. It had not escaped her logical mind that something pretty awful must have happened for her mother to lie like she had. Maybe she'd done something wicked and shameful, then run away from home. Or something wicked and shameful had been done to her, with the same result.

  Jessica wasn't sure what that something could have been. Whatever had happened, she meant to find out the truth. Oh, yes, she meant to find out everything!

  CHAPTER THREE

  JESSICA'S flight on Sunday morning took two and a half hours. Two and a half long hours of butterflies in her stomach. Some due to her fear of flying; most to fear of the unknown that awaited her on Norfolk Island. She
stared through her window the whole way, despite high cloud preventing a view of the ocean below. Not' that she was really looking. She was thinking, and speculating, and worrying. It was only when they began their descent that the sight of the island itself jolted her back to the physical reality of her destination.

  Goodness, but it was picturesque, a dot of deep tropical green within a wide blue expanse of sea. But so small! Jessica knew from the travel brochures that the island only measured five kilometres by eight. This hadn't bothered her till she saw that the airstrip was even smaller. She hoped the plane could stop in time, that it wouldn't plunge off the end of the runway into the sea. The plane began to bank steeply at that moment, a wing blocking Jessica's view of the island. All she could see was water—deep, deep water. Her insides started to churn. She did so hate flying, especially the landing part. The plane landed without incident, thank heavens, quickly taxiing over to a collection of small terminal buildings. There was a short delay while everything was sprayed for God knows what and some lady with a foreign accent gave a brief talk over the intercom about the island and its rules and regulations.

  Jessica rolled her eyes when she heard the speed limit was only fifty kilometres an hour around the island generally, and a crawling twenty-five kilometres an hour through the town and down on the foreshores at Kingston. Drivers were warned they had to give way to all livestock on the roads.

  Lord, she thought with rueful amusement. This was as far removed from Sydney as one could get!

  The formalities finally over, she hoisted her roomy tan handbag onto her shoulder and alighted, relieved to find that it wasn't all that hot outside, despite the sun beginning to peep through the parting clouds. She'd worn a summer-weight pants-suit for travelling, a tailored cream outfit that didn't crease. But it had a lined jacket and wasn't the coolest thing she owned. Her hair was cool, though, slicked back into the tight chic knot she always wore for work. Her makeup was expertly done to highlight her big dark eyes and full mouth. Her jewellery was discreet and expensive. A gold chain around her neck. Gold studs in her lobes. A gold watch around her slender wrist.

  She looked sleek and sophisticated, and a lot more composed than she was feeling.

  The short walk across the tarmac to the small customs building was enough for Jessica to see that whilst the air temperature felt moderate, the humidity was high. As soon as she arrived at her aunt's house she'd change into something lighter.

  In no time Jessica had secured her suitcase and was through customs. It seemed there was some advantage coming to tiny places like this. She'd barely walked into the terminal building when a funny little barrel-shaped woman with frizzy grey hair touched her on the arm.

  'You'd have to be Jessica,' she said, smiling up at her.'And you must be Evie,' Jessica responded, smiling back. Impossible not to. Mr. Slade had been right about that. Evie was the sort of person one liked on sight. She had a round face with twinkling grey eyes and a warm smile. She wore a shapeless floral tent dress and might have been sixty.

  Jessica was given a brief but all-encompassing appraisal. 'You don't look much like your mother, do you?'

  She certainly didn't. Her mother had been petite and fair with blue eyes. Still, Jessica's heart leapt at Evie's observation.

  'You knew my mother?'

  'Well, of course I knew your mother, lovie! I've lived on this island for near nigh forty years now. Everyone knows everyone around here. You'll soon learn that. I knew your grandparents, too. Come on,' Evie urged, taking her arm. 'Let's get out of this crowd and into some fresh air.'

  Jessica allowed herself to be led down some steps and out into a half-empty car park. Her thoughts were whirling. If Evie had known her grandparents, did that mean they'd lived here on this island, as well? Had her aunt and her mother been born here? Were her family islanders'? The desire to bombard Evie with questions was great, but something held Jessica back for the moment. Probably an instinctive reluctance to admit she was so ignorant about her own past.

  Or was she afraid to find out the truth, now that it was within her grasp?

  'The car's over here,' Evie said.

  It was a Mazda. Small, white, dented and dusty. It was also unlocked, with the keys in the ignition.

  Jessica could not believe her eyes. 'Er, don't you think you should have locked your car?' she said as she climbed into the passenger seat, not wanting to criticise but unable to keep silent.

  Evie laughed. 'No one locks their car on Norfolk Island, lovie. You'll get used to it.'

  'I doubt it,' Jessica muttered, shaking her head. Imagine doing such a silly thing in Sydney!

  'Think about it,' Evie said, starting up the engine. 'Where are they going to go if they steal it?'

  Jessica had to admit that was true, but she knew she'd still be locking the ear doors, no matter what the locals did.

  'It's not my car, actually,' Evie added as she angled her way out of the car park. 'It used to belong to Lucy, but she gave it to Sebastian before she died.'

  Jessica frowned at this news. So Mr. Slade had been given something, after all. Okay, so it wasn't much of a car but maybe he'd been given other gifts, as well. For all she knew, her aunt might have handed over quite a degree of money to her loyal and loving companion before she died. It would explain why he'd received nothing in the will.

  'This is the main street,' Evie piped up. 'A lot of the shops have duty-free goods, you know. It's one of the main pastimes for visitors. Shopping.'

  There were, indeed, a lot of shops lining the road. Some of them were open but most looked pretty well deserted, as were the sidewalks. There was a young boy on a bike, plus a middle-aged couple wandering along, hand in hand. It looked as quiet and dead a place as Jessica had originally thought.

  'It's pretty slow on a Sunday,' Evie said. 'Things will be hopping here tomorrow.'

  Jessica decided Evie's idea of hopping might be a fraction different from her own.

  'Sebastian seemed to think you might want me to come in and do the shopping and cooking while you're here, like I did for Lucy,' Evie rattled on.

  'He's been looking after himself and the place since Lucy's death, though I do drop by occasionally to give the house a dust through. I only live next door and men never think of dusting.'

  'That was kind of you, Evie. Yes, I think I would like you to do that. I'll pay you whatever Lucy did. Will that be all right?'

  Evie waved her indifference to talking about payment. 'Whatever. I don't really need the money,' she said. 'My husband left me plenty when he died. I just like to keep busy. And I love cooking. Eating, too.' She grinned over at Jessica. 'So what do you like to eat? Do you have any favourite foods or dishes?'

  'Not really. I'm not fussy at all. Cook whatever you like. I'll just enjoy being pampered for a change. Cooking is not one of my strong points.'

  Actually, she could cook quite well, had had to when she was growing up to survive. If she'd waited for her mother to cook her a meal she would have starved. But she didn't fancy cooking for Mr. Slade. It had also crossed her mind that she'd be able to question Evie with more ease if she was around the house on a regular basis.

  'That's fixed, then,' Evie said happily. 'I'll come in every morning around eleven-thirty and make lunch. Then I'll come back around five to cook dinner for seven-thirty. I don't do breakfast. Lucy always did that for herself. How does that sound?'

  'Marvellous.' Jessica sighed her satisfaction with the arrangement and settled back to look around some more.

  The wide streets of the shopping centre were quickly left behind and they moved onto a narrower road, with what looked like farms on either side. A few cows grazed lethargically along the common. The Mazda squeezed past a truck going the other way, then a car, then a utility, Jessica noting that Evie exchanged waves with all three drivers as they passed by. She commented on this and was told it was a local custom, and that even the tourists got into the spirit of the Norfolk Island wave within a day of arrival. Jessica was quietly impresse
d with their friendliness, despite cynically thinking that if all Sydney drivers did that in city traffic, everyone would go barmy. Still, it was rather sweet, in a way.

  'Here we are,' Evie announced, slowing down and turning into a gateway that had a cattle grid between its posts and an iron archway above, which said with proud simplicity, Lucy's Place.

  The gravel driveway rose gradually, any view either side blocked with thickly wooded Norfolk pines. Finally, the pine borders ceased, and there in front of Jessica was the most beautiful old wooden house she had ever seen. Painted cream, with a green pitched iron roof and huge wooden verandas all round, it stood on the crest of the hill with a stately grandeur and dignity that were quite breathtaking.

  Jessica was surprised, both by its elegant beauty and its effect on her. She'd heard of falling in love at first sight, but she'd always thought of that in connection with a man, not a house.

  A sudden movement on the veranda snapped her out of her astonished admiration. Someone had been sitting there and was now standing up and moving towards the front steps. A man, dressed in shorts and nothing else, holding a tall glass in his hand. A young man with shoulder-length fair hair. He stopped and leant against one of the posts at the top of the steps and watched as Evie brought the car round to a halt at the base of the front steps. Jessica frowned at him through the passenger window. This couldn't be Mr. Slade, surely. She couldn't see the details of his face—it was in shadow—but that was not the body of a middle-aged man. Or the hair. Maybe he was a workman. A gardener, perhaps. Or the man who mowed the lawns. There were plenty to mow, she'd noted, the house set in huge rolling lawns. There was quite a bit of garden, as well, beds of flowers underneath the verandas, backed by multicoloured hibiscus bushes.

  'I see Sebastian made it back from fishing in time to greet you,' Evie said, shattering Jessica's delusion over the man's identity.

  He straightened as the car braked to a halt, lifting the glass to his lips and at the same time taking a step forward out of the shadow of the veranda. Jessica sucked in a sharp breath as sunlight fell upon silky golden locks and smooth bronzed shoulders. He continued drinking as he walked slowly down the steps, taking deep swallows and seemingly unconscious of his quite extraordinary beauty.