sister’s thoughts were headed, often before Kirsty did. She knew where they were headed now, and she had no wish to go there.
‘My daughter is attempting to climb onto the back of your dog,’ she told her sister with what she hoped was dignity. ‘I need to go.’
And she replaced the receiver on any more conjecture.
Things were formal at breakfast. Hamish was dressed again as he might dress for a casual stroll down Fifth Avenue. Understated. Expensive. Cool.
Susie had dressed in shorts and a T-shirt which stayed pristine until she gave Rose her first piece of toast and Rose gave it back. She was therefore decorated with a raspberry streak centre front. Not so cool.
No matter. There was a small glitch when Hamish refused porridge. Susie thought this was one of the few things she could cook-and what sort of a Douglas was he if he didn’t eat porridge?-but she finally decided magnanimously to overlook it. They ate their toast with only social pleasantries expressed between mouthfuls.
Hamish appeared not to notice Rosie and Boris doing their best to make him laugh. He didn’t comment on Susie’s raspberry streak. He appeared to have switched into another mode, one where he was polite and courteous but otherwise remote.
Fine. She could handle this, she decided.
A non-porridge-eating Douglas.
They finished eating. Susie wiped off her small daughter. Then, somewhat at a loss, she offered a full tour and her offer was accepted.
This was good, Susie thought as she led the way through the castle. She carried Rose, Boris following behind as she opened room after room and explained the contents. Formality would get them through the next few days. It was only when Hamish stopped being polite and grinned that her insides started doing funny things.
‘This is bedroom number seven…’
‘I saw this yesterday,’ Hamish said politely. ‘All by myself.’
‘You looked through the bedrooms by yourself?’
‘I was choosing one. You told me I could. Any on the first floor.’
‘They’re your bedrooms,’ she said, and flushed. ‘Am I boring you?’
‘It’s a very nice castle.’
‘I’m boring you.’
‘What about the beach?’ he asked. The sea was right out every north-facing window, tantalising with its sapphire shimmer.
‘There’s a track just over the road,’ she told him. ‘When the place is turned into a hotel you may need to build an inclinator. It’s a bit steep.’
‘But the track leads to the beach.’
‘Yes.’
‘A swimmable beach?’
‘Very much so.’
‘You’re going to offer to show me?’
‘You can find it yourself. You can scarcely miss it. Head north and when it feels wet you’ve reached the sea.’
‘Do Boris and Rose like the sea?’
‘I… Yes.’ Keep it formal. Keep it formal.
‘I’ll go and see it by myself, then, shall I?’
‘If you like.’ Keep quiet, dummy.
‘It’s safe for swimming?’
‘It’s great for swimming.’
‘I’ll get changed then,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back for lunch.’
Keep quiet. Keep quiet…
She couldn’t keep quiet.
‘I can’t get down to the beach by myself,’ she said, sense disappearing and desperation taking over.
This had been the hardest part of living here with Rose. With her weak legs, the track was too steep to negotiate carrying a baby, and to live so close and not have access almost killed her. She could only go to the beach when someone was there to help carry Rose. ‘Not with…’ Say it, she told herself. Say it. ‘I-I have a b-bad leg,’ she stammered.
He paused. He looked at her.
Formality took a slight backward step.
‘You can’t get down to the beach?’
‘Not carrying Rose.’
‘But you like the beach?’
‘I love the beach. So does Boris and so does Rose. We all love it.’
‘So if I carried Rose…’
To hell with formality. ‘We could all go,’ she said, enthusiasm taking over. ‘I could pack a hamper. We could take an umbrella and a rug for Rose to snooze on when she gets tired.’
‘How long are we staying?’ he demanded, startled.
‘Hours and hours,’ she said happily. ‘If I’m leaving this place for good in a few days, then I need all the sea I can get. When this place is a luxury hotel it’ll be beyond my reach for the rest of my life.’
‘So all I have to do is carry Rose.’
‘And the hamper. And the picnic basket and rug. You may have to take two trips.’
‘You’re a manipulator.’
‘The beach is worth it.’
CHAPTER FOUR
HE CARRIED the hamper, the beach umbrella and the rug down to the beach and left them there. Boris accompanied him, bounding down the track with the air of a dog about to meet canine heaven. When Hamish returned for the next load, Boris bounded up again, panting with expectancy, seeming as anxious as Susie was that his pseudo-mistress wasn’t left behind. Susie was waiting, dressed in a pale lemon sarong, her arms full of Rose and Rose’s necessities.
‘Hamish will take us to the sea,’ Susie told Rose, handing her over, and the little girl beamed, leaned over and wrapped her arms around Hamish’s neck.
He froze. The feel of a baby’s arms felt…weird. Really weird.
Hamish had never held a baby in his life and he’d expected it-her-to cry or at least hold herself rigid. Instead of which she clung happily to his neck and started crooning, ‘Ee, ee, ee…’
‘She hasn’t quite got the hang of S,’ Susie told him, and Rose giggled as if her mother had just made a wonderful joke.
‘You’re OK to get down yourself?’ he asked, and Susie’s smile turned to a glower in an instant.
‘I’ve got down under worse conditions than this. Some I’ll tell you about it. You take Rose and I’ll follow.’
So he did, but he carried Rose slowly, not wanting to get too far ahead of Rose’s mother, aware that the climb was a struggle for Susie and she hurt more than she admitted. He thought suddenly that what he really wanted to do was scoop her up in his arms and carry her down, but even if he hadn’t been carrying her child he knew that she’d swipe away any such effort.
But finally they reached the sand. Boris was off chasing seagulls. The little cove was deserted. Susie lifted Rose from his arms and started undressing her-and Hamish had time to look around him and take stock.
He’d never seen a beach like this. It was a cove, sheltered from rough seas or winds by two rocky outcrops reaching three or four hundred yards from either side of the beach. The little cove was maybe two or three hundred yards long-no more. The sand was soft, golden and sun-warmed. There were two vast eucalypts somehow
