Party of Three. Joan Kilby
outside. Black thunderclouds filled the sky and a gust of wind set the gum leaves rustling.
Next door at the recently refurbished restaurant, Mangos, another landmark building of the last century, workmen were pushing dollies loaded with boxes through the propped-open doors. Their hurried movements seemed somehow connected with the impending storm.
“What’s happening at Mangos?” Ally asked Lindy.
Lindy joined her at the window. Short and compact, the top of her pale head barely came to Ally’s shoulder. “The grand opening is tonight. Didn’t you see the flyer that came around?” She went back to her desk and brought over a menu. “It looks fabulous. You and George should go.”
“George doesn’t like to eat out.” Ally glanced at the colorful flyer with its mouthwatering descriptions; she had to admit, the menu sounded appealing. “Are you going?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Ben Gillard, the head chef, came here from a top Melbourne restaurant.”
“Is he the man with the spiky blond hair I see going in and out?” A couple of times he’d passed her on the street, nodding hello with such friendly confidence that she’d actually turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Once she’d found him staring back and for the rest of that day she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind.
“That’s him.” Lindy blew back her straight bangs and peered up at the sky. “Would it be okay if I leave early? I don’t want to get caught in the storm.”
“Sure, go ahead,” Ally said, her gaze drawn back to the entrance to Mangos. Ben Gillard had just emerged. He was pacing outside the restaurant, gazing up the street at the crest of the hill as if waiting for something. Or someone.
Sure enough, as she watched, a car came through the roundabout and pulled up to the curb. A woman in a sleeveless dress got out and embraced Ben. A towheaded boy of about eleven or twelve years old, all knobby joints and spindly limbs, scrambled out next. Ben gave him an awkward hug then went to get the luggage out of the trunk. All three disappeared into Mangos.
“What’s so fascinating?” Lindy asked, coming out of the back room with her purse slung over her shoulder.
“Ben Gillard has a girlfriend. Or a wife. And a kid. I suppose she could be a sister.”
“What do you care?” Lindy teased. “You’re engaged.”
Ally’s lips pursed in a smile. “So I am.”
After Lindy left, the office seemed unnaturally quiet, the streets outside all but deserted. Shopkeepers folded up their sandwich boards, pulled their racks of clothes and tables of merchandise in from the footpath and closed their doors. Like birds going to roost before a storm, the town was shutting down and withdrawing inside.
Ally rubbed her arms and shivered, an uneasy feeling skittering through her. The change was on its way.
“THIS IS THE PLACE you rented for our son to live in? It’s a dump. And so hot! There’s no air-conditioning. Do these windows even open or are they painted shut?”
Ben’s ex-wife, Carolyn, strode through the apartment over the restaurant, high heels rapping hollowly on the bare wooden floors, her disgust echoing off the cracked plaster walls as she gazed about her in disbelief. “I’m not sure I want to hand my baby over to your care.”
“Danny’s my son, too. He’s twelve years old, hardly a baby. I’m going to buy a house of my own as soon as I have a chance to look around. Besides,” Ben dropped his voice, mindful of the boy exploring the back bedroom, “you were quite happy for him to come live with me after you and Ted got married.”
“When are you going to buy more furniture?” Carolyn went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “You’ve been here a month and so far you’ve got nothing but a shabby couch, an old dining table and a TV.”
Danny wandered out of the back bedroom. “Where’ll I put my computer? I don’t see a phone jack anywhere. I’m not staying unless I have the Internet.”
“You let him spend too much time playing computer games,” Ben said to Carolyn. “I thought we talked about that.”
“I had to promise he’d have his own computer,” Carolyn countered. “How else can he occupy himself? He doesn’t know a soul and won’t meet anyone until school starts. What is he going to do while you’re at work?”
“He’ll be fine. The restaurant is directly below us, with a stairway from the kitchen to the door.”
“There isn’t even a backyard for him to play in.”
“There’s an Olympic-size swimming pool literally around the corner,” Ben said.
“What about my computer?” Danny persisted.
“I’ll put a jack in,” Ben told him. “Meantime, you can set up on the dining table. What do you say, mate?”
Danny shrugged. “I don’t have any choice, do I? Mum doesn’t want me around now that she’s married again.”
“You know that’s not true—” Carolyn began.
Ben dropped to a crouch so he could look into his son’s eyes. “Your mother loves you, Danny. So do I. She’s had you for five years and now it’s my turn. I’m really glad you’re coming to live with me.”
“Only as long as Danny’s happy and there are no problems,” Carolyn reminded him. Danny went back down the hall to his room again and Carolyn resumed her inspection, craning her neck to study the large crack from one corner of the ceiling to the central plaster rosette. “Does this roof leak? Because I think it’s going to rain.”
“Are you about finished?” Ben said, glancing at his watch. “I hate to rush you but I’m opening tonight and I’ve got a few things to do.”
“Are you going to leave Danny alone on his first night here?” Carolyn demanded.
Ben cracked the knuckles on his right hand. Patience wasn’t his strong suit and he’d always needed bucketloads when dealing with Carolyn. “The restaurant is right below, with a stairway leading to the kitchen. I’m there if he needs me. You chose to bring him this weekend so you and Ted could fly to Bali for your honeymoon. I wanted to wait a few weeks until the restaurant was up and running and I was more settled. But if you’re worried about Danny you’re welcome to stay a few days. There’s a spare bedroom. I’ll need to find an extra bed but—”
“You know we’re flying out tonight. This was the only time Ted could get off work.” Carolyn fished in her purse and pulled out several folded sheets of paper, typewritten, single-spaced. “I’ve set out a schedule for Danny and some instructions. He needs regular meals and adherence to an established bedtime.”
Carolyn and her nine-to-five routine. He’d never been able to fit the mold, which pretty much summed up why they were no longer married. “Kids are more flexible than you give them credit for.”
“If you want to have Danny live with you, you’ve got to stick to the rules,” she said, handing him the papers.
Ben resisted the urge to crumple them into a ball. “All right. Fine.”
“Next, I insist you move out of this dump, and I mean right away.”
“The apartment is convenient.”
“See those dark circles on the ceiling? That’s where the roof has leaked. Promise me you’ll find a more suitable home.”
“Maybe.”
“Promise.”
“Whatever you say, Carolyn,” he said. “Aren’t you going to be late for your plane?”
“I’m not finished. Keep Danny away from the restaurant kitchen. I don’t want to come back to find my son swearing like a chef.” She grimaced. “Gord is a disgrace.”
“He