Read Morning Tea Near Mitchelton Page 4

CHAPTER 4

  FORBIDDEN ATTRACTION

  Dorothy Duke was not the sort of woman to be easily led astray by flattery. But then... you never know.

  One day a young man, a particularly attractive young man, she guessed he was no more than 25 or so - approached her as she dined out alone. He bent over, kissed her on the cheek, then he quickly disappeared into the milling crowd of diners. She was not angry. Not even amused. Just mystified, intrigued and perhaps more than a little bit flattered by the experience. What could it possibly mean?

  By nature Dorothy was somewhat reserved, which probably accounted for the fact she had not made much of a success with her early life; particularly as far as employment was concerned, drifting from one low paid job to another. Until, that is, she found herself suddenly promoted from floor-sales to junior management at a Brisbane department store.

  The opportunity to gain experience with computers and so on, greatly stimulated her interest in the power of the written word. She had always regretted her lack of educational qualifications and was determined to correct those deficiencies. So she began by taking night classes at the local technical college and went on to enrol at Griffith University. Although she was a late starter, she threw herself into the tertiary educational scene with boundless vigour and finally graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree.

  Now, at the age of 42, she had established herself as a leading writer for one of Australia's top fashion magazines, in its Brisbane office. But this new found confidence and flare in her business life, was very much a charade. Personally, deep down, she remained the same shy, unassuming person she had always been. She still lacked the desire, the courage, to pursue male company, or respond adequately to the interest that men might occasionally show in her. Consequently, she remained unmarried.

  The truth behind this coldness, stemmed from the fact she had at one time given her heart to another, a long, long time ago, in a short, heart-breaking, passionate, teenage romance. That had led to an unwanted pregnancy, soon after the abandonment by her young lover, at the tender age of 16! Her parents, to avoid a scandal, had rushed her off to a private country clinic somewhere near Childers for the confinement.

  Sadly, the tiny little mite, a male child, was born very much underweight and was further burdened by a deformed left foot with six tiny little toes! This unexpected blemish caused a great deal of anguish and pressure on her parents, who had pre-arranged for the baby's adoption. They were forced into a round of last-minute late-night negotiations with the hesitant, childless, couple who had been standing by for the birth; but they eventually agreed to take him as their own.

  By the morning, the infant child was gone. Dorothy was told all about the child, the deformity, the protracted adoption negotiations, but she never actually got to hold her baby for a single moment! It was not uncommon at that time, to withhold a newborn child from a young, unwed mother. The intention was to prevent the bonding of mother and child and thereby, it was thought, ease the pain of separation and limit the effects of post confinement trauma. She had agreed to this 'arrangement', generally accepted to be an honourable one - under

  extreme pressure from her parents. But like so many well intended moves of those times, the mental anguish and torment could last a lifetime. Unfortunately for Dorothy, the shame and subterfuge she had experienced during the pregnancy and birth, permanently damaged her relationship with her parents and left her with a deep seated mistrust of men, which had continued to plague her to this day.

  But for some strange reason she was moved to ask herself: What is it about this new young man that makes me long for him to return? She asked herself this question over and over, but could not come up with a rational explanation.

  There was no hiding the fact that he was much too young for her. Anybody could see that! Yet, she fantasised over the many other women she knew, directly or indirectly through movies and magazines etc, who had much younger men as husbands or partners. At one time considered an oddity, an exception, but now becoming distinctly more common. Why not? Life is short, she mused. She had missed out she knew, on so much. On the wonders, the joy, the passion that so many other couples enjoyed. Why should that be? Why should she so relentlessly put obstacles in the way of her own happiness? Surely it made sense to let love and nature take its natural course? Where was the harm in it?

  Dorothy couldn't stop thinking and dreaming about the young man. The experience of that single kiss from the phantom stranger had almost left her mind unbalanced. She thought she saw him later in a shopping arcade - but, regrettably, she lacked the courage to make any kind of an approach to him. She thought she saw him in a following taxi, on a bus, on a train, in the street and in a lift, just as the doors were closing.

  She could think of little else! She couldn't eat, she couldn't sleep, she easily lost her temper and her work began to suffer. Something had to give. She knew it. Her friends and colleagues knew it. Every woman in her workplace could tell she was in love. All of them, although not fully aware of the circumstances, hoped that whoever the man was, he might bring her happiness.

  So when she was finally called before her Editor, with the other staff quickly shooed away and the door firmly closed, she knew she had reached crisis point and would have to accept as best she could, the coming consequences! Fortunately, the consequences were not so unbearable. Yes, her Editor was a mature age, well disciplined woman. But, a woman with a heart – one who knew more about what was going on with her staff than most others might ever suspect or care to know! She was a woman of few words when she wore her ‘Editor's Hat’. She simply told Dorothy that she judged her to be overworked, overtired, overstressed and if office gossip was anything to go by, oversexed and over the moon about some man or other! 'You're no good to me in your present state of mind,' she said, firmly. She ordered her to take a month's leave of absence, and to take a long cold shower, or a honeymoon and report back ready for work in thirty days! If not completely ready for work - not to come back at all! She dismissed her, without the need, or opportunity, for further comment or discussion.

  'That's wonderful!' Dorothy mused as she walked back to her desk. She didn't want to, she didn't need to, she didn't have to; expose her personal feelings before her boss, a real mother figure... and angel, who made important decisions for you that were always so timely, so right! That's why she always liked working for her, she always brought out the best in one. Dorothy tidied her desk and then left the office as if in a dream; floating along with the knowledge she was free from business worries and stress. They were all behind her now, for thirty wonderful, glorious days!

  She needed somewhere to sit down and take in this change of circumstances. She needed to rest. She needed to think. She needed a drink!

  She also needed - desperately needed, to get out there and find Mr Right!

  Mario's Bar was a warm and welcome nearby spot where she knew she could meet most of these aims in one go. She ordered herself a ‘Fluffy Duck’, which, incidentally, took some little time to prepare; ample time to check out the scene using the handy bar mirrors and to satisfy and ease her constant feeling of being watched and followed. But she didn't sit at the bar, that was, according to her personal standards, a bit too tarty and likely to draw undue attention of the sort of men she preferred to avoid.

  Instead, she sat in one of the smaller booths that gave a good view of the entrance The opening and closing of the doors gave her the advantage of being able to check what was happening outside as well as in. It was supposed to be time for relaxing and straight thinking - but relaxing and straight thinking was still a bit difficult, if not impossible for her today. When she’d finished her drink she stubbed out her unfinished cigarette, grabbed her bag and briefcase and hurried to the exit. Not worried, just hopeful: 'Is he there? He might be... just might be outside the door, waiting for me!' But unfortunately, he wasn't!

  Dorothy checked her watch: nearly six! With the
sun going down and the street lights beginning to come on, she couldn't avoid the thought that it was a wonderful time of the day for lovers. She envied them, arm in arm, setting out for an exciting, intimate night on the town; a drink, a meal, a show and then...

  She decided to walk back to her city unit rather than take her usual cab ride, 'Because I'll never find him in a cab!' she reassured herself. She walked on, lingering around the brightly lit shop-window displays, up and down the Mall. Always, everywhere, taking furtive side-glances, looking backwards and listening for the oft imagined and much longed for sound of following footsteps.

  Suddenly, as she neared her block of units, her heart beat quickened, thumping rapidly inside her breast; as she definitely, positively, identified the following footsteps - 'It's him!' they told her. Her mind raced with questions: what to do, what to say, what if...? As she neared her unit, they came closer. Those firm, manly, footsteps, as if... deliberately trying to catch up with her. At first she increased her step - then, boldly, purposely, bravely, she changed pace... and slowed down! As his footsteps came so very close, she stopped, heart pounding and turned to face him!

  'Are, are you... following me?' she managed to ask. Nervously, looking into his oh, so disarming, handsome young face; his eyes bright and shining with the fire of youth. ‘'Cause I, I do hope so...'

  Saying nothing, he grasped her firmly by both arms and pulled her to him in a warm, tender, embrace - and kissed her, long and passionately!

  'I, I don't... know if this, this is right,' she managed to say, gasping for air. ‘I don’t even know your name?’

  ‘Ian,’ he said.

  Then, as he tried to kiss her again, 'No, no. I’m Dorothy, by the way. No... no. Not here,' she said.

  Then taking him by the hand, she led him into the block of high-rise units she called home.

  Inside her unit on the ground floor he again took her in his arms, but she pulled away, saying: 'No - time out! I'll get us some drinks. We both need to cool down a bit!'

  She nipped into the kitchen and went straight to the fridge where she knew she had a bottle of sparkling wine she had put aside for any 'unexpected special occasion'. She blushed at the thought that there could be no more ‘special’ an occasion than this.

  She grabbed a couple of glasses and some nuts and some chips, spilling everything as she put them on the tray.

  She then moved quickly back to the lounge, silently praying: ‘God, please God, let him still be there’. He was, having made himself more than comfortable on her settee. She sat down near him, purposely choosing a nearby easy-chair to give her a bit of space and a chance to think. Then she said, 'I suppose you know all about me – do you?'

  'Yes, actually, I do.’ he replied. 'I know everything there is to know about you, Dorothy Duke... darling.' He reached out and took her hand. ‘So there's no need to talk about me being too young for you, or any rubbish like that. Don’t even think it!'

  'Alright, then. But, come on, aren't you going to tell me your name and just a little bit about yourself?' she teased - as he popped the cork and poured the drinks.

  ‘Ian Bright,' he said, simply.

  'Oh...! Is that all I'm permitted to know? I mean, you’re not married, or anything?'

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, tell me more.’

  'Well, what is there to tell? I was brought up by my adoptive parents - who, unfortunately, died in a car crash a few years ago, when we lived at Nambour and I had just turned eighteen. They had promised to tell me who my biological parents were when I turned twenty-one, but, of course....'

  'Ohhhh. How sad. What a shame.'

  'Being left alone was a big shock to me, I can tell you. I was simply... not ready for it.'

  'You poor darling.'

  'So, in a moment of panic and madness, being un-used to living on my own and frightened I couldn’t cope, I tried to join the Army. But, I'm sorry and ashamed to say, I was rejected as being, not too bright and a bit too puny.'

  'Oh, Ian! How awful for you! What did you do then?'

  'I decided to do something about it.'

  'Good for you! But what did you do?'

  'I went to the Tech and did an Accountancy course. It was then that I took up football and weightlifting.'

  'And?'

  'I was hopeless at Accountancy... bloody hopeless. I just floundered. But I did very well at football. In fact, I'm now a professional.'

  'Professional? A professional footballer, with lots and lots of money?'

  'Yes, do you mind?'

  'No. No, of course not. Good on you! Who do you play for – The Brisbane Bronco's?'

  'Right! How did you guess?'

  'I don't know... I just did. It seemed right. It seemed to fit. But this search for your roots - don't you know anything?'

  'All I know is: I come from Brisbane, or my mother did.'

  'Is that the reason you have been touring the streets?'

  'Right. Silly, I know, but I hoped I might meet somebody. Somebody or anybody, that looked I don't know, familiar, I suppose. So far it's all been a dead loss. I shouldn't have got my hopes up. But then, then I saw you... and I knew you couldn’t be family. But I just knew we were meant for each other.’

  He reached over, took her hand and gently, oh, so gently, teased her to move over and join him on the settee.

  He kissed her, as she settled down comfortably in his arms. He kissed her again and she said, 'Why did you kiss me that day in the restaurant, then run away?'

  'Ah, well, I seemed to be drawn to you by a power I couldn't resist,’ said Ian. ‘I don't know where I got the courage to kiss you, but I'm glad I did! It didn't seem possible that you could... you would, return my love. Anyway, I thought you must have a husband or lots of male friends.'

  'No, in fact, I don't really like men... men in general, I mean.'

  'You mean, there’s nobody? Nobody special in your life?'

  'No.'

  'I can’t believe my luck! But, why... why me? Why allow yourself to get involved with me?'

  'I don't know, said Dorothy. I honestly don't know. It's as if there's some kind of a, warm, bond developing between us...'

  'I know! I know what you mean! I feel it too, it's odd; it's magic.'

  'Ah, but is it love? You're much too young for me, you really are. I know it and everyone that sees us together will know it.'

  'I don't give a stuff for other people and what they think. It's what you and I think that counts. It'll work out alright, you'll see.'

  'I do hope so, darling. I really do. But what have you been doing all week?'

  'Oh, I continued the search for my relatives. But just about every day I'd find myself following you around instead. Nutty, stupid, call it what you like. But I call it love... true love. My love for you, simply took over my life.'

  'Me too! I haven't done a proper full day's work since you first kissed me! In fact, my boss has insisted that I take a month's break, starting today.'

  'No, really? But that's wonderful. You can join me in my search - will you? Please say you will?'

  'Alright, I will. Oh, Ian, I'm so happy! I'm going to love being with you... we're going to have such fun in the morning.'

  'I was hoping, darling,' he said, 'that we might have some of that... ‘fun stuff’, tonight.'

  'You're wicked, absolutely wicked. That's what you are,' she said in mock reproach.

  'Only with you,’ said Ian. ‘I'm only wicked with you.'

  Taking him by the hand, Dorothy led him towards her bedroom. He stopped inside, in the doorway, searching for the light switch.

  'No. No, leave the light off, please,' she said, 'just until I... I know you, a little better - you understand?'

  'Sure, of course, darling.'

  They began to disrobe on either side of the bed. She dropped her clothes and left them where they fell. Then she pulled down the covers and slipped into bed. By then her
eyes had become more adjusted to the low street-light shining in through the window. She watched as he carefully removed and folded each piece of clothing and placed them on a bedside chair. 'You are so neat and tidy, darling,' she said, admiring the rippling muscles of his athletic body.

  Then as he turned to get into bed with her she involuntarily broke into an uncontrollable, nervous, giggling, girlish, laughter.

  'What, what on earth is it? What have I done?' he asked in dismay, sitting down on the edge of the bed, turning away from her and afraid to move; afraid to even look at her.

  'It's you, you've still got one sock on. Sorry, but seeing you about to get into bed, starkers except for one black sock... really, it just looks so funny. I am sorry, darling, I couldn't help laughing. You must forgive me.'

  'Oh, is that all. Well, I'm sorry too - really sorry about that. I guess I should have said.'

  'Said? Said what?'

  'Said... something, about my body.'

  'There's nothing wrong with your body,' she said stroking his shoulders. 'I think you've got the most beautiful body I've ever seen. I love you and I love your body! Honest, I do!'

  'Ah, but...' he said, pulling off the offending sock. 'I'm in the habit of wearing a sock all the time, even in bed, because even I don't like the look of it... my left foot, I mean.'

  ‘Why? What is it, darling?’

  Ian turned around and lifted his foot up for her to see. He continued, 'My foot is a bit deformed, you see... a bit withered, ever since birth, unfortunately. See, here… I've got six toes.'