so hard the ends of her fingers practically became square. It rang and rang until it rang out while she devised several seriously painful ways to kill Hillary. She slammed the phone down as she remembered Hillary was more than likely still stretching and bending to soothing relaxation music.
Half her luck. Not for much longer.
Georgie leaned on the kitchen bench, rocking backward and forward, cradling her head in her hands and massaging her skull with her fingertips. All she wanted to do was to release some of the pounding tension threatening to crack her head open like a macadamia in a press. It would take more than relaxation music to settle her right now. A loud thump sounded from the shed, and she raised her head, squinting through the dirty window.
Like a bunch of overactive school kids, the boys were jostling each other as they climbed into the cab, obviously indulging in some strange male bonding rite. Tom and Matt ended up in the front, and Garth and Jim in the back. She could’ve put money on it. They had the windows rolled down, and when the truck drove past the house and headed for the driveway, their manly voices and a harsh bark of laughter sounded across the paddock.
Come on, Hillary. Come on.
Looking at her watch again, she drummed her fingers against the kitchen bench. It was nowhere near eight o’clock; Hillary wouldn’t be home yet. She punched Hillary’s mobile phone number in again. It rang out. Banging and crashing around the kitchen, she switched on the coffee machine, searching for some ritual to calm her.
Finally, with a large cappuccino in one hand, she perched on the stool and dialed again. It picked up after a couple of rings, and before Hillary had the opportunity to speak Georgie let fly.
“What ever made you employ him, and why didn’t you tell me?” she said, regretting her words the moment they left her lips.
“Good morning, Georgie. I won’t ask you how you are. You sound seriously venomous.”
An overwhelming desire to burst into tears washed over Georgie, and she took a deep breath before she continued. “Hillary, I’m sorry, but I have had the most awful morning ...and it’s all your fault,” she finished with a lame sigh.
“What’s wrong? Did something go wrong with the truck? Didn’t they show up? What happened? I’m sorry. I knew I should have been there, but I thought you could handle it while I took the Pilates class.”
“You didn’t tell me. I wasn’t ready for him.” Overwhelmed, Georgie made no sense and now that the moment had passed there wasn’t very much wrong—except in her pathetic imagination.
“Didn’t tell you what?” She could almost hear Hillary frowning.
“You didn’t tell me Protea Boy number four was Tom.”
“Tom? No. Morgan. Didn’t he arrive? The rat. I knew he was too good to be true.”
“He did. That’s the point. Tom, Tom Morgan.” An almost audible clunk echoed as Hillary put two and two together.
“Ooh. You mean Morgan is really Tom. Tom of the we-rescued-the-wombat , Tom, the guy from the new restaurant, the one you don’t fancy.”
“Yes,” Georgie replied, hating the plaintive whine in her voice. “That Tom.”
“Well, it’s great. So you already know him, he was on time, everything is fine, and you’ll get to see him again and find out if you really do fancy him. If you don’t, let me know because I’ll be more than happy...”
“No, it’s not fine, and I don’t fancy him. You’re welcome to him. He’s an arrogant control freak, and he just swept in and took over.”
“That’s great, too, then. That’s exactly what we wanted to happen, isn’t it?”
Georgie puffed loudly down the receiver.
“Come on, Georgie, lighten up. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t fancy a guy. Dale’s long gone. Just accept that you need to meet some new people. You told me that yourself.”
“I’ve told you I don’t fancy him. He gets under my skin, tantalizes me, in fact. I can’t stop thinking
Half her luck. Not for much longer.
Georgie leaned on the kitchen bench, rocking backward and forward, cradling her head in her hands and massaging her skull with her fingertips. All she wanted to do was to release some of the pounding tension threatening to crack her head open like a macadamia in a press. It would take more than relaxation music to settle her right now. A loud thump sounded from the shed, and she raised her head, squinting through the dirty window.
Like a bunch of overactive school kids, the boys were jostling each other as they climbed into the cab, obviously indulging in some strange male bonding rite. Tom and Matt ended up in the front, and Garth and Jim in the back. She could’ve put money on it. They had the windows rolled down, and when the truck drove past the house and headed for the driveway, their manly voices and a harsh bark of laughter sounded across the paddock.
Come on, Hillary. Come on.
Looking at her watch again, she drummed her fingers against the kitchen bench. It was nowhere near eight o’clock; Hillary wouldn’t be home yet. She punched Hillary’s mobile phone number in again. It rang out. Banging and crashing around the kitchen, she switched on the coffee machine, searching for some ritual to calm her.
Finally, with a large cappuccino in one hand, she perched on the stool and dialed again. It picked up after a couple of rings, and before Hillary had the opportunity to speak Georgie let fly.
“What ever made you employ him, and why didn’t you tell me?” she said, regretting her words the moment they left her lips.
“Good morning, Georgie. I won’t ask you how you are. You sound seriously venomous.”
An overwhelming desire to burst into tears washed over Georgie, and she took a deep breath before she continued. “Hillary, I’m sorry, but I have had the most awful morning ...and it’s all your fault,” she finished with a lame sigh.
“What’s wrong? Did something go wrong with the truck? Didn’t they show up? What happened? I’m sorry. I knew I should have been there, but I thought you could handle it while I took the Pilates class.”
“You didn’t tell me. I wasn’t ready for him.” Overwhelmed, Georgie made no sense and now that the moment had passed there wasn’t very much wrong—except in her pathetic imagination.
“Didn’t tell you what?” She could almost hear Hillary frowning.
“You didn’t tell me Protea Boy number four was Tom.”
“Tom? No. Morgan. Didn’t he arrive? The rat. I knew he was too good to be true.”
“He did. That’s the point. Tom, Tom Morgan.” An almost audible clunk echoed as Hillary put two and two together.
“Ooh. You mean Morgan is really Tom. Tom of the we-rescued-the-wombat , Tom, the guy from the new restaurant, the one you don’t fancy.”
“Yes,” Georgie replied, hating the plaintive whine in her voice. “That Tom.”
“Well, it’s great. So you already know him, he was on time, everything is fine, and you’ll get to see him again and find out if you really do fancy him. If you don’t, let me know because I’ll be more than happy...”
“No, it’s not fine, and I don’t fancy him. You’re welcome to him. He’s an arrogant control freak, and he just swept in and took over.”
“That’s great, too, then. That’s exactly what we wanted to happen, isn’t it?”
Georgie puffed loudly down the receiver.
“Come on, Georgie, lighten up. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t fancy a guy. Dale’s long gone. Just accept that you need to meet some new people. You told me that yourself.”
“I’ve told you I don’t fancy him. He gets under my skin, tantalizes me, in fact. I can’t stop thinking
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