Never in her life had she been as forward with a guy as she’d been tonight: going to his house when she barely knew him, relaxing in his company to the extent she had . . . well, relaxing wasn’t quite the word. She’d never before been able to free herself of her anxiety about getting things right long enough to be spontaneous around past boyfriends, but with Ben it had come naturally. His irreverence about everything–from his obvious appreciation of her body to his own spectacular nakedness–had tempted her to let go and be a little bit naughty. She felt a warmth spread low in her tummy at the memory of his expression when he’d watched her take off her dress. In that moment she’d felt so beautiful and sexy . . .
It had been perfect.
Distracted by her thoughts, Amy didn’t notice her front door was wide open until she’d stepped onto her porch. Not only was it open, but half the lock was surrounded by splinters of mangled wood on the floorboards at her feet. Her living room was a dark gaping mouth framed by the open doorway.
Something rustled in the garden. Amy flinched, turned and squinted into the darkness before realising her back was to her open front door. Shuffling sideways, she backed up against the wall of the house until the heel of her shoe clinked against a potted plant; she scanned her ramshackle, overgrown front yard. She reached blindly into her handbag for her phone while her muscles tensed to flee.
At that moment a thumping noise came from inside and she made a decision. There was no way she was going to stick around to see who might be going through her house. Gripping her keys in her hand like the ineffective weapon they were, she sprinted to her car.
Thirty minutes later, Amy rang the doorbell on Scott’s restored inner-city townhouse with a shaking hand. The weather had turned frigid and rain was beginning to spatter on the pavement around her but she barely noticed it.
Scott answered on the third ring, wearing only a pair of low-slung black pyjama bottoms and a dark scowl that changed to surprise.
‘Ames? I just got your missed call. What’s goin’ on?’
‘I think my house has been broken into,’ Amy blurted, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. ‘I’m sorry for turning up so late, but the front door was jimmied open and I didn’t want to stick around just in case someone was still in there. I tried to call but you didn’t answer and I panicked . . .’
‘What? Jesus!’ Scott wrapped his hand around her upper arm and dragged her inside, all but shoving her down into a large brown leather armchair in his living room next to a toasty warm gas fire. ‘Are you okay?’ He crouched down in front of her, running his knuckles over her cheek.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ Amy replied, giving him a tremulous smile. ‘Just a bit spooked.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Scott said. ‘You call the cops yet?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Want me to call’em for you?’
Amy shook her head vehemently. ‘No, I’ll do it. I just didn’t want to stay there if they told me to wait for them and with Jo and Stephen away this weekend . . . I wanted to be safe, you know?’ She clasped her shaky hands between her knees and bit her lip. She was lying. Scott had been her first thought. When anything went wrong, her substitute big brother was the first person she turned to. Always had been.
‘It’s alright, squirt.’ He stood up and rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘Take a couple of deep breaths and warm up. I’ll just get my phone.’
‘Okay.’ She tucked her knees under her chin, pushing her toes into the leather and trying not to think about all the things in her house that could have been damaged or taken. There wasn’t a whole lot for them to take. She’d never owned anything really valuable in terms of money, but the thought of someone being in her home, her sanctuary, left her feeling physically ill.
Scott returned minutes later and handed her his phone. ‘I’ve already dialled the number. It’s ringing. I’ll make us a cup of tea, eh?’
‘Thanks.’ Amy put the phone to her ear and watched Scott’s broad back as he strode into his immaculate kitchen.
Ten minutes later, Amy ended her conversation with the Fremantle police station. They’d promised to send a car around to her place tonight to check it out, then meet her there in the morning.
She sipped the cup of sweet black tea Scott had just forced into her hands and tried her best to calm down.
Scott sat across from her on a low-slung divan, elbows resting on his knees, his brow furrowing in obvious upset. ‘Did you ask them if they could send someone’round there tonight?’
‘They’re sending someone now,’ Amy said. ‘Although they reckoned whoever it was would be long gone by now and I . . . I don’t want to go back tonight even if they do catch whoever it was. I’m too freaked out. I’d rather go in the daytime. It’s Saturday night. They’ve got way more on their hands to deal with than a house break-in. Is it alright if I stay here?’
Scott was nodding even before she finished speaking. ‘Yeah, of course. Just let me sort things out for you upstairs first.’ He flicked his gaze to the roof of the living room, directly under his bedroom.
A suspicion worked its way to the front of Amy’s mind. There was something about the way he’d mentioned sorting things out. ‘Scott?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’m not interrupting anything, am I?’
‘Nah, Ames. It’s all good. Just . . . just let me sort some stuff out.’ His flushed cheeks, visible even under his dark olive skin, gave him away for sure.
‘Oh bugger. You’ve got a lady here, haven’t you? I’m so sorry, sweetie. Let me call a hotel and I’ll book in for the rest of the night.’ Amy was out of her chair and halfway to the front door by the time he caught her around the waist. His hold was gentle but indicated he meant business.
‘You’re staying right here, or I’m gonna call Jo. You know she and Stephen will be in a car driving back to Perth even before she hangs up the phone. How’bout you start us on another pot of tea and I’ll be back in a sec.’ He firmly spun her back around and pointed her towards the kitchen.
Amy nodded, giving in but still feeling awful. ‘Alright. Tell your friend that I’m really, really sorry, yeah?’
‘Be right back.’ He gave her a quick, reassuring smile, then turned on his heel. Moments later she heard the heavy thud of his feet on the stairs followed by muted conversation.
Amy didn’t even try to peek at the lady as he saw her out the door. Scott was notoriously discreet and it was a rare woman that he introduced to his friends. Amy kind of understood his reserve but she had a feeling Jo understood it better, since she’d been just as secretive about her love life until she’d met Stephen Hardy three years before.
Travelling internationally on a regular basis was hell on relationships and rather than getting embroiled in something long-term that would inevitably leave a partner feeling abandoned half the year, Scott opted to keep things casual and private.
‘Did you apologise for me?’ Amy asked as he strode back into the kitchen, pulling on a loose white T-shirt.
‘Nope,’ he said firmly in a tone that let her know the topic was closed, then took the teapot she was holding, setting it by the electric kettle. ‘There’s a T-shirt and a pair of my old shorts on the spare bed if you want to get changed.’
‘Thanks, sweetie,’ Amy said with a relieved smile. As much as she liked the memory of Ben appreciating her dress tonight, it felt tainted by everything that had happened afterwards.
‘Go on. I’ve left stuff up there for your contact lenses too.’ Scott spoke over his shoulder while he sniffed the milk in his fridge to see if it was fresh despite having just used it. It was an automatic gesture that pointed to just how often he was away from home. ‘You’ll be able to see good enough without them tonight won’t you?’
‘Yep.’ Amy felt a rush of warmth and walked over to Scott, hugging him tightly from behind. ‘Love you,’ she said against the smooth black hair hanging down his back.
‘Love you, too. Go get changed,’ he commanded. ‘Then you’re gonna tell me what the hell happened tonight in full detail.’
Amy gave him another tight squeeze. ‘Tomorrow. I’m exhausted. Let’s just have the tea and go to bed. The rest will wait.’
She smiled at Scott’s grunt of reluctant agreement and tottered up the stairs to bed, feeling extremely safe and very sleepy.
The feeling lasted until the next morning, when she shared the reason she’d returned home so late.
‘You went out with Ben Martindale? Seriously?
Ben Martindale?
The bloke we saw in the Norfolk last week?
That
Ben Martindale? Do you know who he is, Ames?’ Scott’s expression was dumbstruck. A glob of French toast fell off his fork and onto the table in front of him.
Amy flushed. ‘Ben asked me out when he came by Babyface for a shave last Monday. He took me to Christie’s for dinner then we went back to his place for a while but he had to take a conference call so I went home. It’s not a big deal.’ There was no way she was going to admit she actually hadn’t asked Ben’s last name or that she still had no idea what he did for a living. If Scott knew that, he’d develop an aneurysm. Strangely enough, those details just hadn’t seemed important last night.
‘Just wait.’ Scott put down his fork with a thunk. ‘You went back to his place on the first date? Like a one-night stand?
Jaysus Christ, Amy
–what were you thinking?’
‘I’m not stupid, Scott. I just had a really nice night and didn’t want it to end. It’s not like you don’t bring ladies home all the time, last night being a case in point, and I know Jo used to have flings all the time without you reacting like this.’ Amy crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a good hard glare.
‘Jo’s different. I’m different,’ Scott said, his jaw tense. ‘She could take care of herself, she would have known the score.
You
don’t. When’s the last time you had a one-night stand? Never? Christ, Amy, you told me the other night that you don’t even sleep with half of your so-called boyfriends, you just look after them like charity-case strays. When you said you were lonely the other night, I didn’t think you’d go out and do something as outright stupid as this.’ He threw his hands up in the air.
‘Hey! Back off, precious.’ Pushing away from the table, Amy stomped over to the sink with her plate. The arches of her bare feet ached from walking around without heels, which reminded her about her house being broken into and
that
put her even more on edge. ‘I don’t want to talk about this any more. I’ve got to get home. The police said they’d be’round at nine.’
‘It’s only seven,’ Scott said curtly, picking up his fork and finishing his French toast in a few angry bites.
‘Yeah, but I don’t want to look like this when they turn up.’ Amy glanced pointedly down at the hugely oversized pair of Quicksilver board shorts and comically large black T-shirt she was wearing. She’d scrubbed her make-up off in the shower and her hair was turning into the usual dandelion frizz it became when it dried without any styling products. She felt naked and didn’t like it one little bit. Scott’s continuing stare didn’t help either.
‘Give me five minutes, I’ll grab my stuff and I’ll come with you.’
‘I’m fine on my own. Thanks for last night,’ she said stiffly.
Scott swore under his breath. Abruptly pushing away from the table, he walked over to Amy, hauling her into a warm hug, enveloping her with his reassuring sandalwood-and-Scott smell. ‘Sorry, Ames. I didn’t mean to step on your toes,’ he said gruffly, giving her another squeeze before letting her go. ‘Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Ben Martindale’s a big fish and he’s got a reputation for being a total prick. You’ve never been around the world he lives in. It’s nothing like yours. He’ll eat you alive in one bite.’
‘You’re not helping my ego here, mister. What am I? Fish food?’ She poked him hard in the ribs.
He just gave her another bone-crunching squeeze in apology, his tone turning gruff. ‘You’re small enough. Give me a minute. I’ll follow you home in my car, eh? You’ve got your contacts back in?’
‘Yeah, I do. Alright.’ Amy gave in, feeling a little deflated and offended. Was she really that backwards? Naïve? Maybe about some things. As much she didn’t want to admit it to Scott, she definitely should have gotten more details from Ben. And as much as she didn’t like the idea of snooping, she privately promised herself she’d Google him the minute she could get a few seconds’ privacy, just to make sure her judgement wasn’t truly as bad as Scott had implied.
It turned out that privacy was a long time coming. Someone, some
fiend
, had turned Amy’s entire house upside down and inside out. She burst into tears the minute she walked through the front door and spotted her beloved photographs lying on the floor, the frames broken, the glass shattered. The tears kept coming as she walked from room to room with a furious Scott in tow, taking in the damage. All of her clothes had been pulled out of wardrobes and drawers, books had been pulled off shelves, even her bed had been pulled apart.
It didn’t take long to ascertain that her laptop was missing, along with a bunch of vintage costume jewelry, a number of her shoes and all of her movies, including her treasured Marilyn Monroe boxed set. When she discovered the latter, Amy slumped down on her couch and let herself indulge in a few minutes of outright bawling.
Not quite knowing what to do to make things better, Scott called Jo and Stephen, who immediately started the three-hour journey back to Perth.
The police arrived on time and went through the usual routine of dusting for prints and asking questions before admonishing Amy for not having security screens on the doors and windows. There was nothing else she could do but nod and agree with them numbly before seeing them off. Then she called her insurance agent and got the clean-up underway.
‘You don’t have to do that, Scott,’ she protested when she walked into the kitchen to find him pulling food out of her fridge and dumping it in a black garbage bag a while later.
‘Yeah I do. Jo’s going to be here to help soon too.’ He didn’t look up from what he was doing. ‘Did they say why he took your shoes?’ he asked, pulling out Amy’s extensive collection of condiments and throwing them in the bag, where they clunked sadly against each other.