The Beach Book Bundle: 3 Novels for Summer Reading: Breathing Lessons, The Alphabet Sisters, Firefly Summer (68 page)

“I suppose so.” She tried to lighten the mood. “That’ll teach you to ask me a question when I’ve had half a bottle of wine. You should have shut me up.”

“I didn’t want to. I was very interested. And I’m sorry, Bett. Being a teenager’s not much fun for anyone, but that must have been hard on you.”

“Yes. Yes it was, actually.”

“And is that why you think Carrie made a play for Matthew? To get you back for something that had happened years before?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You said that Carrie told you she was going to get you back for it one day. And then years later she broke up your engagement and married your fiancé. Do you think it was connected?”

Was he mad? Carrie and Matthew had genuinely fallen in love. Bett had always known that. She’d seen how they were with each other. It had been an almost instant attraction.

She stared at him as she realized what she’d just admitted to herself. Behind his glasses, Richard was assessing her closely. Kindly, but still closely. She decided then she’d definitely had enough of talking about herself.

“No, I don’t think it was connected at all. In fact, I’m sure it wasn’t.” She made a point of picking up the water jug and refilling his glass until it was nearly overflowing. “So, enough about me.” She was pleased with how firm her voice sounded. “This book of yours, Richard. It’s set in the 1850s, did you say?”

Chapter Twenty-one

A
nna glanced at the dashboard clock as she drove through Auburn, the town that marked the start of the Clare Valley. She was making good time. She noticed her hands on the steering wheel. They were actually quite relaxed, not gripping it like it was a lifeline. In Sydney she’d often caught herself driving like that. Then again, in Sydney lots of things had been different. Up there her thinking time had been filled with jagged thoughts of Glenn, memories of rows past and premonitions of arguments they were sure to have in the future, a constant barrage of angry voices and disagreements. But since she’d been in the Valley there had been softer images in her mind. Nicer things to think about.

The musical, for one. It had surprised her how much she was enjoying it. Not just the rehearsals, but all the production side as well. She’d had a very productive trip to Adelaide today, collecting the final props and costumes from different fancy-dress shops around the city. Everything was slowly coming together.

She was even feeling a bit better. Not quite so tense. She’d tried to explain exactly that to the doctor that morning, when she’d called in to the surgery for her follow-up appointment. She’d expected to get the cheerful red-faced older man again, not this serious-faced woman, who looked less than twenty-five and seemed determined to find out the cause of every scratch or bump she’d ever had in her life.

“Look, I’m sure it’s probably just stress,” Anna had said to her. “As your colleague said a few weeks ago, I needed to slow down a bit.”

“I don’t like the sound of that breathlessness. How many weeks now?”

“A month, maybe two.”

“And it’s getting worse?”

“I’ve been stressed,” she repeated. “It’s probably just panic attacks. And things are getting much better at home.” Not just with her sisters, either. She’d even managed to have a normal phone conversation with Glenn in Singapore. Short, but at least neither of them had hung up.

“You’ve never had asthma?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Anna, I’d like you to have a scan. Just to ease all our minds.”

“Is that necessary? It’s just I’ve a lot on, and it means coming down to the city again. I live two hours away.” She gave the young doctor the look that usually stopped other people in their tracks. Not this time.

“I think it’s very necessary, to put my mind at rest as much as yours. That’s why we have all this technology, to show us what’s not there as well as what might be there.” She made several phone calls, while Anna sat fidgeting.

The doctor put down the phone and smiled. “We can get you in at the end of next week. They’ve had a cancellation.”

Anna scribbled the date and the address in her diary. It was two days after the musical. She’d be down in Adelaide anyway returning the costumes. “Fine, thanks.”

As she walked back out to the car she’d taken her mobile from her bag and checked her messages. There was just one, from Lola, asking her to call. There’d been a little incident with Ellen at school today, but it was nothing to worry about.

Anna had called the number immediately, her heart beating faster. “What is it, Lola? Not more trouble?”

“Hello, darling. No, I wouldn’t say it’s trouble exactly.”

How could Lola sound so calm? Amused even? “More bullying? Or no, not another dog?”

“No, a sheep. Bumper the sheep, to be precise.”

“Bumper?”

“Ellen took Bumper to school today. For show-and-tell. I had a phone call half an hour ago from her teacher to ask if I could come and collect him.”

Anna had felt a bubble of laughter start deep inside her. “How did she get him there without anyone seeing? I thought Bett walked her to school this morning.”

“She did, bright and early. Then it seems Ellen walked back to the motel, untied Bumper, and headed back to school. Along the back roads, you’ll be pleased to know.”

“And her teacher didn’t mind?”

“The teacher didn’t know until it was Ellen’s turn to stand up in front of the class. She apparently said, and I quote, that she had to ‘slip outside for a moment and fetch something.’ She’d tethered him to a tree at the end of the playground.” Lola was laughing now, too. “You probably also should know that she’s invited everyone in her class back to the motel for her birthday party. And they’ve all accepted.”

“But it’s not her birthday for months.”

“I don’t think she specified a date. She seemed more interested in outlining what the food and entertainment would be. Prawn cocktails, hide-and-seek in the motel rooms, and rides on Bumper’s back featured quite prominently, I believe.”

Anna had been laughing properly by then. “Oh, Lola, I’m sorry. Can you sort it out for me or do you want me to drive back right now?”

“Sort it out? What’s there to sort out? I’m going to take lessons from her.”

Anna grinned again at the thought of it. Being in the Valley had been so good for Ellen. She had noticed her daughter growing more confident every day. Happier. More relaxed. The way a child should be.

As she drove past more vineyards, getting closer to Clare, Anna started thinking of someone who made
her
feel good and happy and relaxed. Richard. She thought of the late-night glasses of wine and conversations they’d shared. He was so curious, courteous. He had a way of resting his head slightly on one side, like an owl, she’d thought at first, but then it became more endearing than that. He wore glasses, which he adjusted a lot, especially when he was talking passionately about something. He liked cricket, and didn’t like it when she told him how bad the English team were these days. He also disagreed with her opinions on Harold Pinter, Neil Simon, and David Hare, but completely agreed with her in regard to Shakespeare, Beckett, and O’Casey. That had led to her telling him all about her unsuccessful acting career and how it had led to her new very successful voice-over career.

He had turned on the small TV in the room and made her sit with him until one of her ads came on. They hadn’t had to wait long. He sat in silence as the ad played. Afterward he took her hands and kissed her on each cheek. “You were marvelous, darling. Such a combination of pathos and urgency. It was a truly bravura performance.”

The ad was for brake fluid, and she had been the voice of the car. She’d inclined her head, accepting the praise, trying not to laugh. “I do actually think that was one of my best moments.”

“Can I get a video? I’d love to see it again. I’m sure there were some subtleties of your performance I missed.”

She smiled now, remembering the teasing. Fun teasing, not the sneering way Glenn had often spoken about her work. They’d talked for hours that night. He’d told her more about his life in London. He’d talked about the three-year relationship he’d had with a fellow reporter, until she had ended it the year before. It was another reason why he had decided to leave London. And so she had told him about Glenn, and Glenn and Julie, and Glenn and Julie and Singapore.

She felt warm, good, thinking about him. And the more time she spent with him, the sexier she was finding him, too. Not in the confident, macho way she had found Glenn sexy. Richard was more quietly confident, slow burning rather than white heat. She found it even more attractive that he hadn’t made a pass at her. He just listened. Seemed so interested. When it was time to leave he walked her to her own room, five doors down. “Sleep tight,” he’d said, before kissing her on the cheek, gently touching her arm at the same time. She had never felt quite so cared for in her life.

They’d arranged to meet for a glass of wine when she got home tonight. He was taking Lola out to dinner, he’d told her the night before, but expected to be home by eleven. It was half-past ten. She couldn’t wait to see him.

B
ett and Richard stood in the motel carpark.

“Thanks, Richard. That was a lovely night.”

“You’re welcome, Bett. I enjoyed it, too.”

She wondered whether she should invite him in for a glass of wine. Or would he invite her in for a glass of wine? But there was no spark between them, she’d realized. She liked him, enjoyed talking to him, even if she had told him too much. But that was all.

“Well, good night.”

“Good night.”

Inside her room, she sat on the bed and pulled her knees under her chin. Her conversation over dinner kept echoing in her mind.

“It’s been hard. I’ve missed them a lot.”

“Them?”

“Anna and Carrie.”

“I actually meant it must have been terrible when your fiancé left you for your sister.”

She went into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror, not liking what she saw. She wiped her hand across her lips, smearing her lip gloss. She leaned in closer and saw her mascara was already smudged. How many years had she stared at that face, felt cross, felt angry, felt powerless? When was maturity going to kick in? When would she get the ability to deal confidently with everything life sent to her?

She decided to have a shower, needing to stand under the stream of water, wash away some of the troubling thoughts. She turned the shower tap on full blast, wanting to fill the room with steam before she got in. As she went back out to the bedroom area to get her dressing gown, she heard a car pull up next door, the headlights momentarily coming through the thin fabric of the motel curtains. Anna arriving home from her trip to Adelaide, she guessed. Five to eleven, a late enough night for her. Bett undressed, stepped under the streaming water, and shut her eyes.

A
fter carrying the costumes into her room, Anna simply turned off the light again, shut the door after her, and walked five doors down. She knocked lightly, two little taps.

He answered immediately. “Anna, welcome back.” His smile was as warm as his voice.

“Hello, Richard.” She took in every detail of him.

“Anna? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She was more than fine. She was happy, she realized. She was home at the motel. She knew Ellen was safe in Lola’s room. There had been a note on Anna’s bed in Ellen’s best handwriting. “I love you Mummy,” with a picture of Bumper the sheep and the two of them in bright colors. Anna felt light after months of heaviness. She spoke softly, but surely. “Richard, I know I should be coy. And that we should spend more time together first. And have dinner, and go for walks, and get to know each other better. But I don’t want to wait that long. I want to go to bed with you.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.” She faltered slightly.

“Will you at least give me time to make the bed?”

She smiled. “No, I won’t.”

“Never mind, then. We’ll have to manage.” He took her by the hand and drew her inside his room.

B
ett sat on the edge of her bed, wrapped in a towel. Her mind was leaping all over the place. From the dinner with Richard tonight to her conversation with Anna the other night.
“Still avoiding the truth after all these years, Bett?”

She hadn’t been avoiding it. She’d known for years, in fact. It’s just she had chosen not to tell anyone, to let the rift go unhealed between them, for three long years. But why? Because she wanted to keep the rift going? Because she was glad to be away from her sisters?

Yes.

That night of their fight she’d felt a hot high flame of anger that she’d never felt before. In the days and months that followed she had easily found other fuel to keep it burning. Some of it had surprised her. Memories of Anna doing things first—learning to ride a bike, wearing a bra, wearing makeup—and feeling jealous, that she always had to wait her turn. Being equally jealous of Carrie, who had been born with all the right accessories for life success—a mop of blonde curls, a small frame, even a slight lisp as a child, like some modern version of Shirley Temple, without the saccharine sweetness.

She had a sudden urge to talk to Anna about it all. About everything. To apologize for the terrible things she had said about Glenn. She’d had no right. Anna loved him, and Glenn loved Anna. Their marriage was their business. The remorse lasted for a moment, then she started remembering things about Glenn. His arrogance. The way he could be so condescending. It was no good. She couldn’t pretend she liked Glenn. But she could still apologize for saying such mean things about him.

Bett pulled on her dressing gown, slipped outside, and headed to Anna’s door. The lights were out. She knocked gently.

“Anna?” she said softly.

No answer. She must have gone straight to sleep.

Bett looked down the row of rooms and saw a light on in Richard Lawrence’s window. Perhaps she could start with him instead, use him as a trial run. She imagined it. “Hello, Richard. You don’t know me that well, but I need to make another confession, if you don’t mind.”

As she watched, his light went out. She felt a sudden frustration. Why had everyone decided to have an early night? She waited a moment, then turned and went back into her own room, pulled back the sheets of her bed, and climbed in.

I
n his room, Richard traced a finger across Anna’s face in the light from the moon coming through the curtains. “Do you know, I’m not sure if we got that quite right.”

“I’m not too sure either,” Anna answered, just as solemnly. “Perhaps we could try it again?”

“What a great idea.” He leaned down to kiss her again.