Convenient Brides (43 page)

Ellie opened her mouth to deny the charge but she paused suddenly, and frowned.

‘I thought so,’ Chantal murmured.

‘It’s not the only reason,’ Ellie said slowly.

‘Maybe not but it’s a start. What else is there?’

‘He…seems so certain he can make me deliriously happy!’

They looked at each other, and started to laugh together.

‘All right,’ Ellie said, ‘maybe he can. I don’t know if I can do the same for him.’

‘What’s that got to do with the price of eggs?’ Chantal asked.

Ellie stared at her.

‘If you don’t, you don’t—so you pick yourself up and move on.’

‘There’s Simon, though.’

‘Kids live through it all the time. And correct me if
I’m wrong, but I don’t think Brett Spencer is one to fool around lightly with a kid’s well-being and happiness.’

‘Are you suggesting I marry him?’ Ellie asked bluntly.

Chantal waved her hat. ‘I did my best—worst, maybe,’ she said wryly, ‘and now it’s time to move on, if that’s what you mean.’

‘With…Dan, perhaps?’

Chantal shrugged. ‘Who knows?’ She looked around. ‘I guess no one could have dragged me to a market if I wasn’t just a touch intrigued.’

Ellie gave a genuine smile.

‘But I’ll tell you something else, Ellie,’ Chantal commented. ‘If it’s not your money they’re after, men marry for a variety of reasons—sex, sex and sex. If you get that right, you’re in with a heck of a chance.’ She stood up. ‘But if there’s one thing Brett Spencer taught me—they still like to be the hunters rather than the hunted.’

Ellie stood up herself, laughing. ‘I’ll remember your words of wisdom. It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Chantal—I hope we meet again!’

‘Sell many kites today?’ Brett asked when she got home.

He was lazing beside the pool in a pair of colourful board shorts with the Sunday papers spread haphazardly around him and weighted down with stones from the rockery.

‘Four. An average day. How’s your finger?’

He looked at her gravely. ‘Improving. Why don’t you have a dip yourself? You look a little hot and bothered.’

‘Yeah, I think I will when I’ve unloaded the car. Where’s Simon?’

‘He and Martie Webster have gone with Martie’s father to watch some trail bike trials up Mount Coot-Tha.
I didn’t think you’d mind so I gave my permission on your behalf.’

Ellie pulled a face.

‘You do mind?’

‘No! I just hope Simon doesn’t put in an order for a trail bike, that’s all.’

Brett laughed and levered himself off the lounger. ‘I’ll give you a hand with your stuff. I’ve never said that literally before.’ He looked at his immobilized hand wryly.

‘I can manage, don’t worry. You relax,’ she said and turned away.

‘But I do worry, Ellie,’ he said slowly. ‘You take so much on yourself.’

‘Well, I guess I’m used to it,’ she replied prosaically, and turned to back to him suddenly. ‘You seem to be in a much better mood!’

He looked quizzical. ‘That’s one of my good points. I may not be all lightness and joy at times but I don’t sulk.’

‘I’m glad to hear it!’ She chuckled.

And, companionably, they unloaded her car. Then she changed into her scarlet one-piece swimsuit, had a dip and came out to find he’d prepared a couple of Margaritas for them.

‘This is decadent,’ she proclaimed as she dried herself and sank down into a lounger.

‘But a nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon?’ he suggested.

‘Mmm.’

‘I was thinking,’ he said after a while.

Ellie tensed.

But he surprised her. ‘This coming Tuesday is the first Tuesday in November.’

‘Melbourne Cup day?’

‘The race that stops the nation,’ he agreed. ‘I have tickets.’

‘So?’

‘Could you get a few days off?’

She sat up and regarded him askance. ‘You mean—go to the Melbourne Cup with you?’

‘Ellie—’ he grinned ‘—what’s so impossible about that? It’s not the moon.’

‘It is about a thousand miles away!’

‘Two hours by plane—I’m not suggesting we drive or hitchhike or—’

‘Why me, Brett?’ she broke in firmly and with an ‘I’m standing no nonsense’ look.

‘Why not?’

She floundered for a moment. Then, ‘It costs money to fly about the place on a whim!’

‘It won’t cost you a thing and, before you get your knickers in a
knot
,’ he stressed, ‘I won’t be paying either.’

‘How come? I don’t understand.’ She frowned.

‘The company I have some shares in is a sponsor and they’re providing it, but I also happen to be a member of the VRC—the Victoria Racing Club.’

‘What on earth for? You don’t seem to be a racing type—you’ve hardly been home for so many years!’

‘My mother passed it down to me. Her family came from Melbourne. There is actually a house down there that she also passed down to me. At Portsea. On the Mornington Peninsula. It’s been leased out for years but the lease has expired and I’d like to have a look at it before I decide whether to sell it or keep it. I also have some other business down there so I could kill several birds with one stone.’

He looked into the distance for a while, then back at her, and remarked gravely, ‘I’m so glad you didn’t fall back on the “nothing to wear” excuse. That’s terribly unoriginal.’

Ellie shut her mouth with a click. ‘The only reason for that is because I haven’t had time to consider that angle. Brett, no, thank you very much, but—’

‘We’d be flying down very early on Tuesday morning, Ellie. We’d spend Tuesday night at the Sofitel after the Cup, you’d have your own room. We’d go down to Mornington on Wednesday and you could fly home on Thursday morning—I might have to stay on until Saturday.’

‘Apart from anything else,’ Ellie said with exaggerated patience, ‘I’m just not in a position to go flying off at a moment’s notice.’

‘The Websters are fine to have Simon. Simon is fine about staying with them and feels the break will do you good.’

‘You…
you
…’ But she was essentially speechless.

‘And, by my reckoning, all the extra work you did while Simon was away at camp should earn you a few days off,’ he continued placidly.

Then something sharpened in his grey eyes. ‘But, let’s be honest. We seem to have reached a stalemate, you and I.’ He looked around. ‘It may be partly due to this environment. Perhaps things will clarify themselves in a different setting.’

Ellie reached for her Margarita and took a decent sip. Was it a threat? she wondered. Or—it made sense. They couldn’t go on the way they were. But what kind of pressure could he exert on her on a trip to the Melbourne Cup? It was—she shook her head—a bizarre suggestion, really.

‘You don’t think this is an attempt to seduce you, Ellie?’ he queried softly.

She gazed at him over the salty rim of her glass and decided to be honest in return. ‘It did just occur to me, yes.’

‘So I gathered.’

A fleeting smile tugged at her lips. ‘You must admit it’s an odd way to break a deadlock.’

‘Difficult circumstances often require unusual solutions.’ He looked at her steadily. ‘Or would you really prefer to slug it out here?’

She shivered suddenly and not because she was cold. ‘Brett, if I say no after we’ve taken a rather pointless jaunt to the Melbourne Cup, will you accept it?’

‘Yes. But it won’t be pointless, Ellie, believe me.’

Simon sat on the end of her bed the next evening while she packed, and offered helpful suggestions.

‘What are you going to do about a hat?’ he asked. ‘You can’t go to the Melbourne Cup without a hat. It’s unheard of.’

‘It probably isn’t, you know.’

‘Still, you are my mum so it’s only natural for me to want you to look your best.’ He gazed at her seriously.

‘Then just to put your mind at rest, kid—da-da!’ She pulled the lid off a box that had been sitting unnoticed on a chair, exposing a supremely chic pale green hat with a wide wavy brim and a green and white silk trim gathered around the base of the crown and tied in a stylish bow at the back.

‘Wow!’ Simon’s eyes widened.

‘There’s more,’ Ellie warned, and she reached into her wardrobe to produce a slim linen dress that exactly
matched the hat and a very elegant pair of white high-heeled sandals.

Simon clapped his hands and asked her to model the outfit for him. She did so, taking care to position the hat carefully.

‘There.’ She turned back from the mirror and stood regally in the middle of the room. ‘A mum to be proud of, you reckon?’

Simon jumped off the bed. ‘You bet!’ He hugged her carefully. ‘I’m sure Brett will be proud of you too.’

Ellie grimaced and took the hat off. ‘That’s the computer fund and a little bit of the kite fund gone—oh, well.’

‘It’s all in a good cause,’ Simon assured her.

She hesitated. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You need a break and a bit of fun! Now don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine at Martie’s—we’re going to work on the kennel with Martie’s dad. Martie is green with envy, by the way!’

Ellie smiled a bit mechanically but Simon didn’t notice.

And she tossed and turned a bit before she fell asleep later that evening because it all seemed to come back to one thing—how was she ever going to tear Simon away?

But a vision of Chantal swam into her mind—and her advice ran through Ellie’s mind. She grinned to herself as she remembered the more outrageous bits of it. Then she sat up suddenly at the question of self-esteem Chantal had raised. Did she lack self-esteem with regard to Brett? Was that as much the core of her problem as anything else?

She lay back and thought dryly that circumstance had had a lot to do with that, but she’d always been aware of it. How much had her perceived defection from Tom
to Brett Spencer poisoned her confidence in herself as a woman, though, she wondered, and her ability to make choices? She certainly didn’t have a good record in that line.

Then it occurred to her that perhaps the one lesson she could learn from Chantal was, if a man let you down, you picked yourself up and moved on. And she fell asleep thinking of going to the Melbourne Cup…

Since they were going straight to Flemington racecourse by helicopter from Tullamarie airport, Ellie dressed for the races before she left home, although she carried her hat. She also carried a raincoat because the Melbourne weather was notoriously fickle and renowned for producing all four seasons in one day.

But it was a beautiful day as they stepped onto the hallowed turf of Flemington, the roses were glorious, the crowd already huge and the buzz of excitement in the air was incredible—and infectious. Ellie started to feel excited herself and very pleased she’d splurged on a new outfit and hat as they were ushered into the members’ stand.

Not only on her own account was she pleased—Brett was looking particularly distinguished in a blue suit, a crisp white cotton shirt and the club tie. His bruised finger was the only finger now bandaged and encased in a leather finger-guard. He had also commented flatteringly on her outfit. And he was an attentive companion. But something else came home to Ellie during the afternoon. He’d always played his background down and, while she knew it was wealthy, she hadn’t realized the extent of it or how influential it was.

Now, she couldn’t doubt it as many obviously wealthy and influential people greeted him delightedly, people
who hadn’t seen him for five years but remembered him well.

However, all of these impressions sank beneath the sheer excitement of the races; the august privileges of being in the members’ stand such as being able to get into the mounting yard to watch the horses parade; to actually touch and smell the roses that lined it and the corridor that led to the track. And she partook of a champagne lunch as the tension in the air grew and finally it was time for the big race.

She made her selection, backed the horse she liked and they climbed up into the stand to watch the pre-Melbourne Cup festivities. Against the background of the city of Melbourne, there were skydivers who landed on the track, there was a pipe band that paraded up and down the track; there were the weird hats and outfits amongst the huge—over a hundred thousand people—hugely good-humoured crowd. And finally, the horses.

‘Oh, I’m so excited!’ She bounced up and down in her chair. ‘What have you backed?’

He looked at her wryly. ‘I’ve never seen you like this, Ellie. Uh—’ He told her which horse he’d backed.

‘Very wise,’ she commented.

‘You know something I don’t?’

‘Not a thing!’

‘So?’

‘I backed it too, for the princely sum of five dollars—because I like the name.’ She bestowed a beatific smile on him. ‘Brett,’ she said on a sudden thought, ‘talking horses, are you going to get back into polo?’

His expression changed rather drastically for a moment, then he said simply, ‘No.’

She raised an eyebrow at him.

‘I don’t have the time, Ellie. Look, they’re starting to
load the horses into the barrier. Our horse is being a bit fractious.’

‘Oh, no!’ Her attention flew back to the track and she took the binoculars he offered her. Then she breathed a sigh of relief as their horse consented to be led into his stall. ‘He’s in!’ She handed the binoculars back and gripped her hands tightly in her lap.

Minutes later the red light blinked on top of the barrier stalls, indicating that the field was under starter’s orders, and moments later, to an enormous roar from the crowd, the gates flew open and the race was under way.

Approximately three minutes and twenty seconds later, Ellie leapt up and tossed her hat into the air—a winner!

Brett caught the hat and took her in his arms.

‘How clever was that?’ she enthused, her eyes shining.

‘Not only clever but gorgeous as well, Ms Madigan,’ he said, and kissed her soundly.

And a mysterious change seemed to creep into how things were between them from that moment on; a subtle closeness developed so that they were no longer two people enjoying the Melbourne Cup together, but two people enjoying each other.

After watching the presentation, he took her down and out into the public areas to enjoy the crowd but kept her hand in his as they laughed at the novelties they saw and the antics of the crowd. They found a stall that sold Cup memorabilia and bought Simon a cap, then one for Martie Webster as well.