The Mistress: The Mistress\Wanted: Mistress and Mother (18 page)

“Maybe,” he admitted, “but if I were ill, I’d far rather that
the latest equipment was monitoring me than have the knowledge that a garden was
awaiting, if I ever made it up there.”

“You’re missing the point...”

“I didn’t realise there was one,” he frowned. “I’m merely
expressing an opinion and, given that it’s mostly my money that paid for this
‘reflective garden’, I happen to think I am entitled to one.”

“Your money?”

“My firm’s.” He nodded, revealing little but at least allowing
Matilda to discount the movie-star theory! “Initially I was opposed when I heard
what the hospital intended spending the donation on, but then some novice put in
such a ridiculously low tender, I decided to let it go ahead. No doubt the
landscape firm is now declaring bankruptcy, but at the end of the day the
hospital has its garden and I appear a man of the people.” All this was said in
superior tones with a thick accent so that Matilda was a second or two behind
the conversation, blinking angrily as each word was deciphered and finally hit
its mark. “Never look a gift pony in the mouth.”

“Horse,” she retorted as she followed this impossible,
obnoxious man up the disabled ramp that she had had installed to replace the
three concrete steps and opened the small door that led onto the rooftop. “The
saying is never look a gift horse...” Her words petered out, the anger that
fizzed inside, the nerves that had assailed her all morning fading as she
stepped outside.

Outside into what she, Matilda Hamilton, had created.

* * *

The barren, concrete landscape of the hospital roof had
become available when the helipad had been relocated to the newly built
emergency department the previous year. The hospital had advertised in the
newspaper, inviting tenders to transform the nondescript area into a retreat for
patients, staff and relatives. A landscape designer by trade, most of her work
to that point had been courtesy of her fiancé, Edward—a prominent real estate
agent whose wealthy clients were only too happy to part with generous sums of
money in order to bolster their properties prior to sale, or to transform Nana’s
neglected garden into a small oasis prior to an executor’s auction. But as their
relationship had steadily deteriorated, Matilda’s desire to make it on her own
had steadily increased. Despite Edwards’s negativity and scorn, she’d registered
a business name and duly made an appointment to take measurements of the rooftop
and start her plans. Though she hadn’t expected to make it past the first round,
the second she had stepped onto the roof, excitement had taken over. It was as
if she could
see
how it should be, could envision
this dry, bland area transformed—endless potted trees supplying wind breaks and
shade decorated with fairy lights to make it magical at night, cobbled paths
where patients could meander and find their own space for reflection, mosaic
tables filled with colour, messages of hope and inspiration adorning them like
the stained-glass windows of a church where families could sit and share a
coffee.

And water features!

Matilda’s signature pieces were definitely in the plural—the
gentle sound of running water audible at every turn, blocking out the hum of
traffic or nearby people to enable peace or a private conversation. Hugh Keller
had listened as she’d painted her vision with words, her hands flailing like
windmills as she’d invited him into her mind’s eye, described in minute detail
the image she could so clearly see—a centre piece of water jets, shooting from
the ground at various, random intervals, catching the sun and the colour from
the garden—a centre piece where the elderly could sit and watch and children
could play. And now that vision was finally a reality. In just a few moments’
time, when Hugh cut the ribbon, the water features would be turned on and the
garden declared open for all to enjoy!

“Matilda!” From all angles her name was being called and
Matilda was glad for her momentary popularity—glad for the excuse to slip away
from the man she’d walked in with. Not that he’d notice, Matilda thought,
accepting congratulations and a welcome glass of champagne, but cross with
herself that on this, perhaps the most important day of her life, a day when she
should be making contacts, focusing on her achievement, instead she was
recalling the brief encounter that had literally left her breathless, her mind
drifting from the vitally important to the completely irrelevant.

He’d been nothing but rude, Matilda reminded herself firmly,
smiling as Hugh waved through the crowd and made his way over towards her.

Very rude, Matilda reiterated to herself—good-looking he may
be, impossibly sexy even, but he was obnoxious and—

“Hi, Hugh.” Matilda kissed the elderly gentleman on the cheek
and dragged her mind back to the important event that was taking place. She
listened intently as Hugh briefed her on the order of the speeches and part she
would take in the day’s events, but somewhere between Hugh reminding her to
thank the mayor and the various sponsors Matilda’s mind wandered, along with her
eyes—coming to rest on that haughty profile that had both inflamed and enraged
her since the moment of impact. Watching a man who stood a foot above a
dignified crowd, engaged in conversation yet somehow remaining aloof, somehow
standing apart from the rest.

And maybe he sensed he was being watched, perhaps it was her
longing that made him turn around, but suddenly he was looking at her, making
her feel just as he had a few moments ago in the lift, plunging her back to
sample again those giddy, confusing sensations he somehow triggered. Suddenly
her ability to concentrate on what Hugh was saying was reduced to ADHD
proportions, the chatter in the garden fading into a distant hum as he blatantly
held her gaze, just stared directly back at her as with cheeks darkening she
boldly did the same. Although the sensible part of her mind was telling her to
terminate things, to tear her eyes away, turn her back on him, halt this here
and now, somehow she switched her internal remote to mute, somehow she tuned out
the warnings and focused instead on the delicious picture.

“Once things calm down, hopefully we can discuss it.” Someone
inadvertently knocking her elbow had Matilda snapping back to attention, but way
too late to even attempt a recovery, Matilda realised as Hugh gave her a
concerned look. “Are you OK?”

“I’m so sorry, Hugh.” Reaching for her mental remote control,
Matilda raised the volume, glanced at the gold band on the stranger’s ring
finger and, pointedly turning her back, flashed a genuinely apologetic smile. “I
really am. I completely missed that last bit of what you said. I’m a bundle of
nerves at the moment, checking out that everything’s looking OK...”

“Everything’s looking wonderful, Matilda,” Hugh soothed, making
her feel even guiltier! “You’ve done an amazing job. I can’t believe the
transformation—just a bare old helipad and rooftop and now it’s this oasis.
Everyone who’s been up here, from porters to consultants, has raved about it.
I’m just glad it’s finally going to be open for the people who really deserve to
enjoy it: the patients and relatives.”

“Me, too.” Matilda smiled. “So, what was it you wanted to
discuss, Hugh?”

“A job.” Hugh smiled. “Though I hear you’re rather in demand
these days.”

“Only thanks to you,” Matilda admitted. “What sort of job?”

But it was Hugh who was distracted now, smiling at the mayor
who was making his way towards them. “Perhaps we could talk after the
speeches—when things have calmed down a bit.”

“Of course.” Matilda nodded. “I’ll look forward to it!” More
than Hugh knew. The thought of giving a speech—of facing this crowd, no matter
how friendly—had filled her with dread for weeks now. The
business
side of running a business was really not her forte, but
she’d done her best to look the part: had been to the beautician’s and had her
hair and make-up done—her hair today was neatly put up instead of thrown into a
ponytail, expensive foundation replacing the usual slick of sun block and
mascara. And the shorts, T-shirts and beloved Blundstone boots, which were her
usual fare, had been replaced with a snappy little suit and painfully high
heels. As the dreaded speeches started, Matilda stood with mounting heart rate
and a very fixed smile, listening in suicidal despair as all her carefully
thought-out lines and supposedly random thoughts were one by one used by the
speakers that came before her. Tossing the little cards she had so carefully
prepared into her—
new
—handbag, Matilda took to the
microphone, smile firmly in place as Hugh adjusted it to her rather small height
and the PA system shrieked in protest. Staring back at the mixture of curious
and bored faces, only one really captured her, and she awaited his
reaction—wondered how he would respond when he realised who he had insulted. But
he wasn’t even looking—his attention held by some ravishing brunette who was
blatantly flirting with him. Flicking her eyes away, Matilda embarked on the
first speech in her adult life, carefully thanking the people Hugh had mentioned
before taking a deep breath and dragging in the heady fragrance of springtime
and, as she always did, drawing strength from it.

“When I first met Hugh to discuss the garden, it was very clear
that the hospital wanted a place that would provide respite,” Matilda started.
“A place where people could come and find if not peace then somewhere where they
could gather their thoughts or even just take a breath that didn’t smell of
hospitals.” A few knowing nods from the crowd told her she was on the right
track. “With the help of many, many people, I think we’ve been able to provide
that. Hospitals can be stressful places, not just for the patients and relatives
but for the staff also, and my aim when I took on this job was to create an area
void of signs and directions and overhead loudspeakers, a place where people
could forget for a little while all that was going on beneath them, and
hopefully that’s been achieved.”

There were probably a million and one other things she could
have said, no doubt someone else who needed to be thanked, but glancing out
beyond the crowd, seeing the garden that had lived only in her mind’s eye alive
and vibrant, Matilda decided it was time to let Mother Nature speak for herself,
to wrap up the speeches and let the crowd explore the haven she had tried so
hard to create. She summed up with one heartfelt word.

“Enjoy!”

As Hugh cut the ribbon and the water jets danced into life,
thin ribbons of water leaping into the air and catching the sunlight, Matilda
felt a surge of pride at the oohs of the crowd and the excited shrieks of the
children, doing just as she had intended: getting thoroughly wet and laughing as
they did so. Only there was one child that didn’t join in with the giggling and
running, one little toddler who stood perfectly still, staring transfixed at the
jets of water with huge solemn eyes, blonde curls framing her face. For some
reason Matilda found herself staring, found herself almost willing the little
girl to run and dance with the others, to see expression in that little frozen
face.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Crouching down beside her, Matilda
held one of her hands out, breaking the stream of one of the jets, the cool
water running through her fingers. “You can touch it,” Matilda said, watching as
slowly, almost fearfully a little fat hand joined Matilda’s. A glimmer of a
smile shivered on the little girl’s lips, those solemn eyes glittering now as
she joined in with the simple pleasure. As she saw Hugh coming over, Matilda
found herself strangely reluctant to leave the child, sure that with just
another few moments she could have had her running and dancing with the rest of
the children.

“My granddaughter, Alex,” Hugh introduced them, crouching down
also, but his presence went unnoted by Alex, her attention focused on the water
running through her hands. “She seems to like you.”

“She’s adorable.” Matilda smiled, but it wavered on her lips,
questions starting to form in her mind as the little girl still just stood
there, not moving, not acknowledging the other children or her grandfather, just
utterly, utterly lost in her own little world. “How old is she?”

“Two,” Hugh said standing up, and pulling out a handkerchief,
dabbing at his forehead for a moment.

“Are you OK,” Matilda checked, concerned at the slightly grey
tinge to his face.

“I’ll be fine,” Hugh replied. “I’ve just been a bit off colour
recently. She’s two,” he continued, clearly wanting to change the subject. “It
was actually Alex that I was hoping to talk to you about.”

“I thought it was a job...” Her voice trailed off, both of
their gazes drifting towards the little girl, still standing there motionless.
But her face was lit up with a huge smile, utterly entranced at the sight before
her though still she didn’t join in, she still stood apart, and with a stab of
regret Matilda almost guessed what was coming next.

“She’s been having some problems,” Hugh said, his voice thick
with emotion. “She was involved in a car accident over a year ago and though
initially she appeared unharmed, gradually she’s regressed, just retreated
really. She has the most appalling tantrums and outbursts followed by days of
silence—the doctors are starting to say that she may be autistic. My wife
Katrina and I are frantic...”

“Naturally.” Matilda gave a sympathetic smile, genuinely sorry
to hear all Hugh was going through. He was a kind, gentle, friendly man, and
even though they’d chatted at length over the last few months, he’d never given
so much of a hint as to the problems in his personal life. But, then again,
Matilda thought with a sigh, neither had she.

“I told my son-in-law last night that my wife and I would like
to do this for Alex as a gift. There’s a small gated area at the back of his
property that I’m sure would be perfect for something like this—not on such a
grand scale, of course, just somewhere that doesn’t have rocks and walls and a
pool...”