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What was he thinking?
Nick wasn’t sure as he filled a glass with water and emptied it in one and then, rather than think, he flicked on the television as he waited for the kettle to boil. But there was no solace there, an armchair psychologist was telling him to face up to feelings, to be honest with himself—only Nick didn’t want to.
‘How many sugars?’ he called down the hall, because that was how it should be, except he remembered before she even answered.
‘Have you got any sweeteners?’
He didn’t, so she settled for sugar then grumbled that it tasted different as he climbed in bed beside her, then admitted, as Nick lay there, that she actually preferred the real thing.
‘It’s bad for you, though,’ Nick said, and he’d forgotten to turn the television off, so he padded back out and aimed the remote like a loaded gun, because honesty was not the best policy here.
It wasn’t just Alison he was worried about hurting here.
It was himself.
CHAPTER TEN (#ulink_8a2788af-7833-51e3-9f2e-e9c84cab0bb4)
SHE could tell it was Tuesday the second she stepped inside. The slow cooker was on and the scent of beef stroganoff filled the house. Her heart was in her mouth as she waited for her mum to appear and say she’d been off sick and where the hell had she been all day, but the house was still and silent. Alison checked her mobile and the house phone and there were no messages, and starving Alison had some stroganoff between two slices of bread and butter then showered and headed straight to bed, to cram in a couple more hours’ sleep, which she managed amazingly well. She was woken at six-thirty by her mum’s knock on the door.
‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Really well,’ Alison said, hiding her guilty blush.
‘Good. I tried not to wake you when I came in. Dinner’s almost ready.’
‘How was work?’ Alison asked as they sat and ate dinner. It was a nice dinner and a nice conversation and they even had a laugh. Alison would miss this and did love her so, it was just the little things that added up, like Nick wanting the crossword and Paul’s garlic bread, that built and built until they became big things and change really was needed, because a row with her mother, hurting her mother, Alison would avoid at all costs.
Little things like Rose insisting she take leftovers for her meal break.
‘I can put some in a container and you can have it on your break,’ Rose offered.
‘Put it in the freezer,’ Alison said. ‘I think I’ll get something from the canteen.’
‘From the vending machine?’ Rose said.
‘They do sandwiches and things and there are nice vol-au-vents.’
‘Why would you pay for something when you can take it in?’ Rose said, pulling out a container and filling it with Tuesday’s beef stroganoff.
‘I just fancy—’
‘You need to be more careful—you’ve got a mortgage to think of now.’
She took the stroganoff.
Still, it was appreciated.
By Nick, who was sick of canteen sandwiches and mushroom vol-au-vents.
To describe a busy week of night shifts as the best week of her life would have once been laughable, but for the first time since the tragedy Alison actually glimpsed normality in upside-down week.
A gorgeous normality where work was busy, a happy normality where she ate dinner with her mum each night and packed leftover dinner for her evening break.
An easy normality, where she didn’t have to lie, well, not outright, and she didn’t have to race home at midnight. All she had to do was be.
Nick would drive her home. More often than not she’d see her mum at the bus stop or pop in just to check that she had gone, and, just to be sure, Alison would leave a little note on the kitchen bench that read something like, Gone shopping, or At dentist, which she’d tear up when she got home at four. Then she’d grab some clothes and race down the street to Nick’s car, to him, to a gorgeous normality, where they shut the blinds on the world and lay in bed and talked and laughed, and made lovely love, or rather, she corrected herself, had torrid, wild sex and slept.
She knew from the start, though, that it couldn’t last.
‘Can I borrow you before you go, Nick?’ Amy clipped in for her day shift at the end of the week, all scented, suited and gorgeous, as an exhausted Alison subtly hung back for her lift.
‘I shouldn’t be long,’ Nick managed as he disappeared into his colleague’s office, but no matter how many times Alison checked the staff roster, and no matter how chatty her colleagues were, by eight-fifteen she was starting to look as if she had no home to go to.
‘Where is Amy?’ Sheila barked from a cubicle, then marched out to the intercom. ‘It’s all very well swapping her shifts, but the occasional appearance on the shop floor would be nice.’ Her voice was a lot sweeter when she pressed the button. ‘Amy, we need you out here.’
‘Is it urgent?’ came Nick’s voice, and Sheila rolled her eyes.
‘Pressing, not urgent.’
‘Let us know if that changes,’ came Nick’s firm reply.
‘Good luck!’ Alison smiled to Sheila as she heaved up her bag and headed for the bus stop, but despite a rapid run she missed it and despite the sun she shivered at the stop, tired and, as Nick’s car pulled up a full twenty minutes later, just a little fed up.
‘Sorry about that.’
It would have been childish not to get in.
‘I was thinking…’ Nick negotiated the early-morning traffic easily, even laughed when she grumbled about rush-hour, telling her she should try driving where he lived in England if she wanted a real rush-hour, and then he got back to thinking. ‘How about we do the Sydney Harbour Bridge climb this weekend?’
‘I can’t even think about bridges and climbing at this hour.’
‘It will be fun.’
Alison could think of other words to describe it and her eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard—had she left on time and taken the bus, she’d already be in bed. ‘What did Amy want?’ It was a childish question to ask perhaps, or perhaps it was the edge to her voice, because Nick glanced over.
‘There was something she needed to discuss.’
Which gave her no answer and the silence wasn’t comfortable as he stopped at the traffic lights and again he looked over at her.
‘Don’t ask me to betray a confidence, Alison, just because we’re…’ His eyes shuttered for a moment, perhaps ruing his near choice of words. ‘Work’s separate,’ Nick said. ‘We both agreed.’
It wasn’t a row, it wasn’t anything she could pin down, yet stupidly she felt like crying, relieved almost when Nick stopped at a corner shop and got out. ‘I need milk.’
And it was a tiny time out, a welcome time out, because by the time he came out of the shop, all gorgeous and yawning, Alison had convinced herself she was tired, that was all, not questioning and jealous, just ratty, premenstrual and coming off a full week of sex and nights.
‘Here.’ He handed her one of two newspapers he had bought, gave her a kiss and then smiled. ‘There’s always a simple solution.’
There just wasn’t to this.
And even if they were talking, even if there hadn’t been a row, things felt different this morning.
Nick had a call from his boss in the UK then another from his mum, both reminding Alison there was a world that was waiting for him to rejoin it, and she was all too aware that next week she’d be back on days, which meant home by midnight, that the slice of freedom she’d carved for them was drawing to a close and it was either lie there and cry or just pretend to be asleep when a long hour later, damp from the shower, his tired body slipped into bed.
‘Alison?’ She heard his voice and didn’t answer, lay with her eyes closed till she didn’t have to pretend any more, didn’t have to pretend that she could do this, but it was a fitful sleep, an uneasy sleep. She woke at two, and looked over at him and he really was exquisite.
Alison didn’t generally prefer blonds—she just preferred Nick.
He must have felt her wake, because he stirred a bit beside her, rolled a little toward her and his legs trapped hers and pulled her in a bit so her face was closer to his chest. She’d been enjoying looking, but now she was enjoying feeling the sleepy body beside hers as she lay awake, exploring the sensation of his long limbs loosely wrapped around hers and the scent of him. There was more than just thought there, because it woke him, this energy, this want that hauled him from slumber, because he slid her up a little till their faces met.
‘Morning.’
‘Morning,’ Alison answered, even if it was mid-afternoon and, better than a kiss, he answered what was still on her mind.
‘Amy was offering me more work.’
‘Overtime?’
‘Extra time,’ Nick said. ‘She was just sounding me out, there’s nothing definite…’
‘Isn’t Cort coming back?’ Alison blinked, curious for other reasons. Cort had taken leave suddenly three months ago, and all the senior staff had been tight-lipped as to why—as Nick was being now.
‘It’s not that.’ He closed his eyes. ‘You can’t say anything.’
‘I wouldn’t.’ But Nick wouldn’t reveal any more. Still, that he was considering staying was what she wanted to hear, but she knew his struggle, because hers was the same. ‘What about Asia?’
‘I can’t do both.’
‘Could you, though?’ Alison asked. ‘Could you take more time off?’
‘They very reluctantly gave me this year.’ It was too much to think about, too much to consider, so he pulled her closer instead and there were forty-seven minutes, give or take, till she had to up and leave, and they both smiled at that pleasurable thought.
Both awake, and even if their minds were racing with new possibilities, their bodies were still pliant and just a little lazy, because they moved in just a little closer, and his legs wrapped around hers a little tighter. The bed was so warm and it felt so nice, and Alison gladly kissed him back, which was so much better than thinking about Asia and careers and sky-high bridges, except the thoughts were in the bed with them too, because it wasn’t fair, Alison thought, as his kiss deepened. It wasn’t bloody fair, his mouth agreed as he pulled her in tighter. A little lazy, a little bit angry, a little bit reckless, or just greedy for a little bit more. When he pulled her even closer, Alison didn’t move back, or away. She could feel his warm, heavy length between her legs, and she wanted him there, and he wanted to be there, because there he stayed a while.
She felt a low tremble in her body as he ran his tip over her moist place, she could feel his kiss deepen even more, feel the tightening of her throat and the flood of desire that bade him on, not consciously, more naturally, just a deepening kiss at both ends of their bodies, and he was just a little way in and her body willed him to go further, beat for him to join her. But sense hauled them back from that dangerous place, Nick rolling over and sheathing himself, Alison dizzy at what they had almost done but grateful for common sense prevailing. Then he was back and, yes, they were both angry, not with the other but at time that wouldn’t pause. With every thrust she counted the days and her hips rose, defiant at the injustice.
She was angry.
And he let her be.
He let her be selfish and taste his mouth and his chest for as long as she wanted, he let her tension rise till she thought she might push him off, because she didn’t know how to feel like this, she didn’t know how far she could go. So he showed her, he pushed her, he waited for her, till she stopped counting the days and berating the past, stopped chasing the future till she was in an empty, silent space that was theirs alone to fill—with her scream and his release, with new sensations, deeper sensations than either had felt before.
And something shifted, something definitely shifted, because a little while later, when the alarm bleeped its warning, for the first time Nick grumbled, pulled her back when she said she had to go. ‘Stay a bit longer,’ Nick said. And she did.
Alison reset the alarm and climbed back in, wondering if in a few weeks he’d do the same for her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#ulink_077d0631-722f-56e9-82a2-66d983728d56)
LIKE Louise Haversham’s toothache, sometimes the agony woke her, but for a while, if she didn’t push or probe, Nick’s nearing departure was kept at a niggle, a gnawing in the background. Two months had never seemed long enough. In fact, by the time she’d met him, a week of that had already passed, by the time she’d decided to just go for it, another week, and since then she’d seen Sydney thorough the eyes of a tourist, had been on whale-watching trips and a jet-board ride, though she’d declined his suggestion for a tandem sky dive! With the keys to the flat soon to be hers, they were in the final countdown and it wasn’t just her feeling it, at every turn she was reminded of the fact. But the hint that Cort’s return might be delayed was her ray of hope on the horizon and Alison was determined to let it shine.
‘These are for you!’ David said. ‘For all of you.’ But he smiled especially at Alison as he handed over a large tin of chocolates and he was a different man indeed from the one she had met just a month ago. ‘Rebecca’s here for her outpatient appointment. We just wanted to stop by and thank everyone.’
‘You’re more than welcome.’ Alison jumped down from her stool and accepted the chocolates. It rarely happened, but when patients came back, it was a treat indeed.
‘How’s the arm?’ Alison asked, and she was thrilled to see Rebecca wiggle all her fingers.
‘I’m doing loads of physio, but I’m getting there.’ She smiled as Nick and Amy came over and she showed them her moving fingers again.
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ David said to Nick. ‘We thought you might be back on your travels.’
‘A couple more weeks yet,’ Nick said, and Amy rolled her eyes.
‘What will we do without you?’
And that niggle was flaring. It was a line Alison was starting to hear far too often when she was around Nick, and it shot an arrow into her heart each and every time she heard it.
‘We really are grateful,’ David said, and Alison looked at his suit and his smile and the new-found confidence in this family and knew what was coming. ‘I got that job, by the way.’
‘Fantastic.’ She could not have been more pleased. ‘That’s marvellous.’ She was delighted for them all.
‘Hello, there!’ Ellie joined them and chatted for a moment. ‘Has it really been a month?’
And it had been and it was, because just a couple of days later Alison had a mortgage and a set of keys.
‘I don’t remember the carpet being this green.’ She walked around with Nick and wondered if she’d bought the same place. ‘Were the walls really brown?’
‘It will look great with furniture.’ Nick was optimistic and then realistic. ‘And a coat of paint.’ He saw her glance up at the grey ceiling and then blow her fringe skywards at the job ahead. ‘I’ll help you. We can go and look at paint this evening and get it done over the next few days.’
‘You’ve got better things to do than paint a flat,’ Alison pointed out.
‘No.’ He pulled her towards him. ‘I like spending time with you—here.’ He pulled out a present from the bag he had been carrying that had had Alison wondering, and she opened it and it was a plant in a bright red pot that he put on the tiny balcony table. ‘That’s the garden sorted.’
Then he pulled out champagne and, of course, he’d forgotten glasses, but as they had that night on the beach they sat on the floor and drank from the bottle. Though it was cool and fizzy, Alison just had a mouthful because, yes, the flat was hers and Nick was here and it was a great day, but somehow she was finding it hard to feel like celebrating, especially when Nick pointed out she should hold off getting her furniture delivered till the flat had been painted. It was practical, sensible of course, but she wanted to move in so badly.
‘We’ll get it done in a week,’ Nick said. ‘Then we’ve still got…’ His voice trailed off, because then all they would have was a week.
And it just got ever closer—the future was fast approaching and it caught up at six p.m. on the Friday. Alison was trying to wrestle damp legs into her stockings as her mum chatted to Nick in the lounge.
There was a seafood restaurant at the Quay Nick wanted to try and even if it was supposed to be gorgeous and the views and food to die for, Alison was exhausted and, frankly, a box of noodles and a DVD would have sufficed.
She peered at her slightly pale reflection and added a dash more blusher. She could hear the laughter from the living room, because even Rose seemed to have loosened up and was getting on with Nick. Everyone did. It just made it harder, that was all.
‘Ready!’ She was wearing high heels and a black dress with a sheer black blouse over it, and her hair was behaving. Nick’s eyes lit up in pleasure as she walked in and Alison’s did the same.
He was in dark trousers and a dark shirt, which accentuated his blondness. She wished her flat was ready and he had picked her up from there!
‘What time’s the table booked for?’ Rose asked.
‘Seven,’ Nick said, ‘so we’d better get a move on.’ He kissed Alison on the cheek and he was clearly thinking along the same lines as she was because as Rose turned her attention to the television, he whispered the real time in her ear. ‘Eight,’ he said, and that made her smile. They were just about to dash off for their supposed seven p.m. booking, but really his flat, when his phone rang. He glanced at it, about to ignore it, then frowned. ‘I’d better get this.’
