Licence to Dream (2013)

by Jacobs, Anna

  She looked at him suspiciously.

  ‘I'm a tall man.’

  ‘But it's a waste of money. I mean, a queen size is nearly twice the price of a single. And if it's only for a short time – ’

  ‘I like my comfort. Single beds are designed only for children and anorexic dwarfs, as far as I'm concerned. Tell the furniture people I’ll pay when they deliver it.’

  ‘Well, do what you want, but I'd like to make it plain from the start that I'm not keeping the bed afterwards. I don't need bribing to help a neighbour in distress.’

  ‘Is this the right time to discuss that?’

  He was looking at her as if she was his enemy, not his benefactress, so she glared right back. ‘Just so we get things straight from the start, Elless.’

  He closed his eyes. ‘All right, Ingram. Whatever. I do solemnly promise to take the bed away with me afterwards. I'll need it in my next place anyway. I'll have to find somewhere to rent as soon as I can get about again. It's obvious I won't be able to live in my uncle's shack. Pity it couldn’t have lasted a few months longer, though. It was perfect to be able to live on site and use it as an office.’

  She watched him move his head restlessly and grimace. His face had gone paler again. She went into the furniture shop without any more argument.

  ‘All arranged,’ she said cheerfully when she came out. ‘Let's go home. The furniture will be sent over shortly.’

  ‘One more thing – ’ his voice was tight and harsh.

  She paused with her hand on the ignition key. ‘What?’

  ‘You’re not the only one making conditions. This kindness of yours won't make me raise my offer for your property by one brass razoo.’

  His eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses again, his lips set in that tight, thin line once more. If he hadn’t been hurt, she would have pushed him out of the car there and then. ‘Nor will your present piteous state make me accept your offer to buy my house, Elless. Somerlee is not for sale and never has been. The idea that I'm blackmailing you is just a figment of your – your lurid and over-heated imagination.’

  Tina growled in her throat and they both fell silent.

  Before Ben could say anything else hurtful, Meriel started up the engine. All she could see in the rear view mirror was a pair of sunglasses and a badly bruised forehead. She tried to blink the tears from her eyes but they overflowed and she had to reach up to brush them away. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her moment of weakness.

  ‘I need to buy some groceries.’ She stopped the car and slid out before he could toss another insult at her. She found the idea that he considered her a mercenary opportunist very painful indeed. Not because it was him, she decided, taking a deep breath and holding her head higher. No, it was nothing to do with him personally. It would have been painful whoever it was who held such a low opinion of her, because she prided herself on her integrity.

  When she came back to the car she found Tina graciously allowing him to scratch behind her ears. From the expression of blissful idiocy on the dog's face, the man was no stranger to canine weak spots.

  What stupid weakness had made her offer him her spare bedroom?

  Grandpop’s training, that’s what. He had been a firm believer in people helping one another, at whatever cost to themselves.

  At first it was a relief when Ben didn’t speak, then she started worrying about what he was thinking or whether he was still drifting in and out of consciousness. He was probably thinking that she was crazy doing this, she decided as she turned off the road and bumped along the track to her house.

  That would be the one thing they agreed on. She was absolutely crazy.

  When she stopped, he insisted he could get out of the car without her help but took only a few halting steps towards the house using the walking stick. He was swaying and shaking his head as if to clear it. Dizzy still, obviously.

  Meriel marched up to him and took his free arm in a firm grip. ‘You'd better let me help you, Elless. I don't want you falling over. You've done yourself enough damage for one day.’

  ‘Thanks.’ His voice was no longer slurred but it still sounded as if it were an effort for him to frame the words. ‘I thought I was OK when I was sitting down, but I'm still a bit dizzy when I try to move around.’

  While she fumbled for her key, he sagged against the doorpost and pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head. ‘Phew! It's a lot more comfortable in the shade, isn't it?’

  She turned the key in the lock and tried to step aside to let him in, but somehow, he moved the wrong way and their bodies collided again.

  He chuckled, a soft tired sound, but a chuckle nonetheless.

  ‘What's so funny?’ she demanded, trying to guide him towards the family room.

  ‘You are. Trying not to touch me.’

  ‘I – I – ’ Words stuck in her throat.

  ‘I don't bite, you know, especially when my head is aching like this.’

  She immediately felt guilty for thinking of her own feelings when he was in pain. ‘I'll get you a glass of milk and some painkillers as soon as you're safe on the couch. Come and sit down until the bed arrives.’

  As they reached the couch, he swung her round and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. ‘Thank you, Ingram. You really did save my life today.’

  She realised with a fluttery feeling of shock that he was right. It hadn’t struck her so forcefully before, because she’d been too busy rescuing him and getting him to the hospital. She’d actually saved a life. ‘Oh, I – it's – someone else would have found you. Or you’d have crawled out of the debris eventually.’

  He eased himself down on the couch with a sigh of relief. ‘I don't get any visitors and I wasn't expecting any deliveries, so I’m fairly certain no one else would have found me.’

  ‘Oh. Well, it was Tina who found you, actually,’ she said, trying to turn it into a joke. ‘Don’t forget to buy her that bone.’

  ‘She didn't get me out from under the rubble. You did. At some risk to yourself. And for that I'm extremely grateful.’ Again that tired whisper of a chuckle.

  ‘What are you laughing at now?’ she demanded.

  ‘Well, in some societies, if you save another person's life, you're responsible for them from then onwards.’

  She stiffened. ‘That's merely a primitive superstition!’

  ‘I wouldn't mind you being responsible for me, Ingram,’ he said, turning the full force of his devastating smile on to her. ‘Especially if you have anything to drink in that fridge of yours. I’m afraid I’m thirsty again.’

  She became abruptly aware of her duty as hostess and temporary nurse. ‘I'll get you a glass of milk right away, then you can take the painkillers safely. Or would you rather have a cup of tea?’

  ‘I'm not a tea drinker. And I don't think this is quite the time for strong black coffee or even a beer. Do you?’

  ‘Definitely not.’ She busied herself in the kitchen, wondering how she was going to cope during the next few days.

  He took the glass of milk from her, but shook his head at the offer of biscuits. ‘I'm not hungry. In fact, as soon as that bed arrives, I'll fall into it, if that’s all right with you. I have an overwhelming desire to sleep.’

  The doctor and nurse had both warned her this would be likely, but she studied him through narrowed eyes, in case there were any other symptoms.

  ‘It’s all right. You won't find yourself with a corpse on your hands. I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.’ Not after a phone call from Phil and a nasty argument. He held out the empty glass. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I'll still keep an eye on you. As per instructions.’

  His eyes raked her from head to toe. ‘I'll be quite happy to return the compliment.’

  ‘And I'd be grateful if you'd refrain from personal remarks like that while you're living here. As far as I'm concerned, I'm merely helping a neighbour out. We're not – I mean, you shouldn't – ’ She broke off, her face burning. ‘You know what I m
ean.’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean. We've talked before about this physical attraction between us. Why do you keep trying to deny it?’

  ‘Because that's all it is. A temporary physical attraction and – and quite inexplicable, since your opinion of me is hardly flattering. And also,’ she was nearly yelling by now, ‘because I don't want any involvements, temporary or otherwise!’

  ‘What do you want, then?’

  ‘To be left in peace.’

  Someone hammered on the door and she sighed with relief as she hurried to open it. The same men who had delivered her outdoor furniture were standing there with a mattress held between them.

  ‘Where do you want it, lady?’ She led the way towards the spare bedrooms, relieved that the men wouldn’t have to pass through the family room and see Ben. It took only a few minutes for them to unload the bed and set it up, then they waited expectantly in the doorway.

  ‘Payment on delivery,’ one of them said laconically, holding out an invoice.

  ‘My cheque book’s in the car, darling,’ Ben shouted, proving that he was listening to everything and was ready to take advantage of the situation. ‘Will you go and get it for me?’

  The delivery men grinned broadly and exchanged knowing glances.

  Meriel stormed outside to get the cheque book, hunting through a mess in the rear of the vehicle and muttering about, ‘Untidy slob.

  When she came in, she found all three men in the family room, chatting about the hot spell and how long it might be expected to continue, or if there would be a cool southerly change.

  She slapped the cheque book down in Ben’s hand and went to get a pen, then waited, foot tapping, as he wrote out the cheque. But of course, he had to exchange a few further remarks with the men about how much more comfortable queen sized beds were than ordinary double beds.

  She could feel her cheeks flaming. After all her kindness to him, why was he trying to suggest that they were sharing a bed as well as a house? She had a good mind to throw him out this very minute. Only he could hardly walk, let alone drive, and he had nowhere else to go.

  ‘You did that on purpose, Elless!’ she yelled, as she stormed back inside after seeing the delivery men out.

  ‘Guilty.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I couldn't resist it.’

  ‘They think we're – we're – ’ She was nearly choking with rage.

  ‘They'd think it anyway, whatever we said or did.’ His eyes were dancing with laughter.

  ‘They would not!’ She paused, then realised that he was right. ‘Oh, very well, I suppose they would. But I'm not sharing that bed with you, and I have no intention of doing so! Ever!’ She could see his mouth opening and added savagely, ‘Whatever the inexplicable and unwelcome physical attraction between us.’

  ‘Are you challenging me?’ He was lying back, still chuckling.

  ‘No, I'm not!’ She was almost dancing with fury and if there had been a vase within reach, she would have hurled it at his head.

  ‘Because if you are, I'd like to bet that you'll lose, Ingram. The way we react to one another, it'll be a miracle if nothing happens between us.’

  ‘Not a miracle, but my choice, Elless. And I refuse to allow you to provoke me. You're not thinking clearly because of the concussion.’ She drew in a deep breath, then said more calmly, ’If you'll give me a few minutes, I'll make up your bed, then you can have a rest.’

  ‘Thank you – darling.’

  The calmness vanished. ‘Don't call me that!’

  ‘Dearest? Beloved? Honey-babe? Cuddlepot? Snookums?’

  Her lips twitched in spite of her annoyance.

  ‘That's better,’ he approved. ‘Never lose your temper if you want to win a battle.’

  ‘I'll remember that next time.’

  When she came back, he was lying back, with his head on a cushion, and the bruise on his forehead was looking dark and nasty, surrounded as it was by raw grazed skin. He opened his eyes and she saw that they had completely lost the mischievous look. He was obviously fighting against falling sleep.

  ‘Your bed’s ready.’

  ‘Thank you. Er – where is the bathroom.’

  Only then did she realise that he would have to share her en suite bathroom. ‘Oh no! I forgot. The bathroom at your end of the house is unfinished. You'll have to share mine.’

  ‘If I weren’t so damned tired, I could make something of that, but at this moment all I want is to get to the bathroom, then go to bed for a zillion years. And for that, I need your help. Cry truce?’

  ‘Yes.’

  This time when she helped him up, there were no mischievous glances, no casual brushing of one body against another. Instead, it was a grim endurance feat for him to hobble along to the master bedroom and a few times she heard air hiss suddenly into his mouth, as if his ankle was hurting badly.

  When she got him into the en suite and sitting on the plastic stool she used in the bathroom, he looked longingly at the shower. ‘Would you mind if I washed this grit off?’

  ‘No, of course not. I'll get you a towel and a polythene bag to cover your bandage with.’ Only when she brought them back did she realise he had no clothes to change into.

  He seemed able to read her mind. ‘I can wrap the towel round myself afterwards. I promise not to flaunt my body at you. This will be the quickest shower on record.’ He stood up and held on to the vanity unit, staring at himself in the mirror. ‘I'll have a nice black eye by tomorrow, to match my other bruises.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And there's sand in some very delicate parts of my anatomy.’

  She ignored that remark. ‘Just let me fix a plastic bag over your bandages. There. Can you manage on your own now?’

  ‘Are you offering to scrub my back?’ His voice was a mere whisper of sound.

  ‘No!’

  ‘I thought not. Pity.’

  ‘You said we'd cry truce,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Sorry. So I did. The idea of you scrubbing my back was just too tempting.’ He closed his eyes for a minute, then gave her a genuine smile, with no hint of mockery. ‘I'll manage all right, Ingram, then call you when I've finished. I really do need your help to get around the house today.’ He stood up and groaned. ‘I seem to be hurting everywhere.’

  When he called a few minutes later she knelt to unfasten the plastic bag. As she helped him along the corridor, she was too worried about how white and exhausted he was looking to bother about the damp naked body hobbling along underneath her best and only guest bath towel.

  He lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes. ‘This is probably the most comfortable bed on earth,’ he murmured, speaking so quietly she had to lean forward to catch the words. He opened his blue, blue eyes and smiled up at her as angelically as any choir boy. ‘I really am grateful. For my life and everything.’

  ‘Mmm. So you said. You don't need to keep on saying it.’

  ‘All right. I can see that it embarrasses you. And don't worry. We'll work things out somehow. Aahhh.’ His yawn tailed away and his eyes flickered shut. She remained by the bed for a minute or two, to make sure he really was asleep.

  His breathing deepened and his fingers uncurled. He had the longest eyelashes she had ever seen on a man, and one damp twist of hair had dropped over his forehead, probably the same one her fingers had itched to brush away before. Without thinking, she bent down to kiss his cheek, then gasped and jumped back in shock. What lunatic impulse had made her do that? Thank heavens he was asleep!

  When she turned at the door for a final glance at him, his lips were curved upwards in a half-smile, as if he was enjoying a pleasant dream. She took yet another deep breath and strode out of the room. Get away from him, you fool, she thought, before you do anything else stupid! You’ve already won the dunce’s prize today, that’s for sure.

  Then she remembered that someone had tried to kill or hurt him. At least, that seemed a fairly likely explanation for the sawn-off beams. She shook
her head. No, she must be wrong. Such things didn't happen in sleepy Australian country towns. Only – how else could you explain the beams? Not quite sawn through. That could only have been done deliberately.

  As she went to put away the shopping, she decided to bake a coffee gâteau. And some scones as well. And those flowerbeds were full of weeds. She went to look in every hour, to check that he was all right, but managed to keep herself very busy until it was time for bed.

  Nothing she did would keep her unwanted guest out of her thoughts for more than a few minutes, though. Or get rid of her worries about his safety.

  * * * *

  Bill received a phone call from Terry about a real estate offer.

  ‘My colleagues want you to make an offer to the Elless guy and that city woman who’s bought the block I wanted.’

  ‘Oh? Offers to both of them?’

  ‘Yeah. Offer her fifty thousand more than she paid to sell it quickly. And what’s the market price for Elless’s block? Right. Top that by twenty thousand dollars.’

  ‘You’d better come in and do the paperwork.’

  ‘Go and sound them out first.’

  Bill hesitated, then shrugged. He was puzzled by this, didn’t think either party would sell, even for such a nice profit, but it never hurt to offer people money.

  What was Terry up to, though? Would this housing development actually come together? Even if it did, the other guys had chosen their local partner badly. No one round here had much respect for Terry.

  Bill decided to speak to one or two of his friends on the town council and see what they thought of the prospect of a development in that area. He’d understood the land was to be kept zoned rural.

  * * * *

  Ria was driving back from visiting a client when she noticed there was something wrong with the house where old Johnny Elless used to live. She slowed down, wondering what it was, then realised that part of it had fallen down.

  She’d seen Johnny’s nephew out there once or twice, tinkering with the house, but didn’t know him well enough to call in and ask if he needed help, though she’d had coffee with old Johnny regularly.