Clara woke on Sunday morning to sun sneaking in through the gaps between the curtains and a man in her bed. A very sexy, naked gentleman who’d had her screaming his name more than once throughout the night. Okay, more than once during the many nights they’d spent together over the last couple of weeks. Gregg might dress like the middle-aged history teacher that he was, but she’d discovered that behind that façade was a funny, wild, sexual beast who had awakened something inside her as well.
She smiled at the thought as she turned her head on the pillow to look at … What was he? Boyfriend seemed too young for two people in their early fifties. Partner had a long-term connotation and they’d barely clocked three weeks together yet. Lover sounded a little tawdry and although he most definitely filled those shoes, he’d become more to her than just a sex buddy.
As she admired his bare chest, only lightly dotted with still-dark hair, she recalled their first night together, which felt much longer ago than it actually was.
Barely before she’d said ‘yes’ to Gregg’s request to kiss her, their lips had converged and fireworks exploded within her. She couldn’t remember which one of them suggested it would be a good idea to move inside, but as the door shut behind them they were already ripping at each other’s clothes. Even in her youth she’d never had a one-night stand or slept with someone on a first date; there’d been too much Catholic guilt and fear of getting pregnant instilled in her during her childhood that she’d always taken her time getting to know a guy first. But getting pregnant wasn’t a concern these days and Gregg had made her feel so alive that she’d decided to throw caution to the wind.
And it had been worth the risk.
Getting naked with Gregg hadn’t been even a fraction of the terrifying she’d imagined it might be when she’d been thinking about taking off her clothes for some faceless, nameless man. She hadn’t worried about any of the things she’d thought she would—like her less-than-perfect thighs or whether she was too wild and woolly down there.
There’d been no room to think with all the passion and desire pumping through her body and rushing to her head.
And wow.
That first night they’d emerged from her bedroom only long enough to scavenge for food and replenish their energy levels so they could go at it again like a couple of teenaged rabbits. Who’d ever imagined sex could be better in your fifties than it was in your teens, twenties, thirties or forties! To think that only a couple of weeks ago, she’d thought she could easily go without for the rest of her life. That notion seemed preposterous now. Not simply because her body hadn’t felt this good in years but because her mind and soul felt as if they had been given a new lease of life as well.
And, she enjoyed Gregg’s company when he was fully clothed just as much as when he wasn’t. Meeting him again after all these years was almost too perfect—he was almost too perfect to be true. Handsome, genuinely nice, funny and good in bed. More than once she’d pondered the thought that something had to be wrong with him but so far, aside from the fact he slept on his back and snored a little, nothing had surfaced. And so she resolved to stop overthinking things, to stop making mountains where there weren’t even molehills and to simply enjoy their time together.
‘Good morning.’ Gregg looked up at her and she blushed a little at being caught in the act of staring.
‘Hi,’ she whispered.
‘Hi yourself.’ He reached out and pulled her into his arms. ‘How long have you been awake?’
Clara snuggled into his warm, broad chest, thinking if she died right here right now, she’d die a happy woman. ‘Not long.’
‘You’re not worried about lunch today, are you?’
She blinked, taking a second to realise what he was talking about. Today was the day she’d finally agreed to unleash her sisters onto him; they’d been pestering her for the last two weeks. It was the monthly Brennan get-together—to be held at Bridget’s house because it also happened to coincide with a significant birthday for Ranaldo—and Gregg had jumped at the chance when she’d nervously asked him if he wanted to come and meet her family.
‘If anyone should be worried, it’s me,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘I might not pass the sister test.’
‘You’ll pass with flying colours.’ Now that he’d reminded her of the occasion, if she was a little nervous it wasn’t because she was worried about her family not liking Gregg but more because she hoped he’d like them. Meeting the whole Brennan clan at once might be a little overwhelming and they could be intense. Maybe this would be Gregg’s imperfection—maybe he wouldn’t like her family and, as much as they drove her crazy sometimes, she couldn’t imagine a future with anyone who didn’t feel comfortable with the important role they played in her life.
‘Good.’ He kissed her on the forehead. ‘Now, shall I make us some coffee?’
Was there anything sexier a man could ask at this time of the morning?
‘Sounds perfect,’ she said and then reluctantly rolled out of his embrace to get the day started.
Shadow, who had been sleeping on the floor by their feet, roused as they climbed out of bed and immediately hurried over to her. As she bent down to scratch the fur behind his ears, his tail shook furiously.
‘I may as well not exist anymore,’ Gregg said as he located his pants and tugged them on.
She shrugged and offered him a what-can-I-do smile and he shook his head and smiled back. She’d met Shadow the day after their first date and he’d immediately taken a shine to her. Now whenever Gregg stayed over so did his dog and although he pretended to be offended by the pup’s transfer of affection, she suspected him secretly pleased that she and Shadow had become firm friends.
Once they were both dressed and caffeinated, Gregg hitched Shadow to his leash and the three of them set off for a walk up to and around Centennial Park. It was a beautiful day for August and plenty of people were out jogging, riding bikes and walking dogs. When Shadow finally began to tire, they walked back past the local deli and bought The Sun-Herald, which they read later while sitting at her kitchen table eating fresh croissants. The whole morning was pretty much the definition of perfection and when the time came to shower and get ready to go to her sister’s, they did so together like a couple of teens who had just discovered the benefits of saving water.
Siobhan and Neil were getting out of their car when Clara and Gregg arrived at Bridget and Ranaldo’s place in Manly.
‘Ooh, you’re even better looking in person than you are in your online photo,’ were the first words to come out of her sister’s mouth when Clara introduced her to Gregg.
‘Why, thank you.’ Gregg kissed Siobhan on the cheek. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
Clara glared at her sister—she’d told them all to be on their best behaviour and here was Siobhan falling at the first hurdle. Neil shrugged an apology for his wife and then offered his hand to Gregg. Introductions were exchanged as the four of them headed inside. The door was open and the noise coming from the backyard told them that’s where the family was congregated.
‘Wow, this is impressive,’ Gregg whispered to Clara as they emerged onto the massive back balcony that overlooked Fairy Bower.
‘I know. Both Ranaldo and Bridget work in computers and they created an app or something together a couple of years ago that made them instant millionaires. They bought this house outright.’
They had about five seconds to survey the scenery before all eyes turned to them.
Bridget crossed over from where she’d been barking orders at the birthday boy by the barbeque—although ‘barbeque’ didn’t seem adequate enough for what was essentially a whole outdoor kitchen. She and Ranaldo had embraced the outside cooking experience and thanks to gas heaters in each corner of the balcony and expensive blinds that could shield them from the rain and wind, they ate out almost all year round.
‘Why hello,’ she said, grinning ridiculously and being not at all surreptitious in her head-to-toe perusal of Gregg. ‘You must be Clara’s new man.’
‘His name’s Gregg,’ Clara said. ‘Gregg Callen. And Gregg, this is my youngest sister, Bridget. Her husband, Ranaldo, is over there in the apron.’
‘We thought we’d make the most of this lovely almost-spring-like weather and have a barbeque,’ Bridget explained, then leant forward and wrapped her arms around Gregg. ‘Welcome to the family. It’s lovely to have you celebrating with us all today. We’re so happy Clara’s finally found someone. She’s such a kind, caring, wonderful person and she deserves happiness after her most unfortunate marriage.’
And you can stop talking now, Clara silently willed her sister. She glanced around, hoping that someone else would come and save the day. Fiona caught her eye and stepped up to the plate.
‘Did you say Callen?’ Fiona said, offering Gregg her hand. ‘Clarabel Callen, doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?’
Oh my God. She should have known she couldn’t rely on foot-in-her-mouth Fiona. Her sisters were crazy. They weren’t even done with the introductions and already she wanted to murder most of them. Besides, after her last experience, she was in no rush to marry anyone.
Although Clara felt her cheeks turn a dark shade of red at her sister’s words, Gregg didn’t seem fazed.
‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it? And which one are you?’
‘I’m Fiona, and this is my husband Troy.’
By this time, everyone was closing in, crowding around them like they were some rare exhibit in the zoo. Clara suddenly understood how her nieces and nephews felt whenever they introduced a new love interest and she hoped one of them might have some scandalous news to take the heat off her and Gregg.
‘Mr Callen?’ Aoifa squealed. ‘Oh my God! Do you remember me? You taught me year twelve history. You were my favourite teacher by far.’
Gregg chuckled as recognition filled his face. ‘Aoifa Sanderson. Look at you. What are you up to now?’
‘I’m working at a travel agent part-time,’ she said, ‘and studying psychology at uni, but I’m not really sure what I want to do with my life.’
‘You’ve got plenty of time,’ Gregg said, and Clara thought it was lucky he said that to one of Siobhan’s offspring, not Fiona’s.
‘This is my boyfriend, Xavier, Mr Callen.’
As the two men shook hands, Gregg said, ‘You’re out of school now, call me Gregg.’
The introductions continued and thankfully no one said anything else too mortifying, then Bridget did her hostess-with-the-mostess duties and made sure Clara and Gregg had drinks. Then, while Gregg got chatting to Aoifa and Xavier, Clara’s sisters spirited her away to the kitchen and began their assessment.
‘I like him,’ said Aideen.
The others quickly agreed.
Clara glowed. ‘He is pretty fantastic.’
‘Definitely an improvement on the last one,’ Fiona remarked.
‘Yes, he is,’ she agreed, still smiling. Her sisters followed her gaze to where Gregg was still chatting away to Aoifa and Xavier, although a few of her brothers-in-law had now joined in as well.
After a while Bridget went off to hurry Ranaldo on the barbeque and Clara’s other sisters started fiddling with fancy side dishes in the kitchen. As her culinary skills weren’t needed, she went back to Gregg.
‘How you doing?’ she whispered as she slid her arm around his waist.
‘Great. Your family are fantastic.’
When Aoifa and Xavier were dragged off by some of the younger cousins and the brothers-in-law were summoned to help carry plates and food, Gregg said, ‘Aoifa was telling me about a short comedy cruise that leaves Sydney and goes up the coast and back. As well as comedy shows on board, there’s a workshop you can do with a stand-up comic.’
‘That sounds right up your alley,’ Clara said. She’d never been much of a comedy fan but Gregg had introduced her to a couple of his favourite comics on Netflix. She’d never laughed more in her life than in the last few weeks.
‘She said there’s still tickets for the cruise that leaves in just over a week and they’re on sale.’ He paused a moment, then, ‘I was wondering if you’d like to go on it with me. My shout, if you can get the time off work at such short notice.’
‘You think you can?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s only four days and two are over the weekend, so it shouldn’t be a problem.’
Clara pondered the possibility. Going on holiday with Gregg, spending twenty-four hours a day together, would either make her fall even more head over heels or by the end of the four days she’d want to throw him overboard. But everything about her relationship with him had been a whirlwind and wasn’t this supposed to be her year of grabbing life by the balls?
She grinned. ‘Okay. Why not? I’d love to.’
‘Excellent.’ He pulled her close and sealed the deal with a kiss.
One of her brothers-in-law wolf-whistled and another shouted ‘Get a room!’ but Clara couldn’t bring herself to be even a teeny bit embarrassed at their public display of affection. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this happy.
‘Well, that was a success,’ Gregg said, caressing the steering wheel as he turned out of Bridget’s street. ‘Your family like me so much they’re already marrying us off.’
Clara wasn’t sure whether to laugh, cry or turn red again. ‘I’m sorry about that. I swear they didn’t get that idea from me.’
‘So you don’t want to marry me?’
Gregg had to be joking—it was way too early to be having this conversation—but his tone was hard to read and she didn’t want to offend him if he wasn’t.
‘It’s not that. It’s not you. It’s just …’ Oh Lord.
‘It’s alright,’ he interrupted with a chuckle, taking one hand off the wheel and squeezing her knee. ‘I’m just messing with you. I know things have moved pretty fast between us and I’m not unhappy about what we’ve got, but I reckon we just enjoy it for a while, don’t you?’
She smiled and put her hand on top of his. ‘That sounds like a perfect plan.’
Before either of them could say anything else, Clara’s handbag started ringing at her feet. She frowned. The only people who ever called her were Gregg and her sisters and she’d just spent hours with them. And Rob. But he no longer could.
‘Maybe we left something behind,’ Gregg suggested as if she’d just spoken her thoughts out loud.
‘Maybe.’ She leaned over to retrieve her phone and her frown deepened.
‘Who is it?’ he asked when she simply stared at it a few long moments.
Her stomach muscles squeezed as a feeling of dread washed over her. ‘It’s Rob’s mother.’ She hadn’t seen nor heard from Brenda since the divorce.
‘I see.’ He sounded both surprised and a little put out. Since the episode on her front porch, they’d spoken very little about her ex-husband.
‘Are you going to answer it?’
It suddenly crossed her mind that maybe it wasn’t Brenda but Rob from his mother’s phone. ‘No,’ she said as the phone stopped ringing of its own accord.
Her high of earlier rapidly diminishing, Clara shoved the phone back in her bag and tried to ignore the prick of guilt. So what if it was Brenda? There was no valid reason for her ex-mother-in-law to be calling on a Sunday afternoon, or any other day for that matter. Unless something terrible had happened to Rob.
She didn’t allow that thought to take root. He wasn’t her problem anymore.
The phone immediately started ringing again. Reluctantly she retrieved it and this time a different number—one she didn’t recognise—flashed up at her.
That feeling of doom grew in her stomach. She’d never been good at ignoring unknown numbers but usually regretted answering them the moment she did.
She pressed the phone up against her ear. ‘Hello?’
‘Is this Clara Jones?’ asked an unfamiliar voice.
‘Yes.’
Within two minutes, the voice on the other end of the line explained everything. She was a nurse at St Vincent’s and one of her patients—an elderly woman called Brenda Jones—had listed Clara as next of kin. Brenda had fallen at home and badly broken her ankle in two places; she needed some things brought in to the hospital.
‘She has a son,’ Clara said curtly.
There was a muffled conversation at the end of the phone line, then the nurse came back on. ‘Apparently her son is missing.’
‘What?’ Her grip tightened on her phone. ‘Put Brenda on, please.’
Rob’s mother was very apologetic about bothering Clara but explained she had no one else to call. He hadn’t been home since going out three Saturday mornings ago.
Clara did the calculations—the morning they’d argued about her selling the house. She refused to feel guilty about this timing. ‘Have you reported this to the police?’
‘Yes, dear. You know what he’s like—sometimes he doesn’t come home for a night or two, but he’s never been away longer than three nights without letting me know, so I called them then. Two officers came round to my place but they didn’t seem overly concerned to be honest. Told me they’d put him on some register and would keep an eye out. I’m so sorry to bother you but … I didn’t know who else to call.’
When Brenda began to cry, Clara’s heart softened. She was furious with Rob but she could hardly leave his mother all alone in the hospital without a clean change of underwear.
‘It’s okay,’ she tried to assure her. ‘Do you still have the spare key under the flowerpot out the back? I can go over now and collect whatever you need, then bring it to the hospital straight away.’
Brenda sniffed. ‘Oh, thank you. You always were such a good girl. Far too good for my Rob.’
Clara didn’t make comment on that.
As her ex-mother-in-law dictated a list, she messily scribbled it down on the notebook she carried in her handbag. ‘Be with you soon,’ she told Brenda and then disconnected the call.
And although she’d vowed to keep her messy past out of her conversations with Gregg, all her good intentions flew out the window. She gave him a no-holds-barred account, starting from the phone call and working backwards to Rob’s disappearance, right to the night she’d met him and all their heartbreak and disappointment in between.
‘When Rob was seventeen, he got his fifteen-year-old girlfriend pregnant. They broke up and the baby was adopted—he knew he had a son—but her family moved away and Rob never saw her or the baby again. Although devastated, he threw himself into his music as a distraction. When we met, his band were just about to record their first album—it turned out to be a big hit. Especially one song.’
‘Would I know the band?’
‘Maybe. They were called One Track Mind.’ When Gregg shook his head, Clara added, ‘You’ll have heard their big hit—“Lost Without You, Baby”.’
His eyes widened. ‘I loved that song. I can never remember who sang it though.’ And he burst out in song, ‘I’ve lost my direction, without you …’
‘Everybody did. Most people still do.’ Of course they all thought it was just a twisted love song; only a small few knew just how real those words were for Rob.
‘Wow.’ Gregg was still in awe. ‘I can’t imagine what it would be like to be famous like that and then fade almost into obscurity.’
‘Well, fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be—but it brings with it money, which meant Rob was never short on cash for grog. Even years later that song still brings in a reasonable income.’
‘So alcohol ruined him?’
Clara nodded. ‘To an extent, that was his drug of choice, but he started drinking to numb his pain. He never got over the guilt of letting his baby go. He never stopped wondering what his son was like, if he was doing okay, and he desperately wanted us to have a family. I think he hoped another baby would fill the hole inside him, give him a chance to prove himself as a dad. He was in a good place—his music career was just kicking off when we met—so although he told me about the adoption I didn’t realise just how badly this experience had affected him until it became clear we were never going to have children of our own.’
‘Can I ask why you couldn’t?’
‘I had a couple of miscarriages early in our marriage,’ she began slowly. ‘We had the tests that were available at the time but the doctors could never work out why my body kept rejecting the pregnancies, then finally I almost carried a baby to term.’
‘Almost?’ Gregg’s voice wasn’t much more than a whisper.
‘We … I … found out the baby had died at thirty-seven weeks.’ Clara swallowed.
In her head she was back in that room with its pretty lavender wallpaper and the sunshine streaming in through the windows, a ridiculously perfect spring day to have her world shattered. She’d known something was wrong, but she’d hoped. Damn she’d hoped and that had always been her problem. The doctor had been sorry. Everyone had been extremely sorry.
But sorry hadn’t helped. Sorry couldn’t bring her baby to life.
The lump she’d been trying to ignore expanded in her throat. ‘I went through labour knowing …’
‘Oh, Clara. You don’t have to say any more.’ When Gregg turned and pulled her into his arms, she realised he’d stopped on the side of the road to focus on her. ‘I’m so sorry you went through all that.’
No matter that it had happened over two decades ago now, she’d never forget the feel of rocking her dead child in her arms, of watching her tears fall on her pallid skin and hoping they would miraculously revive her. When the nurse had finally tried to take her away, she’d held on, screaming and yelling. Eventually they’d had to sedate her.
She sucked in a breath, trying to stop the tears that threatened at Gregg’s kind words and strong, warm embrace.
But it was hopeless. They fell hard and fast.
He reacted quickly, tugging a tissue out of his shirt pocket and offering it to her. ‘It’s clean. I promise.’
Clara sniffed and managed a ‘thank you’ as she took it from him.
After a long silence, she said, ‘Rob’s social drinking got much worse after that, until it stopped being social at all. I think the death of our baby triggered something inside him that brought back all his guilt and sadness over his other child. I kept hoping we would have another baby and that would save him but there were only more miscarriages and eventually I decided it wasn’t meant to be. That the pregnancy losses were only making things worse. I tried to help him. For years I tried, but …’
She’d lost track of the number of times he’d joined Alcoholics Anonymous; he’d never lasted more than a few months.
‘But you were dealing with your own grief,’ Gregg said, as if that explained everything.
She looked up at him and smiled. What would Gregg have been like in such tragic circumstances? Would he have supported her more than Rob? Would they have been able to support each other? It was almost impossible to even imagine what being with someone who wasn’t so dependent was like. Would it have changed who she was as well?
‘Did Rob ever try to make contact with his son?’
‘He didn’t really have anything to go on. As far as we know, he wasn’t listed on the birth certificate, but I did help him join a couple of groups that try to connect lost family members. Nothing ever came of any of them.’
‘How sad.’
‘Yes.’
‘And now he’s missing?’
‘Apparently.’ But the bitterness she wanted to feel wasn’t as strong as her gnawing concern. What if he’d finally done the stupid thing he’d been threatening to do for years and it was all her fault?
At least then you’d be rid of him once and for all. She hated herself for that thought.
‘You don’t believe he’s missing?’
She sighed. ‘I don’t know what to think.’ Three weeks seemed too long a time to be lying in some gutter somewhere in a drunken stupor.
‘Would you like me to come with you to his mother’s place?’
Clara had almost forgotten Brenda’s phone call had been what started this discussion. ‘I can’t ask you to do that,’ she said, not after she’d unloaded so tremendously on him and spoiled their almost-perfect day.
‘You didn’t ask me to do anything,’ Gregg said gently but firmly. ‘I’m offering. Tell me her address and we’ll go there now.’
‘Thank you.’ Clara felt her tears rushing back. For once in her life she was happy to lean on somebody else.