Wife in the Making. Lindsay Armstrong

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      She sat up and pondered this. It explained the laptop Tom had told her about in his bungalow. It probably explained the light on in his bungalow at all hours. So did he still practise journalism? If so, why did he never mention it?

      And before she fell asleep another dilemma raised its head with her. Her physical reaction to Bryn Wallis, and his to her, unless it had been her imagination…

      Julene was up and about and apparently restored to normal when Fleur surfaced a little later than usual the next morning.

      ‘Some night,’ she said chattily as she sat down with a cup of coffee while Fleur ate her breakfast. ‘I have to tell you Eric was most impressed.’

      Fleur opened her mouth to ask what with, but decided to save her breath.

      ‘He can’t remember anyone giving Bryn as good as they got quite like that before,’ Julene went on. ‘Of course, I knew you had to crack eventually, he was being totally unreasonable and impossible but—raspberries and cream! Way to go, kid.’

      Fleur smiled feebly.

      ‘You’re not feeling guilty?’ Julene enquired with a frown. ‘You see, it’ll clear the air tremendously—by the way, all your clothes washed up on the beach. I reckon the shoes are ruined but a bit of bleach will get the stains out of his shirt; not so sure about your dress, though. If you don’t mind me saying so, it wasn’t the most attractive dress, so that could be a good thing—What’s the matter?

      Fleur had stopped eating abruptly. Now she put her hands to her head and started to laugh helplessly. Finally she looked up at Julene with streaming eyes. ‘Does this place ever strike you as a madhouse?’ she asked.

      ‘Well, now,’ Julene started to laugh too, ‘can’t say things are ever boring around Bryn!’

      Fleur sobered. ‘I gather you’re all worried about me? There’s no need. OK, yes, I’m not into men at the moment—’

      ‘They can be bastards,’ Julene broke in sympathetically.

      Fleur smiled mechanically then frowned. ‘Can I ask you something?’

      ‘Fire away, honey!’

      ‘Surely it’s better, after you’ve—’ she shrugged ‘—got your fingers burnt, in a manner of speaking, to…retire for a bit? That’s, well, one thing I’m doing, trying to build another life, I guess.’

      ‘What was your previous life?’ Julene asked curiously.

      ‘Two years studying computer science and statistics after school then receiving an offer from a modelling agency I couldn’t refuse—or so I thought at the time. But it all palled, so,’ she spread her hands palms outward, ‘I decided to get my feet back on the ground.’

      Julene reached for the percolator and poured herself another cup of coffee. She stirred sugar into it. ‘You still need friends, hon,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘And what about your family?’

      Fleur made a curiously helpless little gesture and said wryly, ‘My parents are overseas travelling the world and I do keep in touch with them regularly via e-mail. The same with friends.’

      Julene shrugged. ‘I’d still feel happier if you got some letters or phone calls.’

      Fleur bit her lip and for a moment was tempted to tell Julene why it made her extremely happy to receive no mail, no phone calls and especially no flowers at Clam Cove. But she stifled the urge—it was like living in a fishbowl here anyway.

      So she changed the subject. ‘Julene, who do I remind Bryn of?’

      A flicker of indecision passed through Julene’s eyes then she shrugged. ‘Tom’s mother, but that’s something you should ask Bryn about.’

      Fleur started to say something then changed her mind. ‘Where is he? The place seems to be very quiet.’ She looked around.

      ‘He took Tom across to the mainland for a checkup.’

      ‘Any spots?’

      ‘Nope.’ Julene stood up. ‘He was as bright as a button this morning. Might have been a false alarm but he wanted to be sure. Oh, well, guess I’ll finish clearing up the mess—by the way, the boss has decreed that we are closed tonight even though it’s not a Monday.’ Monday was the one day of the week the restaurant didn’t open.

      ‘Glory be,’ Fleur said with feeling. ‘I’ll give you a hand with the mess.’ Her lips curved into a rueful smile. ‘Since I caused a lot of it.’

      Bryn didn’t arrive home until late afternoon—minus Tom.

      He came into Fleur’s office just as she was preparing to knock off for the day and was massaging the back of her neck. She didn’t hear him come back, didn’t know he was in the office behind her until he said, ‘Tired?’

      She dropped her hand and turned to face him slowly. ‘A little. How…how is Tom?’

      Bryn looked her over thoroughly before replying. If anyone looked tired, he did, she thought in the pause, in his moleskins, check shirt and deck shoes. There seemed to be shadows beneath his eyes and more lines beside his mouth than she remembered, and she flinched inwardly because she didn’t want to notice things like that about this man but didn’t seem able to help herself.

      ‘Tom appears to be fine,’ he said at last. ‘But friends of mine are holidaying on the mainland. They have a couple of kids round about his age and he knows them well, so I left him with them for a couple of days. They’ve both had chickenpox and their mum knows what to look out for in Tom.’

      ‘Oh. Well, I guess he’ll enjoy some company of his own age.’

      Bryn smiled twistedly. ‘So he gave me to understand. Like a drink?’

      Fleur blinked. ‘I…’

      ‘Eric is setting up a barbecue on the beach and Julene is going to cook. We’ll have the pleasure of Clam Cove to ourselves this evening.’

      ‘That sounds…that sounds wonderful,’ Fleur heard herself say with more enthusiasm than she could explain.

      And after a moment Bryn Wallis smiled down at her more genuinely than he ever had before, causing her to catch her breath—and pray he hadn’t noticed.

      It was a wonderful evening. They swam, while the water was smooth, silky and coloured oyster with touches of fire from the setting sun. Eric built a fire and Julene grilled fillets of fish, heated crusty bread in the coals and provided a delicious risotto as well as a fresh salad to go with the fish, plus her homemade tartar sauce. They opened a couple of bottles of wine and sat in deckchairs on the beach—more relaxed than Fleur would have thought possible only a day ago.

      Bryn built up the fire after they’d eaten and the swift darkness of the tropics fell. Then, in a rather orchestrated way, Fleur felt, Julene and Eric yawned simultaneously, claimed they needed an early night in the same breath, and departed for bed.

      She was still looking surprised when Bryn started to laugh softly.

      ‘What СКАЧАТЬ