Just Not Mine (9 page)

But
the thin woman was talking again, so she stayed a moment longer, and then was sorry she had.

“Well, he must have forgiven you, anyway,”
the woman said. “Since you’re an item off-screen as well, aren’t you? I can’t imagine how you film people can keep track, all that chopping and changing you do, shifting partners.”

“We manage,” Josie said, and this time, she wasn’t smiling, and it was time to go.

“How are you, Mrs. Duncan?” Hugh put in, and he’d moved a step forward, putting himself between her and the women. “And Mrs. … I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten,” he said to the other one.

“Fiona Garber,” she said.
“You know Jocelyn, do you? Your aunt never mentioned that. How is she, by the way? How’s her butcher doing?”

“
She seems pretty happy,” Hugh said. “Having a good time, from what I can tell. She’s talked more to the kids than to me, though.”

“Yeh,” Amelia said. “She asked how we were eating.” She sent Hugh another accusatory glance.

“Well, I suppose you celebrities are constantly running into each other, functions and that,” Mrs. Garber said, Hugh’s aunt having clearly been shoved into the less-interesting pile. “How’s your poor hand faring, Hugh? My Tom told me about it, said you’d be out of the test matches. In Europe, isn’t it? He was sorry to hear it, I’ll tell you. He’s worried the … I think it’s the French, worried that they’ll win. I hardly listen,” she admitted with a chuckle. “He said that without you, there’d be trouble with the—can’t remember again, because I don’t really follow it, to tell you the truth, dear.”

“The scrum?” Hugh asked

“That was it. What should I tell him?”

“Tell him
everybody’s ready to get stuck in, that they all know we’re in for a contest and that the boys will be playing their guts out, like always,” Hugh said. “And that we’ve got some good cover at 7, too, no worries.”

“That’s not what he thinks,” she insisted, and Josie, who had just figured out exactly what it was that Hugh did for a living, had the feeling that he was as used to awkward, prying questions as she was.

“How
do
you two know each other?” It was Mrs. Duncan this time, back to the more fascinating topic, her sharp eyes darting between Hugh and Josie.

“Josie’s a good friend of Charlie and Amelia
’s,” Hugh said. “I only just met her, I’m afraid.”

“Well, you’ll want to watch out,” Mrs. Garber said roguishly. “Not sure you’re safe.
She likes the big, strong ones. Don’t we all know it.”

“
Is that right. Got to be going, sorry,” Hugh said, wheeling his trolley around so quickly that Josie had to grab hers to keep it from getting bashed. “Dinnertime. Come on, you two. See you ladies later.”

“Got any more shopping to do?” he asked her when they had put an aisle between themselves and the inquisitive ladies, the kids trailing behind.

“Not anymore, I don’t,” she said. “I’m done.”

“I’m sure. D’you get that a lot?” He still looked upset, she thought. For himself or for her, she didn’t know.

“Well, yeh. I play an unpopular c
haracter, as you saw.”

“
And you’re not just an actress,” he said. “You’re pretty famous, apparently. I thought you watched TV, Amelia,” he complained to his sister.

“I don’t watch
Courtney Place,”
she said. “Aunt Cora never let me. My friend Holly does, and she said I should. She talks about it
constantly
. But you’re always watching
The Crowd Goes Wild
then anyway,
so I can’t.”

“Not always child-friendly,” Josie clarified for Hugh’s benefit, in case he hadn’t got that point.

“Are you in a show on TV, Josie?” Charlie asked with interest, not following the rest of it. “I didn’t know that.”

“None of us did,” Hugh told him. “And I’m feeling pretty dense
about that just now.”

“Not so dense,” Josie
said. “I could hardly expect to compete with
The Crowd Goes Wild,
and I’m guessing you don’t have much opportunity to look at supermarket magazines, or pay too much attention to the gossip columns in any case. In other words, you’re a man. Am I right?”

“
Well, let’s hope, or I’ve been laboring under a fairly serious delusion for some time now. Are you
in
supermarket magazines and gossip columns?”

“
World-famous in New Zealand,” she said. “That’d be me. A lot smaller fish than you all the same, aren’t I? Because I’ve finally got it. You’re a rugby player. You’re more than that, you’re an All Black. And here I’ve thought …” She began to laugh, she couldn’t help it. “Can’t tell you what all I’ve thought. First on the dole, then builder, then I thought maybe a ship, and the latest was a toss-up between assassin and drug dealer, given the secrecy and all.”

“What secrecy?
” he asked. “A ship? An
assassin?
I figured you knew what I did. It’s no secret. Could hardly be that.”

“You didn’t know that Hugh was a rugby player?” Amelia asked
, because she’d been listening. “Really?”

Josie ignored her, because the penny had dropped.
Her eyes widened. “Hugh … Latimer. Hugh
Latimer.
That’s who you are. That’s why you looked familiar. It’s just that I don’t watch much rugby, and I
never
watch the Blues, because my dad—Well,” she said with a laugh. “Sorry. I grew up in Chiefs country. Anyway, the …” She gestured at his face. “The hair. The beard. I thought it was a disguise, and I was right, wasn’t I? And then Charlie.”

“Charlie what?
How is this about him?”

“Telling me it was a secret,” she explained. “Your job.”

“You say we aren’t meant to talk about it,” Charlie said as Hugh looked at him in astonishment. “You always say.”

“About what?”

“About you. And about being an All Black.”

“I just mean, not go on about it,” Hugh said.
“Or gossip about me. That’s all I meant.”

“Gossip’s talking about it,” Amelia said. “That’s what gossip is, talking about people.”

“All right,” Hugh said. “You can gossip. Geez. It’s not a secret, Charlie. How could it be a secret?”

“But you
said,”
Charlie said. “You
did.”
He was looking distressed now.

“I
didn’t mean—I meant—” Hugh cut himself off. “Not to share too much with strangers.”

Josie glanced at him, realized he was
stuck. She’d have a go, then. “It can be hard, when you do something where lots of people know who you are,” she explained to Charlie. “Sometimes you don’t want to be talked about, things that might be a little bit private. People are interested, even though they shouldn’t be, because people who are famous, people like Hugh, they aren’t really any more exciting than anybody else, are they? I mean,” and she made her smile confiding, cheery, “how interesting is your brother, really?” She heard Hugh’s snort of surprise. “Why should anybody care whether he actually eats Weet-Bix for breakfast, or who he goes on a date with? But some people do all the same, and it might make him feel like his privacy’s been invaded, do you see, if all those strangers knew all about his life like that? Like somebody was watching him all the time.”

“I gue
ss,” Charlie said, looking a little less unhappy, but still puzzled. “But I don’t think Hugh goes on a date with anybody, so I couldn’t tell about that anyway.”

“Yes
, he does,” Amelia said. “Heaps of times. When he stays gone all night? Those are dates.”

“Wait,” Hugh said. “How do you know those are dates? And not heaps of times.
I don’t—” He stopped again, and Josie looked at him and could hardly keep from laughing, he looked so uncomfortable. He didn’t what?

“Because Auntie Cora
said so, of course,” Amelia said. “She said, ‘Oh, love, he’s on a date. He’ll be home soon, I’m sure.’ When it was Saturday and you weren’t at Charlie’s game, or something. Or when you dress up, and cut your
hair,
that’s how we know,” she added. “We’re not
stupid.”

“All right,” Hugh said
. “I’m sorry I missed the game. I had a girlfriend at the time, yeh. She’s not my girlfriend anymore, so you don’t have to worry.”

“You missed t
wo games,” Amelia corrected him. “And you missed mine too, my netball, but it doesn’t matter so much for me. Charlie needs a committed adult male in his life, though, or he’ll—”

“I know,” Hugh groaned. “Or h
e’ll join a gang. I won’t miss again, how’s that? If I do ever go on a date again, by some miraculous chance, I’ll make sure I’m home. Geez. I had no idea you two were watching so closely. And I just decided the no-gossip rule was a good one. Stop talking about me.”

“We’re just talking to Josie,” Charlie said. “Talking to Josie isn’t gossip. She’s not strangers.”

“Well,” Hugh said, “not anymore, she’s not.”

It was Friday night, another weekend with the kids stretching ahead. No Josie-projects to make this one more entertaining, either, because she was gone.

He’d seen her
wheeling her suitcase out her front door when he’d pulled up from his doctor’s visit, had jumped out and got over there fast, but not before she’d humped the clearly heavy thing down her front steps.

“Can I
give you a hand with that?” he asked her. “And, yeh,” he added, laughing at her a little, “a hand is what it’ll be. But not for long, because this cast is coming off in two weeks.”

“
Oh, that’s good news.” She surrendered the suitcase to him, which made him unreasonably happy, then popped the boot of her little car so he could give the case a heave and a shove from his knee, lodge it safely inside before reaching up to slam the boot again.

“Although you’re right,
” she said, watching him, “you can do a lot with one hand. But I’m sure you’ll be happy to have two again.”

“I will. Bloody nuisance, and
then I can start to work on getting fit again.”

She was smiling at him. “Because you’re so shockingly out of condition.”

“Not fit, and definitely not rugby fit,” he said. “Not yet. But I will be, no worries.”

“
Well, I admit, I checked you out online last night,” she said, “and I believe you. It must take some training to be able to go that hard for eighty minutes, and you always do seem to go eighty minutes, don’t you?”

“That’s what it’s all about,” he said. “Going hard
for as long as it takes.”

He saw the faint flush rise, saw her lose the smile, and, even as he felt his blood quicken, was sorry he’d said it, because she
so clearly didn’t want to hear it. She wanted a good neighbor, so he worked on that. “You off for the weekend? Business or pleasure?”

“
Pleasure all the way. Paying a long-overdue visit to my partner in Aussie,” she said, and that was a pretty clear message too.

“
He’s that actor fella I heard about last night?” he asked, doing his best to keep his tone casual.

“
Derek Alverson. He’s doing a film over there. They’ve been on location for weeks now, northern Queensland, deep in the bush, but they’re back in Sydney, got a weekend off at last, and he asked me to join him.”

“He’ll be happy
to see you, I’m sure.”

“Hope so
. And I’d best be off. Oh—” She turned, half-into the car. “How were the vegies?”

“Brilliant.
Healthy. Have a good weekend.” He lifted a hand and watched as she indicated, pulled into the street, and drove away to do it.

So, no. He wouldn’t be looking at her, at the golden skin glowing against that white dress, at the waves of hair falling down her back, at the shape of her showing for a moment when she crouched in front of the candle she’d lit, at her turning to smile at him after she did it, making his heart skip a beat. Because she would be with her partner. Because he would be the one taking her to dinner tonight, the one looking at her in the candlelight. And the one taking her to bed, too, which Hugh wasn’t enjoying thinking about one little bit.

So he
stopped, or he tried to. And asked the kids all the same, after they’d all had their weekly chat with Aunt Cora, and he’d roped them into helping with the washing-up after another reasonably healthy dinner that, he noted somewhat proudly, had been part of the report, “Should we watch Josie’s show, then?”

“Yes
!” Charlie said enthusiastically, but Amelia looked at him doubtfully and said, “Auntie Cora will say we shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, I don’t think it can be too bad,” Hugh sa
id. “It’s on at seven, isn’t it? You may be bored, but I can’t think it’s really all that shocking.”

They
were
bored, the first fifteen minutes, at least he and Charlie were. The story seemed to be all about an ambo who, for some peculiar reason, was being filmed doing what looked like his entire gym workout as he chatted with some other fellas. He was sweating far too much for the amount of effort he was putting in, from Hugh’s point of view, his form was rubbish, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt, which was unhygienic and unrealistic to say the least. A paramedic would’ve known better, he’d have thought. And it was enough that Hugh spent half his own life working out in a gym, he didn’t need to spend what was feeling like the other half watching somebody else do it, badly, on TV.

Two of the guys
looked like getting into a fight now, though. That was more interesting. Some argument about a nurse that the ambo was shagging and another fella fancied.

“Are they going to fight?” Charlie asked. “Why are they so angry? What happened?”

“Fighting over a girl,” Hugh told him. “They both like the same one.”

“Oh. That’s pretty silly, isn’t it? Couldn’t they just ask her who she liked
best?”

“Somehow,” Hugh said, “that never occurs to a bloke when he’s in that situation.”

“Shhh,”
Amelia hissed, and anyway, it looked like it was going to come to blows, and Hugh was just getting interested when it ended with the other fella raising a menacing fist—with the thumb inside, Hugh noticed, just asking to get broken as soon as he landed a good punch. And besides, if you fought in the gym, you were sure to be chucked out, have to find another spot to train. Wouldn’t make any sense at all. You’d go outside, anybody would.

And then the scene faded out, and it was an advert for
some kind of special broom, some woman looking blissful because sweeping was such fun, followed by one for a retirement village, and then the show came back on, and it was Josie.

Except … not.

She was
standing next to a rounded desk area full of computer monitors and paper charts—a nurse’s station in a hospital, Hugh would say, based on his considerable experience. Wearing a white coat with a name embroidered over the breast pocket, but it wasn’t buttoned, and she didn’t look like any doctor he’d ever had the pleasure to visit. She had a fitted black suit on under the coat that made the absolute most of her curves, combined with black stilettos that couldn’t have been practical for somebody who worked on her feet, though Hugh didn’t much care. Her hair was in a businesslike knot, and all she needed was a pair of glasses to become the sexiest librarian any man could ever dream of mussing up.

Until she started to hiss with venom and became intimidating as hell,
that is, although the woman standing opposite her looked more than capable of taking her on.

“I’m not going to allow it,”
her opponent said. She was shorter than Josie, blonde and pretty, a silky terrier to Josie’s greyhound. Dressed in scrubs, a stethoscope around her neck. “That’s my patient.”

“Your
patient?” Josie scoffed. “Let me remind you that I’m
a doctor. You want to swan about and pretend you’re important, try it on an intern. To me, you’re a nurse. You’re here to follow my orders.”

“As the
head nurse,”
the smaller woman said with grim determination, “I’m here to make sure my patients—and, yes, they’re my patients too—are looked after and go home safely, which includes not being harassed by their surgeon.
I’ll be filing my report with the Medical Council today.”

“Harassed?” Josie laughed, and it was nothing like
the merry sound that made Hugh smile just to hear it. This laugh had a mocking edge that made him wince, because she was bloody good at her job. He hated her already, and he knew her. He was beginning to see what those women in the supermarket had been talking about.

“I think if you ask
him,” she said, a cruel smile curving her mouth, “you’ll find he was more than willing. But you wouldn’t know about that, would you? You wouldn’t know about a man dying for it, gagging for it, willing to do anything, give anything to have it. You wouldn’t have a clue, and you know it, and you can’t stand it. Why don’t you tell them, in that report of yours, what this is really about? That you’d go to any lengths to ruin my career, since I took Shane away from you? Not that it was much of a challenge. Want to know how hard it was?” She snapped her fingers in the other woman’s face. “Just … that … easy. He couldn’t wait
to have me. He couldn’t undress me fast enough. He couldn’t forget you fast enough.”

She stepped closer, lowered her voice, and the dark menace
in it made the hairs on Hugh’s arms rise. “Thought you’d got yourself a doctor at last, didn’t you?” she sneered. “Well, he must not have cared much about you after all, because he was begging me, in the end. We did it right here, did he tell you that? On your desk. Think about that while you’re typing up your little reports, keeping your records like the clerk you actually are. He did me hard,
on your desk.”
She leaned closer, and her smile was pure feline as she enunciated every word. “And I … made … him …
howl.”

Hugh
closed his mouth, grabbed for the remote, clicked it, and the screen went dark.

“It’s not
over,”
Amelia protested, reaching for the remote, and Hugh held it up out of her reach.

“It is now,” he said. “Aunt Cora was right. Not appropriate. I’ve just declared Josie’s show off-limits for both of you, d’you hear?”

“What happened?” Charlie asked, looking seriously upset. “I never heard Josie sound like that before.”

“That wasn’t her,” Hugh attempted to explain. “At least, it was, but it was her acting. That’s her part.”

“She’s not very nice, is she?” Charlie asked.

“No,” Hugh agreed, “she’s not.” He clicked the TV on again, switched
the channel hastily to Prime, to
The Crowd Goes Wild,
his lovely safe sport chat show. Mark and Andrew bantering at the desk, anything off-color sure to go straight over the kids’ heads. And then the view had switched to cricket, which was safer yet.

“Boring,”
Amelia sighed. “As usual.”

“
Just you remember,” Hugh cautioned. “Off-limits.” Although he’d be watching, he knew that. In his room at night, safely delayed until after the kids were in bed. And able to fast-forward through the rest of it to Josie’s bits.

It crossed his mind that it was od
d—possibly even a little pervy—to be watching her like that, but then, he’d be watching her along with hundreds of thousands of other Kiwis, most of them women. Most of them probably mums, so how pervy could it be, really? She’d watched him, she’d just told him so. Although he doubted that it’d had the same effect on her as watching her had had on him.