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The awkwardness between them seemed to make the air prickle.

He shook his head. 'I don't want to cancel. We need to talk in a situation where there is no chance of them overhearing. Or anyone else, for that matter.'

'Go, then,' she agreed. 'Of course you can leave Ellie here. I was only going to feed them something very simple. It's not as if I need help in preparing it.'

'Then I'll see you in two hours. I'll bring Ellie's night things then.'

She was ready for him when he arrived, just after Jenny did, and she wasn't sorry that the baby sitter had got there first. She'd been on edge during every minute of the intervening two hours, and could only be thankful that the girls had been so happily absorbed in their play that they hadn't detected her mood.

She couldn't get Malcolm or his words out of her mind. He'd said he wanted to think, and that they'd need to talk over their meal, as if a strong inkling of what he wanted was already fixed in his mind.

Her own mind was ticking over at twice its normal speed, and she'd begun to have a clear suspicion about what he intended...which perhaps made the purchase of a new dress this afternoon particularly appropriate.

Viewing herself in the mirror after Jenny had opened the door and Lucy had heard Malcolm's voice in the hall, she was quietly pleased with what she saw. Knowing she was no great beauty, she was able to focus on the assets she did have—clear, peachy skin, wide green eyes, soft hair which obligingly allowed her to style it in several different ways. And the new silver-grey dress was definitely a success.

She came expectantly towards him along the corridor, hoping he would comment, but he didn't. He still looked miles away, and as if his thoughts were churning at the speed of light. Tall and easily dominating the space of the small hallway with the dark bulk of his suit, he moved restlessly as he talked with Jenny. Evidently he could hardly contain his impatience to leave.

'Both in bed by eight o'clock, Jenny,' he was saying. 'They've played pretty hard this afternoon.'

'Charlotte's toothbrush is ready in the bathroom,' Lucy added. 'And her nightie is laid out on the bed. The folding bed is set up for Ellie right next to Charlotte's. And I'm sure they'd both like a story, which is fine with me.'

'Go along then, you two,' Jenny said, her brown eyes twinkling. 'You sound as if you think I've never done this before.'

'I'll just kiss Charlotte goodnight,' Lucy murmured, self-conscious about the way Jenny's words had linked her to Malcolm.

'You two.' It was what you said to couples. The way she'd given each of them a pat on the back as she'd spoken only served to strengthen this impression.

Lucy's stomach turned over. To be a couple with Malcolm... She hardly dared to contemplate what that would mean after all this time.

He'd chosen a very expensive restaurant in the centre of the city, and when they were seated in a secluded corner table he commented on her appearance at last 'You look great, Lucy. I'm glad I wore this suit, or I wouldn't have looked fit to be your escort.'

She laughed, and blushed a little, then murmured, 'I don't think you'd ever have much to fear on that score, Malcolm, even if you were still in your gardening clothes.'

'No, I insist, it's the suit. Fine feathers make fine birds.'

'I have to admit, I do
not
think of you as a bird.'

He laughed, then they studied their menus in silence. Lucy finally chose a light pasta, knowing she probably wouldn't be able to eat much. Why was she feeling like this? So fluttery in the stomach. Did it make such a huge difference that he knew the truth about Charlotte now?

Yes! Yes, it did! The love that had burned in her six years ago, without her being aware of it until the very end, had never really gone away. The advent of Charlotte had kept its flame quietly burning, and now that Malcolm was so closely meshed in her life once more, that flame had flared even more brightly.

They talked about impersonal things as they ate. He had watched the news and weather at home before picking her up, and there were several fires burning around Canberra, with no hope of a change in the weather until Monday.

'I have my pager with me,' he said. 'It's possible I'll get called in.'

'Would your house ever be threatened?' she asked. 'You back onto the nature reserve, fairly near where Mary Sisley must have had her camp.'

'That's one of the reasons I was thinning out the shrubbery today,' he said. 'Less fuel for a fire to take hold of.'

They agreed that the danger wasn't great, and that her own house was safer still, surrounded as it was by other houses, rather than bushland.

Then he put down his knife and fork, making a little clatter on the plate, and it seemed like a signal. Time to get down to business.

'Let's talk about what's really on our minds, Lucy,' he said quietly. His grey eyes seemed to burn into hers across the table. There was a white candle flickering in the middle of it, and she could see the dancing flame reflecting in his dark pupils. 'I've been thinking about nothing else,' he continued. 'And first I want to say that I think you're doing a wonderful job with her. She's a delightful little girl, bright and affectionate and curious and happy.'

'A little bossy!'

'A little bossy,' he agreed. 'She has spirit, and the confidence to be that way. Your parents must be great people, too.'

'Oh, they are.'

'I envy them... I envy you...for having seen her grow and change over those early years.'

'Malcolm, I know, I've deprived you of that, and if you—'

'You couldn't have done otherwise,' he cut in. 'It didn't take me long to realise that, as I thought about it today. Even if I'd known about her then, I couldn't have enjoyed her. It would have been a terrible situation. I can't even imagine how we could have got through the first few years of her life without damaging her—and ourselves—through guilt and hostility and regret. You were right in the decision you took back then, but now it's different, and I've got a proposition to make which I want you to think about very carefully.'

Lucy felt her heart begin to pound, and knew that her colour had heightened. Surely there was only one thing he could say which would merit such a preamble. And, loving him, she already knew what her answer would be.

She had even taken time to consider the biggest risk—that it wouldn't work because he didn't love her—and she'd decided that she had the courage and faith to take that risk with her eyes open, in the belief that if she loved him, he'd one day come to love her.

So, yes, she would marry him, and give Charlotte the father and sister that were rightfully hers.

'What I want to propose,' he said slowly, 'is that we tell the girls the truth—or as much of it as they'll understand at their age—as soon as possible. What do you think, Lucy? Is there a way we can do it? They deserve to know that they're sisters, don't they?'

It was like being doused in a bucket of icy water...to be followed by a burning sensation as she wondered feverishly how much her body language had betrayed about what she'd been thinking. She was leaning forward, her eyes were shining and she practically had the word 'yes' already formed on her lips. She would have felt like an utter fool if she hadn't felt so raw and hurt.

She looked down, and discovered that she was twisting the white linen table napkin in her hands, making it wet with the moisture from her palms. She knew he was waiting for her answer, some sort of measured response, exploring the best interests of the girls, suggesting a way to pitch the truth at a level they'd comprehend. But she couldn't answer him yet.

Oh, she
was
a fool! To have thought he'd suggest marriage, after what he'd been through. He'd
been
married, a love match, unencumbered by the past, or by children, or by ulterior reasons, and even that marriage, she knew, had been difficult and had required an enormous amount of work. Truly knowing the meaning of the words 'for better, for worse', Malcolm Lambert was the last man in the world who would suggest such a thing lightly.

She felt as if she had been catapulted back through the years to the most difficult moments in her pregnancy, to her painful twenty-two-hour labour and the hard, solitary work of delivery, to all the lonely moments when her parents' loving support still hadn't been quite enough. Back then, more than once, she'd indulged in a fantasy that Malcolm would track her down, come to Brewarra in search of her, sweep her into his strong arms and say, 'Marry me, Lucy. It's the only way to make something right come out of what we did.'

Oh, she'd wanted that so badly at times, even though she'd known in her heart that it couldn't happen.

'You haven't said anything,' Malcolm prompted.

'No, I—'

'Are you angry, Lucy? You look angry.'

She smiled vaguely and tried to make the brooding expression disappear from her face. She took a deep breath. 'Not angry. But I
don't
think we should tell them.'

'Why not?' It was a heated question. 'Why maintain the secrecy, and the pretence? Ultimately, I don't think that sort of dishonesty—'

'Do we have to call it that?' Her own heat was building now, too.

'It is dishonest, isn't it?'

'I suppose you've never let Ellie believe in Father Christmas or the tooth fairy, because that's dishonest, too.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Lucy. That sort of comparison is completely unfair.'

'Surely what's unfair is to burden them with a story they can't really understand,' she replied hotly. 'How would we phrase it? Do we tell them the whole dreadful truth? What if it ruins their friendship? Being sisters would probably be a very romantic idea for them at first, but the bloom would wear off and then what are we all left with? Awkwardness. And no more real connection than we had in the first place.'

She was painfully aware that you couldn't make a true connection happen simply by
wanting
it. The intimate, explosive connection she'd had with Malcolm six years ago had produced the beloved miracle of Charlotte, but it had also produced many episodes of loneliness and pain, and it was these memories that were colouring her perception, and the tone of her voice, as she spoke.

'It seems a very
arid
solution to me, Malcolm,' she went on. 'To tell them, and then go on as before.'

She saw his face gradually close as her own words grew more and more intense, and when she'd finished he jumped in straight away. 'Arid? I don't see it as arid at all. Civilised, perhaps. Certainly
modern.
And I don't see what's so wrong in simply being civilised.'

'Civilised?' She laughed rather harshly. 'The beginning of this, six years ago, wasn't exactly civilised, was it?'

'No,' he agreed briefly. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, then Lucy looked quickly down at the table, where she was still fiddling with her damp, incurably creased napkin. 'Does that make a difference?'

'It has to, doesn't it?' she returned. 'Think about it, Malcolm. How could we possibly explain it to them without bringing all that out? The only way I've managed to-explain Charlotte's lack of a daddy to her until now has been by being very, very vague. How can we suddenly announce that she
does
have a daddy, and it's you, and therefore Ellie is her sister, when they both already know that Ellie's mother is dead? I...' She shook her head, then finished firmly, 'I won't do it, Malcolm. Not yet.'

He nodded slowly. 'I see your point of view. I don't agree with it. I think there are other considerations. But I can't force the issue, can I? It has to be agreed between us first, before we take any action. And you've exercised your power of veto. I have to accept that.'

He was silent for quite a while, and now
he
was the one staring down. She watched him, and was shocked at the bleakness she saw in his face. As in the past, it brought a surge of tenderness in her, and a deep need to reach across and smooth away the tension with her fingers. And her lips.

'You talked about other considerations, Malcolm,' she said desperately.

He looked up. 'Not for you, I expect. You're rather well provided for, when it comes to family.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, you
have
one. Ellie and I don't. Charlotte has loving grandparents who she's utterly familiar and at home with. She has an aunt, doesn't she? Your sister?'

'Yes, and three cousins, slightly older. She adores them. They'll probably come down for a visit soon.'

'You see what I mean? Family. You don't know what a blessed luxury that is. My parents are dead, as you probably know, and I don't know if you remember Bronwyn's parents, and what they were like?'

'Yes, I do.'

'Both of us were only children. That was one of the things we had in common at first, but now it means that Ellie has no one but me.'

'I understand, Malcolm.'

'But you think I'm trying to provide her with an instant family, and you don't think it will work.'

'Something like that I suppose I've seen that it
doesn't,
always. Please, let's think for longer about this before we do anything rash.'

He nodded once more, and this time it seemed as if there was nothing further to say.

'Dessert?' he prompted her, once their empty plates had been taken away.

'I couldn't, tonight.'

'No appetite?'

'Not really.'

'I'll ask for the bill next time the waiter appears, then. Feelings are a pretty powerful appetite-suppressant, aren't they? I lost a lot of weight after Branny died.'

'Surely you didn't have a lot to lose?'

'I didn't,' he agreed. 'A colleague in Brisbane had to point out the truth to me in the end. That I wouldn't be much use to Ellie if I didn't maintain my own health. So I started eating properly again, and I joined a gym and took up swimming. I'm fitter these days than I was in my teens, because I was rather a weed until Bronwyn got hold of me.'