Will could hardly believe his luck. Here he was waiting at Hong Kong airport for Sylvia to arrive on the Cathay Pacific flight from London, and then come back with him to his apartment, and he had Bonnie to thank for it. Not even in his wildest dreams could he have imagined this perfect situation falling into his lap, especially after he’d discovered that Sylvia was going away just a few days after he had arrived in Melbourne. He had been cursing fate and rummaging around for what to do next, when God obliged by sending snow to Mount Macedon.
When he’d suggested driving up to see it he’d thought that for sure there would be three of them, but Bonnie, bless her, had opted out, and he and Sylvia had spent a delightful day, walking, having coffee and then lunch, and browsing through a couple of excellent second-hand bookshops. She still seemed to be ignoring his signals but Will was sure he must be making progress. And then, the very next day, two days before Sylvia was due to leave, it happened.
‘I think I might make a little change on my return flight,’ she’d said at breakfast. ‘That is, unless they’re going to charge me a huge amount for it.’
‘Think you’ll stay a bit longer?’ Bonnie had asked from behind the newspaper.
‘No, it’s not that, but I have this half-day wait in Hong Kong on the way back, and I’ve always wanted to go there. I thought I might stay a day or two, do a bit of sightseeing before I come home.’
Will, who was pretending to be buried in the Australian Financial Review, refrained from leaping up and punching the air. Instead he waited to see what would happen next and it just got better and better.
‘Good idea,’ Bonnie said. ‘I love Hong Kong, so does Will – in fact, maybe you could stay at his place there. Will, what do you think?’
Will kept on looking at the paper, feigning intense concentration. ‘Will, wake up! Sylvia’s thinking of stopping off in Hong Kong on the way back. I said maybe she could stay at your place.’
Will looked up, affecting the uninterested manner he sometimes used in meetings. ‘By all means,’ he said, forcing his eyes back down to the paper. ‘You’re welcome to use it any time, Sylvia. Just let me know when and I’ll call the concierge and tell her to get it ready for you.’ Turning his attention back to the paper he was amazed that, despite his excitement, he was able to play it so cool.
Eventually the two women agreed that Hong Kong would be worth three nights, especially as Sylvia wouldn’t have to pay for a hotel.
‘All right, Will?’ Bonnie asked. She called out the dates and Will slowly folded the paper, went over to his briefcase, which was lying on a nearby chair, took out his Palm Pilot and pretended to consult his diary.
‘Yes, that’s fine,’ he said. ‘There’s a chance that I’ll be there myself then, but there are two bedrooms and you won’t be in my way at all.’
‘Splendid,’ said Bonnie. ‘And maybe you can show Sylvia around a bit if you’ve got time.’
‘Oh, I don’t want to be a nuisance,’ Sylvia said. ‘I’m sure I can find my own way around.’
‘I’m sure you can,’ Will said. ‘Just the same, it’ll be a pleasure – I can certainly fit in a brief stint as tour guide.’
Sylvia fetched her tickets and reached for the telephone. ‘I’d better call Cathay,’ she said. ‘I hope I can switch to a later date. Do you think they’ll charge extra? I travel so rarely, I’m not used to this sort of thing.’
‘It depends on the basis of the fare that Colin booked for you,’ Will said. ‘Look, would you like me to do that for you? I have to call them about my own bookings.’
Like a lamb to the slaughter, Sylvia handed over her tickets with a grateful smile. ‘Would you really, Will? That’s kind of you. But if they want a big fee for changing it . . .’
‘I won’t commit you to anything without telling you,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it today.’ He slipped the ticket into the inside pocket of his jacket, and stacked his plate and coffee cup in the dishwasher.
‘Gotta get off now,’ he said, glancing at his watch and realising he really was cutting it fine for his nine o’clock meeting. ‘See you both later.’
He let himself out of the house, and only when he was safely ensconced in the hire car and had turned the corner out of Bonnie’s drive did he let out the yee-ha that was bursting to escape. Then he switched the radio on to Triple J and began singing along very loudly with Bono in the wrong key.
It had cost Will a stupid amount to change Sylvia’s flight, not that he cared about that, he’d told her it had been simple with no charge. And he’d rapidly rearranged his schedule to accommodate Sylvia’s visit to Hong Kong.
A few weary looking passengers began to emerge from customs, gazing around hopefully for friends and relatives, manoeuvring trolleys laden with luggage. Will shifted impatiently from one foot to the other. He was wearing an open-necked blue shirt and his favourite beige suit that was made from a mightily expensive linen and silk blend. He hoped he looked relaxed but also as though he was busy and had just come from some mid-level meeting, rather than having spent a long time wandering back and forth between the bedroom and bathroom thinking about what to wear and how he wanted her to see him.
The trickle of passengers seemed extraordinarily slow and with every moment Will grew more and more tense. Finally the doors opened again and there, behind a huge man in an anorak and baseball cap, he saw her. She was wearing a navy blue cotton shirt and stonewashed jeans, and she had a pale blue jumper draped over her shoulders, the sleeves tied in a loose knot below the open neck of her shirt. Will breathed a huge sigh of relief and his stomach lurched in excitement. She didn’t see him at first, but then, she wasn’t expecting him, so it was only as she passed through the guard rail out into the main concourse and he stepped up to her that she saw him and broke into a smile.
‘Will, how lovely!’ she cried, leaning forward to kiss him on both cheeks. ‘How kind of you. I didn’t expect you to meet me. I was going to brave my first Hong Kong taxi.’
Will took hold of the trolley and steered it through the crowd. ‘We can do that together,’ he said. ‘I always think it’s nicer to be met when you’re in a strange place. How was your flight?’
‘Oh, long and exhausting. I was in the window seat and that huge man in the baseball cap was next to me. He sort of overflowed, and when he fell asleep he expanded even further.’
A taxi stopped in front of them and the driver sprung the boot and jumped out to load the luggage.
Will handed Sylvia into the back seat, slipped in after her and gave the address to the driver.
‘Fasten seatbelts,’ he said with a smile. ‘There’s nothing quite like Hong Kong taxis, and Hong Kong traffic – you take your life in your hands.’ And, true to form, the driver slammed his foot on the accelerator and they shot forward.
Sylvia emerged from the shower feeling as though she had been reborn. The journey had left her tired and irritable and as they were coming in to land she had wished fervently that, much as she hated the confines of the plane, she could just stay put, fly on and get back home to a normal life. When she caught sight of Will in the arrivals hall she’d had mixed feelings. There was the initial relief of seeing a friendly face in a strange place, but she’d hoped for solitude. Will, however, was surprisingly sensitive; once they were inside the tiny flat in Kowloon he made her some tea, showed her the essentials and then announced that he had things to do and he’d be back around six. Perhaps she’d like to have a rest and a shower, and then, if she didn’t have other plans, he’d love to take her out for dinner.
Enormously relieved, Sylvia opened her bag, hung a few things in the wardrobe and flung herself on the bed. She had more than three hours to herself and, while she was tossing up the relative merits of having a shower first, she fell fast asleep and woke just before six to darkness and confusion about where she was. She sat up rubbing her eyes, feeling dirty and wretched. Her mouth was dry, her eyes scratchy and she shivered in the sudden chill of waking. Stripping off her clothes she staggered blindly under the shower, waiting for the hot water to wash away the remnants of the flight and the memory of the awkward, painful parting from Kim and the children. Slowly her mood began to lift and by the time she stepped out and started to dry her hair, she was revived and ready for the evening. She could hear Will, singing in his own shower.
‘So, tell me about your holiday,’ Will said as they sat in the softly lit restaurant overlooking the harbour. ‘Did you have a good time with your daughter?’
She had hoped he wouldn’t ask but now the question came as a relief and she knew she needed to talk about it. ‘Yes and no,’ she began. ‘It was wonderful to see them all. The children have grown so much you can actually have conversations with them and they’re so sweet and funny. So that was lovely, and England in summer was beautiful, so different from my other visits, but . . .’
‘But?’ Will prompted, signalling the waiter to pour the wine.
‘But two small children all day every day can be exhausting, and then there were some other complications. . .’ This would be so tedious to a young single man who would probably prefer to be having dinner with a girlfriend or business associate. ‘Oh, never mind,’ she said, ‘I won’t bore you with all that.’
‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘I’d like to hear it and you look as though you need to talk about it.’
‘Well, yes,’ she agreed, ‘I do . . .’
*
‘And so, you see, it became an incredibly hot potato,’ she said with a sigh, having related Kim’s suggestion and her own very mixed feelings. ‘It seemed to overhang everything we did together from then on. But, Will, I couldn’t decide, not just like that, not with Kim standing over me for an answer. And then Bonnie called a couple of times to see if I’d decided about the Boatshed. It was all just too hard. What do you think?’
The waiter removed the remains of the light, fragrant soup, and placed clean plates and cutlery in front of them. Will twisted the stem of his wineglass.
‘It doesn’t matter what I think.’
‘But how does it sound to an outsider? Am I being unreasonable and indecisive?’
He emptied his glass and reached out for the bottle, pouring some first into Sylvia’s glass.
‘Not in the least. In fact, you are being decisive – you’re deciding not to make any hasty decisions. That’s a decision in itself. A sound one. If you really want to know what I think, it’s that you should just take your time. You’ve spent your life doing what other people expected of you; don’t let anyone hassle you now.’
‘But Kim needs an answer and so does Bonnie.’
‘Sorry if I sound harsh about this,’ Will said, his tone brisker now. ‘I don’t know your daughter, but as well as wanting you there because you’re her mother and she loves you, she’s got her own agenda. If she wasn’t anxious to go back to work she’d be giving you time to make up your mind. As for Bonnie, it’s much the same – you’ve got the skills she needs, and she wants to work with you because of your friendship. But you don’t have to let their priorities dominate. They’ll both survive without you if that’s what you decide, and both of them will, in the long run, accept your decision.’
Sylvia nodded. ‘You’re right, I suppose, but I feel I owe Bonnie something because she’s been so good to me.’
Will shook his head. ‘Bonnie wouldn’t see it that way, I’m sure. But she does need to get on with the business. Can I stick my neck out and offer a bit more overbearing male advice?’
‘Please do.’
‘Moving to England is the big question – you must take your time – but you don’t have to see the Boatshed as a decision for the rest of your life. You need a job and Bonnie can give you one. Work for her, set up the gallery, enjoy that while you make up your mind.’
As they left the restaurant and joined the busy crowds of evening shoppers and sightseers, Sylvia felt as though she was in a luxurious space-time capsule isolated from her anxieties about the future.
‘Thanks, Will,’ she said as they strolled towards the harbour. ‘The conversation, the meal, everything . . . you probably don’t realise what a help it’s been – just what I needed.’
Spontaneously she took his arm, then felt him press it to his side. He placed his other hand over hers and they walked on in silence to the harbour wall. The water was a gently swaying mass of lights and beyond them the dark silhouette of Hong Kong Island, speckled with more lights, was outlined against the night sky.
‘Would you like to go across to the island tomorrow?’ Will asked. ‘Lots to see and the views from the Peak are magnificent.’
She nodded. ‘I thought I’d get the ferry.’
‘Would you like a tour guide?’ he asked.
‘Well . . .’ she faltered. ‘I don’t want to take up your time, you’ve got business here . . .’
He turned to face her, taking her hand in both of his. ‘Nothing that won’t wait,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing I’d rather do than introduce you to Hong Kong.’
It was after ten the following evening when, sated with the sights and sounds of Hong Kong – the streets hung with Chinese banners, dazzling shop windows, the colours and spicy scents of the markets, and the breathtaking views from the Peak – they stepped off the ferry from the island and made their way back to the apartment. Sylvia slipped off her shoes and padded to the French windows, sliding them open and stepping out onto the balcony, hypnotised once again by the lights of the city and harbour. She loved the humidity that turned tiredness into exquisite languor and she stood on her toes, stretching her arms above her head, enjoying the awareness of her own body in the night air.
She didn’t hear Will behind her but when he slipped his arms around her waist it felt totally natural to lean back into him, and gently he bent his head to rest his cheek on her hair before letting his lips brush the length of her neck. She stretched again, responding to his touch, relishing the feel of his hands on her body, his mouth against her skin. It was so long since she had felt desire she had forgotten its power, and now her body surged with life and she turned in his arms and reached up to touch his face.
‘I’ve dreamed of this,’ he whispered. ‘From the moment I first saw you in the kitchen I’ve wanted you.’ And in that split second of anticipation before he kissed her, Sylvia wondered what she was doing. She pulled back slightly but, sensing her hesitation, Will drew her closer, his mouth closing on hers.
She was nervous at first – Colin had been her only lover and always a somewhat distracted one. Even in their first months of marriage he was cautious and polite, gentle but uninspired, and she had followed his lead. As Will drew her into the bedroom she feared her own awkwardness and inexperience, but his touch seemed to ignite her passion so that she was yearning to abandon herself to him in a way she had never imagined. As the night wore on and merged into morning and they finally fell into exhausted sleep, Sylvia discovered that she could be wild and uninhibited, that she could take the initiative as well as simply responding. The old Sylvia had been blown away and in her place was a woman confidently rejoicing in her sexuality.
Two days later, on the morning of her fifty-sixth birthday and the day she was due to fly back to Melbourne, Sylvia woke, for the first time ever, to breakfast in bed.
‘Not really! Not ever before?’ Will asked in amazement, slipping back into bed beside her. ‘Not even on your birthday or Mother’s Day?’
‘Especially not Mother’s Day,’ Sylvia said, looking down at the tray covered with a white serviette, the toast cut in triangles. ‘Mother’s Day is a big day for the church but it doesn’t leave much time for church wives, or, at least, it didn’t in our house. But I did get breakfast in bed in hospital when Kim was born.’
Will pulled the bedclothes up to his waist, shaking his head. ‘What a strange life,’ he said, turning to her to take her hand. ‘I don’t want to go home.’
She smiled. ‘Me neither – this feels totally decadent. Perfectly in line with your reputation.’
‘Bonnie warned you, then?’
‘Warned me? No – I doubt it crossed her mind that I would be in a position to need a warning.’
‘So d’you think I’m an opportunist?’
‘Possibly.’ She reached out to stroke his shoulder, sliding her hand down over his chest. ‘But weren’t we both making the most of the opportunity? Here we are in the same place at the same time. It’s not as though you lured me here!’
‘I meant what I said that first night,’ he said, trapping her hand and holding it. ‘I wanted you right from the start. I schemed and dreamed and tried to look and sound really cool, but for the past few weeks I’ve been burning up inside.’
Sylvia tilted her head to rest it on his shoulder. ‘Dear Will,’ she said. ‘You made me feel young again, made me feel very special.’
‘You are special,’ he said. ‘Stay here with me, Sylvia. Let’s change the flights and stay a bit longer.’
She shivered slightly and turned to look at him, drawing the sheet over her, conscious suddenly of her older body against his smooth flesh. His touch, the scent of his body, his sexual energy thrilled her, but his intensity also threatened to overwhelm her.
‘I need to go back, Will, make the next step of this journey.’
Will sighed. ‘This time tomorrow you’ll be in Melbourne and I’ll be in Perth, thousands of kilometres between us. Is that what you want?’
She shook her head. ‘Of course not.’
He slid down in the bed, drawing her with him. ‘I don’t want to let go of you,’ he said softly.
‘I thought that letting go was your thing.’
‘It has been, but not now.’
‘Ah, Will,’ she said, sliding closer, curving her leg across his. ‘I don’t have any illusions. This has been a wonderful adventure, you’ve transformed me. But you’ll soon file this in your black book and move on, and that’s as it should be.’
‘You have no idea, Sylvia,’ he said, his voice husky with emotion. ‘You simply have no idea.’