He's My Husband! - Lindsay Armstrong [31]
Their gazes caught and held—his intent, hers reflecting a helplessness she couldn’t hide.
He stood up at last, and took her hand. She tried to pull it away but he wouldn’t let her. ‘It’s all right. I’m not going to make anything of it, but I never thought you were cheap—and there’s nothing wrong with the odd fantasy.’ He looked wry. ‘So long as you realise that’s what it is.’
Surprise made her breath catch in her throat.
‘And you’re right,’ he added, not quite smiling. ‘A fire and a beach, a new moon—all dangerously fitting for fantasies. But here comes reality.’ He dropped her hand and put his arm around her shoulders—as Sasha and Chris raced up.
‘See! What did I tell you?’ Chris asked Sasha. ‘They do hug.’
And Sasha heaved a sigh that spoke volumes. ‘Now we know you’re not going to leave us, Nicky! We were quite worried about it, weren’t we, Chris? Because we thought you weren’t real,’ she added, by way of explanation. ‘A real mum.’
Nicola was too confused and too tired to do anything but tumble into bed when they got home. She’d seen Brett watching her once, while she’d put Sasha and Chris to bed, narrowly and probingly, but she’d simply shaken her head.
His hazel gaze had lingered on the shadows beneath her eyes and the strain evident around her mouth, but he’d gone away to his study after wishing them all goodnight.
Sleep had come at once, but all night long it had been threaded with dreams of beaches and lions roaring around camp fires and herself, searching for Brett but unable to find him. She woke late the next moming, feeling about as refreshed as if she had been on an all-night safari.
It wasn’t until after she was dressed that she noticed a message from Brett on her dressing table. All it said was that he had to be in court this morning but he’d see her tonight.
She screwed the paper up, not sure if she wanted to laugh or scream with frustration, and tossed it into the wastepaper basket with a definite groan of something—causing Ellen, who happened to be passing her open doorway, to stop abruptly.
‘You OK?’
‘Fine,’ she lied. ‘Well, it was quite a night, one way or another.’
‘So Brett mentioned. He said to let you sleep in. He dropped Sasha to school and Chris to kindy. Was it them?’
Nicola blinked. ‘No! No, they were as good as gold. They loved the barbecue; they always do. Heavens, I had no idea it was so late.’
Ellen eyed her. ‘You don’t look too bright, I must say. Sure you’re not sickening for something?’
‘No.’ Nicola laughed and sniffed the air. ‘Just wait and see what a cup of your coffee does for me—oh, by the way—’ she suddenly remembered Richard Holloway, but not with the enthusiasm she feigned for Ellen’s benefit‘—I forgot to tell you, but I’ve got a pottery commission!’
Richard arrived on the dot of ten o’clock.
Nicola took him into the den and he spread out his folder of designs on the maple desk. ‘Reef and rainforest is the theme,’ he explained again. ‘Which is why your clam shells would fit in so well. I was really impressed with them. Well, to be honest I was even more impressed with your glazes, but...’ He shrugged.
‘Have you ever seen clams in their natural state?’ Nicola said slowly. ‘I mean, alive as opposed to being doorstops and ashtrays?’
He shook his head.
‘They’re quite amazing. They’re embedded in the reef, and all you see is this wavy line, but as they open these dark, fleshy lips appear, striped and spotted in the most fantastic colours—emerald, magenta, gold—and when they’re startled, they shoot up a jet of water.’
Richard stared at her. ‘A clam fountain—what a brilliant idea. Could you get the glazes right?’
‘I don’t see why not. And—this is just a thought; I’ve been dying to try my hand at one—have you ever seen an apple sea cucumber?’
He shook his head again, and she walked over to the bookcase. ‘There’s a picture here somewhere...’ Her hand hovered, then she pulled a book out and they pored over it. ‘They’re so colourful it’s hard to believe they’re real.’
‘And you could do this?’
‘I’m sure I could.’
He started to sketch rapidly