by Joanne Hill
“I think I read something about this.” They stopped to read a sign on a street pole. “They’re gearing up for swimming season in a few months, holding lifesaving demonstrations.”
Daniel glanced out at the gathering crowd. “I’m sure this is enough for Barnaby. We should head back.”
They’d barely even got here. She shook her head. “You can if you want but I think I’ll stay. It’s a beautiful day and it’s not too crowded.”
Daniel gazed out across the surf. “I used to do a bit of surf lifesaving when I was at university.” He paused, reflectively, and added, “It seems a lifetime ago now.”
“You were a surf life saver?” This was new to Mel and she scrutinized him. It wasn’t a chore to imagine. He was strong, and had broad shoulders. Swimmers shoulders, she realised now. He probably swam laps in the company pool a few times a week.
The unreality of it struck her hard. She was married to the man and she still knew so little about him.
He turned to her now. “Are you sure you want to stay and watch this, Mel?”
“It would be nice to stay.”
“Then I’ll stay, too.” They found a grassed spot where they could sit and watch. Barnaby looked exhausted, and a fellow dog walker loaned them his dog’s water bowl, which amused Daniel no end as Mel poured water from her bottle into it and Barnaby lapped thirstily.
A pair of surf lifesavers ran in front of them, dressed only in blue and black club Speedos.
He glanced to see if Mel had noticed. She had.
A feeling pitched in his stomach as her gaze followed the tan legs, six pack stomachs and muscular shoulders.
She glanced up at him. “I can’t believe you used to be a surf lifesaver.”
He eyed her warily. “Why? You don’t believe I can cut it in speedos?”
Her eyes widened. “No, I’m sure you’d look very…” She appeared to be lost for words and gestured in the vague direction of the groups.
“Not out of place?” he said in a low voice.
She was refusing to look at him and it was all he could do not to turn her face to him so he could see what she was thinking.
He leant back, crossed his ankles and glanced out at the sea. It had been years since he’d relaxed like this. Even the day he’d met Mel, he hadn’t been relaxed – he’d been wound tight.
He shut his eyes for a second against the brightness of the sun. “I did a couple of seasons when I was a student. Arthur encouraged me. He was a great swimmer, summer and winter. He was a member of the Bondi Icebergs for years. He taught us to swim when we could barely walk.” He opened his eyes and watched her stroke an adoring Barnaby. “Did you ever hear about the Black Sunday tragedy in 1938?”
She frowned. “It’s familiar.” She shook her head.
“It was here at Bondi. There was a series of massive waves and hundreds of swimmers were swept out to sea. It was horrific, people fighting for their lives. The club saved over 300 lives in that one afternoon but five people died. Arthur was one of the swimmers that was saved. He never forgot it. And made sure we never did either.”
“I do remember now. It’s hard to imagine how terrifying it must have been, to be enjoying a swim then suddenly being caught up in waves like that. I can see why he encouraged you.” Her gaze was drawn to another couple of men running down to the water.
An emotion stirred hard in his gut, and he shifted uncomfortably. It was new to him. Maybe it was jealousy. He glanced at her. “Yet you seem to find it so hard to believe I did a few seasons surf lifesaving. Why is that?”
“Because...” She shrugged. “Because that’s such a normal thing to do. You’re not a normal person.”
He should have been insulted but instead he found himself intrigued. “I’m not normal?”
She turned to him, her eyes serious, her voice incredulous. “No, you’re not what I’d call a normal person by a long shot. You’re incredibly wealthy, you’re clearly intelligent, and you’re incredibly sexy. No normal person gets all that in one package. God or whoever just doesn’t do it. But with you...”
She looked as though she’d said too much, and she suddenly bent and fussed over Barnaby.
Daniel went still as he replayed what she said in his mind. Or at least, the last bit. Incredibly sexy. She thought that about him? Not just “okay looking” but incredibly sexy?
He watched her closely. She patted Barnaby. Handed the bowl back to the other dog owner. Stared out to sea. Looked as tense as a violin string wound too tight.
But what had she actually meant by it? That he’d been blessed with good genes, that he punished his body with work outs, that he wore Italian suits well. It meant nothing. She probably thought the guys running along the beach were sexy too.
Her hair had fallen around her face, and in the sun, red shimmered off her brown hair. And what does it matter what Melinda Green – Melinda Christie – thinks about you? Why does it suddenly seem to matter so much?
She turned to him, met his gaze. He’d been caught, like an adolescent ogling the girl in the seat in front of him.
“Maybe,” he said suddenly, “I should get into my speedos, and head out to join in the carnival.”
Her eyes widened, and he watched her take a sudden intake of breath. His gaze slipped to the smooth lightly tanned skin of her neck as she swallowed.
“You didn’t bring them,” she said, turning away.
And it occurred to him, she hadn’t complimented him as something to be proud of, something she was happy to have in a husband.
The tone of her voice had indicated the opposite.
She had said them as something to stay away from.
CHAPTER TEN
Daniel opened the door the following night to find Hugh standing there.
“This is a surprise,” Daniel told him.
He didn’t bother to hide his suspicion as to why, at eight o’clock on a Monday night, Hugh was there. If an urgent matter had come up, Hugh would have phoned. As it was, they’d crossed paths during the course of the day and taken turns in the large chair at Arthur’s bedside. Mel had come up to the hospice briefly with the digital camera loaded with photos of Barnaby she’d snapped in the weekend. She’d given Arthur details of the excursion down to the beach, and he’d managed to tell her, very briefly, the story of Black Sunday before he’d tired himself out.
Grief sat permanently at the edge of Daniel’s heart, but he wouldn’t allow it in. There was a time for that but this wasn’t it, not yet. Even though it was there, waiting to pounce and catch him.
“I’m checking up on you,” Hugh said finally. “Seeing how you’re coping.” He reached over, gripped Daniel’s shoulder in an affectionate gesture. As he did, his gaze slipped through to the living areas beyond. “Are you going to invite me in,” he asked. “A coffee would go down well about now.”
“Of course.” Daniel stood aside, and gestured through to where Mel was sitting on a leather couch in blue jeans and a red t-shirt. “Be my guest.”
Hugh sat on the leather chair, with Mel curled up on the sofa opposite, sewing a small quilt by hand. Or at least, she was sewing something that was patchwork. It was too small to be a quilt, Daniel realized now.
Hugh leant forward. “What’s that, Mel?”
She held up the fabric of browns, greens and blues, a quarter the size of the purple and pink square she’d made for her mother.
“This,” she told him, “is for Barnaby.”
“Barnaby?” Daniel walked through and nearly spilt coffee. “Are you seriously making one for a – for the dog?”
“I thought it might be nice.” Unfazed she said, “I’ve chosen the colour scheme to match the blue of the beach, the brown and white of his own coloration, and snatches of green. Green is Sir Arthur’s favourite color.”
“It is, too,” Hugh mused. He turned around to Daniel. “What do you think of that? Barnaby’s getting his own patchwork.”
“Barnaby is a very lucky dog.” He set the coffee on t
he table. Mel’s tea was brewing.
Shouldn’t it be the other way around, the wife serving the husband?
Although, he acknowledged as he went back for her tea, slavery hadn’t been in the contract.
“There are cookies in the red tin in the pantry,” Mel called out suddenly.
“Cookies?” He didn’t have baked goods in his house. Did he?
“Get them, Dan,” Hugh said. “I could do with a snack.”
Daniel found the tin, set it on the coffee table, sat down with his coffee and turned to Hugh. He had to get some normalcy back. Blankets for dogs, tea and cookies. Not to mention another human living in his apartment. “Hugh. I was giving some thought to the position we’ve currently got with the –”
“Mel?” Hugh jabbed his finger at the quilt. “Did you ever consider making those for a living?”
“Oh, no. This is definitely only a hobby. I’ve been doing a lot lately for something to do.”
Hugh raised his eyebrows at Daniel. “Daniel not keeping his wife happy?”
“Cut it out,” Daniel muttered under his breath.
“Though to be honest,” Mel went on, “it had crossed my mind this is something I could try, seeing as I’ll need a job – when this is over – and there isn’t anything in my field.”
Daniel went still. “Have you been looking already?”
“Yes, online. It can take time with the interview process in the education and social sectors. There’s often a good two month time lag.”
“Hmmm.” Hugh grunted, scratched his chin, glanced across at Daniel. “Well, if you did have time, I had a quilt when I was a kid. The bedspread I’ve got now is something Joss bought years ago and...” He shrugged. “I haven’t had the heart to part with it, sentimental old bugger that I am. But it occurred to me… ” He looked sheepishly into his coffee.
Mel smiled at him. “I’d be happy to make one for you, Hugh.” Her eyes widened. “We could head over to Double Bay, they have the most gorgeous shop with a superb selection of fabrics. You can choose your colours.”
Hugh brightened. “I’ll take you to lunch. Make an afternoon of it.”
“Just be warned. Once you get inside a fabric shop, you’ll find it hard to leave. They have one of the best selections available in Sydney that I’ve seen although there is a gorgeous shop down in Cronulla now that’s worth checking out.”
Daniel gripped his coffee tight. “You’re taking our company lawyer out to choose –” He waved his hand in the direction of Barnaby’s quilt. “Material?”
“Darn straight she is. As soon as Barnaby’s got his, I’m in. Looks like you’ll have to get in line, Dan.”
Mel looked across at him, her eyebrows arched in question. Do you want me to make you a quilt, Daniel? A sudden, unexpected surge of longing swept through him, startling him. This was all so domestic, so cute and nice, but this wasn’t his life. He’d never wanted this life. He’d pitied people who had this.
So why was he sitting here thinking that this was something he could very easily get used to? Patchwork, tea and cookies, and Mel’s mess. He could tell himself it was a distraction from his ordered, controlled life, a life that had no hope of order with what was happening ten miles away at an exclusive private hospital.
But bubbling away was the oddest feeling that if Mel Green told him what to do, he’d darn well do it.
Mel finished the quilt that night and even though he told himself he didn’t give a damn, the fact was, he did.
Mel led Barnaby through to the laundry, and to his basket. The dog’s claws clattered on the polished floorboards, a sound, Daniel realized, he’d gotten used to over the past few days. A sound he even thought he was getting to like. It meant there was someone else in the house and Melinda seemed to take it upon herself to be as invisible as possible most of the time.
It was like living with a ghost.
And whose fault was that, a voice taunted? You’re meant to like it like that. The solitude, the peace, the quiet, the privacy.
His gaze slipped to Mel as she held up the blanket and scrutinized it critically. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, loose stands and tendrils around her face. He stared at a rogue ringlet. He could pull the ringlet out…
He drew a sharp breath and his gaze slipped to her mouth. She was semi pouting, thoughtful. Kissable.
Heaven help him.
Satisfied, she turned, and bumped up against him. He’d been leaning closer to smell her hair. Floral. Feminine. Seductive.
He jerked back, she frowned.
Flustered she said, “It might, um, take him a while to get used to it. While I love the smell of new fabric I don’t think he will.”
Daniel dipped his head to the fabric to get rid of the luscious smell of her. “I see what you mean. It’s quite unpleasant.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t say unpleasant. Just not very dog.”
She bent down, set the new quilt on top of the older blankets, smoothed it out until it reached the corners, and she patted it. “Come here, Barnaby. It’s a new blanket, especially for you. What do you think?”
Barnaby stared at her, his stumpy tail wagging from side to side. “Woof.”
“He loves it,” Daniel said.
Mel stood up. “I hope so.”
Barnaby trotted back into the kitchen, and Mel sighed. “I knew it would take time. Still, I’ll take it over to show Mum tomorrow. She’s keen to see it.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said impulsively.
She went still. So still he was surprised she was still breathing. Then she pushed her shoulders back, and flashed him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Why?” she asked simply.
“It feels unnatural to be married to a woman and not to know her family. Especially when you consider how much you know about me.”
“You know plenty about me. You had me checked out and I signed papers. And I don’t want her asking questions.”
“You’re extremely protective of her and I like that.” His eyebrows knit together in a frown. “But are you seriously telling me the only reason you haven’t introduced me before now is because she’ll get suspicious and ask a few questions?”
Barnaby trotted back, and she hesitated. “Mum still thinks I’m pining for Max.”
He glanced sideways at her. “Why does she think that?”
“She assumes it, and I don’t discourage her.” She bent down to stroke Barnaby. Her pants tightened, revealing a band of black underwear, and the smooth skin of her lower back. She looked up and he cleared his throat. She said, “It’s kind of like the way Arthur thinks you and I are madly in love with each other. We don’t discourage it.”
She stood up, and faced him. There was hardly any space between them and he said, “What time are you seeing her tomorrow?”
“I haven’t planned that far ahead.”
“I’m heading into work early. I’ll come back home at ten to pick you up.”
“I normally go in my car.”
“We’ll go in mine.”
“No. You’ll have to slum it with me,” she told him tightly. “Welcome to my world.”
His eyes glimmered. “I look forward to it.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mel was a mass of nerves as they turned into the driveway of the Gertrude Ellerm Rest and Retirement Village.
Next to her Daniel sat stiffly, but his interest was easy to detect. She doubted he ever set foot in this part of town. His world was the exclusive eastern suburbs and the city.
In the back seat, Barnaby sat with his tongue lolling out, panting. He loved being in the car, and he’d gotten to know Ellie. Mel had resisted bringing him with her at first; she didn’t want her mother getting too attached to him, but the two had grown very close, very quickly. It crossed her mind that her mother was in a home, and Arthur for the past few months of his life had been surrounded by nurses and doctors, and that it was some sort of connection.
The gardens of the complex were well manicur
ed but the buildings were old and in need of refurbishing. One block had been tidied up but her mother’s was well down on the list.
She stopped at the roundabout to give way to residents walking slowly across the pedestrian crossing with a staff member helping them.
The retirement village was on the left, the rest home clearly marked for the right.
She turned right.
Daniel commented, “You said your mother was in a retirement village.”
“I know. But she’s in the rest home section.”
They drew up to the visitor parking, and she pulled to a stop and killed the engine. Her car stopped with a jolt, a splutter and a final jolt.
Daniel asked, “Has she been ill? You never mentioned it.”
“She hasn’t been well.” Mel climbed out, and grabbed her bag, filled with new paperbacks she’d bought for Ellie as well as Barnaby’s quilt to show her.
Daniel took Barnaby, and they walked in through the entrance. Mel greeted the nurse at the reception counter.
She said, “Hey, Mel, how’s it going. Hey there Barnaby. Who needs a pat today?”
She came around to pat Barnaby whose stubby tail wagged from side to side. She stood up, looked at Daniel and her eyes widened.
“Good morning,” he greeted her.
“Yeah. Umm – hi.” The woman swallowed, lost for words.
They went down the hall and he asked, “How long has your mother been in this part of the facility?”
Mel stopped at Ellie’s apartment. Her name was there, a faded strip of cardboard in a metal surround. Mel had never noticed details like this before now, but with Daniel here, it was all so glaringly obvious it was cheap.
Mel glanced up but didn’t quite meet his eyes. “She’s been here for two years.”
She knocked the familiar rap she used to let her mother know it was her, heard Daniel’s sharp intake of breath, her mother called out, “Come in, Mel,” and she opened the door and they stepped inside.