Authors: Elisabeth Rose
E for England
E for England
Elisabeth Rose
From the author of
The Ripple Effect
comes a poignant novel about a mother who has given up everything for her kids, and her opportunity to take a risk on something for herself.
Annie never thought to use underwear to meet a man, but the trick works on her downstairs neighbour, Hugh. Though he's a handsome English doctor, Annie wants nothing more than friendship. Luckily, neither does Hugh.
But their friendship is shaken and their resolve tested when Annie's flatmate, sexy and voracious Leonie, meets Hugh. Annie has no claim on Hugh's nights, but can she bear to lose him to Leonie? And when Annie's husband suddenly reappears, will Hugh fight for the family he didn't know he needed?
Multi-published in romance, author Elisabeth Rose lives in Australia's capital, Canberra. She completed a performance degree on clarinet, travelled Europe with her musician husband and returned to Canberra to raise two children. In 1987 she began practising Tai Chi and now teaches classes in that as well as teaching and playing clarinet. Reading has been a lifelong love, writing romance a more recent delight.
Thank you, Carla, for providing yet more inspiration for one of my stories.
Thanks to Sharon and Cheryl, fellow RWA members, who helped with information about the medical issues Hugh copes with, both from the hospital and the patient perspective.
And thanks to the best left unnamed person who gave me the opening line one night in a bar somewhere in China in 2004. It was way too good a statement for a writer to pass up.
To Colin, Carla, Nick and Paige
Bestselling Titles By Escape Publishingâ¦
âI've just realised,' announced Leonie to the group at large, âthat I've never slept with two men of the same nationality.'
A roar of laughter greeted this pronouncement and she grinned slyly, smugly, Annie thought, at the guys. The good-looking waiter leaning against the bar chatting to the barman glanced across at the burst of noise, assessing Leonie and her svelte blonde attributes the way men often did, before he caught Annie watching him and looked away. As men often did. Not that Annie cared. She wasn't in that complicated market anymore.
Chubby, soft Bernie, already balding at thirty, got up to order another round but Annie shook her head at his silent query. One drink after work on Friday was enough to maintain the semblance of a social life. She had responsibilities, children waiting to be collected from the minder, dinner to prepare, baths to be run, stories to be read.
âHad an Indian guy, Leonie? What about Ishan in Accounts?' Mike leaned forward, brow wrinkled slightly as he tried to remember other international work colleagues who might feature in Leonie's love-life.
âHe's married,' interjected Annie. âIf that matters to anyone.'
âAnd he must be at least fifty.' Leonie screwed up her face in exaggerated thought. The age seemed more of an issue than the marital status. âNo Indians but I had a one-night stand in Vegas and there was another guy, a German, in Thailand and a Kiwiâ¦'
âOne-nighter?' interrupted Mike.
âNo, two. He was a pilot.'
âMust have been love.'
âSo are you heading out tonight for another international notch for your belt?' asked Jane. âPlenty of tourists in Darling Harbour.'
Bernie carefully distributed the new round of drinks, eyeing Leonie with renewed interest, deciding her severely cut charcoal grey work attire hid a wealth of secrets he had no idea existed.
Annie stifled a yawn. This was unfettered singletons territory. Time to leave.
âAre you working your way through the alphabet?' she asked as she collected her bag and jacket from the back of her chair. âI do that with library books. I'm reading my way alphabetically through the library because it takes the time and effort out of choosing one. I just take the next book on the shelf each time regardless of the cover or the title. I've come across some fantastic books â plus some duds.'
Leonie stared up at her, blue eyes wide with delighted surprise. âWhat a brilliant idea! Why not screw my way through the alphabet? The ratio of duds to fantastic is probably about the same. And if I don't go by the coverâ¦'
Annie smiled. âSee you later, folks.'
Leonie raised a hand in farewell. âSee you in the morning, Annie. I might not make it home tonight. I have blanks to fill. I've done A for America and C for Canada, but not B yet. Or D or E.'
âB comes first. Belgium? Brazil?' suggested Mike. âBotswana, Burma.'
Annie left them to it. All the effort involved in the mating dance made her tired. Why bother? Everyone ultimately ended up in more or less the same boat. Old, with or without a spouse, with or without kids, debts and not enough money. Never enough money.
Annie sat on the edge of the tub making sure Floss didn't drown, but her thoughts wandered from the little girl batting bubbles in the bath to Leonie and her sex life, the fun of being single, dating a variety of men, no responsibilities beyond work and paying the rent on time. How easy was that when you were the only one involved?
Warm, rose scented water splashed onto her thigh accompanied by childish giggles. Floss started another wave which threatened to overflow onto the floor. Annie sprang to her feet and grabbed a towel.
âTime to get out, sugarplum. Pull the plug, please.'
Her daughter stood up, pink cheeked and smiling, damp ginger gold curls wisping about her cheeks and neck and water glugging down the plughole at her little feet. A sweet smelling bundle enveloped in the towel and her mother's arms, whisked out of the tub to be dried. Would she give this up for being single again despite all the recent chaos and emotional meltdowns? Fiercely, never.
Mattie was already in bed in the top bunk. Annie tucked Floss up with Teddy and provided the numerous kisses and cuddles required for sleep.
âMum?' From Mattie. âCan we have a dog?'
âOh yes, a dog, pleeeease?' From the bottom bunk.
âYou know we can't while we're living here. As soon as we find a house I promise we'll get a dog.'
âWhen will we find a house?' asked Floss. âI don't like this place. I want my own room.'
âWhen I find something I can afford, that we like, in the right area, we'll move.'
âWhy can't we move back to our old house? Where Daddy lived with us?'
âBecause Daddy doesn't live there anymore,' said Mattie.
âLights out now. Goodnight, sleep tight.'
Annie clicked off the light but left the door ajar so the hall light was visible. Floss needed that reassurance in their new circumstances. So did Mattie, although he liked to play the big, brave brother to his nearly five year old sister. Sharing the room by necessity was a good thing for the time being. Six and a half isn't really a big boy.
âDaddy doesn't live there anymore.' None of them did because she couldn't afford the rent on one income. Where the hell
was
Daddy, that's what she'd like to know. Finding himself somewhere apparently, in Laos according to the most recent postcard to the kids. If he ever did he'd better not drag his sorry carcass back to her! All she wanted from Kevin was maintenance money and that had dried up six months ago, hence the enforced move.
The offer to share with Leonie had been a godsend at the worst time of her life. She'd never forget her kindness in taking in a desperate woman with two small children. But kind as Leonie was they couldn't stay permanently. The apartment wasn't geared for a family; it was all chrome, grey and white, with hard floors and clean lines, and the offer hadn't been meant to be forever, just a stopgap till Annie found somewhere else. Two months was stretching the
friendship. Not that Leonie had said a word but they must be cramping her style based on tonight's conversation in the bar. Single and loving it, that summed up Leonie.
Annie slid the living room door open and walked onto the balcony. Up-market and designed for young professionals, all the apartments in the block had the most stupendous views. Sydney Harbour looking north, with lights twinkling in the gathering darkness and the last rays of the setting sun glowing to the west over the Harbour Bridge. Perfect for single, legal whizz Leonie and similar upwardly mobile neighbours. If Annie hadn't met Kevin and almost immediately begun producing Mattie who knew where she might be today?
Useless speculation. She was a mother and at this stage of their lives that role defined her.
She began collecting the array of underwear she'd left drying on the airing rack that morning. Up on the seventh floor the wind dried things very quickly but a couple of items had blown off the rungs. She scooped them up and took stock. One, two, three bras and one two, three, four, five⦠Dammit. One pair of knickers was missing. Her best ones from Victoria's Secret. The ones which matched her pink and black lacy push-up bra, bought to tempt a husband rapidly losing interest. Now she knew why she and her underwear failed to keep him; he was planning his escape. Now she wore the ensemble to give herself a private ego boost when the world looked bleak, which was frequently.
âDouble dammit!' Annie peered over the balcony railing into the gloom below. Too dark to see properly, she'd have to go down. The kids would be all right for a few minutes. She took the remaining articles inside and locked the sliding door, in case some nut case climbed up the façade like Spiderman and stole her children while she was gone. Ten minutes she'd be, ten minutes was all it could take. Less. She peeped in on the children. Both asleep. Little angels. She smiled.
Keys securely in her pocket, she rode the elevator down to the ground floor. This had happened before and she'd found Floss's missing sock directly beneath the balcony. Not this time. The only light came from the tiny bulbs illuminating the walkway and from apartment windows, but her knickers weren't on the ground. She walked around the corner to the side where oleanders grew as a thick screen along the fence line on an embankment enclosed by a four foot high retaining wall, their leaves rustling and murmuring secrets in the night breeze.
Annie peered up into the branches. Aha! Something pink dangled, just visible in the light from someone's kitchen window. She studied the situation. Way too high to reach. She'd have to climb onto the embankment and shake the branch. Those knickers were expensive; she wasn't giving them up without a fight.
She clambered onto the wall and struggled through the oleanders. Thick stems grew close together, she discovered, and the branches came straight out from the ground rather than a central trunk. From deep inside the thicket, with her body wedged between unyielding wood, twigs sticking in uncomfortable places, hair catching and pulling, praying spiders and crawly things weren't lurking, she grabbed a branch and began shaking. But there was no way of telling which branch was the right one, or even if the thing she could dimly see flapping about was really her pair of knickers. They could have blown off someone else's balcony, belong to someone else. They might land on her head. Some stranger's underpants on her head!
She stopped shaking branches and strained to see what was up there. Definitely pink. Hers. She grabbed another random branch and shook as hard as she could. Those knickers were
coming down!
Inside Apartment 1 Hugh paused at the kitchen bench, bottle of wine in one hand, two glasses in the other. Something was rummaging around in the bushes outside the window.