Part 9 (2/2)
”Oh, yes. He's in the second year of high school now. Doing very well, too, I might say.”
”Maybe then you-”
”Ned! You old b.a.s.t.a.r.d!” Phil exclaimed suddenly, interrupting Ally from telling Barbara that-since she could obviously do so much better-maybe she should get off her a.s.s and join the school fundraising committee.
A slightly built man with a receding hairline and a goatee grinned hugely and approached their group. Like James and Phil he also sported the maroon school tie, but his chinos and sports jacket gave him a much more casual air than that of his cla.s.sically suited comrades. He dropped the hand of a woman who looked half his age to return the hearty slaps on the back that both James and Phil were bestowing upon him.
”That must be Ned's latest friend,” Barbara murmured in a disparaging voice. ”She's the fifth or sixth since his divorce. His wife ran off with an artist friend of his, you know.”
No, Ally did not know that. And while James had mentioned Ned was divorced, he had not mentioned that he was currently seeing anyone. They weren't in regular contact, however, so maybe he didn't even know. She approached the woman, who was watching the men perform their welcoming rituals, pleased there was to be some other female company other than the wearisome Barbara. ”Ally.” She held out her hand in greeting.
”Pleased to meet you.”
”Mandy.” The woman smiled briefly, looked Ally up and down and turned her gaze back to the men. ”So, you're here with . . . James?”
”That's right.”
”And James is . . .”
”The dark-haired one.”
”Oh.” Mandy took a long, appraising look at James and nodded appreciatively. ”Ned said he's an architect?”
”That's right,” Ally repeated, glancing over to the men. Now they were guffawing over something and punching one another on the shoulder. ”Once they're done beating each other up I'll introduce you.”
Mandy nodded again, her gaze well and truly fixed on James. ”Are you two married?”
”Goodness, no.” Ally waved away the notion. ”We've only known each other nine months.”
”So . . . you live together?”
Ally flinched a little at the personal line of questioning. She grabbed a gla.s.s of champagne from the tray of a pa.s.sing waiter and took a long draught. If she felt like giving details she would say she and James spent most nights at either one or the other's places. But she didn't feel like giving details. ”Nope.”
Three minutes later the men had finished hitting each other h.e.l.lo and everyone had been introduced. Armed with a gla.s.s of champagne each, they meandered over to the cordoned-off area that displayed the items to be auctioned. Ally held back from the group a little, pretending a little more interest in the goods than she really had. From her vantage point she could see that Mandy had already filled the gap next to James and was t.i.ttering demurely at whatever he was saying. Phil and Ned were engrossed in their own conversation and Barbara was declaring loudly that she would be bidding on Lot 14 this afternoon. Ally glanced to the item that had so taken Barbara's fancy and shuddered. It was an ugly, ugly Limoge Father Christmas box. Personally, she wouldn't give it house s.p.a.ce.
She stopped in front of Lot 23, a brand new Vespa scooter, and speculated over how much it might fetch. Ally loved the idea of a scooter but couldn't quite picture herself darting in and out of the Sydney traffic on her way to and from work every day. She could be persuaded to indulge in the two bottles of the Krug Grande Cuvee champagne that comprised Lot 34 though. And the nighttime Sydney Harbor Bridge climb was very appealing too, despite her fear of heights. Everyone she knew who had done the climb said the views were spectacular, especially at night. And the danger of falling was next to nil, since everyone was attached to the bridge by safety ropes.
Having decided on the few items she might bid on, she joined the rest of her group, already past the end of the display area. They, along with a few other people around them, were discussing what Lot 55, the ”Mystery Lot,” could possibly be. Apparently last year it was the deputy headmaster. He'd been won by the father of one of the students, who'd promptly handed him over to his son. The son and his group of friends had taken the deputy paintballing.
”The poor fellow was black and blue from all the paintb.a.l.l.s that were fired at him.” Phil guffawed.
There was more hearty backslapping by the three men as they imagined being able to do the same thing to their deputy headmaster when they were at school. And that concluded the Mystery Lot speculation, them turning to a series of school days ”do you remember whens?” Their reminiscing was accompanied by lots of guffaws and lots of slaps on the back.
”Phil will wake up tomorrow and wonder why he can hardly move.” Barbara cackled, shaking her head. She had loosened up a little since downing her gla.s.s of champagne, even though it ”wasn't quite chilled enough.”
Ally laughed along, temporarily shelving the very appealing image of Barbara being the Mystery Lot, bidding for her, winning, and then taking her for paintballing target practice. ”Men,” she said simply.
Mandy laughed too, raising her gla.s.s and shooting glance number two hundred and seventy eight in James's direction. ”You gotta love 'em.”
”Yeah. You gotta.” This time Ally's laugh was just a teeny bit hollow. She craned her head to see over the men's shoulders. ”I think they're about to start serving lunch. I might see if I can beat the queue.”
”I'll come with you,” Barbara said quickly.
Can't a woman get a minute alone? Ally thought sourly. But she nodded and smiled, leading the way as they pa.s.sed through the crowd to the buffet table.
”I'd have my eye on that one if I were you,” Barbara said as she picked up two plates. She held onto both of them so Ally a.s.sumed she was either very hungry, or she was going to play the role of gatherer for her husband.
”On which one?” Ally pretended she didn't know who Barbara was talking about. She picked up a single plate and eyed the selection, suddenly hungry at the sight of all the food.
”On Mandy.” Barbara nodded knowingly. ”She's got designs on your James.”
”He's not 'my' James.” Ally selected some sus.h.i.+ rolls and dabbed a large spoonful of wasabi onto her plate. ”And if he wants her then he can have her.” Sensing Barbara's open-mouthed horror at that statement, she continued, ”I'm not going to get into a catfight over some man. If he decides he'd rather be with her, then I won't stand in his way.”
”That's almost exactly what Ned said about his ex-wife,” Barbara said in a warning tone.
”Then Ned and I must be quite alike.” Ally finished off her plate with some marinated octopus and a melange of salad leaves. ”I'll see you back with the group.”
On her return trip she pa.s.sed Mandy, who was purportedly heading toward the buffet. Mandy eyed her plate. ”You didn't get anything for James?”
Ally shrugged. ”Last time I looked both his legs were in working order.” She smiled at Mandy and continued through the crowd, wondering what delicacies the little vamp would bring back for him.
By the time she was back at James's side her smile had vanished. Surely she should be feeling at least a little territorial, a little jealous? But no, she wasn't. If anything, all she felt was the concern of a sister watching a gold digger trying to get her hooks into her brother. Although maybe even that wasn't accurate. Ally had no siblings, so the notion of sisterly concern was an alien concept. Probably she wasn't feeling concerned because she had nothing to be concerned about. Goodness knew she'd told herself often enough that she trusted James implicitly. So her lack of worry now was purely her demonstrating that fact. Yes. That was it.
Pleased at the reasonable explanation for her seeming lack of care, Ally applied a decent layer of wasabi onto a salmon sus.h.i.+ roll and popped it into her mouth. The wasabi was potent- much more so than the one served at the j.a.panese takeaway near her office-and Ally felt the sudden shock of it as it spread through her nasal pa.s.sages. It hit her eyes just at the moment Mandy and Barbara reappeared. Since it felt like her head was about to explode, probably she looked like it too. Mandy, who had been holding an overflowing plate in James's direction, gave her a look of alarm, retracted the offering and aimed it instead toward Ned.
Ned, who had been studying the auction booklet, was seemingly oblivious to the fact he had almost missed out on lunch. He accepted the plate. ”Thanks, love.”
Barbara handed a plate to Phil and then, nodding approvingly, leaned over to whisper in Ally's ear, ”You go, girl. Put the b.i.t.c.h in her place.”
That comment sounded so utterly absurd coming from Barbara that Ally had to pop another sus.h.i.+ roll-sans wasabi- into her mouth to avoid laughing out loud.
James, now being the only person without lunch, glanced hungrily at her plate. ”That looks good.”
”It is.” Ally nodded in the direction of the buffet but had a sudden change of heart about telling him to go get something before it all disappeared. She held her plate in between them. ”Let's share.”
Morgan was halfway across the Harbor Bridge when her phone buzzed. This being the umpteenth time it had rung already today, she was tempted to ignore it. But the part of her that still held hope Ally might call glanced expectantly to the caller I.D. Her expression fell. It was only Michael, her agent. She let it ring.
It stopped and was pleasantly silent for the rest of her journey, even throughout the wrong turn she made and her subsequent unscheduled stop to check her map. But it rang again as she was turning into the gated entrance to the boys' school where she was due to be ”auctioned off.” It was Michael again.
”All right, already. Jesus!” Morgan pointed her Mercedes in the direction of the sign that read ”Staff only” parking, pulled into the first bay she found free and cut the engine. ”Yes, Michael?” she said curtly as she undid her seat belt. ”I hope this is more important than last time. This is my one and only day off, you know.”
Yesterday, after being ignored by Ally and after making Marie's transport and accommodation arrangements, she'd killed the time left before the train arrived by answering some of her phone messages. She'd rolled her eyes skyward when Michael imparted the details of the so-called ”exciting opportunity” he had mentioned in his message the previous day. Apparently some biographer to the stars wanted to write her life story. She'd reminded Michael she was only thirty-five years old and hopefully hadn't already done everything that may be worth writing about. And-not being in the best of moods-she also pointed out that she was trained in journalism, so, surprise, surprise, could string a sentence together. Hence, if anyone was going to write her life story, it would be her. And she hung up.
Now, Michael gave an audible sigh before saying, ”Sounds like somebody's going to get their period soon.”
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