E for England (2 page)

‘What's going on out there?' He gestured to the darkened garden. Branches rustled and shook violently but there wasn't enough wind to cause such a stir.

James came to stand beside him, leaning forward to stare through their reflections. He opened the window. Cool night air swirled in, the rustling suddenly louder.

‘Is it a possum?'

‘Could be a cat,' Hugh said.

‘Maybe it's a burglar.'

‘Not a very good one if he's trying to climb the oleanders.' Hugh put down the wine and glasses. ‘It's stopped. I wonder if it knows oleanders are poisonous.'

‘We might have frightened it away.'

‘You haven't,' yelled a female voice. ‘It's me.'

‘Who's me?' James looked at Hugh with eyebrows raised and a smile beginning.

‘Annie.'

‘Hello, Annie.' Hugh leaned over the bench and peered into the darkness. ‘What on earth are you doing?'

‘Trying to get my undies out of the bushes.'

‘Right.' James let fly a cackle of laughter.

‘They blew off my balcony upstairs.' Something cracked and the oleanders shuddered. ‘Bugger! Ouch.'

‘Hang on, I'll get a broom and a torch.' Hugh headed for the laundry. Females in the shrubbery retrieving their undies? What on earth went on upstairs? Sounded as though whatever it was might be fun. Well worth a rescue effort.

Annie pulled a twig and a few leathery leaves from her hair while she waited. Good idea, a torch. She hadn't thought of that. Oleanders were poisonous? Was that true? Which bits? Minutes later the dark figures of two men swung around the corner with a broom, the torch and broad grins.

‘Where are they?'

Annie pointed. The other one, with the stronger English accent, squinted up into the darkness and pinpointed her wayward knickers in a strong beam. ‘Mmm. Very nice.'

His mate poked with the broom and down came Victoria's pink and black Secret. Annie pounced and stuffed them into her jeans pocket.

‘Thanks very much.'

‘Our pleasure,' said the Englishman. He held out his hand. ‘Hugh Clelland.'

‘Annie Fisher.' His grip was firm; from what she could see in the gloom he was relatively young with a tousle of dark hair and looked at her with more than a hint of interest. No prizes for guessing what he was thinking based on a glimpse of sexy lingerie.

The friend said, ‘James Clelland.'

‘Are you brothers?' Different accents, similar builds and dark hair.

‘Cousins,' said James. ‘Would you like to come in for a drink? Hugh was just opening a bottle of wine.' Wow! Victoria's Secret worked a treat on these two.

‘Sorry. No.' She flapped her hands. ‘I mean I would but I can't. My children are upstairs
in bed. I can't leave them alone any longer.'

She started towards the entrance, her turned back hiding the smile at the change her mention of children would make to these would be philanderers. Pity. Sharing a glass of wine would have been neighbourly and fun. She'd done it many times when she was still part of a couple. A couple rotting at the core but still…it hadn't all been bad. Until the rot spread to the surface.

‘Children? How many?' Definite alteration in the tone of Hugh's voice. Married woman, change gear to neutral. He'd caught up and walked beside her. She glanced sideways. My goodness, his profile was knee-tremblingly handsome in the light, but the smile had gone. Didn't approve of children, thought they shouldn't be contaminating the singleton scene? What a pity such an attitude should reside in such perfect packaging.

‘Two. We're staying here with a friend for a while.'

‘Holidaying?'

‘No, I…no. We're between houses at the moment. I'm househunting.'

James said, ‘I think I've seen you about. Down at the park on the bay.' He waved his key in front of the door's security beam. ‘Balconies are a bit dangerous for kids, I'd imagine. What floor are you on?'

‘Seven. I agree. Mattie likes to kick a football.' She gave a soft, despairing laugh. ‘My two aren't allowed on the balcony without Leonie or me. I'm looking for a house with a yard but everything's so expensive.' Annie shrugged with a weak smile. ‘Sorry. You don't want to hear my problems. Thanks for helping.' She headed for the elevator.

‘No problem. Goodnight.' James turned away with the broom over his shoulder like a rifle.

She jammed her finger on the Up button. What an exceptionally good-looking pair now she could see them properly. Particularly Hugh, despite the clouding over at the mention of children. Blue eyes, thick dark hair, a slow smile, a thinner, more mature face than James. The type of man she would have been very attracted to in the old days.
Was
very attracted to. She sneaked another peek at his face and snatched her glance away, swallowed, felt stirrings in body parts that had lain dormant for months.

Hugh didn't swing away like his cousin, he lingered. He watched her with a slight wrinkle in his forehead as though he couldn't make up his mind about something. Was he waiting to see her into the lift? A true English gentleman. Not interested in a dumpy, talkative woman with two children, but friendly, helpful and polite. A good neighbour.

The lift was, typically, taking ages. Annie pressed the button again. Why was he still standing there? She glanced down at her clothes, unwilling to meet that direct, assessing gaze from a pair of eyes that made her revert to tongue-tied, jangly adolescence. Dirty knees. A twig and dead leaves clung to the bottom of her jeans. She slid her hand over her bottom and surreptitiously removed a leaf-laden twig, let it fall to the floor. The best looking man she'd come across in years and she must be making such a good impression. For heaven's sake! Her children were alone upstairs, she was a mother. Flirting wasn't on the agenda.

‘Are oleanders really poisonous?'

He reached out suddenly and removed a piece of debris from her hair. She almost groaned aloud but his mind was on another tack. ‘Extremely toxic. Some people are sensitive to the leaves and sap. Any rashes or itching?' He studied her face, brow wrinkled even more.

Annie grimaced. ‘Jeepers, if I'd known that I wouldn't have dived in there.' She extended her arms and studied them, turning her hands over and back. ‘Looks all right. Maybe my kids won't be orphans just yet.'

‘Oh, I'm so sorry.' Hugh's expression morphed into dismay.

‘What for?'

‘Aren't you a widow?'

‘No! Sorry. That's just me being bitter and twisted. Their father may as well be dead for all the notice he takes of them.'

‘Aah.' Hugh nodded but the earlier slightly disapproving frown returned.

‘We're separated,' she went on. ‘He's off bumbling around in Asia somewhere. He took off about nine months ago to find himself. Hah! That's a joke. I could have told him where he was. In fact I frequently did.' She looked up at Hugh, met those intense blue eyes and clamped her mouth shut, then opened it. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry. I'm doing it again. Raving on about stuff you have no interest in whatsoever.' She jammed her finger on the lift button. ‘Don't say it's stuck again.'

‘The light's moving.'

Annie glanced up. She flung him a quick smile. ‘You don't have to wait, if you'd rather go and do whatever it was…have your glass of wine.' He had the most beautiful eyes. Quite stunningly clear. Like Paul Newman's. And that very direct way of looking at her, as if she was an interesting species of something under a microscope. Was she coming out in an oleander induced rash? Her right hand
was
itchy. ‘Are you a scientist?'

He laughed. A spontaneous, surprised laugh which lit his face and made those lovely eyes sparkle and her heart do a little hippety hop. ‘No. What made you ask that?'

‘Nothing. I just wondered.'

‘I'm a doctor.'

‘Really? What sort of doctor?' Perhaps he wouldn't mind having a quick look at Mattie's throat. She mustn't ask him, doctors would be sick of being taken advantage of like that and anyway, he didn't appear to like children.

‘A respiratory specialist.'

‘Gosh!'

‘Is that so surprising?'

‘No. Sorry.' She surreptitiously rubbed her hand on her jeans. Itchy, no doubt about it. He must be extremely intelligent and here she was blabbing all that bilious stuff about Kevin like a complete idiot.

‘That's all right.' His lips crinkled and the lovely eyes twinkled reassuringly.

Annie wiped her uncontaminated hand across her brow and sighed. ‘You must think I'm nuts.'

His smile disappeared, replaced by the intensely interested expression. ‘Hard to say without further analysis.' Annie froze, shocked, for a moment. Was climbing around in poisonous oleander bushes searching for knickers crossing over the crazy line? Would this gorgeous man think she was nuts? Then he laughed. ‘Probably no more than the rest of us.'

The lift arrived with a groan and a hiss. The doors opened to spew forth a group of people dressed to party. Hugh moved to one side and Annie the other. She darted in. As the doors closed she caught a glimpse of his smiling face and hand raised in farewell.

‘Goodnight,' he said.

Annie sagged against the wall, hot and steamy with delayed embarrassment. What would he be thinking of her? Mad as a hatter. Talking nonstop rubbish, some of it vitriolic. Children left alone while she clambered about in the bushes after her underwear. Underwear which erroneously indicated a sex life far wilder and in excess of her non-existent one. An unfit, neglectful mother? Was that what the frown was about?

Straightened. Who cared what he thought? She was a good mother, the best. She studied her right hand. A reddish patch spread across the palm. Was that poisoned blood beginning to move through her body? Or was it red from scratching just now? Hugh would know. The faster she washed it the better. My God he was handsome! Just because she wasn't interested in a relationship didn't mean she was oblivious to a man's attractions.

She marched out of the lift to her door, shoved her hand in her jeans pocket for her keys. Not there! Fighting rising panic she slapped her hands onto the other pockets, dived inside, found knickers and a tissue. No keys.
Not there
? They had to be. She'd carefully, carefully,
so
carefully made sure she had them. They must have fallen out in the oleanders. Bugger! She'd have to go back down and on top of that she'd have to knock on Hugh and James' door to borrow their torch and also ask one of them to come with her so she could get back into the building if she couldn't find the keys. She slumped against the wall of the lift as it descended, eyes closed, head back.

Humiliation, tonight is thy night.

Hugh rejoined James in the kitchen and picked up the glass of red waiting for him on the bench.

‘That was funny.' James picked up the remote and switched on the TV.

‘Knickers in the oleanders.' Hugh sat down to watch the end of the news. It
was
funny, superficially, but was underwear more important than the safety of children? Never.

‘Do you reckon that was true? They blew off the balcony?'

‘Probably. Doubt whether she has much other action going on up there with two little kids underfoot.'

‘Not bad looking.'

‘No.' Hugh sipped his wine. Not bad looking at all. Quite the opposite. Smooth long dark hair pulled away from an oval face with big grey eyes gazing out at a world that treated her pretty shabbily, from what he could tell. Full rounded breasts a man could fill his hands with. Neat waist. Voluptuous summed her up nicely. But. ‘She's a single mother. Separated. Husband left her.'

‘You didn't waste any time.'

‘She told me. I didn't ask.'

‘It's that professional medical manner you have.' James chuckled. ‘People tell you anything.'

‘Hah. Right before they ask me to diagnose their latest symptoms.'

The news ended. James flicked channels. ‘There's a Marx Brothers movie on now.
A Night At the Opera
.'

‘Fine.' Hugh settled into his chair. A good old-fashioned laugh couldn't hurt. He hadn't watched television for ages. He'd forgotten how James loved those classic films.

Sexy and attractive though Annie may be, she shouldn't have left her children alone. Not
for any reason and certainly not for something as frivolous as underwear. Anything could happen. It only took an instant. He firmed his mouth and swallowed a mouthful of wine. She couldn't be more than thirty. They must be young, totally helpless in the face of a fire, an accident or sudden illness.

The Marx Brothers started. Someone tapped on the door. A tentative knock as though whoever it was didn't really want the door to be opened. James groaned.

‘I'll go.' Hugh left his wine on the coffee table and stood up. No-one had buzzed the intercom so it must be a neighbour. Borrowing a cup of sugar? He'd only been here two weeks but it didn't strike him as a cake baking tenancy.

The door swung open to reveal Annie.

‘Hello. Lost more knickers?' He instantly regretted the flippancy. Her eyes opened wide in a pale face, body tense. Tears hovered. Memory rippled through his body. A twenty four year old aftershock — panic, fear, the smell, the sound roaring in his ears. The screams.

‘My keys. I lost my keys outside and I can't get into the apartment. My kids are there alone.' Her fingers twisted and twined about each other.

‘Wait a minute.' Hugh sprinted to the laundry and grabbed the torch, clamped down on the rising panic. The spontaneous, totally irrational panic. ‘Annie's lost her keys in the garden,' he called to James on the way past.

‘Need me to help?'

‘No, thanks.'

He snatched the keys from the bowl on the bench and joined Annie, hovering, fidgeting in the doorway.

‘Back into the oleanders.' He forced a smile.