pasta, so I always make my lasagna when it’s their birthday,” his mother said, drawing her to one side.
The better to interrogate her, Rhys suspected. He moved with them, determined not to leave Charlie to his family’s tender mercies.
“I love Italian. I’ve actually signed up for a cooking course that one of the local restaurants is running in Balmain,” Charlie said.
“Ah, so you enjoy cooking then?” his mother asked.
“I’m not sure,” Charlie said with a small laugh. “To be honest, I’m not very good, but I’ve been trying to get better now I can’t rely on the mess to make up for my deficiencies.”
“That’s right, Rhys mentioned you were in the army until only recently. It must be a big change for you, hanging up your uniform.”
Rhys continued to hover as his mother and Charlie exchanged small talk. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his sisters checking Charlie out, taking in her clothes, her shoes, her hair. Again, he had to stifle the urge to put his arm around her shoulders. She was doing fine, and his family were maintaining the pretense that they were civilized. So far, so good.
After a few minutes his mother ushered Charlie into a chair and positioned a platter of antipasto in front of her.
“If you see something you like, claim it early,” Rhys said. “Once the locusts move in you won’t stand a chance.”
Charlie gave him an uncertain smile before selecting a couple of olives. His brother engaged her in conversation about her web-design business, then Kim started to quiz her about her life in the army.
“So, is it true that it’s a man’s world in the defense forces? Did you ever feel as though you were discriminated against or not taken seriously?”
Charlie took a moment to answer. Rhys was standing behind her chair and couldn’t see her face.
“There’s no getting away from the fact that it’s a workforce made up predominantly of men, which means you’re dealing and working with men all day. Personally, I didn’t have a problem with that. I’ve always been pretty straightforward and most of the guys were up front with me, so it was all good. But I know some of the other women I worked with found it tough.”
“But I’m sure I read somewhere that one of the best ways to gain promotion is to serve in active duty, which means that women are automatically behind the eight ball because they can’t participate in combat,” Kim said.
“There are lots of ways of participating in deployments that don’t involve active combat. I was deployed to both Iraq and East Timor, for example.”
“You were in Iraq?” Mark asked, his posture becoming more alert.
“I did an eight-month tour,” Charlie confirmed.
Rhys was more than familiar with his brother’s views on the war, thanks to the many arguments they’d “enjoyed” around the dinner table. He fixed his brother with a hard look, daring him to mouth off. Mark stared at him for a long second before refocusing on Charlie.
“That must have been interesting,” Mark said.
Charlie murmured something noncommittal. Rhys rolled his shoulders as the conversation shifted to the movie his sister-in-law had seen during the week. Charlie waited until the conversation was flowing around her before turning in her seat and tilting her head to make eye contact with him.
“Could you tell me where the bathroom is?” she asked quietly.
“Out into the hall, second door on the right,” his mother said before he could respond.
“Thank you,” Charlie said, pushing herself to her feet. “Excuse me.”
She offered his mother a small smile before exiting. Rhys was aware of all eyes turning to him the moment she left the room.
“What?”
“She doesn’t need a bodyguard, Rhys. What do you think we’re going to do to her?” Mark asked.
“I don’t think you’re going to do anything.”
“So why are you following her around like she’s had a death threat or something?” Becky asked.
“I’m not.”
“You are. You haven’t left her side since you walked in the door,” Tim said.
Rhys resisted the urge—barely—to grind his teeth. “I’m trying to make her feel comfortable. Believe it or not, some people don’t like being interrogated by a roomful of loudmouths all at once.”
“Hello, Pot, I’d like you to meet Mr. Kettle,” Becky scoffed.
“Charlie’s not like us,” Rhys said. “She doesn’t have any brothers and sisters. She’s not used to conversational guerrilla warfare.”
“Thanks for the heads-up, Rhys. We’re all so thick we didn’t pick that up,” Mark said.
“She’ll feel more comfortable without you breathing down her neck,” Kim