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‘She's been acting weird since yesterday,' Gemma told Charlie after she'd grabbed him aside and given him an abridged version of what had happened, or at least the little she knew. ‘She has these bursts of activity, running around the place with the Spray'n' Wipe bottle, then you come across her a little while later and she's sitting somewhere in a trance.'

Charlie had arrived to take her out to lunch, but Gemma didn't feel comfortable leaving Noah. ‘He would have been better off going to his grandparents',' she told Charlie. ‘She's so distracted, she barely notices him.'

‘We can make some sandwiches and go to the park if you like,' he suggested. ‘Then Noah can come with us.'

‘You are too wonderful,' said Gemma, kissing him lightly on the lips.

‘Yeah, yeah,' he dismissed.

Gemma checked that it was okay with Helen, or even if she cared to come too, but she only got monosyllabic answers. Yes, Noah could go with them; no, she didn't want to come along.

‘So what do you think's going on with her?' said Charlie when they were sitting on a bench at the park, with Lola asleep in her pram beside them and Noah off to conquer the climbing frame. ‘You said Myles told her he loved her, so what's the problem? Doesn't she feel the same way?'

‘I don't think she knows what she feels,' said Gemma. ‘I'm sure it has to do with her –' She put her hand to her mouth.
‘I was going to call him “ex”,' she winced. ‘That doesn't sound right. Anyway, it has to do with her husband . . . who's no longer with us. I think Helen's still so torn up with grief and guilt she can't let go and move on.'

‘I can understand that,' said Charlie. ‘I mean, people go on loving after they've been dumped, abused, all kinds of horrible things. Helen's husband didn't abandon her on purpose or anything, he just died. Suddenly, without any warning. That's got to be hard to get over.'

‘I realise that, but what's she going to do?' said Gemma. ‘Wear black like a Greek widow and be alone for the rest of her life?'

He shrugged. ‘You know, in India you can choose to burn along with your dead husband in the funeral pyre.'

‘Oh, there's an idea,' said Gemma. ‘I think it might be a little late for Helen to go with that option.'

‘I'm only saying, it goes to show how deep grief can run.'

‘I think it has more to do with the fact that widows don't have a life in India, so they might as well die along with their husbands.' Gemma sighed. ‘But Helen's only young, and she could have a wonderful life with Myles.'

‘I thought you didn't like him much.'

‘It doesn't matter what I think of him. Besides, he's different around Helen. I think he really does love her.' Gemma leaned her head on Charlie's shoulder and tucked her arm into his. ‘It'd be sad if she didn't give herself the chance to be loved again in her life.'

When they returned to the house a couple of hours later, Helen was lying out on the sofa in the back room. Just lying there, no television, no music playing, no book. She stirred as they came into the room, swinging her legs onto the floor and sitting up. Her face was all flushed and she seemed to be in a bit of a fugue.

‘Are you all right, Helen?' Gemma asked her.

‘Yeah, sure,' she said, clearing her throat. ‘Um, there was a call for you, Gem, while you were out. I took down the number.' She slid a piece of paper across the coffee table towards her.

Gemma looked at it; it was a mobile number she didn't recognise. ‘Did they leave a name?'

‘Oh, no, he didn't say,' Helen said vaguely. ‘Sorry, I suppose I should have asked.'

‘
He?
' said Charlie, raising an eyebrow. ‘Ooh, a gentleman caller?'

Gemma rolled her eyes. ‘So I guess he wants me to call back?' she asked Helen, who nodded in reply. ‘Okay, I'm officially intrigued.'

She picked up the piece of paper and the phone and walked out of the room, leaving Charlie holding the baby. He glanced at Helen and gave her an awkward smile. Helen felt as though she were suddenly made of glass and everyone could see right through her.

‘So how was the park?' she asked, trying to sound normal.

Noah clambered up and straddled her lap, facing her. ‘I climbed on a climbing fing and went on a slide and went on a swing, but Lola can't have a turn 'cause she's too little and tiny. And when we came home, Charlie put me on his shoulders, Mummy, like Daddy use to did!' Noah was staring wide-eyed at his mother, waiting for some kind of reaction. He held her face between his hands. ‘Whata matta, Mummy? Why are you sad?'

But before she could answer him, Gemma walked back into the room, looking a little baffled. ‘You're never going to guess who that was,' she said. ‘In a million years you'd never guess.'

‘So you better save us a lot of time and just tell us,' said Charlie.

‘It was Luke.'

‘Luke Luke?' he asked.

Gemma nodded. ‘Father of Lola Luke.'

‘What did he want?' Charlie asked.

‘He wants to see her.'

‘So what did you say?'

Gemma shrugged. ‘I said yes, of course. He is her father – I suppose he has rights.'

‘Didn't he forfeit those when he pissed off?' Charlie glanced across at Noah and winced. ‘Sorry, Helen.'

‘It's okay,' she said. ‘Come on, Noah, let's get a drink, or something to eat.' She scooped him up with her as she got to her feet and headed for the kitchen, discreetly closing the door behind her.

‘Is there something wrong, Charlie?' Gemma frowned.

‘No, not at all,' he said, rocking the baby back and forth.

‘You seem annoyed.'

‘I'm not annoyed, why should I be annoyed? I don't have any reason to be annoyed. You can do what you want. It's your life, your baby.'

Gemma regarded him curiously. ‘That's right,' she said, walking into the baby's room.

‘That's right,' he echoed, following her. ‘Just don't expect me to hang around to pick up the pieces when he screws you over again.'

‘Charlie, what are you talking about?' Gemma took Lola out of his arms. ‘He's only coming to see the baby.'

‘You reckon that's all he wants? Just to see Lola and then he'll go away again?'

‘You know what, to be honest, Charlie, I have no idea what he's got in mind. He wasn't exactly the easiest person to read when we were together.' Gemma lowered Lola gently down onto the changing bench and proceeded to unwrap her bunny rug. ‘I'm not that keen to have him involved in Lola's life, but there's not much I can do to stop him if he really wants to.'

‘Of course there is.'

Gemma frowned at him.

‘But you won't, will you?' Charlie said. ‘You want to see him for yourself just as much, Gemma, admit it.'

‘I suppose I would like to hear what he has to say for himself. I mean, I never got a reason, never had so much as a word from him. I think I'd like to know what happened, why he did what he did.'

‘What if he tells you he's realised he was wrong and he's been trying to make his way back to you ever since?'

‘I'll say he could have picked up a phone, or sent a letter.'

Charlie just grunted.

‘And I'll also say he can take a flying leap,' Gemma added. ‘I'm not interested in him; you should know that better than anyone, Charlie.'

‘Why is that?'

‘Do I have to spell it out?' she groaned. ‘Look, he's coming tomorrow at two, you can see for yourself.'

‘I'm not going to be here, Gem.'

She turned around to look at him, keeping a hand on Lola's tummy. ‘Why not?'

‘I have no interest in being here. It's got nothing to do with me.'

‘I'd really appreciate your support, Charlie,' Gemma persisted.

‘Sorry,' he shrugged. ‘You know, Gemma, you no sooner get your life together than you have to find a way to ruin it. You're like a train wreck waiting to happen. And I'm not going to stand around and watch you crash and burn again.'

Gemma was staring at him, gobsmacked.

‘I'll see you around, Gemma,' he said, with a fleeting glance as he left the room.

Gemma heard the knock on the door as she was pressing the studs around the crotch of Lola's all-in-one. She still hadn't mastered this. She always seemed to have one stud left over, and then she'd have to open them all and start over. Of course opening them all would often startle Lola, and sometimes make her cry, which would startle Gemma, and make her rush and she'd do up the studs all wrong again . . . and then she'd give up. What did it matter anyway? Lola wasn't about to be photographed for a fashion shoot. Gemma heard the knock again, more insistent this time. Maybe it was Charlie, come to apologise for his dummy-spit yesterday, and to tell her that he would be here for her today after all.

She scooped up Lola and tottered out through the back room to the hall. That would be significant, it would mean something, Charlie showing up now. Maybe he would even admit that he had feelings for her, that they should give it a go . . . Gemma felt her heart racing and – oh, great, now her breasts were leaking. She'd forgotten to put her breast pads in, again, and she could feel the warm
gush seeping through her armour-plated maternity bra and onto her T-shirt. Why was it that you never saw a woman with damp patches on her T-shirt on the covers of those mother and baby mags? No, they didn't want to publicise that particular indignity.

Gemma opened the door expectantly, in time to see the back of Myles walking down the porch steps. Would she be able to close the door again before he realised?

He turned around.

Bugger.

‘Gemma,' he said awkwardly. ‘Sorry . . . I didn't mean to bother you . . . I was just looking for Helen.'

She'd never have guessed. ‘She's not here.'

He nodded. ‘Oh, right, okay . . .'

They both stood where they were, waiting to see if the other was going to say anything.

‘So this is the baby . . . ?' Myles offered.

No, it's a sack of potatoes I'm taking to market.

Why was she always such a smart-arse around him? He was in love with her best friend. And, more importantly, it was pretty obvious her best friend was in love with him. Gemma had to learn to restrain herself, be nice to him. For Helen's sake.

So she shifted Lola, holding her in her arms so Myles could see her properly. ‘This is Lola.'

He stepped up onto the porch and bent to look at her. ‘She's beautiful, Gemma. Really. Looks just like you. Congratulations.'

At least he was saying the right things. ‘Thanks for the flowers.'

Myles glanced at her sheepishly. ‘It's the done thing, apparently.'

She smiled then, despite herself.

‘How's it going?' he asked.

‘Swings and roundabouts,' she said, jiggling Lola as she started to squirm. ‘But it's the best thing I've ever done.'

‘Helen says you're a natural.'

‘She does?'

He nodded. ‘Listen, I should let you know that they've found a permanent MD and he'll be taking over soon. I've made sure the job-sharing arrangement will be maintained, at least until a team vacancy comes up.' He paused. ‘I've put in a strong recommendation that you be given first consideration if one does.'

Gemma blinked. ‘You didn't have to do that.'

‘I think I did. I think I owe you that much.' He thrust his hands in his pockets. ‘You caught me at a bad time, Gemma. I was still trying to clean up the mess at Bailey's – you have no idea how deep it went. I didn't have the time or the energy to nurture staff.'

‘Until Helen came along . . .'

Myles looked embarrassed.

‘Don't worry, I get it,' said Gemma. ‘We can't help who we fall in love with.' She propped Lola against her shoulder again. ‘To be fair, I wasn't honest with you, and I, um, well, I never apologised for that. And so, now I am.'

His face relaxed. There was even a hint of a smile in his eyes. ‘Thanks for that, Gemma. It means a lot.' He breathed out. ‘Well, I guess I'll leave you to it.'

Gemma nodded, watching him turn back down the steps. ‘Oh . . . Myles?'

He turned around again.

‘Helen was taking Noah to preschool,' she said, ‘and then she was going to visit her mother.'

He was looking blankly at her.

‘She's in a place called Brookhaven. I don't think it's very far from here.'

Gemma realised he wasn't taking the rather considerable hint she was attempting to give him.

‘You know, the thing with Helen is that you're going to have to be persistent. It's what works with her, apparently.'

Bingo.

‘Brookhaven, you said?'

‘That's right.'

He smiled. ‘Thanks Gemma, I appreciate it.'

Helen had dropped Noah at preschool and was on her way to visit her mother. She had decided to get out of the house this morning before Tony was up and about. It was okay with Noah around; he was a buffer, commanding nearly all of Tony's attention, so they could mostly only manage small talk. But with Noah at preschool, Helen had the feeling Tony was going to start
grilling her about ‘department-store guy' and frankly she wasn't up to it.

It was bad enough with Gemma asking her how she was every five minutes. Helen didn't want to talk about it; she couldn't possibly put into words the chaos going on inside her head as she tried to work out what she felt for Myles, with the spectre of David lurking in her consciousness.

Helen drove into the carpark at Brookhaven and pulled directly into a space. She got out of the car, locked the door, and as she turned around Myles was standing at the back of the car, a few feet away.

‘Myles, you gave me a fright,' said Helen, her heart racing at the sight of him, which probably had nothing to do with the fright.

‘Sorry, I didn't mean to.'

‘What are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?'

He took a couple of steps towards her. ‘I dropped by your place earlier; you'd just left apparently. Gemma told me you were visiting your mum at Brookhaven. It wasn't that hard to find.'

Helen was staring at him, finding herself a little mesmerised.

‘I'm sorry if I'm intruding . . . I just wanted to see you, Helen.'

She stirred. ‘I don't think it's such a good idea, Myles.'

‘Well I disagree.'

‘I'm sorry?'

‘I disagree, and I'm part of this, so I have a say, don't I?' He didn't wait for an answer. ‘I miss you, Helen. I miss seeing you at work, I miss talking to you. You swept me off my feet and now you've abandoned me. I didn't think you'd be the cruel type.'

Helen could see the glint in his eye. ‘You said you were romantic, Myles, not melodramatic.'

‘I also told you I wasn't going to give up,' he said, taking another step closer to her.

‘This is not the time or the place, Myles. I'm here to visit my mother.'

‘Can I come with you?'

She frowned. ‘Why on earth would you want to do that?'

‘She's your mother: I'd like to meet her.'

Helen put her hand on her hip, looking at him. ‘You're intent on making this difficult, aren't you?'

‘I'm intent on making it difficult for you to ignore me.'

She breathed out. ‘Fine, you can meet her. It won't mean anything to her, so you won't be scoring any brownie points.'

He followed her into the main building and through the maze of corridors till they got to Marion's room. Helen went in first. ‘Hello, Mum, how are you today?'

Marion turned her head to frown at Helen; she didn't seem cranky so much as curious. She glanced past Helen to Myles, who was hanging back near the door. And the frown began to fade from her face.

‘Who's that?'

Myles came forward to stand beside Helen.

‘This is Myles Davenport,' said Helen. ‘He's a . . . friend of mine.'

‘How do you do, Mrs Zelinsky,' said Myles.

‘Oh, young man, you're very polite,' said Marion in her girlie voice. ‘But you have to call me Marion.'

‘If you insist,' he said.

‘Sit down, sit down,' said Marion.

Myles glanced at Helen and she nodded, walking around to the other side of the bed. He pulled up a chair and sat down.

‘So are you a doctor, Mr Davenport?' Marion asked.

‘Now, Marion, it's only fair, you have to call me Myles.'

‘Okay, Myles,' she said, almost blushing. ‘So are you a doctor?'

‘No, I'm not,' he said. ‘I used to be, but I gave it up.'

‘Why would you do that, a handsome young man like yourself?'

Helen had no idea what that had to do with being a doctor but it obviously made some kind of sense to Marion. She smiled faintly at Myles from across the bed.

‘And tell me, are you married, Myles?' Marion was asking now.

‘No, not yet,' he said.

‘You know, I have a daughter you might like to meet.' Helen held her breath.

‘I know your daughter, actually,' said Myles.

Marion looked surprised. ‘You do? She doesn't get out much. I don't know why she's always hanging around the house.'

The staff had told Helen that Marion often talked about her, but she had always thought they were simply being kind. Her mother never recognised her, but perhaps she only knew the daughter that existed in the deep recesses of her mind, ‘stuck on rewind' as Tony had put it.

‘So tell me, what do you think of her?'

‘I think she's very beautiful,' said Myles, glancing across at Helen.

‘Well, you know,' Marion confided, ‘people say she looks like me when I was her age.'

‘I can certainly see the resemblance.'

‘You should get to know her,' Marion said wistfully. ‘She's a good girl.'

A single tear escaped from Helen's eye, running swiftly down her cheek.

‘She's a wonderful girl,' Myles said, gazing straight at Helen. ‘And you know what, Marion? I'm very much in love with her.'

‘Well, I hope you get on and do something about it. She's not much of a go-getter, my Helen. Needs a bit of a push.'

Later, after they had left her room and walked back through the corridors and out into the sunshine again, Myles turned to Helen. ‘Looks like I have your mother's blessing.'

‘She'll have forgotten by tomorrow,' said Helen. ‘By this afternoon.'

‘She seemed like a pretty wise woman to me.'

‘Except she didn't know it was me standing right beside her.' Helen glanced at him sideways. ‘You know, I might get Alzheimer's one day: there's some evidence it's genetic.'

‘You also might get hit by a bus.'

She turned abruptly to look at him.

‘But I'm willing to take my chances,' said Myles, coming closer. ‘I know you're scared, Helen, but I've also seen what you can do when you put your mind to it. Like your mum said, you just need a little push sometimes.'

Helen could feel her throat tightening. She did not want to
go to pieces out here in the carpark; she had to keep it together. Or maybe fleeing was the best option. ‘I have to get going –'

‘Wait, Helen, there's another reason I wanted to see you today,' said Myles. ‘I thought you should know they've chosen a permanent managing director to head up Bailey's. There's a board meeting tomorrow where he'll be introduced to key staff. Hand-over will take place across the next week or two. By the way, I've made sure you and Gemma will be kept on under the existing arrangement.'

But Helen wasn't listening any more. ‘So does this mean . . . you'll be going back to Melbourne?' she asked in a small voice.

‘That all depends,' he said, looking at her steadily. ‘Ball's in your court, Helen.'

She was just staring at him.

‘I have to go,' he said. ‘But I want to leave you with something to help you decide.'

Before Helen knew what he was doing he'd pulled her into his arms and was kissing her soundly, putting forward a pretty compelling argument. He eventually drew back enough to look in her eyes, still holding her close. ‘Keep that in mind, okay?' he said softly, before releasing her.

Helen felt a little light-headed, watching him walk away towards his car. He turned to wave. ‘I'll wait to hear from you then,' he called before he climbed into the driver's seat. Helen was still standing, rooted to the spot, as he drove past her and out of the carpark.

She was still feeling a little light-headed when she pulled up in front of Jim and Noreen's about ten minutes later. She was going to ask them if they could pick up Noah from preschool and occupy him for a couple of hours. She'd promised Gemma she'd stick around for moral support when Luke came, and besides, Helen wanted to keep Noah out of the line of any potential fire.

Jim and Noreen's place was between Brookhaven and home, so Helen had decided it was just as easy to call in on her way through. But as she walked up the pristine concrete path, past the precision-clipped lawn towards the immaculate but austere
facade of the house, her stomach began to churn uncomfortably. What if they could tell? What if she looked different? She'd slept with another man. She had made passionate love, the likes of which she'd never had with their son, with a man they had never even clapped eyes on. She could imagine their horror, their disdain, their abject disapproval. She had visions of them tearing Noah away from his harlot of a mother, standing up in court declaring she was unfit . . .

Helen realised there was no way she could face them. She was about to turn on her heel when the front door opened and Noreen peered out through the flyscreen. ‘Helen, is that you, dear?'

She cleared her throat. ‘Oh, hi Noreen, I wasn't sure if you were home . . .'

She glanced sideways at the gleaming twelve-year-old showroom-condition Ford Falcon sedan parked in the spotless driveway.

‘What are you doing here, Helen?' said Noreen a little anxiously. ‘Is everything all right? Where's Noah?'