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      Maybe she was right, Lisa conceded unexpectedly for the first time in her life. Here she was, going out to a slap-up dinner in Sydney tonight with her favourite author and was she happy? No! She was already worrying herself sick over how to act and what might or might not happen when Jack brought her home.

      At least her mother was always happy. She’d been happy even after her husband left her.

      I should be happy, Lisa lectured herself as she drove towards Tuggerah. I have a lovely home. A wonderful son. A flourishing business. And a good, if irritating, mother.

      I also shouldn’t be worrying about tonight. I am an adult woman, in control over what happens to me and what does not. If Jack makes a pass, I can handle it. There’s no reason why I can’t relax and enjoy myself.

      The trouble was she always had difficulty relaxing. She seemed condemned to feel slightly uptight about everything, as if nothing was ever quite right, or good enough, or clean enough.

      Lisa pulled a face. She was sick of this. Sick of herself.

      Thank goodness it wasn’t far from her mother’s house to the shopping centre, the sight of Tuggerah ahead soothing her anxiety somewhat. Clothes shopping was one thing she did truly enjoy. She had a good sense of fashion and knew what suited her. When she’d attended the company Christmas parties with Greg he’d always been very proud of her.

      Hopefully, Jack would feel just as proud when he came to pick her up tonight.

      

      ‘You don’t mind, Mum?’ Lisa said, glancing up from where she was sitting at her mother’s messy kitchen table, sipping coffee. The clock on the wall showed ten to one. Finding that special dress had taken Lisa longer than she’d anticipated.

      ‘Mind? Why should I mind? I love having Cory over.’

      ‘Where is he, by the way?’

      ‘Down at the creek, looking for tadpoles.’

      ‘He’s OK by himself down there?’

      ‘He can swim, can’t he? Of course he’s all right. You fuss over him too much, Lisa. Boys needs some space. And some freedom.’

      ‘Maybe. But it’s a dangerous world out there, Mum.’

      ‘The world is whatever you believe it to be. I believe it to be good. And I believe people to be good. Until it’s proven otherwise.’

      Lisa sighed. Her mother was naïve, in her opinion. And out of touch. At the same time, she could see that Cory grew whenever he spent time with her. Not physically. But in maturity and experience. Her mother did allow him to do things she never would.

      ‘It’s good that you’re going out,’ her mother went on. ‘Even if it is just with a girlfriend. So you’re off to Sydney, are you? To a posh dinner in a posh restaurant. That’s great. But watch yourself.’

      Lisa blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Sydney on a Saturday night can be a wild place. Don’t go walking around the streets by yourself.’

      ‘We’re going to a restaurant, Mum. It’s a literary-awards dinner with speeches and things. We won’t be walking around the streets.’

      ‘What are you going to wear?’

      Lisa had decided not to show her mother the dress she’d bought. She wasn’t in the mood for being criticised.

      ‘I have plenty of party dresses in my wardrobe.’

      ‘You know, you might see our favourite author there.’

      ‘And who would that be?’ Lisa said, trying to keep a straight face.

      ‘Nick Freeman, of course. His books always win awards. It says so on the inside flaps. You’ll have to tell me what he looks like. There’s never a picture on the back cover. And not much of a biography. I think he writes under an assumed name.’

      ‘He might be a woman,’ came Lisa’s oddly mischievous comment.

      ‘Oh, no,’ her mother said with a rather knowing smile. ‘The creator of Hal is no woman. My guess is he’s ex-military. He knows much too much about weapons not to have personal experience.’

      ‘Maybe he just does a lot of research,’ Lisa said, whilst thinking to herself that her mother was probably right.

      ‘No. It’s all too real. I sure hope he’s going to write some more Hal Hunter books. I’m addicted to them already. Yet strangely enough, I think I like the first one the best. The Scales of Justice. That’s where you really get to know Hal. You understand why he is the way he is after the way his parents get killed.’

      Lisa frowned, only then making the connection between Jack’s parents being tragically killed and the way Hal’s parents were killed. Not in a car accident. In a terrorist bombing.

      Was that why Jack had become a loner, like Hal? Why he didn’t want to marry and have a family of his own?

      The answers to those questions possibly lay in that first book.

      ‘You know, Mum, I think I’d like to read that one again. You haven’t lent it to any of your friends, have you?’

      ‘Nope. It’s in my bedroom, under the bed. I’ll go get it for you.’

      Her mother had just left when the back screen door was yanked open and Cory charged into the kitchen, holding an old coffee jar full of muddy water.

      The nicely washed and ironed clothes which she’d put on him that morning were also muddy. So was his face. It always pained Lisa to see her good-looking boy looking like a ruffian. But she held her tongue for once.

      ‘Hi there, Mum! Where’s Grandma?’

      ‘Right here, sweetie,’ Lisa’s mother replied as she bustled back into the kitchen, handing Lisa the book before going straight over to Cory. ‘Show me what you’ve got. Heavens! You’ve done well. We’ll put them in the pond later. Hopefully, some of them might turn into frogs. By the way, you’re staying the night,’ she continued before Lisa could tell Cory herself. ‘Your mum’s going out to some fancy dinner in Sydney tonight.’

      ‘Wow! Cool.’

      Lisa wasn’t sure if he meant it was cool she was going to Sydney, or cool that he was staying the night.

      ‘Don’t let him stay up too late,’ she said.

      Grandmother and grandson exchanged a conspiratorial glance. They were as thick as thieves, those two.

      ‘It’s Saturday night,’ her mother said. ‘Cory doesn’t have to go to school tomorrow. He can sleep in in the morning. You’re not going to be here to pick him up till lunch-time, I’ll bet. It’ll be you having the late night.’

      Lisa didn’t plan on being that late. But she didn’t want to argue the point, for fear of making a slip-up with her story.

      ‘Oh, СКАЧАТЬ