Party of Three. Joan Kilby
heart is just about the worst thing going,” Ben went on, smoothing her hair off her face. “Trust me, anyone who would cheat on you isn’t worth having.”
He thought she was sick over losing George. Ally sipped more water, taking a moment to examine her feelings. Was she heartbroken? No…relieved described it better. Her pride was badly dented but George was out of her life without her having to be the bad guy, or worry that he’d be lonely. In fact, things had turned out pretty well. She was free. Her lips curved in a tremulous smile.
“That’s the spirit,” Ben said, rewarding her with one of his own warm smiles. “But remember, it’s okay to cry. If you want my shoulder, I’m here.”
“Thanks,” she rasped. “I feel better already.”
She glanced around the room. An old-fashioned wardrobe leaned against the wall, the door open to reveal a rack of men’s clothes. A wicker chair in the opposite corner was draped with her skirt and blouse. Apart from her clothes, nothing looked familiar. “Where am I?”
“In my apartment above the restaurant.”
“Whose bed am I in?”
“Mine.”
“We didn’t…” she croaked in alarm. “Did we?”
“No.” He seemed faintly amused. “I spent a rather uncomfortable night on the couch, if it makes you feel better.”
“Much, thank you.” She preferred to be conscious when making love. Then she glanced at the clock on the bedside table and gasped. “Is that the correct time?”
Ben checked his watch. “Yep. Just after eight-thirty.”
“Oh God, oh God, oh God. I’m late for work.” She ran her fingers through her snarled hair and threw aside the covers. Her thighs were bare and she wore nothing but a man’s T-shirt. Quickly she tugged it down. What had happened to the track pants?
“The sky won’t fall in if you’re a few minutes late,” Ben said, getting out of her way.
“I’m not so sure about that.” Her feet hit the floor and she stood up, her stomach lurching. “Lindy doesn’t have a key. She’ll be waiting outside for me to open the door—” She groaned as further recollection of last night hit. The Americans!
“Are you going to be sick? Here’s a bucket.” Ben produced the receptacle from beside the bed and shoved it under her nose.
Swallowing hard, she waved it away. “I’m fine. I just have to get to work.”
“I’ll make you breakfast,” Ben said as he moved to the door. “Nothing like bacon and eggs to cure a hangover.”
“It’s Saturday—” she began “—Muesli Day,” but he’d already left.
She staggered over to the chair and reached for her blouse. It was damp and wrinkled but it would have to do. Shivering, she buttoned it on in front of the mirror. For a moment she didn’t recognize her own reflection. Her puffy bloodshot eyes looked more muddy than hazel, her skin was blotchy and somehow her hair had turned lackluster and stringy overnight.
Outside the door she could hear Ben speaking to his son. “I know I promised to take you swimming but it’s just not going to be possible.”
“You always break your promises,” Danny said matter-of-factly. “Just like Mum says.”
“That’s not fair,” Ben replied. “And please keep your voice down. She can hear you.”
Danny whispered something Ally didn’t catch. She tiptoed to the door to listen.
“Last night while I was out of the restaurant the soufflé situation turned into a complete disaster,” Ben said in a lower voice. “I have to work this morning. It’s not a whim.”
Her escapade had had consequences for both Ben and his son. The sooner she got out of here, the better for everyone.
“I’ll just play on the computer,” Danny said, subdued but apparently indifferent. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. The pool’s just around the corner,” Ben went on. “Why don’t you check it out?”
“Mum would never let me go by myself,” Danny said. “Don’t you know anything about taking care of kids?”
“This is a small town, not Melbourne.”
“Bad things can happen anywhere,” Danny said, clearly repeating a favorite phrase of his mother’s. “You said you wanted to spend time with me.”
“I do. You just need to be patient.”
“Good morning!” Ally entered the room, a big smile plastered on her face. She found her purse on the floor beside the couch and sailed toward the door. Ben and Danny stopped their bickering as she slipped her feet into shoes that squelched. “I’ll be going now. Thank you so much for having me.”
“You haven’t had breakfast,” Ben said.
“I don’t need anything, thanks. Except…” She glanced around the room. “Do you have a barometer?”
“Barometer?” He laughed. “I barely have furniture.”
“Then how do you know what the weather will be?”
Ben walked to the window overlooking the street and glanced out. “The rain has stopped. I reckon the clouds will burn off before long.”
In other words, he had no idea. She pursed her lips and smiled tightly. “Thank you. Goodbye.”
“Where are you going?” Ben said. “What are you going to do?”
“I told you,” she explained patiently, “I’m going to work.”
He came closer. “I mean about your fiancé.”
“Oh, that. I’m sure it’s all for the best.”
He just looked at her, frowning.
“Something wrong?” she said, a touch defensively. She knew she looked a wreck.
“Take it from me, you shouldn’t ignore your feelings about your breakup. You’ll get over him faster if you allow yourself to be angry.”
“Oh, I’m angry. He lied to me and cheated on me.” Mostly she was angry at herself for getting engaged to a man who it turned out she didn’t love. But how could she explain that to Ben when she didn’t understand it herself? “Thanks for everything. I’ll be fine. And I’ll check into that cottage for you. You really can’t stay here with this leaky roof.”
Clutching the banister for support she hurried down the stairs and slipped past the kitchen—where a gangly teenager with acne was chopping mushrooms at the stainless steel bench—and out the back door.
The side street was empty, desolate as the morning after. Sporadic raindrops rippled the puddles lying in the gutter. The paperbark tree next to the footpath had been torn in the wind; a broken branch hung forlornly, tattered layers of bark fluttering in the cool breeze.
Ally turned the corner onto Main Street and her heart dropped to her feet. Olivia’s cherry-red Mazda was out front of the agency. For her to have driven from Ballarat this early on a Saturday morning was not a good sign. Then Ally noticed something worse. A minibus was parked in front of the Mazda and emerging from it was a group of groggy, disheveled men and women in wrinkled clothes.
She hurried past them and went inside. Olivia was seated behind Ally’s desk, her black hair pulled back severely, her narrow features set in icy disapproval. Ally caught a fleeting glimpse of Lindy’s anxious expression before her assistant swiveled to face her computer.
Ally’s stomach started to churn and she wished she’d taken Ben up on breakfast. Her shoes made squishy noises as she crossed the marble tiles to stand before her employer. “I’m terribly