Contract with Consequences (14 page)

T
HE
plane took off shortly after seven-thirty the following morning.

Scarlet leant back in her seat and closed her eyes. It had been a long night. She hadn’t slept much, of course. Impossible in the face of such deep depression.

She’d rung her mother the previous evening at seven, as promised, immediately stating that she knew about her broken wrist and that she was coming home the following day. Her mother had argued with her but Scarlet had brooked no protest, glad finally to hear relief in her mother’s voice. Relief and gratitude.

It had been hard, however, not breaking down during the call. She’d broken down afterwards, crying herself to sleep, a sleep which hadn’t lasted long. She’d risen around midnight and crept out to the kitchen where she’d made herself some tea and toast. John hadn’t stirred, thank heavens. Hadn’t stirred the following morning, either. She’d crept out of the apartment down to the waiting taxi without having to face him again. Which was a relief. She couldn’t have borne that.

Tears filled her eyes once more as she thought about their argument. He’d been so cruel. Yet there’d been truth in his words. She
had
contacted him. And she
had
enjoyed
every moment of the sex, even before she’d fallen in love with him.

One thing falling in love with John proved, however: she had not been truly in love with Jason. If she had, she would have been devastated by his deception. But she hadn’t been devastated, not the way she was devastated at this moment. Dear God, what was she going to do? She wasn’t going to go back to that clinic, that was for sure. Not yet, anyway. She wasn’t in a fit state to try that again, or even to contemplate becoming a single mother. A single mother had to be emotionally stable and strong. Had to be sure. Scarlet was no longer sure of anything. In truth, she was a mess.

The tears flooded in then, hot and strong. The poor lady sitting next to her became alarmed by her sobbing and called the steward, who brought her a box of tissues, followed by a brandy. She still cried on and off all the way back to Sydney but more quietly and discreetly.

By the time they landed, she’d run out of tears. The train trip back to Gosford was spent in a semi-comatose state. She rallied herself during the taxi ride home, determined not to do or say anything to make her mother suspicious. But it took a supreme effort of will to hide her distress behind a smile. Even worse was when her mother insisted on seeing all her photos, gushing over Darwin’s natural beauty and declaring that one day they would both return to have a decent holiday there together.

The word ‘decent’ almost pushed Scarlet over the edge. Using exhaustion from the flight as an excuse, she hurried off to have a long, hot bath after which she forced herself to cook her mother dinner before retiring for the night. Fortunately, she slept like the dead, so she probably was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The next morning she went into the salon early, making sure that by
the time the other girls arrived everything was shipshape: the accounts. The orders. The equipment.

Everyone was thrilled to see her, Joanna especially.

‘Your mum was annoyed with me for calling you,’ Joanna told her privately. ‘But I felt I had to.’

‘You did the right thing, Joanna,’ Scarlet said firmly and meant it.

It was difficult, however, to keep her mind on hairdressing that day. For some insane reason she kept hoping that John might contact her, either by phone or text. A silly hope, she realised by the end of the day. Why would he bother? It was over. They were over.

By Wednesday she was back on hairdressing autopilot, which was just as well, since she remained distracted. Her mum came into the salon with her, saying she could at least answer the phone and make coffee. Her wrist was in a cast but her fingers were operational and she was learning to use her left hand.

Scarlet was grateful for her company, especially during the tedious drive home at the end of the day. She’d distractedly taken the Central Coast highway instead of Terrigal Drive, and the traffic through the roadworks was worse, if that were possible. What a relief it would be when there were two lanes both ways instead of one. It should cut the bumper-to-bumper half-hour drive back to the ten minutes it should take from Erina to Terrigal. When she complained, her mother replied that at least it wasn’t raining.

‘You’ve brought the sunshine home with you,’ she said, and smiled over at her daughter.

‘If you say so, Mum,’ Scarlet replied through gritted teeth.

Not that the sun was shining at that moment. It had already set a good fifteen minutes earlier.

Shortly after six, Scarlet turned into the road which
led down to their street. She sighed as they rounded their corner, happy to be home. The sight of a strange silver car parked at the kerb outside their house brought a frown to her forehead. The car was very shiny and looked brand spanking new, not to mention expensive.

‘Whose car’s that, do you know?’ she asked her mother as she swung into their driveway, barely five metres in front of the car, which she finally saw was a Lexus. So she’d been right about it being expensive. There was no one behind the wheel to recognise, but the car did carry New South Wales number plates plus the name of a Sydney dealership.

‘I have no idea,’ her mother replied. ‘I doubt it’s anyone for us.’

‘True,’ Scarlet said, pressing the remote which operated the garage door. She was sitting in her car, waiting whilst the garage door rolled its way slowly upwards, when something in her rear-vision mirror grabbed her attention. Swivelling her head around, she was utterly floored when she saw John walking across the road towards them, wearing an elegant grey suit with a shirt and tie. Her mouth literally dropped open as he came right up to her car and tapped on the passenger window.

‘Goodness me!’ her mother exclaimed. ‘It’s John Mitchell. Scarlet, wind my window down so that I can see what he wants.’

A wild mixture of emotions claimed Scarlet as she pressed the button which operated the window: shock. Confusion. Trepidation. But the strongest was a totally irrational joy.

‘Yes, John, what is it?’ her mother asked.

‘Hi there, Mrs King,’ he returned with a warm smile. ‘Mum told me about your accident. I hope it’s not causing you too much trouble.’

‘I’m managing quite well, thank you, John. So what brings
you
home? I thought you’d gone back to Brazil.’

‘That was my initial plan but something unforeseen happened and I’ve decided to come home to Terrigal to live. The thing is, Mrs King, I know Scarlet worked as an estate agent in this area for a good while and I was wondering if she might give me some advice on where and what to buy. I don’t like to let grass grow under my feet so I was hoping to steal her away from you for a few hours tonight and get her advice over dinner. Mum said you’re very welcome to have your dinner over at our place, so you won’t have to worry about managing on your own. So what do you say, Scarlet?’ he asked, glancing over at her with totally unreadable eyes. ‘I have my own wheels this time,’ he added, nodding towards the silver Lexus. ‘You’re not too tired, are you?’

What could she say when she was dying to find out what he was up to? Despite that burst of mad happiness at the sight of him, she could not believe that he seriously wanted to come back here to live. He would never do that. This was all just an excuse to get her alone. A ploy. A plan. John liked plans. But what plan was this?

A loud bell jangled in her head, warning her to be careful. Very careful.

‘No, I’m not too tired,’ she said, pleased that she sounded composed. ‘But I would like to shower and change first. I’ve been at work all day. Give me half an hour, would you?’

‘Fine. I’ll be back, knocking on your front door, in half an hour.’

‘Well that’s a turn-up for the books,’ Janet King said thoughtfully as she watched John retreat in the side-vision mirror. ‘But not a total surprise. He always did fancy you, you know.’

‘Oh, Mum, don’t be ridiculous!’ Scarlet said, scoffing, as she drove her car into the garage.

‘I’m not being ridiculous. I have eyes. And you’re not indifferent to him, either. I watched you both at Carolyn’s fortieth. Play your cards right and you might not have to go back to that clinic.’

‘Mum! I’m shocked.’

Her mother rolled her eyes at her. ‘Scarlet King, you’re thirty-four years old. Soon, you’ll be thirty-five. We don’t have time for shocked any more. Now what are you going to wear? Something sexy, I hope.’

Scarlet could not believe what she was hearing. She wanted to laugh at the irony of her mother virtually asking her to dress with the intention of seducing John. Little did the poor woman know that John was probably here on a mission to seduce her. It was the only thing which made sense. He hadn’t liked it when she’d called it quits on him. He’d obviously come for more of what he’d had in Darwin.

At the same time, she could not deny that a small seed of hope had starting sprouting in her heart, no matter how illogical. This was another fatal flaw in women, Scarlet accepted wearily as she trudged from the garage to the house—their clinging to romance rather than reason. Hoping for a happily-ever-after ending as opposed to a more realistic one.

She didn’t dress sexily. Her winter wardrobe wasn’t sexy, though it was smart. She swiftly combined chocolate-brown wool trousers with a cream mohair jumper which had a wide boat neckline, trimmed with a row of chocolate-brown stitching. Her ankle boots were dark brown, her handbag fawn, made in imitation crocodile skin. She put her blonde hair up in a chic French roll, after which she remade her face before slipping elegant gold and pearl drops into her lobes. Lastly, she sprayed on some of her favourite
perfume, which was vanilla based and not overpowering. She was just picking up the matching brown jacket from the bed when the front doorbell rang. A glance at her gold wristwatch showed John was a couple of minutes early.

Draping the jacket over her left arm—the night wasn’t overly cold—she picked up her handbag and walked slowly from her room. Her mother had by then answered the door, calling out to Scarlet that she was leaving to go over to Carolyn’s and not to forget her keys as she’d probably be asleep by the time John brought her home. By the time Scarlet reached the front hallway, her mother had disappeared across the road, leaving John standing under the porch light.

Scarlet was aware of her heart thudding behind her ribs as she walked towards him; aware, too, of his eyes on her, though they were annoyingly shadowed and still unreadable. Even when she drew close she was unable to discover anything from his expression. His face was as inscrutable as ever.

‘I want to know why you’re here,’ she threw at him. ‘No more lies now.’

‘I haven’t told any lies,’ he replied with irritating composure.

‘What?’ she scoffed. ‘I’m expected to believe you really mean to buy a house here in Terrigal?’

‘Maybe not in Terrigal, but somewhere here on the Central Coast.’

‘But you always said that … that …’

He stilled her stammering with a firm hand on her upper arm. ‘Scarlet, do you think we could possibly have this conversation somewhere more private?’

‘Oh,’ she said weakly. ‘Oh, okay.’

‘Lock up, then, so that we can be on our way.’

She managed to lock up without dropping the set of
keys. Just. John cupped her right elbow once she’d finished and steered her over to the passenger side of the Lexus. When he opened the door for her, she climbed in and belted up without speaking, possibly because she had no idea what to say. It wasn’t often that Scarlet’s mind resembled a tumble drier but this was one of those times.

‘I’ve booked us a table at the Seasalt Restaurant in the Crowne Plaza,’ John said as he climbed in behind the wheel. ‘Mum assured me the food there is excellent. I’ve never been there for dinner myself. Actually, I haven’t been anywhere local for dinner before. So this is a first for me in more ways than one,’ he finished up as he started the car and drove off.

‘Would you care to explain that remark?’ Scarlet asked, having found her tongue at last.

‘All in good time, Scarlet. All in good time.’

‘I think now is as good a time as any,’ she countered, unable to suppress her curiosity and her agitation any longer. ‘We’re alone. We’re well away from our street now. For pity’s sake, pull over and tell me what’s going on.’

‘Absolutely not. That’s not how this is going to be done.’

‘How
what
is going to be done?’

‘I’m not going to have you tell our children in later years that their father proposed to you on the side of the road.’

‘P-proposed?’ Scarlet choked out, her eyes flinging wide as she stared over at him.

‘You haven’t heard of that word? And there I’ve been all these years, thinking you were highly intelligent. It means asking for your hand in marriage.’

Scarlet didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He couldn’t be serious, could he?

Oh God, he
was
!

When a sob caught in her throat, he wrenched the car over to the side of the road, braking to a halt and snapping
off the engine. ‘Well, you’ve spoiled everything again now, haven’t you? I was going to do this over a candlelit dinner with all the trimmings: music. Champagne. The works. But it seems some girls just can’t wait.’ As he turned to her he pulled a small silver box out of his jacket pocket and flipped the top open.

Another sob escaped Scarlet’s lips when she saw what was nestled in a bed of dark blue velvet. Her hands came up to clasp her face, her happiness so great it was almost overwhelming.

‘Oh, John,’ she choked out.

‘Scarlet King,’ he said solemnly. ‘I love you. No, that’s understating things. I’m crazy about you and I simply can’t live without you. Will you do me the honour of being my wife?’

Her eyes flooded, her heart too full for words.

His smile was gently wry. ‘You once told me that the only use you had for a diamond was if it came atop a band of gold and with a proposal of marriage.’

Her smile, when it came, was full of a joy which had no bounds. It filled all those empty places in her heart and in her soul which had needed to be filled.