‘Some people say that you’re a bit like Shane Gould, the way you disappeared out of swimming after 2006,’ the interviewer said to Ella.
‘Shane Gould was a legend. I was never that good,’ Ella said.
‘We know you had a baby, and then you were working with your husband’s swimming team in Perth. Didn’t you miss competitive swimming? Did you want to try again?’
Jake could picture Ella’s pause as if she was sitting right there in front of him. She’d be sweeping her hair from her cheek and holding it at the top of her ear so it didn’t fall back. He could see the shape of her lips as she prepared to speak.
‘I had new priorities then, I guess. I had my boy to look after. The Beijing Olympics kind of came and went … and I didn’t really think about swimming then. I kind of thought maybe I could do something in time for London, but I was just … I’d been out of it for too long. I got too old.’
Both women laughed.
‘So I know some of this must be a bit painful to talk about, but tell us, Ella: you’re not with Erik Brecker now, and you’ve moved to Chalk Hill where you’re selling real estate. How have you found that?’
‘My gosh real estate is a learning curve!’ she said with a laugh.
He could see the laugh too, lighting up her face, making the interviewer, and probably every listener, laugh with her.
‘What are you standing there grinning about, Jake?’ Abe called from the porch where he’d been studying sets of plans with the electrician.
‘Ella’s on the radio,’ Jake called back, and his brother got one of those smug smiles on his dial.
Jake missed what she’d said, but they’d moved on to the pool.
‘We got approval from council last week, so it’s all systems go. The bowling club is going to own and manage the pool, with the community, and work has started on the pool house—I don’t really have a better word for it than that—the seats and roof and walls, all the structure that goes around the pool to keep it secure. We’ve had incredible support from the local community, and businesses. Friday night, May 12, at the bowls club, we’re having a disco night as a fundraiser, so I hope everyone can come along. All proceeds go to the pool.’
‘A disco night?’
Ella laughed. ‘You can blame me for that. I’m a bit of a disco nut.’
‘Freak Out?’ the interviewer said.
‘John Travolta. Saturday Night Fever. The whole box and dice,’ Ella said. ‘So dress up in your sequins and sparkles, everybody. I’m breaking out the mirror ball, so come along for a night of fun.’
He’d been a stubborn dick.
He missed her. He missed Sam. It was very simple, really, and hadn’t he always said he was a simple bloke?
* * *
‘Are you ready, Sammy?’ Ella shouted while she clipped on the earrings she’d borrowed from Gina for the fundraising dance.
Sam emerged from his room and Ella got a jolt of pure mother pride. Getting a jolt of any description was a rare thing these days. Ella hadn’t felt a good jolt for weeks; since the last time she’d pressed the button on her answering machine and heard Jake apologise again for being a dick.
‘You look like you’re in the old movies, Sammy.’
He’d slicked his hair back. He wore his one and only collared shirt—white with blue checks—black jeans and boots.
‘You look cool, too.’
‘Thanks.’ Ella’s smile was the real deal.
She’d been faking it with the people who didn’t know her well, like the journalists, the councillors and the business folk who wanted to chat about the pool and tell her what a great thing she was doing getting involved in the town.
‘Come on, Mum,’ Sam urged her towards the door.
Ella grabbed her handbag, keys and a box big enough to fit the severed head of the mirror ball, and made to follow Sam, except she could see he’d baulked with the door open and seconds later she heard him say, ‘Hi, Jake.’
Jake?
She peered over Sam’s slicked-back blond head before she let herself get too excited.
There he was. Prowling through the side gate and up the path, in black jeans and boots and a black t-shirt that did incredible things to his abs.
He ruffled the top of Sam’s head. ‘Nice hair, buddy.’
‘You must have been a very long way away,’ Sam said, ducking his head to keep his precious hairstyle intact.
‘I’ve been busy, mate. But I’ve been around,’ Jake said, a bit puzzled.
‘We’re going to a dance,’ Sam announced. ‘But Mum says I don’t have to dance if I don’t want.’
‘I’m going to the same dance, and your mum definitely has to dance, hopefully with me.’ His gaze clicked with hers, and Ella got her second jolt in ten seconds. This jolt wasn’t pure mother pride. This jolt was pure let-me-at-him lust.
Heat swept from the toes of her knee-high pink boots to the scooped neck of the seventies-style dress at her throat.
‘Will Ollie be there?’ Sam was asking.
Ella had no answer. Ella was having more than enough trouble inhaling.
‘Pretty sure his mum and dad are going, and they’d take him, mate.’
‘Good. Can we go now, Mum?’ Sam begged.
‘I’ll just be a minute.’ Ella finally unravelled her tongue enough to speak.
‘You always say that and you’re never just a minute,’ Sam grizzled, but he went, and Ella could see him leaping cracks in the pavers, jiggling his way to her car.
‘You look gorgeous,’ Jake said, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. ‘Nice boots.’
Ella licked her lips to get some moisture to her mouth. ‘Lovin’ the boots.’
‘I need to apologise for all that stuff to do with Nanna’s house,’ Jake said, without preamble. ‘I’ve been a dick. I hate how we left things last time. It was a shitty thing to
