From Waif To His Wife

checked her music one last time and heard the band’s minibus toot. ‘Coming!’

The Cumberland had turned its ballroom into a magic dell in the forest.

The tables were decked in deep rose-pink cloths with cream napkins, with real pink and cream rosebuds as their centrepieces.

There were floral streamers forming a canopy over the ballroom with an exquisite crystal chandelier at the apex of the canopy. There were silk panels against the walls, hand-painted, by the look of it, with birds and trees and butterflies. There were candles on the tables in branched silver holders.

And it was an elegant throng that streamed into the ballroom as the band played softly in the background.

Dinner suits and beautiful gowns were the order of the night. Silks and taffetas shimmered in the candlelight, lace and voile sculpted figures. Diamonds glittered and pearls glowed in gold and platinum settings. Emeralds and rubies and sapphires complemented necklines and wrists, fingers and ears-all set off beautifully against mostly black dinner suits.

‘Who are these people?’ Paul, the guitarist, asked sotto voce.

‘The creme de la creme,’ Jim replied. He played percussion and was the lead singer. ‘So let’s give ’em a night to remember!’

It was Maisie thought she glimpsed Rafael Sanderson.

Dinner had been cleared away, the speeches made and the band had just played a number that had got the throng dancing their hearts out, then giving the band a breathless but ardent ovation.

Jim raised a hand for Maisie to take a bow along with the band, and she did so, several bows. Just as she was about to sit down again a tall figure with that familiar dark-blond hair caught her eye and she suffered an incredible pang of deja vu for an instant, followed by an incredulous question-which Rafe Sanderson was it?

‘Maisie?’ Jim breathed.

‘Oh!’ She turned away and sat down hurriedly. ‘Sorry. Uh-where are we?’

‘Here!’ He indicated her sheet music. ‘Take a deep breath; you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

She swallowed. ‘No, I’m fine!’ And she struck a chord that led the band into some classic pop, to the crowd’s further delight.

They packed up at two o’clock, an hour later than they’d planned. As they were leaving the ballroom, she felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up into the eyes of Rafael Sanderson, CEO of Sanderson Minerals.

‘Can I buy you a drink?’ he murmured.

Her throat worked and she closed her eyes briefly. ‘That’s not funny.’

He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘That’s what he said-so it was you,’ she added. ‘I thought for a moment, I wasn’t sure-uh, no, thanks. I-’

‘Perhaps I should have specified an orange juice and no seductive ulterior motives. Come.’

‘Hang on, I was leaving with the band, otherwise I’ll have to take a taxi and it’s late anyway!’

‘I’ll drop you home.’

‘Is-is there any news?’ she asked with her eyes widening.

‘No, but I need to ask you a few more things. It won’t take long.’

‘Maisie!’ Jim called.

‘Uh-Jim, it’s OK, I’ve met a-a friend and he’s going to drive me home.’

But Jim came back to be reassured and Rafe introduced himself.

‘Well, I like to keep an eye on her at this time of night but if you’re sure?’

‘I’m sure, Jim,’ Maisie said quietly. ‘I probably couldn’t be safer than with-Rafe.’

They found a quiet corner of the Cumberland’s lounge still serving beverages and he ordered coffee, she ordered hot chocolate.

‘Have you been here all night?’ she queried.

‘No, I came late.’

‘Still, it’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?’

‘No, I knew you were playing here tonight-you’re very good.’

‘Thank you. I started piano lessons when I was six. Does that mean you’re checking up on me in some way?’

He studied her comprehensively, the expert make-up she’d touched up only an hour ago, her hair, her lovely, rather provocative dress-and, with a twist of his lips, remembered the Maisie Wallis he’d fished out of Moreton Bay.

And he recalled with some astonishment that if it hadn’t been for her hair, he mightn’t have recognised her immediately tonight.

There was also her command of the piano, he thought, and the sense of rhythm that seemed to flow from her fingertips. That led him to consider her mental make-up. Of course there had to be natural talent but there must have been a lot of dedication and hard work expended to achieve her musical fluency.

Did she dance with the same fluency? he caught himself wondering out of the blue. And what would it be like to have that lovely little body in his arms, all that vitality under his direction right up close and personal? She’d been nice enough to hold fast asleep…

He grimaced and conceded that he’d proved one thing in the rather tiresome exercise he’d undertaken tonight. Most men could be forgiven for thinking Mairead Wallis, as opposed to Maisie, was sophisticated and worldly, a girl who might know the score until you got to know her better.

Then he noticed the faint blue shadows of tiredness beneath her eyes. ‘I suppose so. There is quite a difference between Mairead and Maisie Wallis. But should you still be doing this?’

‘I’m fine.’ Maisie moved restlessly. ‘There’s going to be even more of a difference shortly.’

‘Is that a suggestion that we get down to business?’ he asked wryly.

Maisie waited as their beverages were served and she took a fortifying sip of hot chocolate. ‘What is it you want to know?’

‘I want to know everything he told you.’

‘I can’t possibly remember everything,’ she protested.

‘Let’s start with anything to do with Karoo or the Dixon family.’

‘He never mentioned the Dixon family. I-I’m not sure if he grew up on Karoo Downs, but it sounded as if he spent a lot of time there one way or another, holidays and so on. Did you? Grow up there?’

‘No, but I spent a lot of time there one way or another. Could he have worked there?’

Maisie opened her mouth and closed it. ‘That wasn’t the impression I got, although, now that I come to think of it, there was the odd nuance of…of something…odd, something-I got the feeling there might be something uneasy…’ She broke off and shook her head. ‘I don’t really know what it was.’

Rafe Sanderson gazed at her for a long moment in a way that was rather unnerving-as if he was looking right through her.

‘So you think it could have been someone who worked there who bears you a grudge?’ she asked then with her eyes widening. ‘But-how does that explain the resemblance?’

He looked away at last. ‘Maybe coincidence. Uh-the wedding you played at, where you first met him…can I have the details?’

She gave them to him, the date and the venue, then put a hand to her mouth. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘You didn’t realise you were dealing with an impersonator at the time?’ he suggested.

‘True,’ she nodded, ‘but now, well, he could be anyone, couldn’t he?’

‘Yes, but now you can leave it to me, Maisie,’ he murmured. ‘All right, when you’ve finished your chocolate, I’ll take you home.’ He signalled a waiter and asked for his car to be delivered to the entrance.

She drank her chocolate then looked around suddenly. ‘Are you on your own?’

‘Entirely.’ He stood up.

‘Do you usually come to balls alone?’ she asked with a surprised expression.

‘No, I usually do not.’ He shrugged and looked bored and irritable for a moment. ‘This was different, just business you could say.’ He held down his hand to her.

Maisie chose to rise without his assistance, her annoyance showing clearly in the tilt of her chin and that certain glint in her eyes.

‘Well, don’t let me delay you any longer, Mr Sanderson,’ she said evenly. ‘I’m quite happy to take a taxi home; in fact, I’d rather.’