The Quilt (9 page)

No
doubt under different circumstances this one would have made himself easily available. She looked up and noticed his eyes were still focused on her breasts.  No, under these exact circumstances, this one would make himself easily available.  Disgust spread over her face. Sandy was well aware Joanne could read her thoughts like a book. 

S
he began to count “Michael one, Michael Two, Michael Three.”

S
he felt her expression relax into a neutral mask.

Stephen
had brown eyes, he wore gold chains, he was angular and tall. Instinctively she knew him for what he was. Not a long-term keeper, his looks would fade and there would be nothing of substance left.  He would survive sucking the life out of those he could charm, putting nothing back because he had nothing he was willing, or perhaps able, to give.  How the hell had he managed to form a relationship with Joanne?

Stephen
extended a limp hand with long narrow fingers and perfectly manicured nails. He smiled seductively showing off perfect rows of teeth.

Sandy
concentrated on maintaining her neutral face.  She had a feeling she would need it more than once over the weekend.

Sandy had trouble sleeping on the Friday night despite the gentle sound of the waves lapping on the shore below urging her to relax. 

How could her
intelligent friend be so bloody naive?  Joanne, the university graduate with everything in front of her planned out like a carefully written agenda in a formal meeting. 

Joanne
had the charisma and the looks to turn heads in any room.  Goodness knows how many times talent scouts had approached her on the streets of Auckland.  Sandy recalled at least two occasions when she had been there.  Joanne had laughed and made jokes about hidden cameras making fun of silly vain woman.

There had
, of course, been men in her life.   Often they were talented and devastatingly handsome men.  They had walked into the apartments the two friends had shared, looking at Joanne with adoring eyes, like smitten puppies waiting for crumbs from her table.  They joined her to study the books that were piled high on the tables and benches. Eventually, they drifted off because she remained cool and politely disinterested.  A few had stayed longer but Joanne always remained distant, she seemed to be looking for something else in a relationship, perhaps an equal or perhaps she wasn’t looking for a relationship at all?

Sandy lapsed into a fitful sleep
. 

“Good morning,” Joanne greeted cheerfully.  Her hair was piled high in a tight bun and her elbows rested on the morning paper.  She was seated at the table holding a large mug of coffee.  Weak rays of morning sun filtered through the net curtains and bathed the room in a soft yellow glow.

“How did you sleep?’

Sandy greeted the question with a grunt.  Joanne took the cue and walked over to the coffee machine. 

“I’ve got today planned out. 
The seamstress is expecting us for that fitting this morning and then we might go up and visit some of the vineyards for a quick lunch.  How is the head?” 

Sandy had complained about a
dull headache the evening before.  She suspected Stephen’s constant boring conversation about Stephen had been the trigger.

“Stephen is busy today.  We will
catch up with him again before you leave.” 

As far as Sandy could see he had not
bothered to emerge from the bedroom upstairs.   Whatever the reason, a small break from listening to his opinions about the world of art and conversation revolving around his achievements would be a relief.

The seamstress was a matronly, efficient woman with pins positioned carefully in her lips.  She tutted and spoke to herself as she measured Sandy and wrote numbers in a crumpled note book.

“It is a good thing you have taken the time for a professional fitting.” 

She glanced at Joanne who was sitting with a magazine open on her knee.  The glossy advertisement announced the release of the latest cosmetic solutions available from the international company her mother represented.  More than represented, Natalie Kyle had totally dedicated her working life to managing and developing the Southern Hemisphere division. Her commitments had often caused her to exclude her husband and daughter from her life while she searched for professional satisfaction.

“I will be in contact closer to the time.  Just to
confirm your measurements have not changed.”

Sandy st
ared coldly at the elderly woman. 

What did she expect to happen in the few short weeks that remained before the wedding?   U
nexpected bulges to form around her middle or perhaps a mass over indulgence in chocolate to visibly plaster inches on her hips? 

Sandy
was still complaining about the possible implication as they drove up a narrow winding road out of Nelson to one of many boutique wineries situated in the picturesque hills surrounding the city. 

They settled into a tiny cushioned booth and Sandy attempted to initiate a difficult conversation. First she took a sip of crisp delicious white wine and then hesitantly tested.

“What do your parents think of Stephen?”

Joanne visibly tensed before answering.

“You know t
hey wouldn’t be happy with anyone I intended to marry.”

“So they aren’t happy with Stephen?”  Sandy persisted
.  Her eyes were carefully focused on Joanne’s face.

J
oanne shuffled uncomfortably.  A defence lawyer under question.

“They don’t consider he has a proper job
.”

“Well
, they are probably right aren’t they?”

Joanne bristled and took a slow sip of wine
. Her eyes held Sandy captive for a second, calculating and reasoning.  Their grey depths sent a clear message that was not familiar between the friends. 

For a moment Sandy experienced the professional side of Joanne, the one th
at was reserved for her court appearances.  The one that wilted defendant’s silly enough to imagine her classy exterior would not contain a sharp, focused brain that was ruthless under pressure.

“I thought
...” 

Joanne began slowly
, leaving a moments silence before continuing.   Her unspoken warning rested heavily on the table between them.

“I
f anyone would understand it would be you.  Like you he is an artist and a good one.  Success isn’t something that just arrives, it takes time.”

“It takes time, talent
and motivation,” corrected Sandy.  Ignoring the tension etching across Joanne’s face she continued.  This needed to be said and perhaps there would not be another opportunity.

“Q
uite often you have to do something else to earn a living while you wait and hope your work is recognised and appreciated by someone.”

The grey eyes remained focused sending a clear signal.  You have no case Sandy.  You do not have all the evidence.
 

“I have sold some of my art.  In fact
, quite a few of my paintings have sold and for far more money than Stephen has ever received.  I have been privately commissioned on two occasions and I still do not consider myself an artist. I know I have to compromise to meet the market, sometimes it is the only way to make anything artistic a sound business.”

The grey eyes remained focused.  They had hardened to concrete but Sandy needed to finish.

“I also hold down a job, a job waiting tables at a wine bar.  A job that I am not happy doing.  But I have to live and until I can rely on my work to support me that is just the way it has to be.”

Sandy glanced at Joanne’s rigid face
it had now completely shut down.

“I think now would be a good time to have a change in subject
.”

Joanne had made a statement.   T
here would be no invitation to continue the conversation about Stephen or their relationship. Sandy had failed to make her case.

The tension soon faded and the sun shone brightly casting reflections across the surface of the river and into the deep shadows of the swimming hole.

“Hey
, Joanne, come on!” 

Jo
anne eyed the colourful assortment of clothing that Sandy had left strewn behind her.  The items stretched from her car which was parked in a small gravel area to the rocky edges of the water.

“I have
n’t brought anything to swim in.”

Sandy roared with laughter.

“We’ve been through this before, remember? You are such an old lady.  If anyone turns up we will see them before they see us, assuming they are even interested in seeing us!” 

“
Make a choice Joanne, the conservative and old before her time, soon to be married lawyer or single Jo in her twenties with a tiny little bit of fun left in her!”

“So its Jo again is it?!” 

Sandy was the only one that had ever taken the liberty of abbreviating her name.  

Joanne sighed and rolled her eyes as she remembered the last time Sandy’s nagging had led her
out of her comfort zone and into the water naked and vulnerable.

“You know how the last time
ended.  Remember we had no clothes when we got out.”

Sandy giggled and tugged
at the woven matt of tiny blue love beads that hung limply against the moist skin of her neck.

“Well
, this is hardly a populated area is it?  It is highly unlikely there are any drunken teenage boys hiding in the tree’s waiting to sneak off with your rags.”

Joanne laughed
, recalling the skinny dipping incident several years ago. Sandy’s outrageous personality always made her feel young, daring and alive. 

Jo
anne slipped out of her clothes and self-consciously lowered herself into the cool depths of the mountain-fed pool.

“You
really don’t like Stephen do you?”

Sandy
she chose her words as carefully as she could.

“
I didn’t think you wanted to continue conversation about Stephen.”

Sandy went on before there was a chance
for Joanne to reconsider.

“
I don’t know Stephen.  But to be honest, he isn’t what I thought you would settle for.”

“I don’t understand
?”

“I always thought you would end up with someone successful and ambitious.  Not settle for the white picket fence and a life of running like a mouse on a wheel
.”

“
That’s a little harsh and is it really what you see for me when I am married?”

“I’m not sure Jo
anne.  The world Stephen lives in is different from the world you live in.  His work is not selling and from what I see he is happy to live off your wages if it means he doesn’t have to compromise to meet the market…”

Sandy trailed off as she heard the crunch of gravel in the parking area
above.

Jo
anne cursed and submerged herself under the water.  She made a feeble effort to extend an arm towards the pile of clothes she had left folded neatly at the water’s edge. 

At the same time an elderly woman m
ade an audible shriek and covered the eyes of her youngster, trying to guide him quickly back to their car. He was protesting loudly wriggling to free himself and struggling to look back.

Joanne turned awkwardly.
  Sandy was standing fully exposed, water dripping from the matt of blue beads.  They were the only thing that covered any of her voluptuous body.  Laughter followed the fast retreating vehicle.

“It’s not going to be good
for my professional image if I have an indecent exposure charge filed against me.”  

“We had better get out of here
.”

“Oh
, and I like those beads, but they don’t hide enough.” 

The old fashioned fish and chips sat on grease stained paper between the three of them.  The chips were crisp and salty and the large white fleshed portions of snapper were moist in their coating of golden batter. 

“I haven’t tasted take
aways like this in years.”

“They do a good job locally.  I guess there is no excuse not to have a good produ
ct being this close to the sea.”

Stephen wa
s making little effort to hide his fascination and was staring across the table at Sandy. 

“When will we have to leave for the a
irport?”

“If we leave in around three quarters of an hour we will be allowing enough time
.”

Joanne answered over her shoulder as she excused herself
from the room.

The door had just clicked shut when Sandy felt a hand reaching slowly under the table.  It settled on her knee the fingers
traced small seductive circles on her bare flesh.