‘I never said I wasn’t the romantic type,’ she sniffed with indignation. ‘It’s just not something I care to display to all and sundry.’
Annie’s BlackBerry rang. She snatched it up from the table and briskly walked to the back of the van. Meredith noted that she was waving her arms and then calling: ‘Over here!’
Before Meredith could make sense of what she was up to, another head appeared around the corner out of the darkness.
‘Hello, Mum.’
‘Jarvis! Oh, my . . .’ Meredith stood, overcome with emotion, unable to move.
Jarvis, tall and slim like his mother, walked to her, slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek. Meredith laid her head on his chest and sobbed heartily.
‘How did you know where I was?’ she asked, snuffling into his shirtfront like a baby rabbit.
‘I took the liberty of nicking your phone and ringing Don.’ Annie was triumphant.
‘You weren’t that hard to find,’ said Jarvis. ‘Confederate flag—rather nice touch.’
Meredith noted that Jarvis now had a trace of an English accent.
‘Siggie’s booked us a table at a Thai restaurant down the road,’ he said. ‘We can sit outside. It’s brilliant to be back home! I’ve missed Australia and I’ve missed you too, Mum.’
Meredith howled some more and, after grateful kisses for Annie, she and Jarvis were gone too.
Annie took up the bottle of champagne, settled into a camp chair and propped her feet on the table. ‘Excellent! More for me!’ she said out loud before proceeding to drink the lot. She was relieved to be alone, at last.
Nina stood naked on the wet tiles of the bathroom floor. Her husband, up to his neck in bubbles and rose petals in the bathtub, whistled a low note of appreciation. She reached for the towel.
‘Don’t,’ he whispered. ‘Let me see.’
Nina breathed deeply to hold in her stomach. She placed her hands on her full hips and twirled slowly. The candlelight shone on the damp white skin of her rounded bottom and the glistening curves of her breasts.
‘Look at you. Just look at you,’ he said in wonderment. ‘How beautiful you are. I can’t believe you are my wife.’
That night, as the light of the waning moon stole in through the open balcony doors to caress the rumpled bedsheets, Nina remembered who she was. She was the wife of Brad; mother of Jordy, Anton and Marko. And, she reflected, that had bestowed upon her more happiness and contentment than any woman could expect in this world.
‘You’ve always been an inspiration to me, Mum,’ said Jarvis. He leaned in towards the candlelight and sipped at his lemon-grass tea.
Meredith marvelled again at how handsome he was. He was just twenty-two and, to her, still a boy. His thick, straight dark hair and fine bones had come from her side of the family. There was her mother Edith in the elegant arch of his eyebrows. His luxurious lashes, brown eyes and full mouth were Donald’s.
She thought of her husband with a twinge of guilt. Perhaps she hadn’t always been as charitable to him as she might have been. After all, he had been a good father. And married for almost thirty years. Men got less for murder, she reminded herself.
‘I should have been there for you more than I was. I can see that now,’ said Meredith quietly.
‘No! Don’t be ridiculous.’ Jarvis waved her away and Meredith recognised her own imperious gesture. ‘I loved hanging around the shop—all that great stuff you imported. I think I inherited my taste for beautiful things from you. You’d be depressed to see my hovel in Shepherd’s Bush, although I do have Egyptian cotton bedsheets. But one day I mean to be sitting pretty in Holland Park, and you’ll be impressed then.’
‘I’m impressed now,’ said Meredith emphatically.
‘I know you are, but you know what I mean. You were always driven to make a success of yourself. I’m the same, and I’m proud to have inherited that from you.’
‘Thank you, darling. That means more than you know. But I don’t think Sigrid thinks of it that way.’ Meredith was slightly ashamed to be fishing for reassurance from her son on her mothering abilities, but couldn’t help herself.
‘Sigrid’s always had a chip on her shoulder,’ shrugged Jarvis. ‘Who knows why? If you’d been at home 24/7 baking cakes, I don’t think she would have turned out any different.’
‘What about this wedding tomorrow? Is she doing the right thing?’