An Unsuitable Wife
‘Ah,’ Sidonie responded. ‘No, it wouldn’t. It’s still the same me, you see. Just as you would probably be highly uncomfortable in anything other than shorts and a T-shirt, and with a decent haircut, I wouldn’t be any less me. And if you were implying that men might be tempted to take more of an interest in me were I to do those things you suggested—two points.’ She gestured and reached for her glass. ‘Life might certainly surprise me but would it actually improve? I wonder—’
He broke in with a half-smile, ‘Why shouldn’t it? Or do you have something against men finding you attractive?’
‘Not the right man, no.’ It was her turn to look faintly quizzical. ‘They don’t seem to be too thick on the ground, however. But you know, it’s not so much men—or the lack of them—that bothers me. It’s—this lack of purpose, not being able to find the right job, the right niche. That’s what really bothers me.’
‘On the other hand, is that not why you left Melbourne? Because of your failed—relationship?’
Sidonie frowned. ‘Well, obviously it was one reason. It’s not very pleasant to be thrown over for another woman; I can’t deny that it made a bit of a dent in my self-esteem but I’ve got the feeling it might not have worked anyway.’
‘And why is that?’ Mike Brennan queried with a straight face.
Sidonie chewed her lip. ‘I know it sounds odd and what I really mean is this, I think...’ She paused. ‘We were good friends and perhaps we confused that with being in love. It was certainly all very nice and comfortable but when he fell in love with this other girl it sort of dawned on me that there’d been no real passion in our relationship. No heart-stirring stuff, no feeling breathlessly happy and not wanting to be away from each other for a moment. Which is how he felt about her,’ she said ruefully. ‘And of course I was then led to wonder whether I was capable of inducing that kind of thing in a man. It’s not always a help to be interested in the kind of things I am, from a man’s point of view, I’m beginning to perceive. I think, speaking very generally, of course, men still prefer women to be very feminine.’
‘And you don’t think you are?’ Mike Brennan said in a totally deadpan way.
‘Not outwardly,’ Sidonie replied, her brow furrowed as she concentrated. ‘Take my choice in clothes for one thing—I’m really happiest in a pair of overalls so I never bother much about them and when I do I never get it right. I have a lot of trouble with my hair, I—’ But she hesitated and stopped, thinking that her other major shortcoming might be better kept a secret until there was no turning back. So she said instead, ‘Do you know what I mean at all?’ and winced when she thought she saw a glint of compassion in his eyes and said hastily, ‘It doesn’t really matter. As I said earlier, it’s not my main cause of concern.’
He looked at her thoughtfully for a long moment. ‘As a matter of fact I agree with you,’ he said finally. ‘To the extent that the outward manifestations of one’s femininity, or masculinity for that matter, may not always be a true guide.’
‘Oh, I’m so relieved to hear you say so!’ Sidonie smiled at him widely and then was struck by an awful thought which caused her to start to colour and add disjointedly, ‘Not...I mean...not in any personal sense, of course! Just that it reflects that you could be a thinking, fairly intelligent sort of person... Oh, dear,’ she wound down unhappily, ‘perhaps I should say no more.’
‘Perhaps,’ he agreed but with a wicked little glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘But until you make up your mind on my intelligence or otherwise, may I make a practical suggestion this time? Why don’t you unpack, have a shower and change? You don’t need to be careful of water while we’re in the marina; I’ll fill up again before we go—and I’ll start dinner. The sun has slipped past the yard arm, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
* * *
Half an hour later Sidonie emerged from the forward cabin a bit hesitantly. The shower had been wonderful, the cabin, although small, had ample space for her possessions and she’d changed into a pair of white shorts and one of the T-shirts she’d bought. She’d also washed her hair and plaited it. The aromas coming from the galley were delicious, but despite all this she couldn’t help but be struck by the thought that she’d committed herself to sharing a very confined space with a total stranger and she didn’t even know for how long.
So she was quiet as they ate grilled lamb chops, a potato casserole topped with cheese and tomato, and fresh green beans, followed by a fresh fruit salad and cream. She also declined any more wine and was just gearing herself up to ask some pertinent questions when Mike Brennan pushed away his dessert plate and said idly, ‘I’d guess you’d like to know my plans.’
‘Oh. Yes,’ she replied gratefully.
‘Know anything about the Whitsunday area?’
‘No,’ she confessed. ‘Not a lot. I boned up on cattle and cattle stations et cetera—I’m actually a walking mine of information on different breeds...Simmental, Poll Herefords, Charolais as well as artificial insemination and the like, which was a bit of a waste of time as it’s turned out although they say knowledge can never be useless—but I wasn’t expecting to be out on the water.’
‘Well, come and have a look at the map,’ he said, again looking wickedly amused, and a moment later was showing her the main islands in the area. ‘Hayman, Hook, Whitsunday, Haslewood, Hamilton all have protected anchorages, so what I plan is a leisurely cruise around them for a couple of weeks and then I’ll be taking her down to Tin Can Bay, which is to be her home base.’ His finger moved a long way down the map and Sidonie’s eyes widened.
His own eyes narrowed faintly as he watched her and he said after a moment, ‘That will be something for us to make a mutual decision about—whether you come that far or I drop you back here.’
‘I see.’ She thought for a bit and looked around. ‘It looks brand-new, this boat.’
‘It is. There are only about twenty hours on the log, which is why I decided to take on crew. There are inevitably teething problems on new boats and it’s handy to have someone else on board.’
‘I would have thought you needed a man.’
‘As a matter of fact I’ve had some excellent crew, sailing-wise, who were girls, although none with your mechanical experience. And even if they can’t sail it’s a great help to have someone to cook when things are going wrong.’
‘I see,’ Sidonie said again, mentally digesting this and wondering what else those girls had been good at.
‘What you’re wondering now, my friend Sidonie,’ he said with a tinge of irony, ‘doesn’t sit that well with the sentiments you expressed earlier.’
Sidonie raised her expressive grey eyes to his and there was a certain cool hauteur in them. ‘No? Which sentiments were those?’
‘That women can be good at all sorts of things, as you yourself are, and men should be able to accept that and see beyond the frills and furbelows. At least I think that’s what you were trying to say.’
‘Ah,’ she murmured, not lowering her gaze by a fraction, ‘I was. I was not, however, to be seen kissing you in public this morning or, more to the point, being kissed by you after crewing on your boat.’
A look of exasperation tempered by some devilish humour came to his expression. ‘All the same I didn’t sleep with them; they were only on board for the trip down from Townsville where I...where the boat was bought, and because they were sweet, nice kids who’d enjoyed every minute of their adventure, and because I know one of their brothers rather well, I kissed them goodbye. Furthermore, in case you weren’t aware of it, it was not the kind of kissing lovers indulge in; people are very informal in this part of the world and among the boating fraternity, Miss Hill; and if those kind of quite innocent things are going to shock you all the time, we may have to rethink our...association.’
‘It’s up to you,’ Sidonie said levelly. ‘I just like to get things quite clear in my mind,’ she added.
He stared at her then shook his head wryly. ‘I’ve got the feeling whatever I say will be taken down and used in evidence against me but for what it’s worth here goes—I did have a friend, the brother I mentioned a moment ago, lined up for these sea trials but he broke a leg a couple of days ago. That’s how I came to be reduced to seeking strange crew, little to know how strange they were going to be,’ he said with a lethal kind of gentleness. ‘However, I have, over the years of cruising in yachts, used women crew—even strange women crew at times, which I would have thought merely demonstrated that I’m not a male chauvinist. Only to discover—’ his lips twisted ‘—that it has caused you to feel sure it’s a deep, devious ploy to lure them into my bed.’
Sidonie raised an eyebrow. ‘Can you tell me it’s never happened?’
‘Yes, I can,’ he replied equably but with less latent humour. ‘In fact I can go further and say quite catagorically that I have never asked any woman to step on board any boat with an ulterior motive in mind. You’re quite safe, Sidonie, but of course I can only say it; whether you believe me or not is up to you.’
Sidonie pursed her lips then said at length, ‘All right, I’ll accept that with the proviso that you also promise no ulterior motives develop later on—’ He swore beneath his breath, but she continued doggedly, ‘And I refuse to be embarrassed about any of this despite your efforts to make me feel so.’
Mike Brennan stared at her for a full minute, looking every bit as hawkish as he was capable of, but Sidonie’s gaze didn’t falter. Finally a reluctant and dry little smile twisted his lips as he said, ‘Why do I have the impression that if anyone’s biting off more than they can chew it’s me?’
For the first time a spark of humour lit Sidonie’s eyes although she replied gravely, ‘I have no idea.’
‘I wonder.’ He paused, seemed about to say more then changed the subject. ‘I’ll give you a guided tour of the galley, the freezers, fridges, et cetera, and how they operate. I think that might be enough for tonight. Would one day on, one day off suit you?’
‘What—? I don’t—’
‘I mean that we split galley duties between us day by day.’
‘Oh! Uh—yes, that would be fine,’ she said and hoped it didn’t sound as lame to him as it did to her. But he merely gave her a guided tour of all the facilities—the gas stove and conventional oven, the microwave oven, the ice-making machine and so on. There was no doubt that Morning Mist had virtually everything that opened and shut, not that those facilities were generally of much help to Sidonie—But I’ll think about that tomorrow, she told herself as she unsuccessfully tried to stop yawning and battled the onset of extreme weariness.
Eventually he said, ‘Mmm... I think you’d better go to bed, Sidonie, before you fall asleep standing up. And I’ll cook tomorrow—you can get acquainted with the motor and the sails if you like.’
‘Thanks,’ she said really gratefully. ‘I do seem to be very tired although don’t think I tire easily. I’m as strong as a horse normally; it’s just that—’ She stopped and coloured.
‘You’ve had a tough day,’ he supplied with a suppressed smile.
‘Yes... Goodnight,’ she said uncertainly.
He studied her for a moment and she couldn’t read his expression at all. Then he said quietly, ‘Goodnight, Sid. Sleep well; you really don’t have a thing to worry about.’
* * *
Which was how she came to fall asleep with some confusion among her thoughts—such as the rough diamond she’d assumed was Mike Brennan might not be so rough after all, and wondering how old he was and deciding he must be in his middle thirties but being unable to decide why this should concern her at all. Such as wondering how she was going to tell him that in one respect, at least, she was an utter fraud...
CHAPTER TWO
‘HOW’S that?’
‘It’s really excellent. She sails like a dream!’ Sidonie said enthusiastically. ‘Wouldn’t you just love to own a boat like this?’
Mike Brennan shrugged non-committally. They’d cleared the Abel Point Marina and Pioneer Rocks very early and were sailing down the Whitsunday Passage in light conditions, and added to the magic of Morning Mist there was a slight haze in the air so that the passage looked ethereally lovely in the morning light, a serenade of pale blues, sky and water with the islands appearing insubstantial and as if they were floating themselves. Two dolphins had accompanied them for a time, rubbing their backs under the bow of the boat then curving out of the water joyfully.
Sidonie had been aware as they’d hoisted sail and cut the motor that she’d been under Mike Brennan’s hawk-like scrutiny, and aware that she’d passed his unspoken test, which had given her a curiously joyful little lift herself. Not that she’d ever handled a boat this size before, with its impressive spread of sail, but the rudiments were always the same, and she thought her father, who had taught her to sail, would have been proud of her. Then she thought of Peter Matthews, who had also been impressed by her sailing abilities, and the many happy days they’d spent together on Port Phillip Bay, and blinked a couple of times. Why didn’t I realise until it was too late? she asked herself. I mean realise that what we shared wasn’t the stuff dreams are made of? If only I had I could have spared myself the indignity if nothing else of having to be told he’d fallen in love with someone else. Perhaps even spared him the embarrassment of it all...
‘Penny for them?’ the tall man beside her said quietly.
‘Er—’ She jumped and looked at him ruefully. ‘Oh, nothing really.’
‘It’s a shame to be sad on a morning like this.’
‘You’re right, it is. I’ll stop!’
He smiled briefly. ‘Would some breakfast help?’
‘It certainly would.’
‘Well, if you keep her on this course, I’ll do the necessary. Are you a big breakfast eater?’
‘Oh, no. What do you usually have?’
‘Muesli and fruit, toast and coffee.’
‘So do I!’
‘Well, I’m glad we’ve found a couple of things in common,’ he said, but nicely, and disappeared down the ladder.
I think he is nice, Sidonie found herself reflecting as she held Morning Mist on course with her sails nicely filled. She was not to know that while Mike Brennan could undoubtedly be nice he could also get extremely angry in a very cold and cutting manner...
That discovery came to her the next evening after another lovely day’s sailing, when they were anchored in Stonehaven Bay off Hook Island. Not only had they had a great sail but after they’d anchored he’d lowered the dinghy and taken her coral viewing per medium of a coral viewer held into the water over the side of the dinghy, and she’d been amazed and thrilled at the colourful sight. She’d even said it reminded her of buried treasure and he’d raised an eyebrow and agreed that it was a good description.
Unfortunately, after that, she’d been unable to put off the evil moment any longer—her turn to cook dinner. Breakfast had been a breeze, lunch fairly simple—even she couldn’t do much wrong with cold meat and salad—but there was plump fresh chicken reposing in the fridge awaiting her attentions, and she got a sinking feeling every time she thought about it.
Fortunately, or so she thought at the time, one of the other boats anchored in Stonehaven was known to Mike and when he was invited aboard for a drink and asked her if she’d like to go as well she’d declined and said she would rather start dinner, thinking that she’d be much better off without him breathing down her neck.
She wasn’t. Despite a cook book she found—or, as she later heard herself say, actually because of it. She certainly wouldn’t have been as adventurous without it but when there was cauliflower crying out for a white sauce and the instructions for it, a recipe for honeyed carrots... The list went on.
None of this altered the fact that, an hour and a half later when Mike Brennan returned to the boat, she’d got herself into an unbelievable, not to mention dangerous mess and had just managed to tilt the roasting tray, complete with burnt chicken, pumpkin and potatoes, so that all its contents had slid to the galley floor.
The first words he spoke she heard quite clearly although she couldn’t quite see him through the smoky black haze that filled the boat.
He said, ‘My God...!’ Then, ‘Just what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, Sidonie? Trying to burn the boat to the waterline?’
‘No, no!’ She gasped and coughed then yelped as she burnt herself on the roasting tray.
The next few minutes were confused and not helped by the white sauce, which quadrupled its volume into a billowing, bubbly head and cascaded all over the top of the stove, thereby adding another smell of burning of a slightly different but equally unpleasant nature.
It was only after Mike Brennan had managed to reduce the haze by opening every porthole and hatch that he stopped swearing. Then he surveyed her with blazing blue eyes but said in a voice like ice, ‘How did this happen?’
Sidonie wiped her watering eyes and thought briefly. ‘Food and I don’t get along too well. I mean, I enjoy eating it well enough, there are some things I love, but I’m just not very good at...cooking it. Although I followed the instructions to a T, I do assure you!’
‘You thoughtless, stupid, pedantic, tiresome little girl—why didn’t you just tell me you couldn’t cook?’ he ground out through his teeth. ‘Not only could you have burnt the boat but it will take a week to clean up the mess.’
Sidonie thought again although she felt a bit fearful and looked it. ‘I don’t understand why I can’t cook, you see. And I really thought that without you around to give me an inferiority complex, plus the help of this recipe book, I might just get it right this time.’
He said something extremely uncomplimentary towards her thought processes and added that he hoped she was as good at cleaning up messes as she was at creating them, but when she assured him eagerly that she was he glared at her in a way that made her quake inside, and turned away in disgust.
They worked together for over an hour in a cold, absolutely demoralising silence. Then he said curtly, ‘Leave it now, Sidonie. For one thing I’m tired of tripping over you—go and have a shower or something. I’ll make us something to eat.’
She opened her mouth but received such a devastating blue glance that she closed it and turned away defeatedly.
* * *
He’d made them scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, she discovered when she nerved herself to leave her cabin, washed and cleaned up but feeling like an incredible fool.
She also discovered she was still in Coventry as they ate, and for once she could think of not a thing to say or do to ease the situation.
Then he broke the silence to say with considerable irony, ‘Would I be wrong in surmising your ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend possesses some culinary skills?’
Sidonie winced and looked away. Don’t cry, she warned herself. However hurtful, it was still a horrible thing to say.
‘Sidonie?’
‘I don’t really know. Probably,’ she said gruffly and concentrated on the last little bit of smoked salmon.
‘Probably,’ he marvelled. ‘Even if it were a bare modicum it would have to be an improvement on you.’
She didn’t answer but put her knife and fork together and went to get up but flinched as the inside of her forearm came into contact with the edge of the table. She didn’t see him frown and looked up in surprise when he took her wrist and turned her arm to the light, exposing the nasty little burn she’d received from the roasting dish.
Their gazes caught and held and he said in a different voice, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘About this?’
‘Yes, about this burn,’ he said deliberately, still holding her wrist.
‘I...I don’t really know,’ she murmured. ‘I suppose because I’d created enough havoc without adding to it. But it’s nothing,’ she assured him. ‘I—’
‘Stop right there, Sidonie,’ he warned. ‘I know damn well it must have been hurting like hell and still is, and if there’s one thing I don’t appreciate it’s false bravery—’
‘It’s not false—’
‘It’s not hurting?’ he shot at her.
‘Well...’ she bit her lip ‘...only a little. And if you must know,’ she continued, ‘if you hadn’t made me feel entirely as if I’d crawled out from under a stone, I would have asked you for something to put on it. I don’t believe in false bravery either.’
He moved his fingers on her wrist so that she flinched again, then he raised his eyes heavenwards in total exasperation. ‘Just promise me one thing, Sidonie.’
She looked at him wide-eyed. He surveyed her upturned face and wide eyes for a moment then shook his head and said merely, ‘Don’t talk the hind leg off a donkey until my mood improves.’ And he gave her back her wrist and motioned her to sit down, whereupon he brought out a first-aid kit and dealt with her burn competently and clinically. Then he made them some coffee but declined her offer to do the dishes. ‘Although,’ he said meditatively, ‘I think that will have to be the division of labour from hereon in. I’ll be chief cook and you can be chief bottle washer.’
‘Thank you very much,’ she said with a rush of gratitude. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am. And tomorrow I’ll clean every crevice so that it will all look like new again. Unless...’ She paused and eyed him warily.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘What?’
‘I just wondered if it would be possible to teach me a bit of cookery, seeing as you seem to be so very good at it.’
He eyed her over the rim of his cup. ‘How come no one else has been able to teach you?’
‘No one’s ever tried. Dad and I always lived on campus, you see. Oh, we had a self-contained flatlet but it was much easier to eat in the canteen.’
Mike Brennan put down his cup and stared into it silently but when she thought he wasn’t going to say anything and had begun to wish she’d never mentioned the subject he looked up at last with something wry and quizzical in his eyes. ‘I suppose one could only try,’ he said gravely. ‘If nothing else it might render you more marriageable.’
The glow that had started to light Sidonie’s face up faltered and he grimaced, stood up and patted her on the head. ‘Don’t look like that, kid. I’m still recovering from the shock of your little débâcle—yes, I’ll teach you how to cook, if it’s possible.’
With that she had to be content, and discovered, curiously, that she was. And even more so when, after he’d dealt with the dishes, he put some music on the CD, a lovely Enya album, and brought out the manual for the instrument known colloquially as a GPS, short for Global Positioning System. In fact it would have been true to say she was entranced as he explained the finer points of satellite navigation and how the instrument locked into several satellites and was thereby able to record the boat’s position so that they could plot it on a chart and know exactly where they were as well as being able to put in a destination point and have it tell them the course to steer to get to it, the range in nautical miles and the time it would take to get there.
And within a very short time she had a complete grasp of the instrument, causing him to say with a lifted eyebrow, ‘You may not be able to cook, friend Sid, but you’ve picked all this up in record time.’
Nothing diminished her glow of pleasure this time and she went to bed not long afterwards in a more contented frame of mind than one would have thought possible considering she’d nearly burnt the boat down. And as she listened to the gentle slap of the bow wave against the hull and snuggled beneath the covers her thoughts once again turned to Mike Brennan, a man she knew so little about yet was coming to like a lot.
It was at this point that it occurred to her again that while he might look like a rough diamond he didn’t sound like one nor behave like one and was even looking less and less like one on closer inspection. In fact, although she wouldn’t call him handsome, she decided, those aquiline features appealed to her, at least his brown hair was shiny and clean, and he did things on the boat with an economy and precision of movement, a fine-tuning of his superb physique, those broad shoulders, lean torso and long legs that was a pleasure to watch and even made her heart beat a little oddly sometimes. Then there was the way he cooked and the things he cooked and the music he liked and the books he read—you could almost be forgiven for thinking he was educated and cultured, she mused. And there was now the conundrum to add to all this that, despite her early doubts and despite incurring his dire wrath, she felt strangely safe with Mike Brennan...