A Roast on Sunday (20 page)

“I think he’s adorable,” Maggie declared, kissing Bruno on the head. The cat looked at Jack with what could only be described as triumph.

“Lucky bastard.”

“Now now,” she tutted, “jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

Over the next few hours Maggie helped Jack
tend to a Labrador with an infected tooth, a parrot with flu, a spaniel with a fractured toe and a cat with a hairball issue. The last patient of the day was a poodle who needed her claws clipped.

“
This
is an emergency?”

Jack sighed. “No
, but her owner is apparently one of my biggest donators so,” he switched to a baby sing song voice, “if Pookie here needs her nails to look their best for the family Christmas photos, then that’s what Pookie wookie will get.”

Maggie laughed. She watched as he worked and she felt tenderness towards him. Seeing
him like this in his place of work, tending to these animals with care and affection, showed her more than ever that she had been wrong in her initial judgment of him. She might find him intensely annoying at times, but he was also decent and he was kind.

“Right,” he finished
off the last paw and let it gently back down onto the table. “We’re done.” He smiled warmly at Maggie, “thank you for all your help today.”

“
Hey I pretty much just stood around feeling useless, I don’t think I was much help at all.”

“That’s true, you weren’t.”

“You’re not supposed to agree with me!”

“You didn’t let me finish.
I was going to say that you might not have been much help, but your company was very welcome.”

“That’s ok then. I forgive you.”

“Phew. I don’t think I could have slept tonight otherwise.”

She remembered how he had looked, lounging in her bed and her breath caught in
the back of her throat. She wanted him. She wanted him right then and there, and whenever and wherever she could get him. Christ, she thought, I’m turning into bloody sex obsessed Harper. But she knew that it wasn’t just sex she was after, it was Jack.

“Thank you, again, for today,” he said quietly. “It was nice
to spend some time together.”

“
I enjoyed it.”

He checked his watch. “I’d better get Pookie back to her owner before she sends out a search party.”

“You deliver the animal home as well? My my, Mr Cartwright, that’s quite some service you offer.”

He grinned, “Damn straight. No one has ever had cause to complain about my service
I assure you.”

She groaned. “You
just don’t stop.”

His face was the picture of innocence. “What?”

“Are you doing anything afterwards?”

“Mrs McNeal has
asked me to stay for dinner. I think she’s trying to set me up with her daughter.”

Maggie searched her memory. “
Vicky McNeal?” she asked as a connection was made.

He winced. “That’s the one.”

Maggie suppressed a grin. Vicky McNeal was nice enough, and her cats thought so too, all twenty of them. She wore long skirts and socks with sandals, and the last time a hairdresser had been near her hair she had been wearing a diaper. It was brown and thick and curled past her bottom, and when she sat she had to push it to one side so she didn’t sit on it. She campaigned furiously at council meetings on behalf of the ducks at the lakefront and their rights to swim undisturbed by boats, water-skiers and even swimmers. She behaved eccentrically as only those truly coming from wealth can.

“Well do let me know how that works out,” Maggie said. “
Oh and of course I shall expect an invitation to the wedding.” Then she burst into laughter at the horrified expression on Jack’s face.

“You evil wench,” he said,
and for a moment it looked like he might grab her and kiss her as punishment. Or maybe that was simply in her imagination, as he kept his hands firmly at his sides.

“I
’d better let you go then,” she said, disappointed.

“Thanks again Maggie, for today.”

“No problem.” She went out through the door he was holding open, then remembered why she had come in the first place and turned back. “Wait, I forgot I came here for a reason.”

“Which was?”

“To invite you to our house for Christmas day, that’s if you have no other plans?” His face didn’t light up with gratitude or pleasure as she’d imagined it would.

“
That’s a really nice offer Maggie, really. And I’m touched that you’d want me to share the day with you and your family.” He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, like the next words were hard to say. “But I think that it’s probably not the best idea.”

“
Why not?”

“Well you know, with everything that’s happened between us I just think maybe we should
both take a step backwards. Let things clear a little, just so there’s no confusion.”

“Confusion?”

He looked at her like she was being dense on purpose. “Yes, confusion. Between us. And for Willow and your parents and other people in this town.”

“I’m inviting you to Christmas dinner,
not to make out with me in front of everyone.”

“I know that. I just think it’ll be better if I don’t
come. Less, um, what’s the word –”

“Confusion?” she offered, hands on her hips and head cocked to one side.

“Yes, confusion. I already said that though didn’t I.”

“You did
.”

“You understand
where I’m coming from though, right?”

“Oh I understand
perfectly,” she nodded.

“Good,” he smiled with relief. “I’m not always
the best at explaining what I mean.”

“
What I
understand,
is that you are the most frustrating, fickle and aggravating man I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”

“Fickle?”

“Yes,
fickle
. You know, flighty, indecisive. If you don’t know what it means then look it up in a dictionary.” In her anger she borrowed a turn of phrase from her daughter.

Now it was his turn for
confusion. “Did I miss something?”

“One minute you’
re all over me and I’m practically tripping over you every time I turn around. Then the next minute, conveniently after you’ve got me into bed by the way, you’re backing off, saying we need to ‘take a step backwards’. Am I correct?”

“Now hang on a minute, that
’s not what –”

“Oh you’re a smooth player alright Jack Cartwright. Thrilled by the chase and then bored with the conquest.
Yet you don’t have the guts to tell me you’re no longer interested, oh no, instead you flirt shamelessly with me all day –”

“
Hey you were flirting too -”

“
Then
you tell me you don’t want to confuse everyone.”

“Yes but I just meant after –”

“Well screw you Jack. I should have trusted my first instincts and run a mile when I first saw you.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Maggie.”

“I don’t think so. Enjoy Christmas on your own Jack. Unless, that is, you’ve already got your next conquest all lined up.”

“Now that’s not fair,” he said angrily. “You won’t even let me get a word in edgeways so how can I defend or explain –”

“Yoo hoo!” a voice cooed at the door, startling them both as neither of them had heard the door open. It was Vicky McNeal and she stopped when she saw them. “Phew,” she said, fanning her face. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”

“
Vicky, welcome,” Jack said in a low voice, his eyes never leaving Maggie’s face. “I thought I was returning Pookie to your house?”

“Oh you are,”
Vicky said, laughing nervously. She could tell she had interrupted something. “I was just in town for other business and thought I would pop in and make sure everything had gone ok.”

“Ever
ything went fine, it was a routine nail clipping.”

‘Oh of course, silly me,” she laughed again. “
Only would it be ok if I caught a ride home with you? The car was making a funny noise so I’ve left it at the mechanics.”

“Of course,” Jack said, his eyes finally breaking from Maggie to flash a
tight smile in Vicky’s direction. “I just need a minute with Maggie.”

“No need,” Maggie said firmly, wondering whether
Vicky’s excuse was genuine. Whether it was or wasn’t, it didn’t concern her anymore. “I was just leaving.”

“We need to finish this conversation.”

‘No I think we’ve said everything we need to say.”

“Come on
Maggie, give me a chance to explain what I meant.”

“Like I
said, no need. I understand perfectly.”

“Maggie –”

“Goodbye Jack. Nice to see you again Vicky.”

“Oh I’m sorry, do we know each other?”

Maggie didn’t even bother to answer. The tingle in her shoulders as she walked away told her Jack was watching her, but she wasn’t going to let him see the tears that had sprung up in her eyes. As she climbed into her car she had to squeeze her eyelids tight to stop the tears from falling because she had a horrible suspicion that if she let them start, they might never stop.

Chapter
twenty three

Maggie could see that a summer storm was brewing as she drove home, and it matched her mood perfectly. The sky was ominously grey and the air was quiet and still. She thought of Willow and her mother in the cave and hoped it was as weather proof as she remembered. If Willow got sick from exposure to the elements she would be furious with her mother.

Back home, it didn’t take long for Ray to feel her wrath. He could tell as soon as she entered the house that something had upset her; the grey cloud hovering above her head was his first clue. Unfortunately, Ray had never been known for his sensitivity
with such matters.

“What’s
got up your nose?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she open
ed cupboard doors and banged pots. He watched her for a few minutes, but as far as he could tell she wasn’t actually planning on cooking anything, just banging and clattering to relieve her mood.

“What has he done now?” he sighed.

“Who?”

“You know who, that nice fella you’ve been seeing, Jack.”

She whirled around and he backed away from the fury on her face.

“What are you talking about?” she said. “Jack is
not my ‘fella’, never has been and never will be.”

“But didn’t you and he -?”

“Think carefully before you finish that sentence dad. Do you really want to go there?”

He
shut his mouth. He’d never been good at talking about the romance stuff with Maggie; that was generally Dot’s job and he preferred to stay well out of it. But he hated seeing her upset like this and Dot wasn’t here, so he felt he ought to say something.

“Do you want me to go and have a word
to him?” he asked.

“Of course I don’t!
What possible good could that do?”

He shrugged. “It just sounds like something fathers do, you know, on the telly.”

“Dad, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He sniffed, hurt. “I was only trying to help.”

She softened. “I know.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so stroppy all the time you might not be having this problem?”

She stiffened again. “Stroppy? Me
?
”

He
immediately regretted his choice of words.

“Well you know, sometimes you can
just be a little bit touchy,” he said, inching away from her. “It scares men away. Certainly scaring me right now.”

“Oh well
excuse
me, I’m sorry I’m such a horrible person to live with.”

“
Come now, I didn’t say that.”

“As good as.
Way to kick me when I’m down, really make me feel better about myself.” She went back to taking pots out of the cupboard, finding the matching lids and then shoving them back in.

“Maybe it’s your hormones love. Fred says when his wife went through the ‘change’ it was like living with a murderous demon. He slept with one eye open for months until she finally slapped the butcher for cutting her chops the wrong size and her doctor prescribed her some kind of hormonal patches
. He reckons she’s bearable again.”

“For one thing, I’m far too young to be going through the change, thank you very much. And for another thing, if I had to sleep next to Fred every night I’d probably want to kill him too.”

“There’s no call for that.”

“
Just drop it dad, ok. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“I just want you to be happy love. And if that Jack lad has done something to upset you I want to know about it.
Me and the boys will sort him out for you.”

That brought a smile to Maggie’s face, the image of her father and the other old men fronting up to Jack to
defend her. “Thanks dad,” she put all the pots back into the cupboard, quieter this time. Then she got up off the floor and kissed him on one lined and stubbly cheek.

“I might
go and have a little lay down,” she said. “You’ve got me craving chops now, so I’ll cook us some dinner in an hour or so, ok?”

“
Ok love.”

Maggie had forgotten how much a good cry can sap your energy, so her lay down turned into a nap and when she woke and stretched she was surprised to see the sun had almost set for the night and the walls of her roo
m were bathed in an orange glow from its dying rays. She rolled over and checked the time on the clock beside her bed, just after seven. As tempting as it was to curl back up into a ball and stay there, she knew her father would be getting hungry so she made herself get up. In her ensuite she splashed cold water on her face and was dismayed to see the damage her earlier crying fit had done. She had dark, puffy pillows under her eyes and the whites of her eyes were tinged red.

“Attractive,” she remarked dryly.

She expected her father to be asleep in front of the TV but it was switched off and silent in the dark corner, as no lights were on.

“Dad?” she called up the stairs. No answer came.

“Odd,” she thought, and going through the kitchen she went out the back door and crossed the yard to the shed. No lights were on in there either and there was no sign of him when she opened the door. Growing slightly alarmed she went back to the house and this time she noticed the piece of paper tacked to the fridge.

‘Gone out.
Be back later. Leave my dinner in the oven. Love you.’

“Oh dad,” she sighed, guessing he had gone to talk to Jack despite what she had said earlier. Then a thought occurred to her. “Oh no, surely he didn’t-,” she muttered,
hurrying back outside to the shed. But indeed he had.

“You stupid,
stupid
man,” she stomped her foot crossly.

Her parents shared the one car and
as her mother had taken it with her yesterday Ray had taken the farm bike. She stomped back into the house and set about cooking some dinner, anything to take her mind off what her father was doing. She was worried, both about what he might say to Jack, and also that he might end up in a police cell or, worse, in a ditch on the side of the road.

She ate her dinner alone
out on the porch, fretting about all her family members; her mother and daughter in a cave in the hills and her father loose on the town on a dangerous bike. She hoped her baby girl was ok, as even though Maggie had been to the cave only once before she knew she had no hope in hell of ever finding her way back there if she ever needed to. She decided she was going to insist her mother buy some kind of hand held radio or cellphone with long ranging service. Dot needed to be able to contact them if, god forbid, something ever went wrong on one of her trips. Maggie already knew her mother would be heavily resistant to the idea, but too bad. Maybe she’d go into town tomorrow and see if she could find one. If she gave it to Dot as a Christmas present she’d have no choice but to accept it.

In the distance t
he storm was gathering strength over the hills. Occasionally there was a stark flash of silver streaked across the dark sky and the low rumble of thunder building to a climax. Anticipation fizzed through the air and she could smell that rain wasn’t far away.

Closing
her eyes, Maggie sent up a silent prayer to whoever was listening to keep her family safe then she went back inside to watch some mindless TV for a few hours while she waited for her father to come home. Sometime later she woke with a start at a loud noise, and it took her a moment to realise it had come from the TV. Placing a hand on her chest to still her racing heart she pushed the button on the remote to switch the TV off. Yawning, she walked to the kitchen to check the time; it was just after midnight.

She made her way upstairs and peered into her father’s room but the beds were as empty as they had been that morning. Thunder boomed above the house, sending her sagging against the wall and her heart into a sprint once again.

“Oh dad,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

Back downstairs in the kitchen she made herself a cup of coffee and drank it standing
up against the sink. With the house lights off she could see the storm had finally landed, rain lashing against the windows. She couldn’t shake the ill feeling that was tapping lightly on her shoulders. BOOM! Thunder made her jump again. “That’s it,” she muttered. Pouring the rest of the coffee down the sink she grabbed her keys off the hook and ventured out onto the porch but the driving rain sent her scurrying back inside. In the laundry she found some boots her mother wore while gardening and she pulled them on. The only jacket in sight was Willow’s hated strawberry one and seeing it made Maggie long desperately for her daughter, but she couldn’t worry about her now. She would just have to trust that her mother was looking after her. Maggie needed to find her father. Wearing the jacket she made her way out into the storm again, the boots and jacket little protection against the almost horizontal sheets of water that came sideways at her. In the car she turned the heater on full and headed off carefully down the driveway as visibility was limited to only a metre or so in front of the car, even with the headlights on full.

Maggie drove the route to and from town four times; there and back, there and back. Each time she drove slower and on the last trip she kept the window wound down so she could call her father’s name. Where the
sides of the road dropped off into deep ditches she stopped the car, flicking the hazard lights on, and got out, using the torch she always kept in the glove box for emergencies to scan the ground for any sight of him or his bike. But she saw nothing.

Arriving back home the fourth time in tears she finally admitted to herself that she needed help. It was one thirty in the morning and it seemed the rest of the world was tucked up in bed to ride out the storm. But she couldn’t rest until she had found her father. She hadn’t wanted to alarm anyone but now she had no choice, so one by one she called and roused his friends from their beds. None of them had seen him and all she succeeded in doing was worrying them as much as she was worried.

“What can we do?” they all asked. Trying to hide the fear in her voice she told them there was nothing they could do and that she was already doing everything that could be done.

“I’m sure he’s just had a few drinks and is sleeping it off somewhere,” she
assured them. They didn’t agree with that though. If Ray was to drink with anyone it would be them, and they hadn’t seen him.

Finally, knowing he was her last
resort, she called Jack. It seemed to take a long time for him to answer his phone and she worried that maybe he’d stayed at the O’Neal’s because of the storm but finally his sleepy voice came on the line.

“Hello?”

“Jack.”

“Maggie?”

“Yes it’s me,” she choked back a sob.

“What time is it?”

“It’s late, I mean early. Just after one.”

His voice became more alert as he heard the urgency in her voice.
“What is it, what’s wrong?”

“
Have you seen dad?”

“Ray?
No, not since the night of the carols.”

And with that Maggie
started to cry and babble. “I thought he was coming to see you, because he was upset with you because of me, you see, because I was upset and he wanted to tell you off, even though I told him not to, but when I woke up he was gone so I figured that’s where he went. But if he’s not there and he’s not here and his friends haven’t seen him then where is he? There’s a storm and it’s raining and he’s old and he hasn’t come home.”

“
Maggie, slow down. Your father was coming to see me to tell me off?”

“
That’s what I thought, but if you haven’t seen him where is he? Jack I’m so worried.”

“Maggi
e, take a deep breath, I’m sure he’s fine.”

“
He took the bike Jack, he’s on that stupid old farm bike out in this storm.”

“Ok,” he said.
“Right.” Maggie could hear in his voice that he was thinking, and his voice had become authoritative. She relaxed into it, happy to let him take control because she herself had no clue what to do next.

“Stay put,” Jack said. “I’ll come to you and check the roads, see if there’s any sign of him along there.”

“I already drove along the roads, four times.” Then she exclaimed loudly, “Oh! Why didn’t I think of that before?”

“
Think of what?”

“Sometimes he takes shortcuts across the farms to avoid Geoffrey. He might have done that tonight.” Her voice choked up again. “Oh Jack, what if something bad has happened to him? What if he’s lying out there in the rain and the dark all by himself, hurt?”

“Maggie.” He spoke sternly to snap her out of the deep hole she had been about to descend into. “We’ll find him. I promise.”

She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her.

“My car won’t go on the farm,” she said. “It’ll get bogged down.”

“My truck can do it. Just stay put and I’ll be there shortly.”