Paradise Nights. Kelly Hunter

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СКАЧАТЬ bridge party. I figured I might need a prop.’

      ‘Good move.’ Serena flicked open the folder and began to browse. ‘Aerial cattle mustering in the Northern Territory? Really?’

      He’d forgotten about the job ads he’d shoved in there. ‘It could be fun,’ he said.

      ‘Yeah, for about five minutes.’

      ‘It’s seasonal, Serena. Read on. Five minutes is as long as it takes.’

      ‘I was thinking of it as a more permanent position.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Oh.’ She flicked over to the next page. Pete sighed. This one involved transporting men and supplies to and from oilrigs off the Western Australian coastline and this one was permanent. Doubtless he’d hear her opinion on it too.

      ‘It’s not exactly family-oriented, is it?’ she said after a read through.

      ‘It doesn’t need to be,’ he countered. ‘Does it?’

      ‘I’m just saying that it’s something you might want to think about if you’re looking at a long term position, that’s all.’

      ‘Interesting advice,’ he said mildly. ‘Coming from you.’

      Nico snorted, Serena ignored them both, turning that paper over to stare down at the next one. A fax this time, marked urgent, and not strictly a job advertisement. ‘What’s this?’

      ‘Private.’

      She looked up, her startled gaze clashing with his.

      ‘Sorry.’ She shut the folder and pushed it back towards him. Yours, her actions said, but there was a question in her eyes and on her lips. Knowing Serena, it wouldn’t be long before she voiced it.

      ‘They want you back, don’t they? They’ve asked you to go back and fly rescue helicopters for them again.’

      He didn’t reply. Didn’t think he needed to. It was Nico who broke the silence. ‘Your ten minutes is up, Serena. It’s time to go find Chloe. Please,’ he added.

      ‘For you,’ she told her cousin as she scraped back her chair and stood to leave. ‘Because I love you and I know she’ll come round. You’ll see. And as for you.’ Pete found himself on the receiving end of an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry I pried. Even sorrier about the lack of room service. But I am glad you’re here.’

      Serena found Sam and Chloe in Chloe’s tiny two-bedroom apartment nestled at the back of the hotel grounds. Sam looked up from his seat at the kitchen table but there was no smile for her as she greeted him. Instead he nodded curtly and turned his attention back to the schoolbooks surrounding him. Chloe stood at the kitchen bench chopping salad ingredients into a bowl. A steaming dish of moussaka sat cooling on the stove. Sam still looked mutinous. Chloe still looked upset. The silence pervading the room could have been heard over a full scale military tattoo it was that loud. ‘So. you’re eating over here?’ she said lightly.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘How about joining us for coffee a little later, then?’

      ‘I can’t, Serena.’

      ‘You’re angry with Nico.’

      ‘I’m angry with everyone, including myself,’ said Chloe tightly.

      Wholesale anger. Not good. ‘You need company. Anger loves company.’

      ‘You mean misery.’

      ‘Exactly. So we’ll all come and eat over here with you and Sam, then, shall we?’

      Chloe picked up a knife and began dicing carrots, dumping them into an already overflowing salad bowl. Clearly Chloe hadn’t been paying a whole lot of attention to the amount of salad she actually needed when she’d been cutting it up. Serena looked from the salad to the oversized casserole dish full of fragrant moussaka. ‘How many people were you planning on feeding tonight?’

      Sam looked up briefly and caught her eye, a smile tugging at his lips before he ducked his head and went back to his homework.

      ‘C’mon, Chloe,’ she said quietly. ‘Nico’s beside himself. He thinks he’s hurt you. Both of you.’

      Chloe remained silent, so did Sam.

      ‘He was only trying to help.’

      More silence.

      ‘You think walking a line between what you want and what Sam wants is easy? It damn near rips my cousin in two sometimes, Chloe. He doesn’t deserve your anger.’ Sam slid her another furtive glance from his spot at the table. ‘And he certainly doesn’t deserve yours,’ she told him bluntly. ‘Finished your homework yet?’

      Sam nodded warily. ‘Just now.’

      ‘Perfect,’ she said, turning back to Chloe. ‘Sam’s ready to eat. We’re all ready to eat. And here you are with enough food to feed a dozen people. Invite us over. It’ll make everyone feel better.’

      ‘What do you think, Sam?’ said Chloe faintly. ‘Shall we invite them over here for dinner?’

      Sam shrugged. ‘It’s your house. Your food.’

      ‘Yours too,’ said Chloe.

      Sam looked away, all shut down.

      Chloe looked down at the bench, but not before Serena caught the sheen of tears in her eyes. She reached up and tucked a strand of Chloe’s straight dark hair back behind her ear with gentle fingers. Chloe looked up and shot her a miserable smile. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered.

      ‘Don’t be. Just send Sam to go get Nico and Pete. I’ll stay here and help you set the table. Trust me. It’ll be fun. It’ll work.’ She reached over to the little radio by the kitchen sink and switched it on. ‘We’ll make it work.’

      Pete wasn’t averse to having dinner at Chloe’s place rather than the taverna. Judging by the swiftness with which Nico pushed back his chair and stood to leave, neither was he. ‘What about the gossip?’ Pete asked Nico, surreptitiously eyeing the formidably gossipy Marianne Papadopoulos and co. Gossip being the reason they’d all been meeting at the taverna in full view of everyone in the first place. ‘Will having us to dinner be a problem for Chloe?’

      ‘Do I look like I care?’ said Nico.

      Good point.

      They had to pass the bridge party table on the way out. Pete nodded to them. Nico went one better. Nico stopped.

      ‘I need some flowers,’ he said to Marianne Papadopoulos.

      She pursed her lips, her old eyes shrewd. ‘Happens I have a garden full of them. I’m open to trading suggestions.’

      ‘Two kilos of fish from tomorrow’s catch,’ said Nico, ignoring the amused glances of the other card players at the table. ‘For a fistful of whatever I like from your garden.’

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