Lisa Heidke by Lucy (mobi) (rosie project .TXT) 📕

at all, kind of homey and comfortable. I can just make out Bella’s and Sam’s voices in the distance. ‘I love this place,’ I say. ‘It’s so peaceful . . . pure.’

‘Smooth change of topic, Luce, but you can’t get out of it that easily. Tell me about him. Besides being young, Rock’s good-looking and charming, isn’t he?’

‘It was a momentary lapse - I didn’t plan to fall into bed with him. It wasn’t premeditated . . . I was feeling vulnerable . . .’

‘So it was a spur-of-the-moment insanity thing?’

‘Exactly.’

‘And is this madness likely to recur?’ Dom leans across and takes my hand. It’s comforting, strangely familiar and very sexy. It’s as if the years we’ve spent apart have been erased with one touch. I’m having trouble concentrating on the conversation.

‘What about you?’ I manage. ‘You’ve got an ex-wife - any children?’

‘No, unfortunately. We tried though. Really tried.’

I expected him to be guarded. Just because I’m an open book doesn’t mean others have to be. But Dom brings me up to speed on everything about his personal life.

‘In the end, Sybilla couldn’t cope with us not having children, and she blamed me. Said I was too caught up in my work, my own needs . . . It certainly wasn’t an easy separation and divorce, but is there ever such a thing? Lucy?’

I’m thinking about Dom and his ex-wife trying to conceive a child . . . man, oh man.

‘Lucy?’ he says again. ‘Your phone.’

I glance over at my bag. Inside it, my mobile’s ringing.

Loudly. ‘I thought you said you didn’t get good coverage here?’

‘We don’t. Usually. Would you like to . . . ?’

Yes. Yes, I would.

‘. . . answer it?’

‘Of course,’ I blurt and put the phone to my ear.

‘Only me, darling. Have I caught you at a bad time?’

‘Mother,’ I answer, and the moment with Dominic is lost. Not that there necessarily was a moment. Maybe it was all in my imagination.

‘I’m pleased things are finally turning around for you,’ Mum says. ‘What with all the drama of the last few months.

I just wanted to tell you that I’m proud of you.’

While I’m pleased that Mum is proud of me (from memory, she’s uttered those words only twice before: when my wedding scene in The Young Residents was voted Most Popular Soapie Moment, 1996; and again when I gave birth to Bella in 1998), I tell her as gently as I can that I’m in the middle of something and will call back later.

Mum’s still very much on the need-to-know diet, and the last thing she needs to know right now is that I’m a hundred and twenty kilometres away from home visiting the man from my past who I’ve never really stopped loving. The proud status I’ve just attained would be toast.

I’m taking a couple of minutes in the kitchen after dinner to gather my thoughts when Dom saunters in. I can’t think of anything to say so I just smile, but it feels more like a grimace. I’m drenched in excruciating, mind-numbing expectation and want to scream ‘Kiss me!’ I picture the two of us entwined . . .

‘What’s up?’ he asks.

‘Nothing.’

Don’t ask me why, but I jump up to sit on the kitchen bench, attempting insouciance, and knock over a carton of milk in the process. Briefly, I imagine having sex with Dom right here in the spilt milk, before sanity takes over and I jump down and mop up the milk with a tea towel.

‘Carry these?’ Dom asks, ignoring my absurd behaviour, handing me a stack of dessert plates. I follow him back into the dining room to join the others.

‘So,’ Gloria asks Dom and me when we’re all eating ‘homemade’ apple pie from a local bakery, ‘would you rather be happy yet slow-witted and unimaginative, or unhappy but bright and creative?’

‘How can you be happy but slow-witted?’ I ask, inhaling the aroma of baked apples.

‘Look, you’re not allowed to get analytical. It’s not part of the game. You just have to answer the question.’

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Then I’ll take unhappy but bright and creative.’

‘Why?’ Gloria asks.

‘Because I can take medication to make me happy. I can’t take a pill to fix slow wit and lack of imagination.’

‘Good answer,’ Dom says, sucking his dessert spoon, clearly impressed with my reasoning.

‘I’ve got one,’ I say. ‘Would you rather go a week without bathing but be able to change your clothes, or a week without a change of clothes but be able to bathe?’

Gloria laughs. ‘You’ve got first-hand knowledge of this one, Luce.’

It’s not until a couple of hours later, when the kids have gone to bed with fat Rusty and Gloria’s strategically removed herself from the conversation, that Dom and I talk again.

‘What happened?’ I say, staring into the open log fire, watching the embers as they float up and disappear inside the chimney.

Dom looks at me, serious and concerned. ‘With what?’

‘Us.’ I glance away from him. Us . . . I want to know what happened to us. What might have been, should have been, but isn’t.

‘Luce, it wasn’t the right time for us. You know that. If I hadn’t left that morning, I never would have gone to Europe. I would have stayed behind and -’

‘I might have gone to Europe with you.’

‘Even worse. You were on the brink of great things in your acting career, and, if memory serves, they happened.’

‘So I have you to thank for that?’

‘Exactly. Besides, we were too young. Way too young. At least, I thought we were. You, on the other hand, found yourself a bloke quick smart.’

‘And wasn’t he a keeper?’

‘You know, Luce,’ Dom says, taking a sip of wine, ‘I always thought I’d come back to Australia in a couple of years and we’d pick up from where we left off.’

‘But you didn’t come back for ten years.’

‘That’s only because I found out about you and whatshisname. A couple of years after I leave, you’re married with a baby on the way.’

‘I guess