Irrepressible You (22 page)

It took Jo three days to break the silence. When the call came, it was seven in the evening and Amy had arrived home after a futile attempt to take Gerald for a walk along the beach. Well,
walk
wasn’t the appropriate word in Gerald’s case.
Drag
would have been more fitting.

Jo started talking before Amy could even say hello. ‘Amy, we need to talk. The sooner the better.’

‘Okay.’ Amy’s heart skipped a few beats as the anger she’d been harbouring dissolved. ‘You want to come over here?’

‘Yeah. In about half an hour?’

‘Okay.’ She breathed a sigh of relief the minute Jo hung up. It was going to be okay.

She scooted into the kitchen, almost tripping over Gerald, who was sleeping in the doorway, and went through her cupboards to find the makings for peanut butter chocolate chip biscuits. They were Jo’s favourite.

By the time she heard Jo’s motorbike pulling up in the drive, her house smelled mouthwateringly good and she’d set the kitchen table with a pot of peppermint tea and Jo’s favourite mug. Amy eyed the table speculatively and worried for a moment about napkins. Maybe she should put out napkins.

‘Ames?’

‘Come in. I’m in the kitchen,’ she called out, pulling the biscuits out of the oven. They’d need a few minutes to cool down and firm up but she knew Jo liked it when they were all gooey. She turned at the sound of Jo’s feet thudding over the floorboards.

‘I made some bikkies,’ she said, her back still to Jo, quickly grabbing two plates out of the cupboard and piling a couple of biscuits on each. ‘There’s tea there for you too.’ She spun around with a smile that froze when she saw Jo’s pained expression. Her brow furrowed. ‘You feeling okay, or is the smell making you, y’know, morning sickness-y? Because if it is, I can open the back door.’

‘No,’ Jo said heavily. ‘And by the way
thanks
for sending Stephen home on Sunday. He thinks I’ve got cancer or something and has been on my back all week. I’m here to talk, not to fuck around with food.’

‘What? Oh?’ Feeling Jo’s words like a slap, Amy stood in the middle of the kitchen watching her sister warily. ‘You haven’t told him yet?’

‘No, I bloody well haven’t told him yet.’ Jo impatiently ran a hand through her hair. ‘If I’d told him, I wouldn’t be here because I know for a fact he’d kill me before letting me ride my bike while pregnant.’

‘Oh. Okay. Soo?’ Amy ran her sweating palms up and down her legs. This wasn’t working out how she’d expected and Jo seemed anything but repentant. She’d rehearsed telling Jo about Liam over a hundred times in her head these last few days. She knew it was time but she still felt sick at the thought of seeing the hurt on Jo’s face.

‘So I’m here to tell you I still really think you’re making a big mistake but I screwed up saying it. I’m sorry about what I said the other day, about you being like Mum, I really am.’ Jo met Amy’s gaze before striding over to pull her little sister into a tight hug. ‘I didn’t mean it. You gotta believe me, alright?’

Amy drew a shaky breath, hugging her sister back. ‘Yeah, alright. But there’s something I need to tell you—’ Before she could continue, Jo pulled away.

‘But the other stuff I said still stands, Ames. You’ve got a shitty radar when it comes to men. It’s dead obvious this new bloke is gonna treat you like crap like all the others. The sooner you realise it, the better. I’m only saying this because I love you and I’ve seen this way too many times. You know I care.’ Jo’s voice was earnest. ‘Just go look this guy up. Do a bit of research and see what he’s like. The last thing I want is for him to leave you a wreck. Seriously, I don’t get why you go with all these arseholes when there’s a good guy like Liam—’

‘Don’t go there, Jo.’ Amy’s entire body went rigid as the anger and hurt that had disappeared the minute Jo had called earlier returned to pool corrosively in her belly and the words she’d intended on saying evaporated. The thought of Ben in the same sentence as Liam was untenable.

Jo’s eyes widened at the vehemence in Amy’s tone. ‘Alright. Okay, but since you’re still friends and seeing him at the salon and stuff, I thought we’d be able to talk about this.’

‘He’s not my friend,’ Amy said abruptly. ‘He never was.’

‘Then why’s he hanging around? It was obvious he’s still got a thing for you. He’s a nice bloke, so what’s the go?’ Jo asked, obviously confused and confounded by Amy’s resistant attitude. ‘I mean, why are you bothering with this Brit—’

‘Ben. His name is Ben Martindale.’ Amy’s hands were shaking so she clutched them behind her. ‘And he’s my boyfriend and he’s lovely. I care about him and you’re going to respect that. Alright?’

Jo just tightened her lips and her expression turned mutinous.

‘Right?’

The sound of the oven trays plinking as they cooled down filled the small kitchen.

‘Just tell me one thing, Ames.’

‘What?’

‘What’s your problem with Liam?’

Amy felt something snap inside her. The way Jo had compared Ben and Liam and found Ben wanting was too awful to contemplate. She knew she owed Jo an explanation but not like this. Not when Jo was treating her like a child who couldn’t make her own decisions. It felt wrong. Now Jo had turned the situation into something that would seem like retaliation if Amy told her about Liam right now, she’d think Amy was saying it to get back at her over their argument the other day. That was the last thing Amy wanted. This had all gotten so messy and right now, as far as Amy could see, it was Jo’s fault. ‘You haven’t heard anything I’ve said, have you?’

‘Yeah, I have, but none of it makes sense.’ Jo’s expression turned belligerent.

‘
No.
No, we’re not going there. I told you to drop it. You’re going to drop it. We agreed not to talk about this stuff years ago. I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve asked you not to talk about it and you’re not listening. You owe me an apology. A proper one.’ Amy let her last words sit heavy in the room while she battled the need to be sick. Silence fell in the room. She tried to keep eye contact with Jo to punctuate her point, but out of the two of them, Jo had always done confrontation better. In the end, Amy turned around and began piling the rest of the biscuits on a spare plate.

‘I’ve got to get back to Stephen. I’ll see you later.’ Jo’s voice was thick with emotion.

‘You gonna tell him about the baby?’ Amy asked quietly.

‘None of your fucking business.’

Amy heard the front door slam and slumped against the kitchen counter, indulging in a good cry before washing her face in the sink, plastering on a smile for no one in particular’s benefit and getting on with her day.

Ben considered not answering his phone. It was an obscene hour for anyone to be calling, but the blasted thing had been ringing for a solid thirty minutes so he supposed it could be urgent. Growling obscenities under his breath, he blindly fumbled on his bedside table, hoping to hell it would be a wrong number, or better yet a friend, so he could wish eternal damnation upon their inconsiderate souls.

‘
What?
’

‘How does a generous advance and a twenty per cent take on each sale sound?’

‘Ross?’

‘Who else? I was going to call Colin but thought, what the fuck, I’d tell you first instead. We’ve had an expression of interest for that travel book I talked to you about and you’re going to bloody well do it because I need a new Jag. I get a cut too of course, being your go-between in this instance, and the
Enquirer
gets the exclusive rights to print bits and pieces of it as you go.’

‘And this couldn’t wait until morning because . . .?’ Ben ran his hands over his eyes and yawned hugely.

‘Because from what I’ve seen of your Australian press appearances recently, you’re getting a bigger head than usual. If I called at a civilised time you’d just tell me to fuck off.’

‘Fuck off, Ross.’

‘Can’t. I don’t have a Jag. If I don’t have a new Jag, the ladies don’t love me. That’s where you come in.’

Ben opened his eyes and sat up, squinting at the dull light coming from his dimmed bedside lamp and saw his alarm clock. It was four in the morning. ‘Any reason for the urgency?’

‘Your press. From the looks of it, the Aussies loved you and we all know how they like to read anything written about them.’

‘Do they?’

‘Yes. Anyway, that film of yours, what’s it called?
Power
 . . . something . . . is coming out in a year or so. It would be foolish not to capitalise on it. Think on it. I’ll call you later this week to hear you say yes. Just remember, if you go straight to the publisher and not through me, I may have to cut your balls off.’

‘You’re all heart. Now I repeat: fuck off.’

‘I’ll call you Thursday.’ Ross hung up and Ben glared down at his phone for a few minutes before rubbing the last of the sleep out of his eyes and getting out of bed. He was awake now. Might as well get some work done before he was whisked away to the countryside that afternoon.

Chapter 11

‘Do you mind if we change the play list?’ Ben slanted Amy a sideways look. She’d been singing off-key karaoke for the past ten minutes and, amusing as it was, he’d reached his limit.

‘Oh, sorry.’ Amy’s cheerful smile dimmed momentarily.

‘Anything else is fine. Just no more Elton John doing Disney. It’s an insult to my car.’

‘That’s what you said about Gerald.’ Amy nudged his arm.

‘He’s an insult too. Thank God you didn’t bring him along or he would have been howling at all this noise.’

Amy snorted. ‘He loves my singing.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘He wagged his tail once. Be nice about my dog or I’ll make you drive back to Myf’s to pick him up.’

‘Perish the thought. If I remember correctly, we weren’t talking about the dog, we were talking about your abominable taste in music. Disney?’

‘It makes me happy. Come on, everyone loves
The Lion King
.’

‘I don’t. Can’t stand it. It’s a tragic tale of death and woe overshadowed by a blatant marketing campaign. It says a lot that I’ve let you have it on this long.’

‘It says you were too distracted doing indecent things to your car accelerator to notice anything else, I’d bet. What d’you want to listen to then?’ Amy flicked through her music selection. ‘Cos most of my stuff is like this. Lady Gaga—’

‘No.’

‘Katy Perry—’

‘Definitely not.’

‘Britney Spears. Okay, I can already guess the answer to that one. This is all I have. I like happy music.’

‘So do I. Britney Spears doesn’t make me happy. She makes me want to pre-emptively burst my own ear drums. No more ditties from ladies who flash their titties. Time to flick through my collection.’ He was rewarded a few minutes later with a loud snort of amusement.

‘Jay Z, Dizzee Rascal, 50 Cent, Wu Tang Clan? Ben, you’re white, sweetie.’

‘Sort of pink in some parts too the last time I checked,’ Ben said blithely. He had a passionate love for most forms of music and refused to let a little thing like the fact he was white and middle class get in the way.

‘Jack Johnson . . . Ben Harper . . . Michael Franti . . . 
This
is better.’

‘How about something a bit louder? This is a very impressive vehicle and a very long stretch of road.’

‘Okay . . . hmm. How about . . . this.’ The sounds of Bon Jovi filled the car.

‘That is
not
in my collection,’ Ben exclaimed with horror. Even as he said the words, he vaguely remembered Marcella adding a few songs to his selection that he had yet to purge. It seemed she was haunting him.

‘Yes it was. Look at this! Poison, Cheap Trick . . . I never would have guess you had a thing for eighties cock rock?’

‘I do not, and it can be purged right now.’

‘Okay . . . how about this . . .’ The Foo Fighters fired up and Ben grinned.

‘
That’s
better.’

An hour later, Ben was in leisure-driving heaven. He was coasting along a scenic road with sun-dappled wineries either side, birds singing in trees and a beautiful blonde in the passenger seat.

He’d been quick to accept Amy’s invite to show him around her hometown. Although, after hearing the small amount she’d shared of her childhood, he had to wonder how much of a home it had provided her. Not that he’d pried. He was simply happy to be in her company at present, and she was obviously enjoying his.

It really didn’t get much better than this after the stellar week he’d just had conquering the Australian media. His news from Ross this morning had just been icing on the cake. He was on fire.

Not only had he managed to lob a few witty salvos into the mix over the negative press he was receiving in the UK, he’d also found a receptive and appreciative audience for his work that he hadn’t realised he had. Who knew that Australians had been following him for years? There’d certainly been a large amount of interest when he’d dropped a few hints he’d be writing about Australia in the near future.

Over the past week he’d wondered whether or not he should tell Amy about his plans for the travel book, which would no doubt feature her significantly, and had repeatedly changed his mind. It wasn’t a concrete idea by any means, as much as Ross thought it was. If Ben didn’t love Ross like a brother, he’d be considering bringing in a Colombian hit man to sort the bastard out for his devious manipulation. He made a mental note to call Colin and threaten him with a lynching, or better yet, a wardrobe burning, should he allow Ross to do anything stupid.

Speaking of doing something stupid . . . Ben glanced at towering straggly gum trees and green grassy fields on either side of the road and realised he had no idea where he was.

‘You know, you haven’t actually told me exactly where we’re going yet.’

‘Keep going straight.’

‘Interesting turn of phrase. This road’s starting to curve here and there. It would be easier if you tell me where we’re going, so I can put it in the navigation system.’

‘Or you could just enjoy the mystery and let me navigate.’

‘Control freak.’

‘I know you are but what am I?’ Amy stuck out her tongue.