‘She doesn’t want anyone told.’
‘And if someone reports her missing?’
‘We’ll worry about it then.’ Amy frowned. ‘But what do you think? Do we respect her need for privacy?’
‘It seems to me,’ Joss said slowly, ‘that if she wants privacy and a few days’ thinking time-time out to come to terms with everything that’s happened to her-then maybe we should respect that. It might be just what she needs. She’s not suicidal?’
‘No.’ Amy thought back to the girl’s face as she’d looked down at her little daughter. ‘She’s falling deeper in love with her daughter every minute. I don’t think she’s making any plans to abandon her. She’s named her Ilona.’
‘Ilona…’ Joss ran it over his tongue and smiled. ‘I like it.’
‘So do I.’ Amy smiled up at Joss and suddenly thought,
And she liked it that he’d come back. He was as concerned as she was about Charlotte, she thought, and that felt good, too.
But what on earth was she thinking of? She had no links to this man. As soon as the weather eased he’d be off.
She didn’t want friendship.
Or rather-she did but she knew only too well that it’d hurt when it finished. As it had hurt leaving every friend she’d ever made outside the tiny population of Iluka.
‘Are you ready to go home?’ he asked. He was still smiling. She had to give herself an inward shake to escape the vague feeling of unreality. The feeling that here was sweetness she could sink into…
‘Um… I’m still not travelling in your pink Volkswagen.’
‘Daisy will be hurt.’
‘Daisy will never know.’
‘That you chose your wreckage-mobile over her fine automobile?’
‘There are some choices that are easy,’ she retorted, and turned her back on him to head for the car park. But part of her was thinking, Some choices are way too hard.
Joss followed her out to White-Breakers and she was aware of him following her every bit of the way.
Why on earth had she asked him to stay? she wondered. She could have insisted he stay with his father and stepmother. It would have been far less complicated.
But then he might not have felt obligated to donate his professional services…
He would have stepped in anyway, she thought. Joss wasn’t a man to stand back and watch while the likes of Kitty suffered with a splinter under her thumb.
He was a thoroughly nice man.
No. He was a darned sight more than that.
He was gorgeous!
Oh, for heaven’s sake. She was engaged, she thought savagely. Malcolm was in the wings. OK, Malcolm lived at Bowra and she didn’t see him all that often but that didn’t leave her any less engaged. Any less committed.
She was committed to Malcolm. She was committed to Iluka. Sometimes she was so darned committed that she wanted to scream.
Amy drove into her nine-car garage and Joss drove in beside her. The two crazy little cars looked incongruous in such a setting. This garage had been built to house stretch limos or Mercedes at the very least. Not one Just- On-Wheels and a pink Volkswagen.
At least it was better than empty, she thought. She found she was looking forward to tonight. Sharing the kitchen-such as it was-with Joss and his lovely dog.
Maybe she should get a dog.
Yeah. And buy dog food with what?
Six more years…
‘Damn you,’ she told her departed stepfather for what must be the thousandth time. ‘But I’m sticking with this. You won’t win completely.’
Then Joss was climbing out of his Volkswagen, his arms laden with carrier bags, and she forgot all about her stepfather. Because who could think of a mean old man while Joss was here?
‘Do you want help to carry them?’ she asked. Food. Real food! No soup and toast tonight. How wonderful!
Joss looked at her face and he grinned. Taking a woman out to a five-star restaurant had never felt so good.
‘I’ll carry them,’ he told her. ‘Otherwise I have a feeling they might be demolished by the time they reach the kitchen.’
She’d offered to help carry the bags. Joss had refused her offer and it was just as well. She’d have dropped the lot when she saw what was in front of her. She led the way, pushed open the kitchen door and stopped dead.
What…?
Daisy was some organiser, Joss thought with wry appreciation as he looked around the transformed kitchen. Wow!
Before it had seemed empty. Now it was almost too full.
Amy had given Joss a key and Joss had left it with Daisy when he’d returned to the hospital. In the time he’d been away it looked as if the whole town had paid a visit.
With furniture.
There was a dining table and twelve chairs. An overstuffed settee. About five squashy armchairs. A huge rich Persian carpet. A colour television, a stereo, a couple of standard lamps. A wide oak desk.
The room was enormous and now it looked as it should. The furniture was old-fashioned and mismatched but it was comfortable and good quality. Daisy had chosen with care and she’d obviously had a lot to choose from!
‘What…?’ Amy was practically speechless. She walked forward in disbelief.
‘I wonder if they’ve done the bedrooms yet,’ Joss mused. He walked out along the corridor, opened the doors and checked. ‘Yep.’ Two of the bedrooms-the one Amy had been using and the one she’d designated his-were now fully furnished. They both had new beds, complete with luxurious bedclothes. More armchairs. Dressing-tables, wardrobes, bedside tables…
There was even a big squashy dog-bed at the foot of his bed. Bertram was already ensconced, looking up with doggy satisfaction as Joss entered. He rose and waggled his tail, but his sleepy demeanour said he’d been entertained very well-he’d had a very busy afternoon supervising all this activity.
‘This is fantastic.’ Joss smiled his appreciation as his dog loped over for a pat. ‘
‘Um…’ Amy had walked into the bedroom behind him. She looked as if she’d been struck by a piece of four by two and hadn’t surfaced yet. ‘Who’s fantastic?’
‘The combined residents of Iluka. When I told Dad and Daisy how you were living…’
‘You told them?’
‘Of course I told them.’
‘You had no right,’ she said, distressed. ‘Joss, this is my business. How I live.’
‘You spend your time looking after the town. It’s about time the town looked after you.’
‘But this furniture… I can’t keep it.’
‘Of course you can.’
‘You don’t understand.’ She was close to tears, he thought. Her hands were pressed to her cheeks, as if fighting mounting colour. ‘Trevor and Raymond and Lysle…’
‘Who are Trevor and Raymond and Lysle?’
‘My…my stepfather’s nephews.’
‘Ah.’
‘I can’t accept this,’ she told him. ‘I can’t keep anything.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘The nephews… My stepfather left me nothing. Have you any idea what the land tax is on this place?’
