Rosa nodded decisively as if she had the perfect solution. ‘I have a better idea. I have a niece who is a hairdresser. She works from home. I will call her, see if she can’t drop by tomorrow morning.’
‘There’s no need—’
But Rosa just held up her hand as she reached for the phone, the matter apparently decided.
That night Angie lay in an unfamilar bed, listening to unfamiliar sounds—the swoosh of waves on the rock-strewn shore below, the call of seabirds, the scamper of tiny marsupials through the tree tops. All so very different. All so very strange. She snuggled deeper into the cloud-soft bed. How would she ever sleep?
She stirred to the soft billow of curtain and a fresh sea breeze, the scent of hot tea and toast coming from the bedside table, blinking into wakefulness when she saw it was after ten. She hadn’t slept that long in for ever. She eased herself up and took a sip of tea, testing her stomach, then cautiously nibbled at some toast. A little queasy but much better than yesterday. She took her time, not rushing herself. Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe she would get past this horrid stage. She could only hope.
An hour later Rosa’s niece arrived. She was on leave now, she explained, while her bambinos were small. Right now, Rosa entertained her bambinos with cheese straws and building blocks in one corner of the kitchen while Antonia studied Angie’s face and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘You have a natural wave, you know,’ she said, nodding as she poked and prodded. ‘But the weight drags it down. I’ve got an idea what we can do. Are you game?’
An hour of snipping, a deep condition and blow-dry later, Angie looked in the mirror and couldn’t believe the transformation. This was her hair? Where once it had hung lank and lifeless around her face, or been pulled back into a tight ponytail, now her hair bounced and flicked in layers around her face.
‘I love it!’ she announced, to the delight of Antonia and Rosa. ‘How can I ever repay you?’
Rosa smiled and hugged her niece. ‘Believe me. You already have.’
She looked—different. He couldn’t quite pinpoint the change as they sat at the dining table that evening. She was still wearing what looked like the same jeans and another of those singlet tops she seemed to have an endless supply of, the same dreary cardigan pulled over the top, but her eyes looked bigger in her face, her mouth somehow wider.
And every now and then he’d catch a hint of something—her perfume? Whatever, it was fresh and fascinating, with a hint of fruit he could almost identify. Almost pin down. And then Rosa would bring in another dish and he would lose sight of it again.
‘How are you settling in?’ he asked, trying to make small talk. He was used to eating alone, usually in his office as he kept an eye on the overseas markets, but tonight he had papers for her that needed signing. Besides, he supposed he should at least be civil. She was, after all, a guest in his house. He reached for the still steaming basket of bread, only to inadvertently touch her hand as she reached for the same slice.
He pulled it back while hers disappeared into her lap. He flexed his fingers and this time claimed his bread, musing. He didn’t know if she was charged with static electricity because her clothes were full of artificial fibres, but every time he touched her she seemed to spark under his skin.
‘Everything’s fine,’ she answered blandly, yet the colour in her cheeks belied her tone, her voice carrying a noticeable quake.
‘I have some paperwork from the lawyers for you to sign after dinner if you’re up to it.’
She perked up immediately. ‘Do you have news about the house?’
He shook his head, saw the hope in her eyes die and wondered if he should share the news. Decided she had a right to know the truth. ‘But the lawyers say he’s entitled to make a claim, even though the property was in your name.’ Why she was so obsessed with the old place was beyond him, though he could understand why she thought it was unfair Shayne should get anything of hers after the way he’d treated her. ‘The lawyers are still looking into it. This is actually about our agreement.’
She looked at him blankly, as if her mind was still worrying about the house she might lose.