‘If you need to go,’ Charlie said, ‘if you don’t have time—’
‘I have time.’ Apple glanced at Charlie’s frowning face as she was led up the stairs.
They reached a landing but Kristy didn’t stop, guiding Apple down a passage and into a vast corner room with large doublehung windows looking over rose bushes and weeping cherries.
‘The master suite,’ Kristy said. ‘And look, Apple. Come, look here, at that robe. Originally it was the adjoining nursery but the previous owners converted it into a wardrobe. I mean, this is a walk-in robe. There’s room for a few lounge chairs, a centre table . . . Your interior designer Anita would have a field day in here, Charlie.’
He didn’t seem to hear her. His gaze was fixed on Apple.
‘It’s lovely,’ Apple said. ‘But—’
‘This room is nice, obviously,’ Charlie said. ‘And that’s a beautiful old fireplace, but is that something you’d use, I mean, something that any person would use, Apple? I just wondered if wood smoke bothered you, and I . . .’ He trailed off, rubbing his chin like he regretted his words.
‘A fireplace is nice,’ Apple tried, but confusion swirled.
‘And out here? The view?’ Charlie said. ‘You can see the gardens over the road. Do you think that’s a nice aspect, or do you think the facade is too close to the street? There’s plenty of yard out the back for a dog, or anything – vegetables, herbs – like you had at your apartment. The yard’s north-facing.’ His smile was sudden, fleeting. ‘I almost forgot, there’s still the original sewing room, down the hall.’
Apple stared at him, overwhelmed. ‘Charlie . . .’
‘I’m sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘Can you give us a minute, Kristy?’
She glanced at her watch. ‘You know the owner wanted an answer by five and we still haven’t seen Firwood Manor on Avoca.’
‘I know. Five minutes.’
‘Of course.’ Kristy strolled out the door.
Charlie turned to face Apple. ‘I apologise,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have messaged out of the blue like that. It’s just . . . It’s a lot of pressure, buying a house . . . and . . . and all I’ve found myself doing, walking through these rooms, is wondering what you’d think.’ He frowned, his laugh hollow. ‘It’s ridiculous, I know.’
Apple’s mind was racing. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you were overseas. Jill said—’
‘I was. I’ve been away.’
They stared at each other, both on the cusp of speaking, neither sure who should share first.
‘Why are you contacting me now?’ Apple said. ‘I haven’t heard from you in months – months and months.’
‘I know, I’ve done my best to stay away. It’s what you seemed to want, and I understand if that’s still the case. You can leave now, of course. You don’t have to endure this, my folly. I shouldn’t have asked, I—’
‘What I wanted?’
‘Pardon?’
‘What do you mean you’ve done your best to stay away like I wanted?’
‘You were with that man, at the auction,’ Charlie began. ‘You left without saying goodbye. Then our charity told me you’d had them make your cheque out to a foreign aid group. I got the impression that I’d upset you . . . Hadn’t I? It seemed clear that you didn’t want me in your life anymore.’
‘How on earth could you ever have upset me?’
Pain flickered across Charlie’s face. ‘When I kissed you, after the croquet. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, how stupid I was to put you in that position, involve you in everything between Heidi and me. I wanted to kick myself. I couldn’t stop thinking how it must have made you feel. I was worried that you must have felt secondary, maybe responsible, implicated in my mess. I disregarded your relationship with Noah, and that alone was selfish and unforgivable. I’d planned to say all this to you after the auction, then you left and . . . I’m sorry, Apple, I’m so sorry.’
Apple stared, her chest tight. ‘I thought you stopped talking to me because I disgusted you. I overheard Juanita at the auction, telling you what happened at Emmaline Gray, with Bernadette Jones’s husband, and all my mistakes.’
Charlie blinked. ‘You thought I listened to that bile?’
‘Why wouldn’t you?’
‘Juanita’s insane.’
‘I thought your parents were friends. Your families are—’
‘Wait. Did you know she almost killed Jill, twice?’
‘What?’
Charlie barely laughed. ‘Emmaline and my mother went to school together. Emmaline often visited when they were in town, and Juanita pushed Jill in the pool when she was three, and knocked her unconscious with a cricket bat another time. She’s not right in the head, Apple – wildly, wildly unstable – and has the emotional intelligence of a teenager. It’s always been that way.’
Apple stared at him.
‘And you think I care about Bernadette Jones? Her husband was a known philanderer. And Juanita’s rant about your so-called plagiarism was plain lunacy. I knew there was no way her version of events was anywhere near the truth.’
There was silence.
‘I can’t believe you thought I never wanted to see you again,’ Apple heard herself say.
‘Why would I think otherwise?’ Charlie frowned, breathing heavily.
‘I’ve felt so ashamed.’ Apple wiped away a sudden tear. ‘That you must have felt like you’d never known me, and didn’t want to anymore. I didn’t have it in me to ask for your trust, to vouch for myself, convince you I was a worthy friend.’
‘A friend?’
‘Charlie, you . . . you were one of the best friends I’ve ever had.’
‘Friend,’ Charlie repeated, shoulders sagging. ‘Apple . . .’ he said, ‘do you know that I still remember what you were wearing that first time I met you? Under the overpass in South Wharf? We joked about it at Myrtle Island, me saying you looked so forlorn, that I felt sorry for you. Do you honestly think that’s why I stopped?’
‘I . . . I don’t know.’
‘It was almost a cliché you looked so beautiful. You were standing there in the blazing sun, skin glowing in the heat, legs long in frayed denim . . . Then we spoke, and you were magnetic. You were self-deprecating and shy, but kind of cool, and funny, and you were worlds away from any woman I’d ever met. I enjoyed the moment, but then I saw you again, and again, and the more I got to know you, the less I felt worthy of you. In fact, not once since meeting you have I felt like I deserve someone like you in my life.’
Apple’s laugh was faint, sad, delighted. ‘Charlie Beauchamp felt unworthy of me?’
‘Yes.’ Charlie’s gaze was steady. ‘And I understand if you only want to be friends, because you deserve someone far better, but I’m back in this city because I can no longer ignore my feelings.’ He swallowed. ‘I know I shouldn’t have asked you here, I know it’s odd, abrupt. But this house, these places I’ve been inspecting for days . . . I see now that there’s only one thing that will ever make any of them feel like my home, and that thing is the person I want to share it with.’
Apple stared at the man across from her, his face familiar, his anguish less so, and her heart went to him. Her body wanted to as well, but fear and uncertainty kept her where she was.
‘How do you see me, Apple? As a friend? Is that all I am to you? If you could just tell me how you feel then I can know, move on—’
‘Any decisions?’ Kristy’s face appeared.
‘No,’ Charlie almost shouted. Kristy disappeared again, and he glanced around. ‘Is this somewhere you could ever live, Apple? Can you imagine . . .’ He glanced down. ‘I’m sorry, this house, home thing, it’s too much. It’s just that I want this. More than anything I want a place that you might consider—’
‘Charlie.’ A male voice came from the door and Charlie glanced back again. A man in a suit stood in the doorway. ‘What, Tim?’
‘I told him you were busy!’ Kristy popped up, looking contrite.
‘Sorry, but there’s been a break-in, at the Florence store.’ Tim was holding out a phone. ‘A robbery. Richard’s on the phone, he needs to talk.’
‘Isn’t there someone else? Where’s the fucking manager?’
‘Lake Como apparently, not answering.’
‘Try Louisa, try Alan.’
‘Your father’s done that. No luck. He’s calling from Dubai International. He’s about to board.’ Tim’s arm was straight, thrusting the phone compellingly towards Charlie.
‘Fuck.’ Charlie strode over and took it. He glanced back at Apple, his face tight. ‘Can I, can we . . . Apple, are you free later?’
‘Yes,’ she said, but didn’t want him to leave.
He muttered something, not looking at Tim or Kristy, and Apple heard leather clap floorboards as he strode away down the stairs.
Tim looked at Apple. ‘Can I take you somewhere?’
Apple sat on the roof garden of the warehouse, watching the city skyline.
‘Oh my God,’ Poppy said down the phone. ‘Charlie’s back? For good?’
‘It seems so,’ Apple said. ‘The meeting felt so abrupt and intense, so much said but still so much left to say, so much more I wanted to say.’
‘It’s bizarre that he asked you over. Just out of the blue.’
‘He was so nervous, uncertain . . . I’ve never seen him like that.’
‘And he wanted your opinion on a house? It’s so strange!’
It was strange, Charlie asking her if she liked it – caring so much about what she thought after all this time, but stranger still was that it felt like a moment she’d been waiting for. Charlie’s angst, his wanting, his needing her there – these were feelings she reciprocated.
Still, she felt scared, couldn’t allow herself to trust that his words meant what she thought they did.
‘And it’s so exasperating that all this time he thought you wanted him to stay away?’
Apple felt weak, the lost time almost too much to bear.
‘Did he look different?’
Apple saw him standing in the grand old house, his face tight with concern.
‘He was a little darker, his hair . . . his mood.’ Apple stared out at the view, barely believing she was going to see him again.
‘But he said he wanted to see you? When?’
Jackson had already gone by the time Apple had returned to the warehouse, and she wished her sister was with her, to share the unease.
She heard the beep of a message and lifted the phone from her ear, heart double-beating as she saw the name.
‘Apple?’ Poppy’s voice came from the earpiece but she didn’t answer, eyes scanning the words. ‘Apple?’
‘Charlie just messaged. He says, “The worst timing this afternoon, I had so much more to say. When can I see you again?”’ She petered out as she read silently ahead.
‘Is that all?’
‘“Tomorrow’s too long away. Tonight I have a long-planned family dinner at Clement Hall. Come?”’
‘What are you going to say?’ Poppy’s voice was high.
‘Yes.’
32
The cab dropped Apple in front of the two pillars that guarded the entry to the Beauchamp home.
Apple hadn’t ever come when it wasn’t for an event, and as she walked towards the house, it felt strange to hear nothing but cicadas chirruping in the garden. She stood in front of the door and rested her hand on the rope of the doorbell before she pulled it, the chime making her shiver as it rang out in the still night air.
She glanced back at the shadowy garden while she waited.
‘Apple!’ Jill swung the door open wide. ‘I was so excited when Charlie said you were joining us I almost peed my pants!’ She hugged her, whispering, ‘Is something going on with you two? He’s all pink-cheeked and fidgety. I’ve never seen him like this.’
Charlie appeared, prising Apple from Jill’s grasp. ‘Sorry about the limpet.’
‘I’m not a limpet.’ Jill swatted him.
‘I like limpets,’ Apple said, meeting Charlie’s gaze. She noticed his flushed cheeks, his eyes taking her in apprehensively.
‘You’re so lucky you don’t have any brothers.’ Jill took Apple’s hand and grinned back at Charlie. ‘I do miss this one, though. Did you know we haven’t had dinner as a family in six months? It’s awful!’
‘That is awful,’ Apple said, feeling Charlie’s angst mingle with her own. She wanted to slip away, for him to save her from the soaring ceilings, take her to the smallest, darkest corner of the house where they could talk openly.
Alison Beauchamp smiled from the head of the table as they arrived in the dining room. ‘Hello, Apple. I apologise for the formality. We usually just slob around the kitchen, but the dining hall makes it feel like an occasion. We haven’t eaten dinner as a family for the better half of a year.’
‘Jill was telling me,’ Apple said, as Charlie guided her to a seat. ‘It’s a very special occasion.’
‘Light the candelabra, Jill.’
‘I hope it’s okay that I’m joining you.’ Apple fiddled with her silverware, glancing at Charlie. ‘I’m sure you’d like some time alone with your children.’
‘Plenty of time for that.’ Alison flapped her napkin over her lap. ‘Jill, where’s Dick?’
‘Getting the roast.’
‘Bonnie’s doing the roast. Dick’s such a meddler.’
Richard Beauchamp strode in, carrying a tray. ‘It hasn’t rested long enough. Bonnie never rests it.’
‘She does so.’ Alison laughed. ‘Sit down, stop fussing.’
‘Hello, Apple.’ Richard set the food down with a smile. ‘Nice to see you again.’
‘Hi, Richard.’
‘Red or white?’
‘I’m fine.’ Apple was unsure if alcohol would calm or exacerbate her nerves.
The food was served and plates passed around. Charlie picked up his cutlery. The cuffs of his shirt were turned up a few folds and Apple observed the skin of his wrist, the mounded bone before his hand, the black leather of the watch against his flesh. He was within arm’s reach.
‘What a day.’ Richard sighed, swirling his wine before taking a draught.
‘Is it all cleaned up, sweetheart, the Florence break-in?’ Alison asked.
‘Yes, yes, Charlie sorted it. Thank you, Charles. Where all the people in charge were, I do not know. There were even false reports of staff being injured. What a kerfuffle.’
‘Everyone’s fine, then?’
‘Yes, yes, no one hurt.’
Apple cleared her throat, searching for something to say. ‘I imagine you’d be familiar with break-ins, owning a jewellery store.’
‘We’re not, actually,’ Richard said. ‘We’ve had very few incidents on home soil, but I think it will be quite different abroad. We’ll have to firm up our international protocols, do our best to discourage it.’ He smiled. ‘Boring, boring, work, work.’
‘Charlie tells us you’ve been going from strength to strength with your design venture, Apple,’ Alison said.
‘She is!’ Jill said. ‘Did he tell you she won the up-and-coming talent award at Fashion Week?’
‘That’s outstanding,’ Alison cooed. ‘Bravo.’
‘Thank you.’ Apple allowed a smile. ‘And I must thank you all for the support, the auction.’
‘Oh, that was nothing,’ Alison said. ‘You’ve done all the work. I bet it hasn’t been easy.’
‘It hasn’t.’
‘What’s news on the house front, Charlie?’ Richard asked. ‘Kristy mentioned that you seemed to be feeling quite uncertain about it all, that you were finding it hard to decide.’
‘I bought the East Melbourne house,’ Charlie said abruptly, setting down his cutlery and glancing at Apple, then Richard.
‘You did?’ Alison sounded excited. ‘The Jefferson mansion? I love that old house. I went to many a dinner there back in the eighties, when the Jeffersons still owned it. Oh, Charlie, that’s spl
endid. Dare we hope you’re putting down roots? Settling on home soil?’
Apple looked at Charlie and he met her gaze, saying as if to her, ‘That’s my plan.’
‘And now that the new stores are settling into a routine, your work overseas will be scaling back,’ Richard said.
‘My thinking too.’ Charlie quickly mopped jus with the last of his meat.
Apple set her cutlery down, nerves defeating her appetite.
‘Seconds?’ Richard asked.
‘Not for me, Dad. I . . . would you excuse us? I was thinking Apple and I might have our dessert in the garden.’
Jill smothered a laugh.
‘Of course, Charles.’ Alison waved her hand. ‘You’re free to eat your sweets wherever you like.’
Apple felt them watch as she and Charlie left. Once they were alone, walking along the corridor, she relaxed just a little.
Charlie was walking at speed and with purpose, as if trying to escape the confines of the house, and his relief was palpable when they finally stepped out onto the terrace. He’d taken her coat from the back of her chair and was now shaking it out, offering it.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, meeting his gaze before looking uneasily over the garden. ‘I’m glad to hear you bought that house.’
‘Yes.’ Charlie started down the stairs onto the lawn. ‘I decided it felt right.’
‘It felt . . . peaceful.’
They made their way across the lawn until Charlie stopped at a bench by the pool.
‘I wanted to start by apologising again,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have asked you to come and see the house this afternoon. I’ve had too much time to think while I was away and today my desperation, well, it reached breaking point.’
‘I enjoyed being shown the house,’ Apple said. ‘I liked that you cared if I liked it.’
Charlie gave a brief, wan smile. ‘I’m glad, but you don’t have to indulge me. I’m indulged all the time. I’m too used to it. You don’t have to come across town at the drop of a hat either. It was presumptuous and needy of me to ask.’
Apple watched him. ‘Why did you ask me there?’
Charlie ran a hand through his hair, searching her face. ‘I know I said this earlier,’ he began, tentatively. ‘But I want to say it again, now that we’re properly alone. Apple, you’re like no woman I’ve ever met.’
The Rules of Backyard Croquet Page 30