Anybody But Him (8 page)

She hadn't found it funny at all, unlike Blair and his mates.

‘You know, you still haven't told me what Una is doing in Sydney, and why you've swapped houses with her.'

She sighed. ‘Una wanted to get away from the demands of living near our parents, and being the one to worry about them. She felt it was my turn to do my bit, and her turn to only have to think about herself for a while.'

‘Is she writing?'

‘Yes, that's another reason we swapped. She wanted peace and quiet to write her latest book. Mind you, I had an email from her last night. So much for peace and quiet – she said she's joined a writing group and is having a great time talking about writing with people who understand.'

‘Good for her. That's something she doesn't have around here. I think that's why we became friends, actually. With her writing and my painting, we were both doing work that people had a hard time accepting as real jobs. It gave us something in common.'

‘Yes, I suppose so.' She studied the food on her plate. Just how friendly were they? She didn't like the thought of her sister becoming involved with him. That was too much to contemplate.

‘So, I can see how Una's benefiting from the exchange, but what do you get out of it?'

Frowning, she said, ‘I'm not supposed to get anything out of it. This is me paying back Una for what I owe her. I benefit by being able to leave again, and that day can't come soon enough for me.'

He gave her a silent, thoughtful look, then got to his feet and began clearing the table. ‘Breakfast was great, thanks. I'd better get on with what I came here to do.'

‘Yes.' She stood up too. ‘Leave that. I'll do it.'

‘Thanks.' He headed to the door, opened it, then looked back. ‘Nicki?'

‘Nicola.'

‘Do you fancy going for a drink one night?'

‘A drink?' she said, frowning as if it was an unfamiliar concept.

‘Yes,' he said. ‘You know, a beverage. A libation. Wet stuff in a glass. It's meant to make you feel good.'

‘Oh, I'm sorry, I can't. I'll be busy that night.'

‘I didn't say which night.'

‘No, I know.' She shrugged as she carried the leftover food to the fridge.

He nodded and left the kitchen. Which was what she'd wanted, but … No, there was no
but
. It
was
what she wanted.

She bent to pick up Dammit's dish–Una's dish–and took it to the sink. Through the half of the window that wasn't boarded up she watched Dammit chase a woodpigeon out of the garden as if he owned the place. It was kind of cute, actually, the way he did that.

God, what was she thinking? She didn't like dogs, and she didn't like Blair Morrissey, so she could just stop finding anything cute about either one of them.

A real estate agent's For Sale board stood outside the house next door to her parents' house – not the one belonging to Mrs Glebe, keeper of the key, but the other side. She locked the car door and turned in time to see her father appear from the side gate of the house in question. He glanced up and down the street, looking very suspicious, before beckoning to her.

She hurried up the driveway. ‘What are you doing there, Dad? Is this place empty?'

‘Yes, yes. Come through to the back garden.' He held the gate open for her, and she slipped through.

‘It's still private property though, Dad, even if it's empty.'

He made a dismissive
pfft
sound through his teeth. ‘Who's to know that we're here?'

‘Well, the neighbours on the other side, for a start.'

He ignored her, and led her to the patio at the rear of the house. ‘What do you think of those, then?'

She looked in the direction of his pointing finger. ‘Of what?'

‘You could do with some of them on your driveway instead of the gravel. Messy stuff, gravel.'

‘You mean the pavers?' She stared, first at the pavers, then at her father. ‘It's Una's
driveway, not mine, but what are you saying? You're not suggesting that I take
these
pavers, are you? Steal them?'

‘It's not stealing. There's nobody living here.'

Oh, boy. ‘But they do belong to someone. They're selling them with the house, and when people come to look at the house, they'll expect to see the patio where it's supposed to be. I'd rather have to walk through mud to get to the house than steal someone else's pavers.'

‘Now you're just being picky.' He jammed his hands on his hips and gazed around the garden. ‘What about that birdbath, then?'

‘What about it?' She took him by the arm and tugged him out of the gate. ‘Dad, you can't do this. Let's go and have a cup of tea inside.'

‘I don't want one. Your mother's in there with Mrs Glebe and they're doing
women's
stuff.' He shuddered. ‘I'll be in my shed.'

Nicola sighed and watched him head down his driveway. She wasn't so sure that she wanted to go into the house now, either. What was going on with her dad? He used to know the difference between right and wrong, but now they seemed to be mixed up in his mind. She pushed open the front door and stopped. Her mum was standing in front of the hall mirror, a towel around her shoulders and her normally grey hair a fluorescent orange. Another woman – Mrs Glebe, Nicola presumed – stood beside her.

‘Mum? What have you done?'

‘Mrs Glebe did it.'

The other woman turned to Nicola with a horrified expression. ‘She asked me to. I followed the instructions on the box. I didn't know it was going to turn out like this, honestly.'

‘Where's the box?'

Mrs Glebe rushed off to fetch it, and Nicola sighed because the only course of action
was one she didn't want to take. But it had to be done. ‘I'll take you to the hairdresser.'

‘Bless you, love, Maureen's salon closed years ago.'

‘I know it did, but it's reopened now with a new owner.'

‘Has it? I had no idea.'

‘If she's any good, she'll be able to do something about the colour.'

Her mum turned back to the mirror. ‘You know, I'm getting used to it now. I might keep it.'

‘No,' Nicola said quickly. ‘I really don't think you should.'

Mrs Glebe had returned in time to hear this exchange and as she handed the box over she said, ‘For heaven's sake, no. If you walk down the street at night people will mistake you for one of those traffic cones. Think of the accidents you could cause.'

It took several minutes to get her mum to see sense, and several more to get her organised and into the car – because Nicola refused to walk anywhere with her looking like that –but eventually they made it to the salon. Nicola prayed that Sarah wouldn't have had a sudden influx of customers and would be able to see them without an appointment.

‘Very swish this place, isn't it?' her mum said when they were inside.

Nicola nodded. For Redgum Valley, it was swish, but the effect had been achieved with nothing more than white paint, new basins, chairs, tiles on the floor, and a smart reception desk. Hardly cutting edge, she thought, rolling her eyes at her own pun.

The young receptionist looked up with a smile. ‘Can I help you?'

Nicola pointed at her mum's hair.

‘Ah, I see. Yes. Done at home, was it?'

Nicola nodded. ‘Can you fit her in?'

‘Well, as it's an emergency …' She stared down at the large appointment book on the desk. ‘If you don't mind waiting for ten minutes or so, Sarah should be able to see you before
her next appointment arrives.'

‘Great. No problem. Thank you.' Nicola moved away from the reception desk, guiding her mum towards the waiting area near the window.

‘What's happening?'

‘We need to wait for about ten minutes. Here, have a magazine to look at.' She picked up a handful of glossy magazines from the pile on a glass coffee table, handed half of them to her mum and chose a chair at right angles to her.

Distracted by the sight of Sarah working on a customer, scissors in one hand and comb in the other, she didn't open her magazine. Sarah's silvery hair was tied up in a top-knot today, and she looked fantastic. God, she hoped Lainey wouldn't hate her for coming here. Nicola glanced at her orange-haired mum, who was staring open-mouthed at an article in the magazine. Maybe she should have taken a
before
photo as evidence of their dire need. No one would deny it.

‘Oh, my good
lord
,' her mum said. ‘The things some people do to themselves.' She looked up at Nicola. ‘A woman in this here magazine says she gets all her body hair waxed off.
All
of it.'

When Nicola didn't react, she said, ‘You know what that means, don't you? All her
bits
!'

God, she wished her mother had a volume knob. ‘Shhh. Yes, Mum, I know.'

The receptionist chimed in, ‘We offer that service here if you're interested.'

Her mum's hand flew to her chest and she looked at the girl as if she'd been asked whether she was interested in walking down the main street naked.

As a distraction, Nicola said, ‘I didn't realise that you did waxing here.'

‘Oh, yes. We offer the full range of beauty services.'

She nodded in acknowledgement. Her mum had returned to reading the magazine, her
eyes wide, so Nicola opened her own magazine and flicked through it while the sound of a hairdryer filled the silence. When Sarah's client came over to the reception desk to pay, Nicola looked up prepared to sneer in silence, but she had to admit, Sarah's skill was impressive.

A moment later, Sarah herself approached. ‘Hello, you can come through now, Mrs Doyle.' Her smile changed to a puzzled frown when she saw Nicola. ‘You look familiar, but I'm sorry, I can't place you.'

‘Nicola Doyle. We were in the same year at school.'

‘Oh, yes. You were friends with—' She stopped, bit her lip, and looked uncomfortable.

‘Yes, I was friends with Lainey. Daniel's wife.'

‘Oh, right. I remember now.' Sarah's brow wrinkled. ‘But don't you mean
ex
-wife?'

Nicola shook her head, slowly and emphatically. ‘She's still his wife, and I'm still her friend.'

‘I see.' Sarah chewed on her lip and looked as if she wanted to ask more questions, but she straightened her face and in a professional tone said, ‘Would you like to come through?'

‘No, I'm not the one who needs your skills.' She tilted her head towards her mother and watched as Sarah turned and did a classic double-take.

‘Oh, I see.'

‘Will you be able to do something?'

‘Um, I'm sure I will. It might take a little while, though.'

‘No problem. I'll come back later, Mum.'

‘Yes, you do that, love. This nice young lady and I will have a good chat, so don't you worry about me. I'm sure we'll get on like pigs on fire.'

Nicola saw Sarah's startled expression, and smiled to herself as she left the salon. Her mum would talk Sarah's ear off. She couldn't have come up with a more satisfying
punishment if she'd planned it. The fact that she hadn't made it all the better.

Nicola's eyebrows rose when Hayden pulled up outside the house in a top of the range Mercedes. She was unaware that Birchmoor's project managers could afford such luxury. She wasn't about to complain, though. And when he got out of the car she still saw no reason to complain. Having only seen him in his work gear, she was sufficiently impressed by the smart-casual pants and shirt – or, more accurately, the way he looked in them – to feel a flutter in her stomach at the sight of him standing there smiling at her.

‘It's such a beautiful day, I thought it would be good to take a walk by the river before we go to the restaurant, since we have time to spare. If you agree?' He opened the passenger door for her.

‘What a lovely idea.' What a good thing she hadn't chosen her highest heels. They were the most flattering footwear she owned, but walking any distance in them was impossible. She tried to manoeuvre into the car without showing too much thigh, but her tight-fitting dress rode up in spite of her efforts. Hayden acted as though he hadn't noticed, which was gentlemanly of him. Blair Morrissey hadn't attempted to hide the fact that he was ogling her legs when he'd let her out of the bathroom.

What was she doing even
thinking
about him when she was on a date with a man she
actually liked?

Now in the driver's seat, Hayden smiled across at her before he started the car and reversed out of the driveway.

‘Have you lived in Redgum Valley long?' she asked.

‘Oh, more than long enough. Three and a half years or so. I don't plan to stick around for much longer.'

‘Right.' They had a dislike of the town in common then. ‘Where do you intend to go?'

‘I want to return to Sydney, where I grew up.'

‘
Oh
. You know I'm going back to Sydney at the end of my three months here, right?'

‘Are you? No, I didn't realise that. Do you like music?'

‘Sure,' she said, relaxing back into the seat.

He pushed a button and the car was filled with the voice of her favourite singer.

The River Way hadn't existed when she'd last lived in the town. She'd spent plenty of time on the riverbank, but it hadn't been like this. The concrete path was new, as were the exercise stations located adjacent to the walkway at regular intervals. She couldn't believe that anyone in Redgum Valley actually used them. On the other side, the bank sloped down to the water.

‘This is the first time I've been down here since I came back.'

Hayden nodded. ‘I run along here most days after work.'

‘Do you?'

‘And I use these.' He pointed at a colourful metal contraption. Nicola couldn't work out what anyone would do with it. Or on it.

‘That's … great.'

‘What do you do for exercise?'

‘Well, I used to go to the corporate gym three times a week. It was in the office
building where I worked, so it was convenient.'

‘And now?'

‘I haven't found a suitable alternative yet.' Not that she'd been searching. She'd been too busy, what with work and her parents.

‘You could run with me if you want to.'

‘Maybe.' She looked a mess when she worked out, she wasn't sure she wanted to inflict that on him, but it was definitely an option.

As they rounded the bend she saw two teenage boys fishing. One appeared to have hooked something and was trying to reel it in.

She stopped. ‘Let's watch. I'd like to see what he's caught.'

‘Probably an old boot to match the one he caught last week.' Hayden glanced at his watch. ‘Actually we don't have time to waste here. We don't want to miss our table, do we?'

‘No. Okay.' She fell into step with Hayden as he turned back the way they'd come.

Hayden had booked a table at a new Thai restaurant – new to her at least. The food was good, and Hayden was attentive and thoughtful. Well, most of the time. She had a niggling feeling that he was happy to do anything she wanted, as long as it suited him. But she pushed the thought away, telling herself that her lousy history with men had tainted her perspective. She did enjoy his company and that was all that mattered – it wasn't as if she was considering a future with him – so when he suggested a drink at The Pelican to finish off the evening, she was happy to agree.

The Pelican was crowded. People must have come from a long way around to see the band, and it wasn't bad. Hayden had gone to the bathroom and Nicola was sitting alone on a padded leather bench seat when Blair Morrissey slid in alongside her. She raised an eyebrow at his arrival.

‘Is that a soft drink?' he said, nodding at her tall glass of vodka, lemon and lime.

‘Most of it is,' she said, edging along the seat away from him.

He grinned. ‘So, how's the big date going?'

‘Is it any business of yours?'

‘He doesn't seem like your type.'

‘What? How would you know?'

‘I've been watching him. Bit of a poser.'

‘He is
not
.' Her voice rose with indignation.

‘Is that his Mercedes in the car park?'

‘Yes, it is. Jealous, are you?'

‘Of his car? Not a bit. I prefer an unpretentious Australian car.'

Before she could decide whether to infer that he was jealous of something else – of Hayden dating her – he was on his feet again. Just as Hayden reached the table, he said with a wink, ‘Breakfast was great this morning, by the way.' Then he vanished into the crowd again.

Hayden's eyes widened. ‘Friend of yours?'

Damn Blair
.

‘He didn't stay the night if that's what you're thinking.'

Hayden held up his palms. ‘None of my business.'

No, it wasn't, and anyway, there were plenty of reasons why they might have met for breakfast, including the real one.

If Blair had been watching Hayden, he'd been watching her, she thought, craning her neck but unable to spot him. Now, why would he bother to do that? Unless he
was
jealous of Hayden? God no, she couldn't get her head around
that
idea.