Therefore he needed an enormous amount—or so it sometimes felt—of transporting to and from the school pool, the school hall, the cricket field, not to mention the making of his costume for the play—he was to be a trooper in a Ned Kelly saga.
‘I suppose it could have been worse,’ Ellie muttered to herself one evening. ‘He could have been Ned Kelly—then I’d have had to come up with a tin and metal costume.’
‘I tried out for Ned Kelly,’ Simon commented, overhearing her. ‘But I’m not so sure he was the hero everyone seems to think he was.’
‘He was a bush ranger,’ Ellie agreed. ‘But circumstances, they claim, made him one.’ She put down the jacket she was sewing buttons onto and concentrated more closely on what Simon had said. ‘Did you knock back being Ned Kelly? Because you’re not sure he was such a hero?’
‘Yep.’
‘You didn’t tell me that!’
‘I was afraid you’d accuse me of un-Australian inclinations.’
Ellie blinked, then started to laugh. ‘You are a character, Simon. To be honest, I’ve never felt quite comfortable with Ned Kelly myself. So I’m glad you decided to stay on the side of the law.’
Later, however, on her own and getting ready for bed, Ellie reflected that, for ten, Simon was unusually perceptive and enquiring of mind. Which brought her face to face with the issue of his schooling and the short hop to the issue of marrying Brett Spencer.
She changed into a cotton-knit nightshirt and stretched wearily before she climbed into bed and pulled a pillow into her arms for comfort. But, tired as she was, her imagination took wings. It would be no penance to take Brett into her arms night after night, it would be sheer bliss, she thought, and moved restlessly as her body reacted to her thoughts.
And she knew enough now to know that it would be no penance for him to make love to her. But forever? she wondered. Or, would it one day turn to duty and, if so, how could she bear that?
Yet, are there forevers for anyone? she wondered. And what about Chantal Jones? Wasn’t he attracted to her as well?
The next morning, she had a later start, thanks to her laid-low colleagues being back at work, and the subject of Chantal came up in the form of Dan paying her a visit. A chastened, supremely embarrassed Dan.
‘You don’t have to explain,’ she said as she poured him a cup of coffee and told him to sit down. ‘I quite understand.’
‘I do, Ellie,’ he insisted. ‘I don’t know what came over me!’
Ellie studied his earnest expression. ‘Dan,’ she said slowly, ‘I hope you aren’t still hoping that you and I—’
‘Ellie—’
‘No, listen to me, Dan, I’m not for you and that’s the way things are.’
‘I just didn’t want you thinking badly of me. But I guess most men would get in a bit of a flutter over someone like Chantal,’ he said slowly. ‘I mean—it doesn’t really mean anything and, anyway, heaven alone knows who the right guy is for her, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be me.’
Ellie grimaced inwardly at these revealing, less-than-flattering sentiments, did he but know it, but she returned resolutely, although obliquely, to the main issue. ‘How much leave have you got left, Dan?’
‘Two weeks.’
‘Good, because there’s no reason on earth that you mightn’t be just the right guy for Chantal and you’ve got a bit of time to put it to the test.’
He stared at her with his mouth open. ‘Ellie—’
‘Dan, really,’ she said firmly, ‘I’m not for you. But you’ll never know about Chantal unless you give it a try.’
‘How…?’ He cleared his throat. ‘How would you go about it? If you were me?’
‘I think,’ Ellie said seriously, and thought rapidly at the same time as she controlled an insane desire to laugh, ‘persistence might be the key with Chantal. And I think she might like a good time—you do know she’s…a dancer?’ There was sudden anxiety in Ellie’s eyes.
‘Yes—remember, she told us about the revue she’s in?’
Ellie relaxed although she couldn’t remember if the word ‘topless’ had featured. ‘Of course. But I think she would also appreciate a fairly subtle approach—keep trying, in other words, but don’t be too obvious.’
Dan sat up, looking like a new man. ‘I’ll do it! But just remember, Ellie, if ever you need a friend, give me a call.’
Her gaze softened. ‘Thanks, Dan.’
When he’d left, she put her hand to her mouth and wondered wildly what she’d let him in for, not to mention Chantal. Well, she was pretty sure Chantal could take care of herself but… She heaved a sigh and wondered instead what Brett would make of her meddling.
Then she stood up and tossed her head. Who gave a damn? They were both grown men.
‘So?’
It was Friday again, Brett had been delayed in Sydney and he’d got home just in time for dinner. Simon had had his earlier and was at a rehearsal.
And Ellie had blinked when he’d come in the back door. She’d never seen him so formally dressed, in a dark suit, a grey and white pinstriped shirt, a charcoal and green tie, and he’d taken her breath away.
He’d shed his jacket and tie and sat down at the kitchen table where she’d just started her dinner—home-made lasagne—and asked his one-word question.
‘Uh…hi!’ Ellie said, and after an uncertain start rushed on, ‘I hope you made sure that no woman sitting next to you switched overnight bags.’
He glanced at the bag he’d dropped to the floor wryly. ‘No chance of that. She was eighty if she was a day.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t get too blasé, Brett.’ She bit her lip and wondered where she was coming from—out to make him aware of how attractive he was? Or talking from fright because of the effect he’d had on her and because she hadn’t decided anything?
‘So?’ he said again. ‘How’s it going?’
She breathed a discreet sigh of relief. ‘Fine. Well, incredibly busy.’
He served himself some lasagne. ‘How so?’
She explained, causing him to look at her rather narrowly, then get up and open a bottle of wine.
And her eyes widened as he placed a glass beside her plate and murmured, ‘You look as if you could do with it.’
‘How am I looking?’
He studied her simple apple-green top and cargo shorts, then her face and eyes. ‘A bit stressed out. What you need is some relaxation. Such as Delia’s party tomorrow night.’
Ellie grimaced. ‘I’d forgotten all about it.’
‘I don’t know much about women,’ Brett Spencer said then with a most wicked little glint in his grey eyes, ‘but as an antidote to stress mightn’t all the trappings of a party help?’
‘What exactly do you mean by all the trappings?’
He shrugged. ‘A new dress, a visit to the beauty parlour perhaps, a lazy afternoon—I’ll do all Simon’s transporting—then a night of good food, good music and a bit of fun?’
Ellie closed her eyes and visualized it all even though she knew that the feminist part of her soul should be outraged, and that Brett Spencer knew too much about women for her good.
‘There’ll have to be explanations of why we’re sharing the same house—I don’t think I could cope,’ she said simply.
‘Why don’t you leave all that up to me?’
‘But what…how will you explain it? I mean, then we have to go into whose child Simon is—don’t you see how difficult it all is for me?’
He shrugged. ‘Ellie, this will not be the Spanish Inquisition. We don’t have to say a word on any of those subjects. But it so happens that Delia has a child from an earlier relationship.’
‘Oh!’
He smiled slightly. ‘The world has moved on from the days when that kind of thing was taboo, Ellie.’
‘I know that, but the biggest problem of all,’ she soldiered on, ‘is going out as a couple when nothing is resolved between us. You seem to think it can be on the basis of two kisses, I don’t—’
‘Two very pleasurable kisses.’
‘Maybe.’ She moved restlessly, then squared her shoulders with more spirit than she actually felt.
‘What exactly are you looking for, Ellie?’ he said slowly. ‘A declaration of undying love from me?’
‘Of course not.’
His eyes flickered and she had the sensation of being on dangerous ground, although she didn’t exactly know why. She swallowed and pushed her plate away frustratedly.
‘Look, you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. But if you are still divided on the benefits of marrying me…’ he paused and eyed her until she started to colour ‘…the more we see of each other in different situations, the more it might help you to make an informed judgement.’
‘Why do I get the feeling that’s another twisted bit of logic?’ she murmured and got up to clear the dishes.
But he got up too and detained her with a hand on her wrist. ‘We could always stay at home and carry on where we left off the other night,’ he said softly, and glanced significantly down at her breasts beneath the apple green top.
And his lips twisted into an absent smile as her nipples started to push against the cotton knit.
‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t…do this to me,’ she said with an effort.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘But I haven’t done a thing, Ellie.’
‘You… Let me go, please, Brett,’ she said, even more hotly embarrassed.
‘Will you come to the party?’ He caressed the soft skin on her inner wrist with his fingers.
‘That’s blackmail…’
‘Yep. But look at it this way, we wouldn’t be on our own.’ His eyes danced with sheer devilry.
‘Oh, all right! But I could be—’
‘Don’t say it, I can guess,’ he drawled. ‘Be very annoyed about it?’
‘Well, I could!’ She stopped as the phone rang. ‘That’ll be Simon. He took my mobile so he could ring when the rehearsal was over.’
‘I’ll go and get him,’ Brett said. ‘While you work on your sense of grievance.’ He raised her wrist to his lips and kissed the back of her hand.
CHAPTER SIX
BRETT was already out when Ellie left her bedroom the next morning but there was a note on the fridge for her saying that he’d consulted with Simon and they’d organised their day so she was a free agent.
And despite all her misgivings she took herself out to do all the things he’d recommended.
She had a facial and a manicure, got her hair done, then went to shop for something to wear. Delia had told her—what seemed like an eternity ago now—that the party would be chic casual. And she finally found just the right outfit. The top was in the latest fashion, a deep rose-pink, while the skirt was a light, airy material over a lining, white with rose-pink flowers on it. About an inch of her midriff was bare where the top ended and the skirt began. And she found an elegant pair of matching pink high-heeled sandals.
Then, on a bizarre impulse, she bought herself some new lingerie, silk and lace and light as a feather and including a gossamer nightgown and robe in a pale silvery grey trimmed with ice-coloured lace. She also splurged on new cosmetics, thereby blowing all the hard-earned extra money the week had brought her and some more.
‘Wow!’ Simon stared at her. ‘You look stunning!’
‘Thank you, young man,’ Ellie said seriously. ‘I take that as a great compliment. Have you got everything?’
He was going to spend the night with Martie Webster who lived a few houses away; it was a baby-sitting arrangement Ellie and Martie’s parents had shared for years.
‘Think so. OK, have fun!’ He hugged her and took off, only to come running back for the container of Anzac cookies she’d baked. ‘And don’t do anything I wouldn’t!’ he added with a cheeky grin.
‘Why do I get the feeling there’s a lot of role reversal going on in this house?’ she asked the empty kitchen.
Brett strolled in. ‘Role reversal?’
‘I feel just like James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree’s mother,’ she told him. ‘Mind you, let’s hope I don’t get lost like she did.’
‘I…feel I’ve missed the boat somewhere along the line,’ he said ruefully.
‘Funnily enough, so do I!’ Ellie said with irony. ‘In your case I wouldn’t worry about it.’
He blinked, then shook his head. ‘One thing I do know, you’re looking good enough to eat.’ His gaze dwelt on the satiny skin of her bare shoulder and her slim outline in her new outfit; her shining cloud of curls in their elegant bob, the tiny gold rings she wore in her ears and the perfection of her make-up; her glossy lips…
‘Yes, well—’ Ellie turned away rather hurriedly and picked up her purse ‘—let’s go.’
‘In case…we get a little carried away again?’ he postulated.
She turned back and said tartly, ‘Brett Spencer, sheer pride has rendered me into cast iron!’
He laughed softly. ‘Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of me.’ He picked up his car keys. ‘So, you’re right, let’s go.’
As a conversation killer, his last comment worked well all the way out to Raby Bay, but he put on a favourite classical CD of hers, and she relaxed to the music and the lack of conversation didn’t seem to be a problem. Although it did occur to her that they had similar taste in music.
As he nosed the magenta Range Rover, which Simon so desired to learn to drive, into the kerb beside a brightly lit house, Ellie stared out of the window and suffered another bout of nerves.
But Brett got out and came round to open her door and give her his hand to descend the steep step to the ground. And she walked up the path beside him but stopped abruptly a few paces from the front door.
He turned to her with a raised eyebrow.
‘I won’t know a soul.’
‘Ellie—’ he took her hand ‘—you have me.’ And he dropped a light kiss on her hair. At the same time the front door swung open and Delia called a greeting.
There were about fifty people at Delia and Archie McKinnon’s anniversary party, which turned out to be a very up-market barbecue on their waterfront terrace. And while quite a few of them knew Brett, they were so out of touch with him that her place in his life and her background went completely unremarked.
And she started to enjoy herself. The canapés were excellent, the wine flowed, the background music appealed to her and the conversation was stimulating. Archie McKinnon, a barrister, was very tall and thin and had a brilliant sense of humour and both he and Delia went out of their way to make Ellie feel welcome. Archie, it also turned out, had a passion for flying kites.
Then a late guest arrived; Gemma Arden, Brett’s lawyer. As Ellie’s only contact with Brett for a number of years, she’d had quite a bit to do with Ellie and they’d become friends.
‘This is a pleasant surprise!’ Gemma said warmly. ‘How’s Simon?’
‘Fine, thank you!’
‘And how…’ Gemma looked around and lowered her voice, although Brett was helping Archie at the barbecue ‘…is our mutual friend coping with the rigours of civilization?’
A smile trembled on Ellie’s lips. ‘I don’t think it’s that easy, to be honest. It…may even have given him some strange ideas.’
Gemma’s intelligent eyes glinted a question. ‘Such as?’
Ellie grimaced and sipped some wine, regretting what she’d said.
‘I was at university with Brett,’ Gemma said quietly, ‘and I’m not only his lawyer, we’ve been friends for years, so why don’t you and I have lunch one day, Ellie? I also feel as if you and I are friends but you’re right, this probably isn’t the time or the place to discuss things—if you would like to?’
‘I would,’ Ellie said, making a sudden decision.
As they settled on Monday at twelve noon the main course was served. Reef and beef kebabs, grilled mushrooms, potatoes Idaho, ratatouille and a marvellous array of salads. If that was not enough there was pavlova
, apple pie, fruit salad and ice cream to follow.
So, when couples began to dance and Brett looked a question at her, she was lulled by food, wine and good conversation and she couldn’t resist the music. Also, Gemma had left the party—Ellie was sure she would have felt self-conscious about dancing with Brett in front of Gemma Arden.
The terrace lighting was turned off and only the underwater pool lights were left on, although lights did twinkle up and down the canal.
A jasmine creeper was perfuming the warm, sultry night air, and she felt good about herself—dressed right, not so much a single mother with all the burdens that encompassed, but an intelligent, sometimes witty person able to hold her own with a career others had found interesting. She felt as she hadn’t felt for a long time, she discovered. Yes, she’d been to parties down the long road of single-motherhood, but not often and never as enjoyable as this.
So why not? she wondered as she started to dance with Brett. And realized that some of her new-found confidence had come from his presence. He had, mysteriously, contributed moral support.
Perhaps it was gratitude, perhaps it would have happened anyway—he was great to dance with—but being in his arms gradually unlocked that pure physical delight she’d felt the last time she’d been there until she stumbled suddenly.
He raised an eyebrow at her and stopped dancing.
‘I don’t do this very often,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I must be out of practice. I think I’d like to sit down.’
But he shook his head and drew her closer. ‘You don’t lie very well, Ellie.’ And started to move to the rhythm again.
‘Brett…’ she said shakily. ‘I thought this was what we were staying away from home to avoid?’
He glinted a look down at her that was so nakedly intimate her breath caught in her throat. A look that seemed to strip away her clothes and remove the two of them to some utterly private place where they could indulge their fascination with each other to the limit.
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