deeply inside a woman before. She was moaning and twisting on top of me and it was painful and blissful at the same time. She increased the tempo, found the rhythm she wanted and went on and on until she came in a long, heaving rush that brought me helplessly to my climax and had me shouting something up into her dark, beautiful face. She collapsed, slipped sideways and I slid out of her but grabbed her with both hands and pulled her close, wanting to feel the whole length of her against me.
Jesus, she said. Oh, Jesus.
I said nothing, just clung to her and struggled against a mad impulse to weep and-laugh at the same time. I could feel myself shaking and she pushed back against me.
Cliff, whats wrong? Are you having some kind of fit?
No, no. It was just so good. So good.
She rolled away; the condom had come free and semen or lubricant or both was on her thigh. She stood beside the bed smiling down at me. She had pulled the cover off and the top sheet down before we started, now she lifted the sheet up over me and shoved a pillow under my head. She unhooked her bra. Her large brown nipples were erect and I reached out to touch the nearest one.
She slapped my hand away. Enough. Have a little sleep, why dont you. Im taking a shower.
My body was hot and the pillow and sheets were cool. I was weightless, floating, and I was asleep before she got her stockings off.
When I woke up she was sitting at the end of the bed looking at me. She was wearing a floor-length white satin robe, modestly closed across her chest. Its an odd feeling to wake up with someone watching you. Did you dribble or say something you shouldnt have? I must have looked troubled.
Why are you looking like that? she said.
Like what?
There was a sort of angry look on your face.
I dunno. I sort of thought how vulnerable a sleeping person is to one whos awake.
She laughed. Jesus, thats paranoia if ever I heard it. I suppose it goes with the job. Makes it a bit hard on your women, though.
Youre right there. Im not good at hanging on to women, or theyre not good at hanging on to me. I suppose trust has something to do with it.
Well see. Where dyou want to go from here, Cliff?
On, I said.
Me, too. She crawled along the bed to me and I reached for her and we lay with our arms around each other. She smelled of shampoo and I stroked the fine, strong white hair.
Wondering about that? she said.
A bit, but I like it. Its beautiful hair.
Its one of those things you read about but it actually happened to me. I had red hair, well, dark red. I was in a car crash once. Not too serious, cuts and bruises and concussion, but I saw what was going to happen before it did and got the fright of my life. My hair turned white while I was in the hospital. Not overnight, but over a couple of weeks. I dyed it for years but now I like it this way. You dont think it makes me look old?
Couldnt.
Thank you. Well, weve made some progress. Were great in bed, and we both like curry. I wonder what else we might be able to do together?
Travel, maybe?
Thats a thought. Where?
Paris?
Jesus, this is speeding up. What…?
Id looked at my watch on the bedside table. It was after five. It felt as if Id had ten minutes sleep and it was more like a couple of hours. I moved in the bed and she detached herself.
Im sorry, I said. I have to see someone pretty soon.
She patted my shoulder. Thats OK. Who?
Ramona Becketts mother.
Well, thatll be interesting for you. What… never mind.
Go on.
I was going to ask you what line youd take with her, but its none of my business. I just wish I had something as interesting as that to do myself, instead of just waiting for this bloody settlement to come through. She jackknifed off the bed like a gymnast. Youd better have a shower. Cant go calling on an elderly lady smelling like that.
I showered and dressed. She had a bottle of white wine open when I came out to the living room and she put a glass in front of me. Tell you what. Give me that picture you had and Ill ask around about him. I know how this place works.
I was doubtful but I took out the photo. What will you say?
What would you have said?
Itd depend on who I was talking to.
Well, likewise. Anyway, the security in this place is so tight youd get nowhere. Do you realise our keys only allow us to access our own floors and the roof? Thats where the pool and spa and saunas are. And the gym. At least I can ask around in the lifts and the public spaces.
I handed the photo to her. OK, thanks. That could be a big help, but you have to promise you wont follow it up if you get a bite.
No way. Ill just tell you next time we meet, which will be when?
Tomorrow.
Yes. Can I come to your office? Youve invaded my inner sanctum, I wanna get a look at yours.
We agreed to meet there at noon. I finished the drink. We stood up simultaneously and kissed.
I wouldve called you, Cliff, she said. Just about now.
12
Wollstonecraft is not that far from Glebe as the shark swims, but its a million miles away in atmosphere and economics. I got out of the car to walk about, kill a few minutes and take in the ambience. The first thing that struck me was the quiet. A few cars purred by but otherwise the only sounds were from birds in the trees and garden sprinkler systems. A telephone booth I passed held a full set of intact directoriesWhite and Yellow Pages.
As I negotiated my way to the Beckett house I reflected that the middle classes have apparently held out here against change. Their big houses still sit on big blocks with high fences and hedges. No granny flats and subdivisions. Apartment buildings have gone up, particularly near the railway station, but they were all solid and gracious, like the houseshigh-rent places, not likely to attract anyone who might let down the tone. The migrant influx must have had an affect on the commercial life of the suburb, but my guess was that it hadnt changed the domestic patterns. The word Waterloo was sculptured into a hedge. Thatd be right, I thought, Anglophilesd be thick on the ground around here. I wondered how Gabriella Vargas had fitted in. She mustve liked it, hadnt moved.
The house was probably the best one in the best street, a cul-de-sac with bushy parkland along one side and at the bottom. It looked out across a stretch of reserve towards Balls Head Bay. Behind the three-metre hedge I could see the top levels of the elegant sandstone mansion and the word villa came to mind. On a good day youd have a great view of the yachts on the water from up there and be breathing air that would have less lead, carbon monoxide and other poisons in it than that inhaled by most Sydney residents. There were only two cars in the street, visitors, obviously. Here, you drove through your gates and tucked your Merc up snugly for the night in your garage or car port. I checked my watch. Six-twenty. She didnt like people being late. I wondered how she felt about early.
I pressed a button on the gatepost, announced myself and pushed the gate open after the click. The front garden was a nice blend of paving stones, grass, shrubs and flower beds. There were a couple of benches situated
