The Taming of the Bastard

by Lindy Dale

  The second man took a tissue from behind the station. He handed me one. “You lose your boyfriend?”

  “No,” I sniffed. “He dumped me, right as I was going to get on the plane.”

  “That too bad. Pretty girl like you. You get another boyfriend real fast. Sure.”

  My brow drew together and I blew my nose. Had the Customs Officer winked at me? I was positive I’d imagined it but, no, there it was again. Oh my God. My face looked like a gargoyle in the rain and I was being propositioned. Could this day get any more insane?

  “Um, well, yes. I might. But not for a very long time.” I dragged out the word ‘long’ so it was extremely long itself and put on the saddest pout I could muster. Hopefully, in his broken English he got the hint. I had no intention of paying to get into the country with anything other than my allotted twenty-five US Dollars.

  *****

  Despite the debacle at the airport, it’d been easy to locate my driver. The poor man had been standing some thirty or so metres away with a sign held before his chest, watching the whole scene play out before him. I don’t know if he was happy to discover he was taking the crazy sobbing girl into the city or not. His smile was the same as all the other drivers. He obviously practised a lot.

  The next stop was the hotel. The accommodation I’d booked in Kuta was in a word, adequate. It wasn’t the standard of holiday I’d become used to, having travelled frequently with Adele and Brian but it was all I needed and wanted. The sheets were fresh, the air con worked and the breakfast was free. I wasn’t there for a holiday. I was there to find a new home. Having surveyed the space and unpacked my bags, I put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign out. I switched off my phone and pulled the drapes. I put cooling eye mask over my eyes and settled onto the bed. I had no intention of leaving that room until I had slept my sadness away. And that was what I did. Sort of.

  *****

  Twenty-two hours later, I woke feeling ravenous and somehow cleansed from the crying. Sure, my heart was still aching. It was a constant pain in my chest but one I was prepared to live with. After all, I had no one to blame but myself. Having showered and dressed, I wandered down to breakfast. I loaded my plate with fresh pastries and fruit and poured myself a huge mug of coffee. Then I opened my laptop and began to look through the file of information the agent had sent me. At the moment, there were three possibilities—the house on the hill with the infinity pool, another on the beachfront in Jimbaran Bay that needed some TLC and a third at the other end of the island. I looked at my watch. It was too early to ring the agent but I could do it in an hour or so, along with contacting a couple of others I’d been emailing.

  I sat eating my breakfast and drinking a glass of juice. I hoped everything was okay at home, that Sam hadn’t rearranged Johnny’s face or some other dreadful thing. Picking up my phone, I decided to call. He could only refuse to answer again. He did. So I did the next best thing. I rang Johnny.

  “Jesus Millie, you could have warned me Sam was back,” he said, as soon as he picked up.

  “I didn’t have time. It was a matter of hours and how was I to know you were going to turn up at the airport doing a re-enactment of Love Actually? Anyway, have you spoken to him?”

  “Not likely. He was livid and I like my face the way it is.”

  “I’ve tried to call him but he won’t pick up.” I began to cry. “God, I’ve stuffed it up, haven’t I?”

  Johnny sighed into the phone. “Give it a few days, Mill’. He might come round.”

  I hoped he was right.

  *****

  “Miss McIntyre?” A short, dark haired Australian man greeted me at the driveway of the first house.

  “Yes.”

  He reached over and shook my hand. “Nice to meet you in person. Finally.”

  Sensing my excitement, the agent led the way down the drive, past some large stone statues hiding amongst bamboo and palms. The garden was a colourful wonderland, filled with the scent of frangipani and ginger. It would be easy to maintain. He stopped at the front door and slid the key into the lock. “I can’t tell you how much interest there’s been in the last month or so but I’ve been putting other buyers off. I know how desperately you wanted this house.”

  “I’m very grateful. Thank you.” Now can we get inside and have a real look please?

  The agent walked into the foyer. “The main bedroom suite is to the right and, here, on the left is a small office space, perfect for your needs.”

  He was right. So far it was perfect.

  “I’ll leave you alone to have a look around, shall I? Then I’ll meet you in the kitchen when you’re ready. It has some lovely features I’d like you to see.”

  I nodded and went off on my own. Every room was as it had been in the photos. The rooms were spacious and airy, simple yet glamorous. I would be able to do most of the work myself until I got established. Well, except the cooking. I couldn’t poison the guests. The bathrooms were tiled in beige and white stone, huge soft towels decorated the towel rail. A bowl of fresh buds stood on every vanity. Yes, it was perfect. If only Sam had been there to see it with me.

  After ten minutes or so, a near miss with the infinity pool and getting lost in the maze of garden paths, I found my way back to the kitchen. The agent was on the phone but he gestured for me to come in. Keener than ever, I was ready to get my chequebook out on the spot. I didn’t want to negotiate.

  “Yes,” he was saying. “Yes, I understand. That’s a pity.” He put his phone back in the pocket of his shirt. His face was somber. He pulled a hanky and wiped droplets of sweat from his brow, which had begun to drip down the side of his face. “Well. I have some news, Miss McIntyre. Unfortunately, as you were taking a look around, the couple that came through yesterday put in a full price offer and it was accepted.”

  But this was my house.

  “The house has been sold. Literally from under our noses.”

  “But you said…”

  “I know, but I have no control over the other agents and one of them just sold this house.”

  Suddenly, I felt deflated. This wasn’t fair. The possibility of the house had been the only thing keeping me from falling apart. Now I had nothing.

  “Please don’t despair, Miss McIntyre, I have other properties. Two of which are perfect for you.”

  I almost pouted. I must have looked like Paige. “But this one was perfect.”

  “I know, but we can see the others. Not today, of course, but as soon as I can set up some viewings. You will like them.”

  I was glad he was so confident.

  We walked to the front door and the agent manned the alarm and locked the door. Despondent, I followed him up the driveway, so engrossed in my own misery I walked straight into the stone garden edging. Holding my leg, I sat down and cried as the trickle of blood ran down my shin and into the sole of my sandal. Why was this happening to me? Was this some kind of cheat-on-your-boyfriend retribution?

  *****

  The theme continued for the next two weeks, no matter who the agent or where the house was. Twelve houses in all, each one sold while I was viewing, withdrawn from the market or given a sudden price revision that put it out of my price range. My accommodation budget was running low, Sam would not answer his phone and Paige had won a prize at assembly without me being there. My life sucked. Yet, determined not to give up until every avenue had been exhausted I kept on trying. I’d give it one more week and if I didn’t manage to find something by then, I’d go home. It was with this thought in mind and a huge Band-Aid on my leg, that I dragged myself around Bali all day and back to the hotel every night. Then something changed.

  Sam sent me a text.

   28 

  It felt like home when I walked into the foyer of the hotel and saw Sam standing there, a massive bunch of flowers in one hand and a key to the Presidential Suite at the Sheraton Bali in the other. Dropping my string bag I’d run into his arms, completely crushing the flowers and bowling him over with such for
ce that he exclaimed, “Have you been watching the Rugby replays while I’ve been gone? That tackle could floor a Springbok.”

  Then, he’d proceeded to escort me to our new hotel suite, where he sent for all my clothes and had them put into the closet for me by our butler, who had been patiently waiting for a job to do for a few hours.

  I sat on the bed, looking and looking at him and shaking my head. “You’re here! Why? I don’t get it.”

  Sam’s smile was the biggest I’d ever seen. “You didn’t seriously think I was going to let Johnny have you? I’d have punched his head in before I let that happen.” I bit my lip. “You didn’t hurt him?”

  Sam flicked off his thongs and sat down beside me. “Nah. Not that he didn’t deserve it, the idiot. But we did sit down at the bar and have a couple of beers yesterday. He said you’d spoken.”

  “I was trying to find you.”

  “Yeah, he told me. He explained a lot of shit. I know it wasn’t his fault or yours. It was mine for leaving you and I have to deal with it. You did think we were split up, after all.”

  “That’s true. I thought you were gone for good. And I was so angry with you for leaving me without a word. Johnny was just there. I never thought you’d find out or even care if you did and I certainly wasn’t going to appease my conscience by telling you when you did come back. I would have happily gone to my grave never telling you because I thought it would hurt you too much.”

  Sam chuckled. “The only thing that would hurt, Mill’, would be if you did it again. And possibly your bum from the spanking I’d give you.”

  *****

  Soon it was Sunday morning and we were sitting at the dining table in our suite. The companionable silence that wrapped around us like a winter rug was disturbed only by an occasional grunt as Sam perused the sports section of the newspaper that was laid out with our breakfast. He’d bought it with him in his suitcase, knowing full well there wouldn’t be an up to date Australian paper in sight and he couldn’t survive without his daily fix of sport. We’d eaten croissants with jam, even though Sam stated they were pathetic because ‘a bloke needs at least fifteen to feel full.’ We’d had three cappuccinos made by our butler. And we’d discussed what we were going to doing that day. It was all so peaceful until, suddenly, Sam’s face darkened.

  “I hate newspapers,” he muttered, sliding the paper away in disgust. Once again, the story of some local sporting hero who’d gone astray and driven his car into a neighbour’s water feature dominated the back page. “Is there no other sport apart from AFL? The bloody season finished months ago. What about the Test?” He picked up his cup and took a disgruntled slurp. “Tell me again why I shouldn’t get the Fox TV package on my mobile?” he asked. “At least I’d get the latest sporting updates. This is last week’s news. I heard it before I got on the plane yesterday.”

  Ignoring him, I pulled out the travel section and began to look at some cruising holidays. Even with all his money there was no need to waste it on Mobile TV. He watched way too much sport as it was.

  “Do you realise it’s our anniversary today?” Sam remarked, taking a piece of toast, smearing it with butter and then dunking it in his coffee.

  “No.”

  “It’s the anniversary of the first time we had sex.”

  Oh God.

  “Are you serious?” There had been so many firsts, so many milestones in our relationship and the only significant thing to him was our first shag. I rolled my eyes. Sometimes he really was beyond redemption. “And, I suppose you’ll want some sort of anniversary encore will you?” I asked.

  Sam’s eyes glinted at mine across the paper-strewn table. “It’s a possibility but I had something else in mind.”

  It had better not be a local rugby match, I thought, wondering what ridiculous prank he had up his sleeve this time. I was still trying to get over the fact he’d thought it would be fun to advertise a life sized semi-nude portrait of me—as in p.h.o.t.o, not painting—on eBay to see what it’d fetch.

  “But you have such a super body, Mill’,” he’d said by way of explanation. “Why shouldn’t the rest of the world see it?”

  I had a number of good reasons why but none of them seemed to faze Sam. I hoped that wasn’t going to be the case this time.

  “I think you’ll like it,” he added.

  Now, I was curious, “What, exactly, do you mean? What did you have in mind?”

  Sam picked up the Michael Hill Jewellers catalogue and thumbed through the pages. He stopped at a pale pink spread filled with tacky gems and manmade diamond rings, the likes of which I'd never envisaged myself as owning even as a joke. Then, he tossed the page across the table at me and looked lovingly into my eyes.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said as tiny beads of sweat formed on the top of his brow. “It wasn’t that nice when we were apart.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “So, maybe we should get one of those.” He gestured with his chin at the page and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

  One of what? A Rolex knock off? A cubic zirconia pinkie ring? Honestly, he was being so cryptic.

  “You know, a ring. I think we should make it official. Get a ring.”

  Well. The catalogue fell from my hand. “Sam, are you trying to propose to me?”

  Sam looked rather misty eyed. It was cute in a funny sort of way. “Guess I am. What do you reckon?”

  My mouth twisted into a little grin. I could see he was uncomfortable, a rare occurrence, and I felt an overwhelming urge to make him suffer, just a bit. “About what? The way you proposed or the actual question itself?”

  “Don’t be a bitch. You know what I mean. You can see how hard this is for me.” Sam looked dark as he picked up his coffee and threw the cold dregs from the bottom down his throat. In his whole life of bastardry this was probably the first uncomfortable thing the man had ever had to do apart from burying his grandmother. He was so used to having women fall at his feet drooling that he’d never felt the pain of rejection until we’d been separated and he’d certainly never had to ask for anything where girls were concerned. I had him exactly where I wanted him.

  “I don’t know. What about my plans? I’ve been dreaming about this Bali thing for such a long time.” I replied. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  His face took on a look of extreme, impending doom. His usual healthy glow turned as grey as a dirty ashtray. “What’s there to think about? We’ve been shagging each other’s brains out for ages. I’ve told you my life story; I’ve moved all my stuff from over East. Hell, I even redecorated my flat for you. And last week, while I was out, I didn’t even tell Kirby she’s stacked the weignt on since she split with Rambo. I was trying to be sensitive or whatever it is you’re always telling me I don’t do.” He flung his arms in the air, gesturing erratically into the air. “What more could you want??”

  I didn’t know but maybe this was my chance to whip Sam into line once and for all.

  “I love you, Millie. I adore you. Please marry me.”

  “But this will mean changing my whole life. Give me a good reason why I should,” I said. I was certain I loved him and after all that had happened in the last few weeks, I knew he loved me too but was I willing to share my dream? Or even give it up completely?

  “Because I can’t live without you and, well, seeing other guys looking at you makes me want to punch their heads in.” He groaned and slid across in his chair taking my hand in his. “I’d just feel a whole lot better if you had a ring on your finger when they chatted you up. Okay?”

  “So you want to own me?”

  “No. I want to love you. Forever.”

  Gosh, I thought, that’s lovely. That was really what a girl wanted to hear. Now I was being serious too. “I’ll think about it. Maybe.”

  “You mean it?”

  “Yes, I mean it. But this is not a ‘yes’ Sam. It’s a ‘maybe.’ Maybe I’ll marry you but only if we sort out where we’re going to live. You being in Perth and
me being here isn’t the ideal situation for a marriage.”

  Sam looked back at me, completely recovered. He dropped a kiss on my lips, gave his balls a quick scratch and lifted his leg letting out an enormous fart. “Not a problem. I can work with that.”

  I shook my head in despair. God knows I'd live to regret it if I said ‘yes’. My life would be ruled by Fox Sports One, Two and Three. Not to mention rugby. Still, what could I do? I loved him too. Despite his faults he was sweet, sexy and caring. He was the loveliest man I had ever met.

  *****

  The next morning I woke late to find Sam gone. Again. This time, though, he’d left me a note. Apparently there was another surprise, a bigger one than maybe getting married. All I had to do was fill in time looking at a few more houses and in a couple of days, according to Sam, all would be revealed.

   29 

  “Millie?” The line was crackly; the reception poor from wherever it was Sam was calling from.

  “Sam? I can hardly hear you.” It had been three days since Sam had disappeared but for once I wasn’t distraught. We’d spoken on the phone every day, and though he wouldn’t reveal where he was, no matter how I tried to cajole, he assured me that the final part of the surprise was coming together and soon I would see it.

  “I want you to come and meet me.”

  Meet him where? If he thought I was going trekking up the side of some mountain or other he could think again. This new life of mine may have been less extravagant than I’d become used to but I wasn’t going tribal for anybody.

  “I’ve left a ticket for you at the Concierge Desk. The flight’s at eleven. Pack your passport, some money for airport taxes and an overnight bag. That’s all you’ll need.”

  What in heaven’s name was he up to now? My head began to explode with possibilities but knowing Sam it wouldn’t be one that I expected.