The Bonk Squad (31 page)

“
It was nice of Meg to loan
you to me.”

“
Meg and I have an
arrangement,” he muttered, wanting to clear the air with Liz, and
start from a position of absolute honesty.

“
Yes. A night out and then
bed—twice a week, I hear.”

He cringed. “It sounds very bald, put
like that.”

“
But that’s the
arrangement?”

“
Well, yes.”

“
Sensible,” she confirmed.
“Everyone knows where they stand. We should all be so
lucky.”

Al reversed out onto the road,
attention diverted from Liz for a few moments.

“
It’s not a long term
thing,” he said. “Necessarily.”

“
It seems to suit
Meg.”

His gut clenched. “We’re just
friends.”

“
Twice a week.”

She’s sending me
up
, he thought, scrabbling around in his
brain for any way to reassure her he wasn’t a cold hearted
sex-fiend with a conscience as weak as water.

“
We take it as it
comes.”

“
You
take it as it comes
,” he imagined Liz
saying. For at that instant it became blindingly clear to him he’d
been making rather cavalier use of Meg—even if the dining out
pleased her well enough.

“
Where are we going?” Liz
asked as the big quiet car sliced through the suburbs.

“
There’s a nice little
winery out by the Tuki Tuki river. I’ve eaten there once or twice.
It’s been good each time. Orlando’s.”

“
You’ve taken Meg there.
She said it was good.”

“
Ah,” he said, caught out.
“Maybe. Yes.”

“
This is very kind of
you.”

To buy you dinner? To
pretend I’m your lover?
Al was all at sea.
He searched for any answer that wouldn’t make him sound a complete
fool. “No trouble at all,” he managed. “You are,” he added without
meaning to, “very lovely. How could anyone bear to leave
you?”

Liz didn’t turn a hair. “I’m a real
bitch when it suits me.”

“
And when does it suit
you?”

She didn’t speak for a
moment and then it all poured out. “It suited me when I was left on
my own for too long. When I was ignored and taken for granted. When
the sex was lousy because he was too tired or too busy. When it was
his fault and he pretended it was mine. When they were my kids,
not
ours
. When it
was never going to be okay, ever again.” She raised an eyebrow.
“Funny how you can sometimes tell an absolute stranger the awful
truth, isn’t it?”

“
It happens.”

He had no intention of being an
absolute stranger beyond this evening. He wanted to know everything
about her...tell her everything about him in return.

Her eyes, he now saw, were neither
blue nor green, but some bright sea-color in between. She’d bundled
her hair up in a knot arrangement that looked on the point of
unraveling. His fingers itched to pull it undone and spread the
soft strands over the warm skin of her shoulders. He clenched his
hands around the steering wheel to keep them under control, feeling
more alive than he had in years.

They drove on in silence for a short
time.

At last he drew a deep breath. “Your
situation sounds embarrassingly familiar. The husband too busy, the
wife taken for granted.”

“
You?”

He nodded without taking his
concentration off the road. How accusing were her lovely eyes? “I’d
be better at it the second time around,” he assured her, easing his
collar away from his throat.

“
You’ve someone in mind?
Meg?”

“
No, not Meg,” he said, too
fast. “Speaking hypothetically. In case, in the future, someone
turns up.”

He slowed and steered the car onto a
tree lined country road. “Just a couple more minutes now.
Hungry?”

“
Not too bad,” Liz said,
replete after the huge lunch she’d put away earlier that day. “Not
desperate. I think you’re mad to consider marrying again. Whatever
for? I certainly won’t risk it a second time. I’ve already got my
kids, and you can get sex anywhere.”

Al’s mind exploded with sudden scenes
of her having sex ‘anywhere’. The floor? The bath? The
beach?

“
Sex maybe, but not
love.”

“
A man wanting
lurve
...now there’s a
surprise,” she needled. “Some men’ll say anything to get you into
bed.” She thought back to Neill Farrell and the horrendous
situation he’d pitched Romy into. “Who needs them?” she
scoffed.

“
Untrustworthy bastards,
are we?”

“
Most of you.”

“
But not all of
us?”

“
You count yourself among
the good guys? Even after admitting you took your wife for granted,
and left her to cope pretty much on her own until she couldn’t
stand it?”

His lips thinned in a humorless
grimace. “You pull no punches.”

“
Well—if it’s the truth?”
Her sea-green eyes challenged his.

“
Is there nothing in your
own life you’d do differently if you had the chance?” he
demanded.

“
Hindsight’s a wonderful
thing. Of course I wouldn’t live it the same. Wouldn’t have married
Paul, that’s for sure. I would have waited longer to have the
children so I could see what a loser he was. And got out before
they were hurt.”

“
I thought he was a lawyer?
Successful?”

“
Oh yeah, moneywise. That’s
different though.”

“
So money doesn’t do it for
you?”

“
Money on its own? No
way.”

“
So money plus
what?”

Liz remained quiet until Al brought
the big car to a halt outside the restaurant.

“
Money...plus...equal
sharing,” she said. “I don’t mean...um...” She shook her head and
started again. “Not wanting to know every detail of his life; not
wanting a new car myself just because he has one, or expecting a
new kitchen because he’s bought a boat...but...time together. Equal
efforts for the children. Giving me as much consideration as his
precious bloody clients. It didn’t happen. It was never going to. I
would have traded a picnic by the river for this anytime,” she
said, lifting her right hand up and flashing an exotic black pearl
ring at him. “I doubt he chose it himself. Probably sent his
secretary out on Christmas Eve with instructions to spend a
thousand bucks on something pretty for me.”

“
You don’t know that for
sure?”

“
I had to get it re-sized,”
she said. “It was massive. He didn’t care enough to take one of my
other rings into town with him and get something to fit
me.”

Al nodded, thinking of the times he’d
asked his secretary to order flowers for Diana when business got in
the way of family life.

“
I can manage dinner by the
river, if not your picnic,” he said, unsnapping his seatbelt and
pushing the Audi’s door open.

She laughed at that, as he’d hoped she
would. And by the time she’d located her little bag on the floor,
he’d opened her door and extended a hand to help her
out.

“
I’m not your grandmother,”
she said tartly, although she accompanied the comment with a smile
as she rose unaided, and preceded him inside.

She’s no
push-over
, Al reminded himself once they
were seated. “Red or white?”

“
Whatever you’re having. I
had far too much at lunchtime. I won’t drink a lot
more.”

“
Ah, the famous Christmas
lunch.” He remembered Meg mentioning it. “How did it
go?”

“
Great start, followed by
total disaster. Featuring me,” she added.

Al stayed silent, waiting for her to
elaborate. “A bloody man again,” she sighed. “You can’t trust them.
Two men really. The first one totally shattered my best friend’s
life this morning. And the second one tried to grope
me.”

Al’s new-found possessiveness rampaged
through six feet plus of very fit male body, ready to leap to her
defense. He straightened in his seat.

“
We were somewhat drunk,”
she muttered.

“
Did he manage to? Grope
you?”

“
A bit. And all hell broke
loose because Vi caught us at it. Then the pipes burst,” she added,
leaving several confusing scenes competing for attention in his
brain.

“
But you’re all
right?”

“
Fine. The x-rays showed
nothing broken.”

“
He
hurt
you?” The demand was lethally
quiet. Al’s gaze roamed over Liz’s perfect face and
body.

“
Not much, as it turned
out.”

“
What the hell happened?
Start from the beginning.”

“
The beginning,” she mused.
“All of us having drinks on an empty stomach I suppose. Disgusting
sweet sparkling stuff that slid down too damn easily. Then quite a
lot more wine with lunch. And Vi made a trifle with about a gallon
of sherry in it. We were all half plonked.”

“
Not your average subdued
literary luncheon then?”

She gave a twisted little smile. “We
only do the lunch once a year. The rest of the time it’s tea and
coffee at the afternoon meetings.”

“
And when did you get
attacked?”

“
Far from that. It was
supposed to be a thank you kiss. We were in the
bathroom.”

“
Together?”

Liz waved the inquiry away. “Forget
it, Al. It’s not the way it sounds.”

The waiter approached before she could
explain further, leaving Al simmering, and wondering how else it
could possibly be made to sound.

“
And?” he demanded, once
the menus had been supplied, and some waiterly chat
dispensed.

“
Let’s leave it. Vi burst
in. The vanity broke. I landed on the floor. The pipes gave way.
Lots of water, not much blood, okay?”

“
And who was this drunken
clown who made the pass?”

“
Only Ian—my Friday night
lover.”

Al’s blood pounded in his ears. He’d
heard Meg mention Ian, so the name wasn’t a total
surprise.

“
Like you’re going to be
my
Sunday
night
lover,” Liz continued in the nick of time.

He’d been close to making a total fool
of himself; Liz had fired up every protective instinct in his big
body. He floundered in deep water, surrounded by sharks.

“
Not for real, then?” he
ground out.

“
About as real as you’ll
be.”

He clenched his very good teeth
together and gave her a tight smile.

“
I might just have two
entrees,” she said airily. “It was quite a big lunch. What are you
having?”

You—however long it
takes.

Johnno had never been more pleased
that Eloise had immersed herself in drama. Oblivious to the rest of
the world, she spent hours transforming herself into Mrs.
Robinson.

It couldn’t have come at a better
time; he was neck-deep in treachery, intrigue, and sea
water.

Although school had closed for the
long summer break, Johnno continued to arrive with a packed lunch
and Thermos of tea to spend uninterrupted days at one of the
classroom computers.

His story had him by the throat; no
way in the world could he leave it alone. Even on Christmas Day,
while forced to spend ‘family time’ with Eloise and Tigger, he
wheedled Tigger into providing him with information off the
internet.

“
Can you Google me up a map
of New Caledonia?”

Her fingers danced on the keys of her
ever-present Mac, and she swiveled the screen toward him. He leaned
on the outdoor table where the smeared lunch plates still remained,
and peered at the long narrow island deep in the South Pacific
Ocean.

Eloise dozed in her new Christmas
lounger under the big canvas market umbrella, eyes closed, ears
open.

“
There’s Noumea, so where
would Port Plaisance be? Can you expand that—get in any
closer?”

Tigger twiddled. “Ah, so that’s your
marina,” she said. “You’ve got him landing there?”

“
Not yet...not yet...”
Johnno muttered. “He’s been anchored off the Isle des Pins for a
while, keeping out of their way. Remember all those tall narrow
trees, Ellie? Not pines as we know them—more like Norfolk Pines
with monkey-tail fronds? I wonder if they’ve got any caves nearby?
I need a cave.”

He pored over the map a while longer.
“Anse Vata—we went swimming there on that holiday a few years back.
Nice beach.”

Eloise shifted in the lounger, making
it creak.

“
Remember that?” he asked,
well aware she was awake and listening. “Anse Vata beach? The big
black sunhat you bought? And the wind wouldn’t leave it alone? The
old chaps playing
boules
?”