by Dale, Lindy
‘Harassment.’
Her chest felt tight. She couldn’t breathe. The drab walls were closing in around her. Had she heard correctly? Why, that was ridiculous. Sitting up, Flora focussed on Luke’s words. If anyone should be making harassment claims it should be her. Mrs Barker had made her life a misery all year.
‘You’re kidding?’
Luke looked down at the notes on his desk and frowned. ‘Mrs Barker says that you’ve been bullying and victimising her son …. Brooke, is it?’ His mouth twitched. ‘Interesting name,’ he continued, ‘Can’t say I’ve ever heard of a boy called Brooke.’
He flicked through his notes again and tapped his pen on the corner of the ink blotter, deep in thought. Flora waited. What else could she do? ‘She claims that you bully him into completing work and that you refuse to praise him, even when he does the right thing. She also says that he receives extreme punishment for minor infringements.’
Flora was outraged. Edwina Barker had painted her some sort of character from a Roald Dahl book, with a strap and a punishment box. How dare she. ‘I have notes of all our meetings and the behaviour file has records of all Brooke’s ‘misdemeanours’, Luke. I’ve got copies of the behaviour management techniques I’ve tried with her consent, to attempt to curb the problem. I haven’t bullied him in any way. He gets no discipline at home and thinks he can get away with any sort of behaviour at all. His idea of getting attention from the other children is to bite and punch them.’
Angry, she exhaled; it was so much better getting it off her chest. She could feel her sense of innate calm returning. She knew she was right. All she had to do was make Luke understand. And he was on her side, surely?
‘Every time Mrs Barker has made waves, I’ve been straight in there trying to smooth it over. I can’t count the number of strategies I’ve implemented on the ‘advice’ of Brooke’s psychologist, none of which have made a scrap of difference to his behaviour, I might add,’ Flora argued. It didn’t matter what she did, that woman would never be happy.
‘What about the claim that you deliberately hold him back from reading at the top level?’
‘I’ve tested him. On a number of occasions. I asked Carmel to test him as well to make sure I wasn’t missing anything and you know how meticulous she is. But every test has come out with the same result. He’s not reading at the top level and to move him up to it would be wrong and very bad for his confidence as a reader.’ Flora sat back, secure now that she had nothing to fear. She had done all she could for Brooke. But Luke raised his eyebrows. He seemed to be mulling over her statement, making a decision.
‘Well, it sounds like you’ve done everything in your power, Flora, so we’ll have to find a way to convince Mrs Barker of that before she takes this any further. If you can give me all of your documentation, I’ll have a look and decide where we should go from here. Rest assured, I’m on your team.’
Flora’s shoulders relaxed. Her heart rate resumed its usual steady pace. ‘Thank you, Luke.’ It was nice to hear that. Miriam would have had her packed up and out the door at the first sniff of trouble, especially where Edwina Barker was concerned. They were old friends from way back.
Luke stood and gathered the papers on his desk. ‘That’s about it for now, I’ll keep you posted on any developments,’ he said and, looking uncomfortable, raced to the door.
Flora reached for the handle. Luke did too. The door creaked open and their hands touched. Longingly, she looked at his fingertips as they curled around hers. Slowly, the lids of her eyes closed. The memories came flooding back. He was so close; she could smell the musky scent of his cologne. Oh God, the seering pleasure.
Recovering herself, she swallowed. ‘I guess I’ll be going then,’ she added, her voice small, wishing she could force her foot to make the first step out the door. His lack of attention, on a personal level, over the past week, made it clear he wanted no more of her. She had merely been a weekend diversion.
‘Yes, he mumbled, avoiding her eyes. ‘I’ll schedule the meeting.’
‘Um….Ok.’
On the doorknob, Flora’s hand tingled. Luke’s head was bent as they both stared, too scared to look at each other and too afraid to move their hands away.
This is silly, she thought. All she had to do was take her hand and leave the room. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything. She just stood there, like a fool in the half open doorway, looking at Luke’s hand. Beneath the hem of her skirt, she could feel her knees trembling in anticipation, or nervousness, she wasn’t sure which.
‘Flora…’ Luke’s eyes were boring into hers. His head leant closer and he moved his hand from the doorknob to her shoulder. God, he was going to kiss her. Right in the middle of the hallway.
‘Yes?’ She tried to stand still but her knees were knocking out the national anthem against her hem.
The movement was enough to bring him to his senses. He stepped back, changing his mind. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll sort it out, it will be alright.’
And in three hasty steps he had retreated to the safety of his desk and was sitting behind it, shuffling papers about. She was dismissed.
Mystified, Flora closed his door and walked down the hall to her classroom. What was with him? He was more changeable than the weather. Why did he behave so strange all the time? Why would he look at her like he wanted to rip her clothes off one minute, and then ignore her the next? There had to be more to it. Could he be hiding something?
Chapter 18
After school, Flora walked the five hundred and twelve steps to the deli, ducking under the low branches of the jacarandas now in full bloom and considering the state of her life. Since Luke had entered it, things hadn’t been running as smooth as she liked. Everything was up in the air and she wasn’t sure whether she would hit the ground running when she came down. It was a new and unusual feeling to have such uncertainty clouding her way. But she wasn’t adverse to it, she decided. It was, in fact, rather exhilarating not knowing what was going to happen every minute of the day. Well, sometimes.
Despite Luke’s best intentions he had not made Mrs Barker disappear back into her box and The Barracuda seemed to think that because she had made a formal complaint it was now her right to stalk and berate Flora at every opportunity. Yet, for some strange reason Flora wasn’t overly perturbed. She had come to a realisation.
So what if she lost her job. She’d get another. She’d always wanted to travel but had been frightened of losing the stability her life offered. Well, not any more. It was time for a change.
Coming to a halt in front of the Flight Centre shop front, Flora glanced in the window at colourful posters advertising adventures in the far corners of the world. She could feel the twinkle of recognition in her eye, the glow of a new certainty. She would travel. There must be plenty of guided tours she could take. Nice and ordered, just the way she liked. No chance of becoming stranded in a country where English was a second language. Who knew, she might even try backpacking. She’d never been one for sharing a living space with total strangers, she’d shirked away from share houses and College halls during her university days but if others could survive communal living, she supposed she could. She might even make some new friends. Without even stopping to check the doorhandle for germs, she went into the shop, picked out a few brochures and sliding them into her satchel, she set back off towards the deli. Yes. That was what she would do. She would use some of her savings and travel – meet new people, get a life. God damn it!
Satisfied with her decision, Flora continued on down the street, strategising in her head as she went. The first change was going to have to be in her behaviour. She was not going to be the meek and mild, push-me-over-and-use-me-for-a-doormat Flora any more. If someone hurt her feelings she wasn’t going to suck it up, she was going to speak her mind. The night at Miso had given her a glimpse of how it felt and now she wanted more. If Mrs Barker accused her, she was going to defend her position. She was going to stand up for her beliefs, not l
et others lord it over her. This was about personal growth. And as for Luke? Well, if the mountain wouldn’t come to her, then, bugger it all, she would go to the mountain. Because one thing in this whole mess was for certain. The feeling between them was mutual. Strolling through the deli door, she waved a cheerful hello in the direction of old Joe, the owner, and stopped to squeeze an orange from the display in the window.
By the time she entered the fruit and vegie isle, shopping basket tucked over the crook of her arm, she was smiling to herself. Her new path was cemented. This was, without doubt, some sort of pivotal moment, and she welcomed it with open arms. Normally, the one who shied away from direct advances and any sort of behaviour that would be considered outrageous, Flora was going to take the initiative. Luke’s refusal to acknowledge her all but demanded it. But what would she do? How would she get Luke to admit his feelings? She couldn’t confront him, he’d run all the way back to Queensland.
Turning the corner and stopping at the avocados, Flora picked one up and sniffed. Her face broke into a grin. Louise and PJ got what they wanted all the time, well, as far as men were concerned. Apparently, it was all to do with feminine wiles. Maybe she should try a bit of that? She could invite Luke over on the pretext of discussing the messy situation she found herself in. He’d never refuse to comfort her. He was too much of a gentleman to say no. Then…. when she got him alone…… ahhh. Now she was almost skipping through the bakery section…. an evening with Luke to make him see what he was missing… in a ladylike way of course. The cunningness of her plan was simply astounding.
Pulling her mobile from the pocket of her satchel, Flora flipped it open and began to text.
Need 2 talk. Dinner… Indian. Wine… Red. No strings… My place?
Alright, so the ‘no strings’ bit was stretching the truth but Luke would never turn up if he thought she was going to pounce on him over dessert and given her new spirit of adventure anything was possible.
A beeped reply flashed onto the screen.
Who is this?
Flora.
For what seemed like hours, but was only seconds, Flora watched the screen of her phone. It was incredible how one man could make vacillation such a major thing. He was a Jekyll and Hyde.
7 ok?
At last. For a second there, Flora had thought he was going to reject her and she wasn’t ready for that yet.
Yes, she replied.
Cool.
Reaching the checkout, Flora stopped at the shelf containing shampoos and hairdyes. Carefully, she picked up each box and read the labels until she found exactly what she required.
Cool is the last thing you’re going to be, she thought naughtily, as she put the box into her basket. Between the beef vindaloo she intended to serve and a killer new hair colour, Luke McDermott was going to be so hot for her he’d wish he’d stayed at home with a nice safe pasta. Curry wasn’t going to be the only hot thing in her house that night.
****
The buzzer to the security gate sounded at seven pm sharp.
Bugger, oh bugger, bugger, bugger, Flora thought as she raced through the bedroom while shoving a foot into a shoe, to press the intercom.
‘Hello?’
It wasn’t like her to be so disorganised. She was always ready at least half an hour in advance of any guests arriving. She liked to look fresh and relaxed to greet them. But not tonight. Tonight she was in a tizz. Glasses on, glasses off, she had re-done her new hair three times but had settled on piling it on top of her head with wispy strands framing her face and no glasses. Even those hadn’t sat right and she’d ended up trimming them with the nail scissors to even up the sides. She hoped it looked sexy. She didn’t want to look like a try hard. She didn’t want to look like a slut either.
‘It’s me.’
Flora swooned. Even over the speaker, Luke’s voice was divine. Then she stopped. If this devious little plan of hers was to work, she had to focus. Oh God, she thought. She’d never done anything like this before. Could she pull it off? Taking a deep, calming breath, she put her lips to the speaker.
‘Push the gate and come through,’ she said, flicking the control that automated the gate. ‘It’s round the pool, in the corner, number five.’ That sounded casual enough, she decided, opening the front door and waiting as Luke came striding across the courtyard towards her, waving a greeting.
‘Hello again,’ she exhaled, girlishly. The sight of him wearing plain denims and a black fitted shirt was enough to take her breath away. She had to focus.
‘Flora.’ His mouth tilted into a friendly smile. ‘Wow. Your hair.’
‘Do you like it?’
Luke gazed at her, his dark eyes taking in the transformation from honey to angel blonde. She could see him analysing the strands that fell around her cheeks, the softness piled on atop of her head. He didn’t need to say anything.
‘You look like a mermaid,’ he whispered. ‘It really suits you.’
Flora blushed. Seeing him waiting there with flowers and wine, she felt more awkward than ever and perhaps a little guilty. She was luring the man into her home with the intention of throwing herself at him. Thank heavens she was wearing matching underwear. It was the only certainty she could count on that night.
‘That’s a fabulous looking tree,’ Luke said, suddenly pointing to the huge frangipani that shaded the courtyard. ‘It must be very old.’
Flora nodded, pleased that Luke was sounding a little out of his depth too. If she hadn’t known better she would have sworn he was nervous. ‘Yes, it’s one of the reasons I bought the flat. I love frangipani.’
Luke shuffled his feet in the doorway.
‘So it’s Indian tonight?’ he remarked, as he handed her a bottle of red and grazed her cheek with his lips. Flora put a hand to the spot. A peculiar tingling sensation lingered beneath it.
‘Only take away. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all. Every takeaway in the area is on first name basis with me already.’
‘Good, I’ll order it and then we can chat while we wait. Make yourself at home.’
Closing the door behind him as he walked in, she motioned to the sofa and went to make the call. Anything so she didn’t have to face him yet. If the plan was to work she had to be ready. Calm and ready.
But Luke didn’t sit. Instead, he wandered around the small oyster pink flat. His memory from the only other time he’d been there was scant to say the least and he hadn’t been concentrating on the décor as he’d seduced her. He paused to take in the plump patterned cushions on the sofa. It was how he’d imagined Flora’s house to be – delicate, floral and homely – everything in its place. The walls and sideboard were covered in photos and prints, mostly of Flora’s family and he stood in front of them, taking in the likenesses. There was one, who could be none other than Flora’s mother. She was striking and Flora her carbon copy, except her eyes were more doll like in shape than the tilted cat eyes of her mother. The woman smiled down at the baby on her knee that must have been a young Flora. Picking up the gilt edged frame, he considered the picture. Flora was such a reserved girl. She was delicate, wraithlike almost and soft like the petals on a flower. Like her name. And that hair. She would be even harder to resist now. He couldn’t understand why he found himself so drawn to her in the first place. She was nothing like the girls he usually found himself attracted to. Putting the frame back on the sideboard, he continued wandering.
The bedroom, a cosy room off the lounge, smelt of a bowl of frangipani on the dressing table and resting for a moment in the doorway he breathed in the intoxicating scent. It was so like Flora. As was the rest of the room. The duvet, straight from a Laura Ashley catalogue, was floral and checked. The lace curtains at the window cast wispy patterns on the walls. It was clean and tidy but op-shop decorating none the less. Shabby chic, just like its owner.
‘So you won’t be needing the grand tour, then,’ Flora remarked as she came up behind him. ‘The food’s on the way. Would you lik
e a glass of wine?’
Luke ogled the large iron bed. It was obvious what he’d really like.
‘That’d be great, thanks,’ he said, and grateful that she had erased the thought from his mind, he followed her back to the living room.
****
Two bottles of merlot, one lamb Rogan Josh and a Beef Vindaloo later, Flora concluded that Luke might be starting to relax. They’d discussed everything except the reason she had invited him to her flat and it made her secure, knowing that no matter what he said or did during the day there was something between them. It was a something they were yet to define but it existed. It wasn’t in her mind.
His shoes, discarded earlier, lay in a comfortable heap on the cream shagpile rug and he had undone the next button of his shirt, revealing the top of his chest. His headrest against the back of the sofa and his arm was slung along it. He looked completely at home. As she walked behind him, busying herself by taking the plates to the kitchen, Flora noticed Luke’s eyes had closed. She longed to reach out and touch the soft skin on those lids, to place her lips against his cheek and soothe his weariness. From the doorway to the kitchen, she watched him as he slid his tongue over his lips.
‘Are you tired?’ she asked, as she returned to sit down beside him. There was no way she was going to suggest they call it a night. Not when he was doing that tongue on the lip thing. It was only beginning.
He jumped, startled. ‘Sorry, I must have been dozing off. That was rude of me. You know, I don’t think this whole different time zone is into my system. I’m sure my brain thinks it’s midnight.’ He straightened himself, looking very professional, yet oblivious to the fact that he had just knocked his wine glass over. ‘Now, what did you want to talk to me about? Are you still worried about Mrs Barker?’
Flora stared. She couldn’t look away. A deep red stain was spreading across his shirt causing it to cling to his chest, emphasising the nipple ring she had been trying so hard not to notice during dinner.