Heller’s Decision (42 page)

I mumbled
something indistinguishable, unsure if my burning face was a result
of the hives or my utter mortification. I didn’t know why I
continued to be surprised about how open Heller was about his sex
life. Ever since I’d know him, he’d always been very frank about
his sexual activities. I couldn’t explain why I’d never considered
the personal ramifications of that particular character trait of
his when we became lovers.

The doctor
lingered at the door. “I only hope that safe intercourse includes
prophylactics as well.”

“What do
artificial limbs have to do with anything?” I snapped. I just
wanted everyone to leave. I wanted to itch in peace.

“Prophylactics,
my sweet, not prosthetics,” Heller explained, then to the doctor,
“I have nothing to worry about from Matilda.”

Dr Kincaid
snorted inelegantly. “It’s not
your
health I’m worried
about. It’s the young lady’s. I’d bet my house and all my
retirement savings that you’ve had a hell of a lot more sexual
partners than she has.”

“Naturally. But
when I had sex with other women I always protected myself, except
for that one worrying time. And this is despite the difficulties
you know I have finding condoms large enough.”

“Yes, well. I’m
sure you feel very smug about that, but there’s no need to rub it
in with the rest of us mere humans in the world,” the doctor
sniffed before stalking off. Must have been a touchy point with
him.

I ran to the
hallway after him. “How long until this injection kicks in?”

“You’ll start
feeling better overnight,” he threw over his shoulder. “If you take
your antihistamines strictly as I directed, you’ll be back to
normal within a week.”

“A week?” I
asked in despair. “I have that interview tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Miss
Tilly. I’ve done what I can.” He headed for the stairs at double
clip. Maybe we’d interrupted a special date or something to bring
him here. “And you’re welcome.”

“Sorry, doc.
Thanks for your help,” I yelled after him, ashamed of my lack of
manners. Though in my defence, I
was
red, itchy, bumpy and
rather self-occupied at the moment.

Without looking
back, he held up one hand in a wave before disappearing down the
stairs.

“I have no
choice but to wait it out, but I’m so itchy,” I complained,
flopping down on my lounge, misery incarnate. I badly needed to tie
my hands to my legs to stop me from scratching.

“I’ll go
research those pharmacies right now,” Daniel said, tearing out of
my flat.

Heller sat next
to me on the lounge.

“Why do you
have to leave me? Especially when I’m so miserable at the moment,”
I asked, saddened.

He took my
hand. “Matilda, we went through all this.”

“I’m worried
something will happen to you.”

“I can’t tell
you there’s no risk. I’m not as young as I was when I previously
did this type of work. I have the advantage of experience, but I
might come across someone younger, sharper, more skilled. Someone
luckier than me. So far the luck has always been on my side, but
that can never last forever.”

“Whatever
you’ll be doing, it sounds dangerous. I can’t believe you talk
about being hurt, maybe even worse, so casually. Please don’t do
this, Heller. You don’t need the money.”

“I don’t need
it, but
we
do. I’m doing this for all of us, for the
business.”

“But especially
for you,” I said bitterly. “Because you’re bored.”
Bored of
me
, was what I thought.

He leaned down
to kiss the top of my head. He put his arm around my shoulders and
pulled me closer so that my head rested on his neck, his other arm
around me. “I’ll miss you so much while I’m gone, my sweet.”

“I’ll miss you
too,” I whispered into his neck. He kissed the top of my head
again.

Daniel flew
back into the room, thrusting a piece of paper towards Heller.
“This one’s the closest, but it shuts in twenty minutes.”

Heller snatched
the prescription up from the coffee table and left quickly, not
saying another word.

Daniel took in
my miserable face and sat next to me, sliding his arm around my
shoulders. He also kissed the top of my head. I guess nobody dared
to kiss my inflamed face. “He’ll be all right doing these special
projects, Tilly. He knows what he’s doing.”

“I hope
so.”

“We’ll look
after you while he’s gone.”

“I don’t need
looking after. I just need someone to stop me from becoming lonely
without him.”

He smiled a
little. “I’ll volunteer.”

I slipped my
arm around his waist and squeezed. “Thank you, darling Danny.”

We remained in
the same position until Heller returned, clutching a paper bag. He
handed me the cream and virtually forced me to the bathroom,
watching over me as I applied it to my blotches. It was cool on my
skin and instantly soothed the insane itching, though that may have
also had something to do with the injection kicking in.

Heller stayed
with me long enough that evening to see me off to sleep. We didn’t
have sex, but laid in bed, holding each other in the deep
darkness.

“I won’t be
here in the morning,” he said quietly.

“I won’t have a
chance to say goodbye.”

“I don’t want
you to say goodbye. It’s not goodbye. I’ll be back soon
enough.”

“It won’t be
soon enough for me. I’ll worry about you the whole time.”

His arms
crushed me to his chest and when he spoke, his voice was slightly
hoarse. “And that’s why you’re the best thing to have ever happened
to me, my sweet. I’ve spent the last ten or so years worrying about
other people, but now I have someone to worry about me.”

Tears sprang to
my eyes. “Heller . . .” I said, my voice breaking. “Please don’t do
anything that will make me worry.”

“Shh. Don’t
upset yourself. You know me – I’m always careful.”

“Will I be able
to contact you?”

“I don’t think
so.”

“What if any of
us need you?”

“Clive will
look after you for me.”
Would he?
I thought. “Go to sleep
now, Matilda. It’s getting late.”

Though I
thought I’d never be able to sleep, I did, perhaps as a result of
that injection. Nestled in his arms, listening to the steady beat
of his heart lulled me into losing myself in that world full of
dreams and peacefulness.

And when I woke
in the morning, he was gone.

Chapter
28

My face didn’t
look much better in the light of the day. As soon as the hour was
decent, I rang Miss Petunia to see if she’d accommodate me in
arranging an interview for later in the week when I hoped the
antihistamines would have cured me totally.

She
wouldn’t.

“You’re not the
only person I’m interviewing for this position,” she informed me
haughtily, all signs of her previous friendliness evaporating.
“Either you’re interested enough to make an effort to be prompt for
your interview or you’re not. I’m a terribly busy person and I must
say that I find this phone call rather disturbing. If you’re making
excuses not to be at work before you’re even employed, I can’t
imagine what you’d be like as a staff member. I won’t tolerate
unreliability in my girls. My ladies trust in them to be honest and
dependable.”

“No, you don’t
understand –”

“I understand
perfectly. My time is invaluable and I won’t waste it on people who
aren’t serious about their duties.”

“I’m serious!”
I hastened to assure. “I’m very serious about work. It’s just that
–”

“Then I’ll see
you here at 11:30 as arranged.” She slammed the receiver down on
me.

Shit!
I
raced to the bathroom again to peer into the mirror at the wreck of
my face. The hives had subsided, but the red rash remained, though
perhaps mildly improved from yesterday. I pulled out my concealer,
which I hadn’t needed since I’d stopped working for Heller, and
applied it liberally to my face, neck and chest.

When I
finished, I stared at myself, my heart sinking. The final result
wasn’t pretty. Instead of looking like someone with a hideous rash,
now I looked like someone who’d tried to cover up her hideous rash
– unsuccessfully.

I tried to
compensate by plastering on makeup, but only ended up looking like
a drag queen with bad skin. So I tried to overcome that obstacle by
dressing in my nicest skirt suit that Heller had bought me. It was
a little tight and I could barely do up the zip, and the buttons
strained against the material. I really had to go on a diet.

Just
great!
I thought in despair, checking out my reflection. Now I
looked like a slightly chubby, well-dressed, drag queen with bad
skin. After desperately applying more foundation to the inch I’d
already applied, I decided there was nothing more I could do about
my appearance. I could only hope for the best and try to have the
most successful interview possible. I’d been through nightmare
interviews before – number one including my original interview with
Heller. And I
needed
a job – I couldn’t afford to be fussy.
So I threw back my shoulders, sucked in my stomach and hoped that
Miss Petunia was more tolerant in person than she’d been over the
phone.

When I turned
on my car, the red fuel light came on. I’d neglected to top up the
tank last time I’d been out.

No!
I
thought in despair, banging my head on the steering wheel a couple
of times, leaving a greasy smear of makeup behind.

Slamming the
door, I immediately thought of taking one of the
Heller’s
fleet vehicles, even though I wasn’t allowed.
Heller would never
know
, I justified to myself. He wasn’t even around.

But when I went
down a floor to the bottom basement, all the fleet vehicles had
already been taken, even the oldest tank-like 4WD that nobody chose
unless they had no option left at all. Stomping back up the stairs,
I briefly considered taking Heller’s Mercedes, but it was also
gone. He must have driven away in it. That was probably a mercy for
me, because he didn’t allow
anyone
to drive his personal
vehicle. It would have been kind of awkward trying to explain to
him afterwards.

Brilliant. Now
I could either hare off to catch a slow, smelly, overcrowded bus or
ring a taxi and wait a million years for one to turn up. I checked
my watch. I didn’t have time for the bus trip.

Ignoring
Heller’s strict instructions about never having taxis come directly
to the Warehouse, but meeting them a block or so away, I sat on the
low brick fence anxiously checking the time as I waited. When the
taxi finally turned up, I virtually threw myself into the front
seat, gabbling out instructions, worried I was cutting it too fine
to be ‘prompt’ as Miss Petunia expected.
God, would nothing ever
go right in my life?

The taxi
driver, a very neat and well-groomed man, and surely used to
dealing with an enormous spectrum of humanity in his job, reeled
back at the sight of me. That hurt my feelings.

“Good morning,”
he said politely in an accented voice, looking everywhere except at
me. “Are you off to a fancy-dress party?”

“No!” I replied
indignantly. “I’m going to a job interview.” I gave him the address
of the shopping centre.

“And you want
me to take you to such a public place? Looking like that? Are you
sure?”

“Yes, I’m
positive. I just told you I have an interview and I need a
job.”

“It’s just that
. . .” His glance was filled with pity. “I think it’s going to be a
hard day for you, Miss.”

“It already is.
I have to go to an interview looking like this and my boyfriend’s
gone away for work. I miss him already.”

“I know how you
feel,” he said, steering the car away from the curb, accelerating.
“My wife is working in the mines. She’s away for months on end. I’m
trying to hold the family together while she’s gone.”

“Oh, I’m
sorry.” That made my problems shrink into insignificance. I felt
ashamed of my self-pity. “What does she do there?”

“She drives one
of those huge trucks. I don’t really know more than that. She
doesn’t like to talk about it. She tells me when she’s home that
she just wants her spare time to be about our family, not her
job.”

“I can
understand that. She sounds like a great mum.”

“She’s the
best,” he said, the affection plain in his voice. “She hates being
away from us, but you know . . . it’s difficult to get a job these
days.”

“Tell me about
it.”

“Especially
when you’re an immigrant.”

“I’m sorry.”
I’d never really thought about that before.

“We’re both
trained as doctors in our home country, but it’s not recognised
here, so . . .” He shrugged, nodding his head towards his steering
wheel.

“I’m
sorry.”

“You’re not to
blame, Miss.” He managed a laugh. “Sounds like you’re having a bad
day yourself.”

“We’ll see. I’m
hoping it will get better.”

He laughed.
“That’s the best way to think.” I’d smile at him, but I was afraid
my makeup would crack like drought-stricken earth.

We chatted
inconsequentially on our way to the shopping centre. He entertained
me with tales about his homeland and why his wife and he had left
for here. I really enjoyed our chat, almost sorry when he dropped
me off at the centre’s taxi rank, where a couple of people waited
in the taxi queue. He’d have no trouble finding a new passenger to
replace me.

“Good luck,
Miss,” he said nicely as I paid him.

“Thanks! I
really appreciate that.”

“But please,
take a minute to freshen up first. Please. For your own sake.”

Not sure what
that was supposed to mean, I checked my watch. I had no time for
bathroom breaks. I’d be lucky to get to my interview on time as it
was.