The Quilt (43 page)

“Joanne
, would you like a glass of wine?”

Jean was walking back from the restaurant.  A half full
, frosted bottle nestled in one hand and in the other she carried a plate laden with warm breads and amber coloured olive oils.  Without waiting for a reply she poured the crisp delicious liquid into a glass before handing an official looking letter to Paul.

“This arrived this morning.  It appears we have reason to celebrate
.”

He
quickly scanned the contents and smiled crookedly at Joanne.

“At last they are ready to sign off on the restaurant
.”

“I hope I heard that correctly!”

Two men carrying a bin filled with fish appeared from under the covered walkway.  They both smiled at Joanne and the taller man with craggy good looks and the same startling blue eyes as Paul walked forward extending a grimy hand.

“You
must be Joanne.  I have heard much about you.”

He nodded pointedly towards Jean
and winked.  His smile broadened and his eyes crinkled against the glare of the sun.  Despite his years he was an undeniably handsome man, still athletic and bearing an uncanny resemblance to his son.

“It’s about time
,” Sean indicated to the letter on the table. “I assume you will join us this evening to celebrate?”

He looked at Joanne who moved uncomfortably
under the strangely familiar eyes.

“I was planning to catch the ferry back to the city tonight
.”

Paul regarded her from across the table.  His expression was difficult to read and his fingers
rubbed at the stubble that formed a faint shadow across his chin.  Jean watched her son impatiently before breaking the charged silence.

“Of co
urse Joanne you are most welcome to join us.  If you are uncomfortable staying in the vineyard house you are can spend the night with us.”

She
cast a pointed look at Paul who remained motionless his eyes twinkling with amusement and his mouth forming a crooked confident line.  Joanne tilted her chin and glared at him defiantly.

“I would love to join you
this evening.  As long as I am not imposing.”

Chapter 37

“The Stranger Within”

It was late afternoon and soft dapples of shadow fell across the cobbled pathway.  Paul opened the massive wooden door and stood back to allow Joanne to enter the house.  She remained motionless, looking from the impressive entrance to the wide expanse of the lounge.  Like a child, she stared in wonderment at the towering fireplace which was similar in style to that of the restaurant.  She walked to the floor to ceiling glass wall and stared into the depths of the pale blue pool.  It stretched towards the manicured expanse of grass before the view merged with the moody sparkling hues of the sea.  Finally, she walked to the upright piano that sat snugly near the entrance to the formal dining room.  She touched an ivory key and looked at Paul; he was standing in the lacquered kitchen watching her.

“This house has a wonderful feeling to it
.”

He smiled.

“I am very comfortable here.  I’ll show you to your room.”

P
olite and reserved.  She followed him down a broad, slightly impersonal hallway.  The master suite fell off to the right.  A towering expanse of floor to ceiling glass framed the spectacular view and a screened fireplace faced a huge bed that was covered in a tasteful plush silk comforter.  

“I will leave you to settle in
.”

Paul indicated to another open door before turning away and walking back towards the lounge.  The room was sparsely furnished in pleasant neutral shades and
opened up to a small cobbled area.  She pulled back the slider and soaked in the kaleidoscope of colour, the sharp taste of salt and fragrance of frangipani that hung like a cloak in the warm air. 

The haunting sound of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata carried to her in waves on the gentle afternoon breeze. Mesmerized, Joanne stood in the doorway, watching in silence.   His eyes were deep pools of emotion as he sat staring without focus.  His fingers danced over the keys creating music that caressed and teased, lifting, soaring and then diving to the darkest depths.  He had showered and his hair clung to the collar of his crisp white shirt.  His tight blue jeans formed a skin over his thighs as he urged the pedals to give soul to his music. 

“
You look beautiful.”

Paul had turned to face her although he continued to play the lilting melody.  Joanne flushed and unconsciously ran a hand through her damp hair.  

“I love Beethoven.”

Paul
nodded approvingly and slowly unfolded his long legs from under the piano. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look?” 

He smiled mischievously and his eyes travelled from her open sandals to the smooth indent of her throat.

“Not for at least two minutes and I am starting to think you are an
incorrigible flirt, Mr Clarke!”

Joanne shook her head and a secretive smile tugged at the corners of her m
outh. 

The
restaurant buzzed with the muffled sound of conversation.  It was punctuated by Sean’s deep voice and Sid’s strong Italian accent.  A petite dark haired waitress greeted Paul with a silky smile and looked Joanne over with open contempt. 

“We will find
own way to the table, thank you.”

Paul dismissed the waitress with a bleak stare. 
He smiled and winked at Joanne before taking her by the elbow and guiding her to the long rectangular table.  Before taking his seat he pinned Jean with icy eyes that travelled from the empty bottles to the lipstick stained glass that sat drained in front of her.

“
You got here well before us.  No repeats of Christmas, please.”

She giggled and made an
unsuccessful attempt to focus.

“We have ordered already
, I hope you don’t mind?”

Sean
rolled his eyes and made an explanatory hand gesture towards his wife. 

The meal was served on large platters placed in the middle of the table.

“It is good but not as good as Marinella will be
.”

Mari looked pointedly at Jean but was met by a vacant stare.  She s
hook her head and turned to Paul.

“Is the advertising ready?”

“I’ll contact the papers as soon as I get the documentation.  Everything else is just waiting on a date.”

They raised their glasses
.

“You’re not drinking
?”

“I’m
on call.  They are short of crew.”

Paul
smiled apologetically and sipped at the iced water in front of him.  He shifted slightly, adjusting his legs under the table and leaning back against the chair.  His eyes were shaded behind glasses but Joanne felt them briefly settle on her. 

“I don’t
think Jean is going to last much longer.”

The easy conversation paused.
Sean shook his head before signalling for the predatory waitress to bring the account. 

“I’ll fix this up
.” Paul untangled his legs from under the table and followed her to the reception desk. 

Mari’s eyes had
turned to steel as she followed their progress. The waitress passed back the credit card taking a moment too long to release it.

“
Che è disgustoso.” 

Joanne nodded.  Her e
yes narrowed as the young woman hungrily watched Paul return to the table.   Only a very self-assured woman could form any sort of relationship with a man like this.  She met the uncharitable eyes of the waitress and pinned her with a disdainful glare.  The woman dropped her eyes and flushed to scarlet.

As they drove along the twisting road above the vineyard the sun dipped over the horizon exploding on the harbour’s surface in a spectacular display of fire.   The warm evening air felt damp and humid and the smell of jasmine and frangipani lingered outside the house.  Joanne hesitated in the door, enjoying the warm scented fragrance and the soft envelope of wine that wrapped around her contented limbs.

“Are you going to tell m
e about your ‘was’?”

Paul stood motionless.  A frown formed and
he turned away abruptly.

“Mari has been to the market
.” 

He picked up a large plump strawberry and offered it to Joanne.

“Why would you want to know about Leslie?”

“You are
a mystery and I am nosy.”

He smiled.

“I am a mystery?”

Joanne persisted but was not sure why
she felt it necessary to have information about this closed man.

“Was she pretty?”

“Yes,” the blue eyes burnt into hers. “Leslie was very pretty.  At least on the outside.”

“Fuck Paul, don’t you think I am pretty?  Every other man in the King Country thinks I am pretty but my own husband won’t even share a bed with me!”

Leslie stood in front of him.  Her hands were placed f
irmly on her hips and her chin jutted out in defiance.  Surprisingly, there was no smell of alcohol on her breath but her eyes still gleamed with contempt.

“Well
, my darling husband, let me tell you there are other men, real men that do find me attractive.”

“Leslie
, please, it has been a hard long day and I need to clean-up.  I see you have been shopping again.”

Paul looked at the
discarded packaging as he negotiated his way to the kitchen.  If he had hoped to defuse the situation he would be sadly disappointed.

“I hate you!  I didn’t marry a real man
.”

Leslie spat her venom and frustration.

“Then you also didn’t get pregnant to a real man.”

“Did she do that?”

Pau
l dragged himself back and realized his fingers were automatically travelling over the scars that crossed his arms.

“Let’s not spoil a perfectly good day
.”

The charged atmosphere shattered with the sudden insistent cry of a pager.  They both jumped and Paul grinned sheepishly as he read the message on the screen.   He picked up his phone and spoke in an efficient
, non-emotive tone.  He was comfortable again, professional and in control.

“Geoff
.”

“Is anyone
else available?”

“Where to?”

“Yes, at the boat.”

“Saved by the bell.” 

Paul gave her a boyish smile
.

“It is only a tow
, I won’t be very long.”

“I have strawberries and wine.  What more could a woman want?”

He raised his eyebrows.  He was still grinning as he picked up his overalls and walked out of the door.

Joanne sipped at the sweet fruity dessert wine that Paul had poured for her before leaving.  Perhaps I have had enough to drink.  It has certainly been enough to make me uninhibited with my line of questioning.  She pushed the glass across the small table. 

So
ft underwater illumination cast an airy shine under the spotless clear swimming pool water and small moths fluttered as they were helplessly drawn to the patio lights.  The harbour had turned to a black inky mass reaching towards the twinkling lights of the houses on the mainland.  A full moon shone its mellow glow on to small ripples and barely audible was the gentle sound of water playing across the coarse sand in the bay below.

“Want to go for a walk
?”

Jess looked up from a huge luxurious
sheepskin rug that sat on the floor in front of the fire place.  She walked away and returned a few moments later with a comfortably worn leather lead.

“You are a very smart dog
.” Joanne looked at Critter who was watching her with only vague interest, “you not so much.”

The track was steeper than she had imagined.  It was narrow and difficult to navigate in the dull light of the moon.  The bay below was tiny and curved. It nestled between two rocky outcrops with the coarse sand channelling through them and into the deeper water.  At one end was a boatshed.  Its doors hung haphazardly from rusting hinges and its once bright paint chipped sadly away from the worn woodwork.  She ran a hand over the derelict structure.  Summer beach holidays, small children and ice creams.  It made her feel sad that someone’s memories were falling into disrepair.

A small buoy bobbed invitingly off the beach. 
Gingerly Joanne put her feet in the water.  It pulled gently and then washed back again, bathing her skin in a gentle flow. The wine still warmed her body but her mind felt clear.  She stripped off her clothes down to scanty lace panties and began to swim.

“I thought we were short on crew.”

Paul scowled at Chris who had shrunk away.

“Are you saying that I had to interrupt my evening for no reason?”

The younger man shrugged apologetically and continued to pull on his overalls.  Paul made him nervous and for some reason his glare was more unsettling than normal.

“So I do not have to respond to any other call outs tonight?”

Geoff appeared and placed a firm hand on Paul’s shoulder. 

“Go home Paul.  We have this one.”

Joanne reached the buoy and clutched the surface.  It was much further out than it had looked and her leg muscles were protesting by cramping painfully.  She took one hand off the slippery surface and tried to massage away the knots that had formed in her calves.  The beach was barely visible and the lights of the house above confirmed swimming this far had not been wise.   She let her head fall back against the comforting curved surface and concentrated on the tiny pinpricks of stars that broke through the black velvet surface of the sky above.

“Joanne?”

W
hat?  A torch illuminated the beach.  Its ray swung wildly probing the water and then settling on the buoy.

“What the hell are you doing out there?”

She blinked uncertainly at the raised disembodied voice.  What am I doing out here?  What the hell are you doing back?  Paul’s question carried clearly in the night air.

“Are you alright?  You are
totally bloody irresponsible, haven’t you heard about the current in the channel?  Wait there and I will come out.”

Joanne’s hand rose uselessly to cover her breast.

“Stop fussing and go and get a towel. I will swim back in.”

The torch had stilled
and lay casting a tell-tale beam across the sand.   This couldn’t be much more embarrassing. 

Paul
’s face was grim and furious by the time he reached Joanne.  He eyed her angrily, taking a brief moment to regain his breath and she suspected his self-control.