Madelaine stared at the letter in her hand.
“What’s the matter?” Fiona asked, bobbing the fish mobile in front of plump and gurgling Darcy as he attempted to crawl about Madelaine’s kitchen floor.
Madelaine placed the letter on the bench, continued to stare at it as she wiped her hands down her apron. “It’s from Victoria McNeal.”
“Your marriage celebrant.” Fiona scrunched her face. “Really? What could she want?”
“It says she has to do a three month audit on the contract I have with the estate of Petronius De Kluever.”
Fiona stopped bobbing. “Serious? Doesn’t that mean you and Troy—?”
“Yup.”
“Uh oh. Do you even know where he is?”
Madelaine rubbed her hands over her face, then pulled her hair high into a scrunchie on her head. “No, but I’m sure Liam does. I have to hurry, she wants an appointment in two weeks.”
Fiona picked up Darcy, held him tight while he squawked a protest, two chubby arms reaching for the disappearing mobile. “You better get your skates on.”
Madelaine nodded, but her hands shook as she picked up the letter. “Yes. I’d better.”
But would Troy come?
***
Liam switched the phone to speaker mode. “Madds needs you there well before Victoria’s visit.”
There was a pause before Troy replied to his father. “Dad, can you let Victoria know I’m overseas on business and that I can’t get back in time?”
Liam looked at Carol over the phone. “Troy, it’s just this one audit then you can disappear again. You knew it would be random, sprung on us like this. Come on home, just for a little while to get this sorted.”
Liam heard Troy exhale down the line after the few seconds phone delay from Fiji. “I’ll check the flights. Call you later.”
Carol wrapped her arms around her husband as he disconnected the call. She let out a breath. “Do you think he’ll come home?”
Liam kissed the top of her head. “I think he will. I think he’s just been waiting for an excuse.”
***
Madelaine and Troy stood at the doorway of her room at the house on Australis Island. In the distance, the ocean surged, moody and shale grey.
She felt in her pocket. “I nearly forgot again. Here, I’ve got something for you.” Madelaine took a small, grey, velveteen box from her pocket. “I didn’t get you one for the wedding.”
Troy flipped the lid and stared down at the silver band gleaming in its slot.
“It’s for Victoria’s visit,” she added.
“Of course.” He lifted it out, slipped it on to his ring finger. “Fits perfectly.” He flexed his fingers, admired the ring for a moment then stared at her. “Thanks. It’ll help make it seem more like—”
“Yes, exactly.” She inhaled deeply and waved a hand at the room. “So. What do you think?” she asked, still standing in the open doorway.
He dropped his gaze from hers, and walked around the room, poked his head in the bathroom, came back out again. “I think the shoes at the foot of the bed are a good look. I mean,” he said as he walked towards the wardrobe, “this is a dead giveaway that we live here together but—” He pointed at the rows of his shirts and pants, then at hers. “It’s the bathroom that worries me a bit.”
Startled, she headed for the ensuite. “Why?”
“It’s too neat.”
“Since when did you worry about neat?” Madelaine checked the basin for stray hairs, and toothpaste gob. “It looks fine, just clean and tidy. Chances are she won’t even come this way. She’s probably as mortified by this as we are.”
“She’ll have a checklist.” Troy took another sweeping gaze, all the while absorbing the scents and smells of Madelaine’s bathroom.
He’d arrived earlier that day and they’d set to work straight away…Victoria McNeal work. They’d moved his stuff in from the hire car and from his room out the back, spread man-things throughout her house, set his work boots at the back door, shoved boot polish inside her laundry cupboard, plugged in his laptop in her office and spread some files of his throughout her four-drawer filing cabinet, fixed her private bathroom to look as if a man lived there—shaving crème, razors, man-deodorant, discarded tee shirts, toilet seat up.
They dug out a couple of photos of the wedding and placed one in the lounge, one in her bedroom, a pile of loose pictures on the coffee table.
Madelaine studied her fingers. “And, um, thanks for your emails, and your texts. It was good to know that there was someone looking out for the business besides me, even though you are a silent partner.”
He glanced at her. “That’s okay. I just worried a bit that the texts would wake you up. Never did get the hang of the time difference.” He dug hands in his pockets. “And thanks for responding. I reckon it would have been in the wee small hours sometimes.”
She shrugged. “Didn’t matter.” She checked the palms of her hands. “Was nice.”
Troy smiled at her. “You look good.”
She smiled back. “You do, too. Fiji agrees with you.”
“Fiji agrees with everyone…if you know where to be.” He checked his watch. “I’m still jet-lagged, untidy, and looking for a hot shower.” He hesitated a minute. “Look, Madds, this is weird. I need to shower and all my stuff is in here. Would you mind—?”
“No, of course not. It’ll look more real for Victoria tomorrow.” Madelaine waved her hands. “Go for it. Here,” she said and bent to retrieve bath linen from under the vanity. “Towels, a bath mat.”
He stared at her. Hesitated. “Uh. Thanks. I’ll high-tail it back to my room when I’m done.” He watched as she beat a retreat.
He stood staring at the shut door for a moment. As she’d bent down to get his towels, he’d seen the platinum wedding ring on the chain around her neck.
He fist-pumped the air. Yesss!
Troy placed a cup of coffee in front of Victoria McNeal as they sat in Madelaine’s lounge room.
“So.” Victoria took up her coffee cup. “Wonderful to see the effort you and Troy are putting in.”
“Well, yes, that was the plan.” Madelaine topped up her own coffee after pouring Troy’s.
“Well, we are married,” Troy added. He twisted the sterling silver wedding band.
Madelaine glanced at him, frowning a little.
Victoria tilted her head. “I meant about the business.” She sipped her coffee, crossed her legs. “So,” she said again, “what are the plans for the future?”
“Future?” Madelaine sat up straight.
“Plans?” Troy’s eyes widened. What, like kids?
“Expansion, a mainland business perhaps? You’ve put so much into it.” Victoria set down her cup. “It’s such a good concept here and your product is so unique, I’m sure operators there would benefit—”
“Ah, I see what you mean.” Troy smoothed his hands over his jeans. “We like it here. We’re busy. You know, content.” He reached across and squeezed Madelaine’s hand. “The world comes to us, that sort of thing.”
Victoria nodded. “I suppose it does.” She finished off her coffee and stood up. “Well, I think I have all I need to satisfy the audit. Strange thing, isn’t it?” she asked of Madelaine, then she looked at Troy. “I’ve never been asked to do anything like it before. It made me feel just a little bit uncomfortable.”
Madelaine stood up with her. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” She glanced at Troy. “Of course, you are being paid, aren’t you? I hope they made it worth your while.”
“Yes. Yes, I just meant that it is an odd thing to have to do.” Victoria waved her hand at the two of them. “To check up on the er, living space of a young married couple.”
Troy stood up and gathered Madelaine close, wrapping his arms around her. She nestled against him. “Very odd, but at least you only have to do it once. Something to satisfy some old lawyers, I think. Something about my grandfather’s will.” He smacked a kiss on Madelaine’s cheek. “We just sort of went along with it. Hope we didn’t put you out.”
Madelaine leaned in to Troy and smiled up at him.
Victoria smiled as well. “Not at all. I’ll sign the paperwork and shoot it right back in tomorrow’s mail.”
They herded Victoria out the door and stood guard as she got into her car.
Waving her goodbye, and with stiff smiles plastered on their faces, they watched as she drove up the driveway and out of sight.
“Is that it?” Madelaine asked, her teeth still clenched, faking the smile.
“Yep,” Troy answered, his teeth clenched, too. Then he laughed. “God, I’m glad that’s over and done with.”
She looked across at him and laughed as well. “Think we passed?”
“I reckon it was your undies on my briefcase that did the trick.”
“Yeah, not to mention the massage oil alongside the bed and the con—” Madelaine stopped abruptly.
Troy raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Gosh. Now you’re blushing, Madelaine. Gosh.” His gaze travelled slowly up and down her body, and as it did he felt his centre of power move from his head to between his legs. So did the blood in his head. “I thought they were pure genius.”
She fired a beautiful shade of pink. “Stop it.” The pink deepened. “I didn’t realise you’d done that.”
They stood for a moment in the car park. He in his jeans and his boots, his snug fitting t-shirt. Madelaine with her cut off jeans and crop top, sandals and jangly earrings.
Epitome of young marrieds, we are, comfortable in our skins.
Just not comfortable with each other.
He inhaled and shoved hands in his pockets. “Time to do some jobs, and I don’t have much time to do them. What’s on the list?”
***
“You can relax,” Liam said over the phone to his son. “I have Victoria’s paperwork here, all signed and ready for the lawyers.” He looked over and winked at Carol. “You’re home and hosed, Troy.”
Carol smiled back at her husband, lifted her eyes and mouthed ‘hallelujah’.
Liam frowned, listening to Troy. He glanced worriedly at his wife, then concentrated on the phone call. “I don’t know…I haven’t checked that clause…yes, I know, but—” Liam stared at Carol and said, “All right, bye. See you.” He hung up.
“What’s the matter?” Carol grabbed his arm. “What is it?”
Liam stared at her. “Troy wants to know how soon he can apply for a divorce.”
“Madelaine, Madelaine,” Carol cajoled, and glanced at Liam while she held the phone away from her ear. “I can’t understand a word you’re saying."
“Oh, Mum. He came here—”
“Troy?”
“Troy. And we passed the test with Victoria, and then he did some jobs and then he left. He only stayed the night and then he went.” Madelaine’s voice verged on a wail.
“He stayed the night?” Carol was hopeful.
“Not that sort of ‘stayed the night,’” her daughter cried. “And then he went.”
“Went where, my darling girl?”
Another wail rose from Madelaine. “I don’t know where. Away! He went away.”
“How much wine have you had, Madelaine?” Carol frowned at her husband’s frown.
“One glass,” Madelaine sobbed. “One glass. Dammit, I’m married to a guy who doesn’t want to be married to me-ee.” She sobbed and caught herself. “Okay, okay, there are lots of people in that situation. But he hasn’t even lived with me to know he doesn’t wanna live with me.”
Carol held her hand over the receiver. “Can you hear that?” she quizzed Liam with clenched teeth. “She’s wailing.”
Liam held his hands aloft and nodded. “I reckon one bottle,” he whispered back. “Not one glass.”
“Now, darling girl, under the circumstances—”
“Mum, he wants a di-vooorce. I want—”
Liam interrupted Carol, tapped her on the shoulder. “There’s someone at the door. I’ll get it but see if you can calm her down. There’s to be no divorce.” He turned away, then abruptly turned back. “Not yet.”
“Easier said than done.” Carol held the phone away from her ear but her gaze followed Liam as he opened the front door.
Both she and her husband gaped at Troy.
Carol swiveled her attention back to the phone. “Yes, that’s very unfortunate, and I’ll have to call you later.” She nodded, and said, “Yes, yes. Goodbye. Call you later.” And hung up.
Troy, his hair tousled, a rough stubble of beard on his cheeks and chin and his clothes rumpled, plonked down his duffle bag and glanced from his father to his step-mother. “What are you up to? You look very suspicious, the pair of you.”
Liam recovered first. “Well, what are you up to?” he countered. “I thought you were having a few days on Australis.”
“Too hard.” Troy slid his bag across the room with his foot. “I’m opening a red. Join me?” He wandered behind the kitchen bench to rummage in a drawer. He brought out a corkscrew and headed for the pantry.
Carol glanced at Liam who lifted a shoulder.
“Sure, I’ll have a red,” Liam said. “Carol, too. Three glasses.”
Troy came back with a bottle of St Henri’s, the glassware and the corkscrew dangling from his fingers. He handed Carol the glasses.
“Something you want to tell us, Troy?” Liam took the corkscrew and the bottle from his son, stripped the aluminium capsule from the neck and plunged the screw into the cork. “Too hard on Australis?”
Troy glanced at Carol. “Think I’m just jet-lagged, that’s all.” He reached over and took an empty glass from Carol, held it out to be filled by Liam.
“It’s only a twenty minute flight from Australis Island, Troy.”
Troy cut his dad a look. “I mean, from Fiji, to Brisbane, to Sydney, to Adelaide, to Australis in less than a day. Lots of travel time, no sleep time.”
Carol tried a smile at him and sipped the excellent red. “So how was Madelaine?”
Troy pulled up a bar stool at the kitchen bench. “She had plenty of sleep. She was fine. She was fine. The whole place was fine.”
Carol raised her eyebrows at Liam.
Liam sat beside his son. “So, why do you want a divorce?”
Troy wrapped his hands around the bowl of his glass. He glanced at his step-mother. “Sorry, Carol, Dad. It’s the only right thing to do. It was wrong to think we could carry it off.”
Spreading his hands, Liam nodded. “All right.” He kept nodding. “We know there’s provision for a two year, ah … contract, but that’s not up yet. You have to remain married for that time.” Liam took up his glass. “Now that Victoria McNeal has conducted the audit—”
Troy snorted.
“—there’s still a little way to go before we can annul—”
Troy snorted again, then swallowed a large mouthful of wine.
“—well, before you divorce,” Liam finished lamely.
Carol leaned toward her step-son son-in-law. She laid her hand on his. “Are things so bad that you can’t wait, Troy?”
Troy looked at her and he groaned, his shoulders drooping.
“Oh,” Carol said, and glanced at Liam.
Troy held his hands up. “No, I didn’t mean anything bad by that,” he said. “But it is worse than you think.”
Carol placed her wine glass on the bench then sat back on her stool. “Oh,” she said again.
Liam folded one arm across the other, his wine in his free hand. “For the love of God, we don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. What do you mean it’s worse than we think?”
Troy set his wine down. “I love Madelaine. I love her. There’s no way around it.” He looked at Carol. “No. We haven’t, you know, consummated the marriage—”
Carol blinked.
“—but I know without a doubt that I want to be married to Madelaine.”
Liam glanced at his wife then back at his son. “Then, what do you mean, it’s worse than we think?” he repeated. “You’re already married.”
Troy sat at the bench with them. He toyed with the stem of the wine glass, held the glass aloft, seemed to be checking the beautiful berry coloured wine, and said, “It’s no good if we’re already married. We have to be not married.”
Carol blinked again. “I am really confused.”
“You’re right, you’re jetlagged,” Liam said.
Troy refilled his own glass, offered a top up to his father and Carol. They both shook their heads. “It’s taken me a bit of time to work it out, but each time Madds tells me what she means, I think I grasp a bit more of it.” He glanced at his father who raised an eyebrow.
“You couldn’t just tell from the things she said originally, then, son?”
“Very funny, Dad.”
Carol reached across and patted his hand. “Go on, Troy.” She stared at Liam, and frowned.
“The upshot is, she won’t sleep with me if we’re married.”
Carol looked at Liam. Liam looked at Troy. Troy looked at both of them.
Liam opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Carol glared at him and gazed sympathetically at Troy.
“Now I’ve heard everything,” Liam finally blurted.
“I knew you couldn’t resist,” Carol hissed at him.
“So,” Troy continued as if neither had spoken. “I need a divorce to go after her properly, which is what should have happened in the first place.”
Liam leaned back on his stool, his empty wine glass dangling in his fingers. “That is going to be tricky in the short term. There’s just under two years to go.”
“Dad, surely to God—! This is the twenty-first century, for fuck’s sake.” Troy closed his eyes. “Sorry, Carol.”
Carol reached across and squeezed his arm.
Liam leaned forward. “We accepted the inheritance. We can’t very well undo everything.” He shook his head. “Troy, I actually think it was in the old boy’s plans to ensure that a decent, er, union was made and given some time.”
“There won’t be a bloody union at this rate.” Troy swept a hand through his hair, then rubbed his face.
“I’m her mother.” Carol sat up straight.
Both Troy and Liam looked at her expectantly.
“And if I were her, I would need to know you’d chase me anyway. That you’d do anything to have me, no matter what.” She downed her wine and thrust out her glass for a refill.
“Well, I guess we could try—” Liam began.
“Not ‘we’,” Carol interrupted, and aimed her gaze at Troy. “You’re married to her. You love her, so you better get on it.”
Troy refilled her glass. “Yeah, but she doesn’t—”
She tapped the finger which wore the wedding band. “And there’s to be no talk of divorce, so you figure it out,” she finished, and glared at both of them.