driveway.
Beneath majestic trees there were beds of white and blue agapanthus. There was flowering jasmine and honeysuckle climbing up jacarandas bursting into pale violet bloom. There were gardenias and roses. It was a glorious riot of colour and perfume.
She turned to him, her face alight with appreciation. ‘This is just—beautiful.’
He grimaced. ‘Thanks. In a way it’s a tribute to my mother. A tribute to her love of gardens and her innate sense of refined living that somehow survived the often harsh life she shared with my father.’
He pulled up beside a fountain. The house beyond it was two-storeyed and built of warm, earthy stone with a shingle roof. The windows were framed in timber and had wrought-iron security grids. The front door—a double door—was beautifully carved with a dolphin motif and had curved brass handles.
‘The house isn’t bad either,’ she commented with a wry little smile. ‘Did you build it?’
‘No. And I’ve hardly done anything to it. Well, I changed that,’ he amended, and gestured to the fountain.‘It was this rather nauseating circle of coy naked ladies clutching plump cherubs.’
What stood there now couldn’t have been more different. A bronze dolphin leapt out of the water, cascading sparkling droplets.
Liz stared at it. ‘Do dolphins have any special significance?’
He considered. ‘It’s not inappropriate for someone whose roots go back to a seafaring life, I guess.’
Liz thought of the paintings in his office in Sydney. ‘But you’ve come a long way since then,’ she offered quietly.
‘A long way,’ he agreed. But, although he said it easily enough, she thought she detected the faintest echo of a grim undertone.
At that moment the front doors flew open and a small boy of about five stood on the doorstep, waving excitedly at the same time as he was restrained by a nanny.
Liz’s eyes widened. ‘Who…?’ she began, and bit her lip, not wanting to sound nosy.
‘That’s Archie,’ Cam Hillier said. ‘He’s my sister’s orphaned son. I’ve adopted him.’
He opened his door and got out, and Archie escaped his nanny’s restraining hand and flew over the gravel, calling, ‘Cam! Cam—am I glad to see you! Wenonah has had
six
puppies but they only want to let me keep one!’
Cam Hillier picked his nephew up and hugged him. ‘But just think,’ he said, ‘of the five other kids who’d love to have a puppy but couldn’t if you kept them all.’
Liz blinked. She’d assumed his nephew Archie wouldbe older. She certainly hadn’t expected to see Cameron Hillier so at home with a five-year-old…
‘I suppose that’s true,’ Archie said slowly. ‘Oh, well, maybe I won’t mind.’ He hugged Cam. ‘Are you staying?’
‘Not tonight,’ Cam said, but added as Archie’s face fell, ‘I’ll be up for the weekend.’ He put the little boy down. ‘Archie, meet Liz—she works for me.’
‘How do you do, Liz?’ Archie said with impeccable manners. ‘Would you like to see my menagerie?’
Both Cam and the nanny, still standing on the doorstep, opened their mouths to intervene, but Liz got in first. ‘How do you do, Archie? I would indeed.’
Archie slid his hand into hers. ‘It’s down this path. I’ll show you.’
‘Not too long, Archie,’ Cam said. ‘Liz and I have work to do.’
Archie’s menagerie was in a fenced-off compound not far from the house. There was netting stretched over the top, and there were shrubs growing within and without to shade it. Old hollow tree trunks lay inside. The paths were gravel. He had rabbits in hutches, and a family of guinea pigs in a marvellous cage fashioned like a castle, with climbing wheels and slides and bells. He had a white cockatoo with a sulphur crest and a limited vocabulary—‘Hello, cocky!’ and ‘Oh, golly gosh!’ He had a pond with a small waterfall and slippery stones, with greenery growing through it all and six frogs enjoying it. In another pond he had
Beneath majestic trees there were beds of white and blue agapanthus. There was flowering jasmine and honeysuckle climbing up jacarandas bursting into pale violet bloom. There were gardenias and roses. It was a glorious riot of colour and perfume.
She turned to him, her face alight with appreciation. ‘This is just—beautiful.’
He grimaced. ‘Thanks. In a way it’s a tribute to my mother. A tribute to her love of gardens and her innate sense of refined living that somehow survived the often harsh life she shared with my father.’
He pulled up beside a fountain. The house beyond it was two-storeyed and built of warm, earthy stone with a shingle roof. The windows were framed in timber and had wrought-iron security grids. The front door—a double door—was beautifully carved with a dolphin motif and had curved brass handles.
‘The house isn’t bad either,’ she commented with a wry little smile. ‘Did you build it?’
‘No. And I’ve hardly done anything to it. Well, I changed that,’ he amended, and gestured to the fountain.‘It was this rather nauseating circle of coy naked ladies clutching plump cherubs.’
What stood there now couldn’t have been more different. A bronze dolphin leapt out of the water, cascading sparkling droplets.
Liz stared at it. ‘Do dolphins have any special significance?’
He considered. ‘It’s not inappropriate for someone whose roots go back to a seafaring life, I guess.’
Liz thought of the paintings in his office in Sydney. ‘But you’ve come a long way since then,’ she offered quietly.
‘A long way,’ he agreed. But, although he said it easily enough, she thought she detected the faintest echo of a grim undertone.
At that moment the front doors flew open and a small boy of about five stood on the doorstep, waving excitedly at the same time as he was restrained by a nanny.
Liz’s eyes widened. ‘Who…?’ she began, and bit her lip, not wanting to sound nosy.
‘That’s Archie,’ Cam Hillier said. ‘He’s my sister’s orphaned son. I’ve adopted him.’
He opened his door and got out, and Archie escaped his nanny’s restraining hand and flew over the gravel, calling, ‘Cam! Cam—am I glad to see you! Wenonah has had
six
puppies but they only want to let me keep one!’
Cam Hillier picked his nephew up and hugged him. ‘But just think,’ he said, ‘of the five other kids who’d love to have a puppy but couldn’t if you kept them all.’
Liz blinked. She’d assumed his nephew Archie wouldbe older. She certainly hadn’t expected to see Cameron Hillier so at home with a five-year-old…
‘I suppose that’s true,’ Archie said slowly. ‘Oh, well, maybe I won’t mind.’ He hugged Cam. ‘Are you staying?’
‘Not tonight,’ Cam said, but added as Archie’s face fell, ‘I’ll be up for the weekend.’ He put the little boy down. ‘Archie, meet Liz—she works for me.’
‘How do you do, Liz?’ Archie said with impeccable manners. ‘Would you like to see my menagerie?’
Both Cam and the nanny, still standing on the doorstep, opened their mouths to intervene, but Liz got in first. ‘How do you do, Archie? I would indeed.’
Archie slid his hand into hers. ‘It’s down this path. I’ll show you.’
‘Not too long, Archie,’ Cam said. ‘Liz and I have work to do.’
Archie’s menagerie was in a fenced-off compound not far from the house. There was netting stretched over the top, and there were shrubs growing within and without to shade it. Old hollow tree trunks lay inside. The paths were gravel. He had rabbits in hutches, and a family of guinea pigs in a marvellous cage fashioned like a castle, with climbing wheels and slides and bells. He had a white cockatoo with a sulphur crest and a limited vocabulary—‘Hello, cocky!’ and ‘Oh, golly gosh!’ He had a pond with a small waterfall and slippery stones, with greenery growing through it all and six frogs enjoying it. In another pond he had
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