Flight of Fantasy. Valerie Parv

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      CHAPTER THREE

      ‘SLADE, darling. I was hoping to catch up with you here.’

      A slight frown creased Slade’s smooth forehead as he rose to greet the woman who swept up to their table. Petite in both height and figure, she was stunningly beautiful with china-doll features under a cap of glossy black hair. The hands she extended ended in perfect oval nails which shone with emerald polish to match her vibrant green eyes.

      Even before Slade made the introductions, Eden recognised her as Dana Drury, one of Tasmania’s best known television personalities and anchor of her own evening current affairs programme.

      ‘Dana, this is Eden Lyle, one of my top researchers,’ he explained, drawing Eden into the circle with an expansive gesture.

      Dana’s cool green gaze rested on Eden for all of ten seconds as she murmured, ‘Pleased to meet you. You’re here to back up Slade for the conference, I suppose.’

      Without waiting for an answer, she returned her attention to Slade. ‘Too bad I didn’t know you were arriving tonight, or I’d have given my camera crew the slip.’ She indicated a table on the far side of the room. The small group around it were watching with obvious interest.

      He lifted his shoulders in an apologetic gesture. ‘Eden and I have business to discuss in any case.’

      Another casual look glanced off Eden before dismissing her again. ‘I can hardly accuse you of being a workaholic when everyone knows I’m just as bad. But you will save me a dance later, won’t you?’

      ‘I’ll join the queue.’

      ‘Save the flattery. I’m a liberated woman, remember?’ All the same, she looked pleased as she returned to her table.

      Slade sat down again and resumed eating his strawberry soufflé. ‘Sorry about the interruption. Dana and I are long-standing friends.’

      Dana’s flirtatious manner had left Eden in no doubt as to what sort of friends they were. She was disturbed to find that the idea bothered her, although there was no reason why it should. ‘I notice you didn’t introduce me as your wife,’ she commented.

      His eyebrows flickered upwards. ‘I didn’t think you’d want me to. Telling Dana would be like taking out an advertisement.’

      ‘But you don’t mind the hotel staff knowing.’ The observation was out before she could stop herself.

      ‘It’s part of their job to be discreet.’ His eyes hardened and the spoon came crashing down into the soufflé dish, making her wince. ‘Damn it, Eden, you’re giving me the third degree like a real wife. What’s going on here?’

      She had begun to ask herself the same thing with no convincing answer. ‘I’m getting into the spirit of the role,’ she excused herself, hoping it was true.

      ‘You’re succeeding brilliantly enough to make me glad we’re not really married,’ he growled.

      Annoyance stiffened her spine. He was the one who wanted this charade, not her. ‘We can end this any time you say,’ she snapped back. ‘I’ll be only too delighted to go on with my holiday free of any attachments.’

      He fixed her with a sharp glare. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Is that what this is all about? You’re hoping to rile me enough to end the whole thing. Well, it won’t work. You gave me your word you’d see it through and I intend to hold you to it.’

      She felt tired suddenly, whether with the long flight or the day’s surprises she couldn’t tell. ‘Then you’ll have to play your part more convincingly. Bob Hamilton will never believe we’re married if you keep snapping at me all the time.’

      ‘On the other hand, it may be even more convincing.’

      Sadness welled up inside her. ‘You’re talking about your parents’ marriage, aren’t you?’

      ‘All three of them,’ he tossed off with apparent insouciance, but she wasn’t convinced.

      ‘My father left us when I was sixteen,’ she admitted softly. ‘It doesn’t have to sour you on the whole institution.’

      Bitterness twisted his mouth into a thin line. ‘As long as you’re happy to live in an institution.’

      Without consulting her, he ordered coffee and liqueurs, making it plain that the subject was closed. Yet it rankled with him, she sensed.

      For her part, she knew only too well the heartache of losing a parent at a young age. She had gone through all the stages of wondering if she was to blame, trying to be a better person, then finally accepting that the fault, if there was one, lay outside herself.

      Now she was losing her mother too, by degrees, which made it even more painful. If anyone had a right to be cynical about relationships, she had. Instead, she had clung to the love her family had shared before her father left them. When she thought about her childhood, it was to focus on the happy moments and try to forget the quarrels between her parents, and the sadness once her mother’s health began to decline.

      She no longer blamed her father for leaving. Peggy had been as much at fault as he had. Never an easy woman to live with, she had perhaps already been suffering the early stages of her illness, unbeknown to her family. Besides, life was too short and precious to hold grudges.

      She lowered her eyes against the cynicism in Slade’s glare and toyed with her liqueur glass. ‘We’re poles apart in our thinking. What made you choose me to convince your friend you’re married?’

      He tossed back his liqueur and set the glass down. ‘It was partly convenience. When you told me where you planned to go for your holiday, I had a word with the travel agent to ensure he made this date available to you.’

      Momentarily she forgot all about not holding grudges and shot him a look laced with venom. ‘You actually manipulated my choice of holiday dates so I’d pick the one which suited you?’

      ‘It suited you as well,’ he pointed out, unperturbed by her hostility.

      ‘What would you have done if I hadn’t been available at all?’

      ‘Probably showed Bob the photos of Katie I brought with me, and tried to convince him she was my daughter, at home with her mother.’

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