LITMIR.BIZ

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which she was grateful. But his silence didn’t last for long.

      ‘Mum tells me you haven’t met anyone else,’ he said when they stopped at a set of lights at East Gosford.

      ‘No,’ came her rather terse reply.

      ‘I’m sorry, Scarlet. I know how much you’ve always wanted to get married and have a family.’

      Her head whipped around, her face flushing with a sudden spurt of anger. ‘Well, if you know that, then you shouldn’t have said anything to me about Jason. If you hadn’t, I would have been none the wiser, and I would have been married by now. Instead, I …’

      Scarlet broke off when she felt tears sting her eyes, her knuckles showing white as she gripped the steering wheel tight and battled for composure.

      John was appalled at the level of Scarlet’s distress. Appalled and sympathetic, but not guilty.

      ‘I am truly sorry, Scarlet,’ he repeated. ‘But I had no choice in the matter. I couldn’t let you marry a man who was just using you.’

      ‘There are worse things to happen to a woman than having a gay husband,’ she threw at him.

      ‘He didn’t love you, Scarlet.’

      ‘How on earth could you know a thing like that?’

      ‘Because he told me.’

      ‘You!’

      ‘Yes. I felt sorry for him—he was too scared to publicly accept who he was. Even I wasn’t as lonely or lost as that.’

      Scarlet was moved by the grim bleakness in John’s voice and the stark reality of what he’d just revealed.

      ‘The lights are green, Scarlet.’

      ‘What? Oh yes, so they are.’

      She drove on, her thoughts muddled by the sudden sympathy she felt for the man sitting next to her. Who would have believed it? First, she’d started finding John incredibly sexy. Now she was feeling sorry for him as well. Life could be very perverse, she decided.

      ‘So why haven’t you found anyone else?’ John persisted.

      Scarlet sighed a sigh of sheer frustration. The one thing she could have depended on with John in the past was his brooding silences. Now, suddenly, he was turning into a conversationalist! And there she’d been, thinking she wouldn’t have to answer any awkward questions today.

      ‘I’ve stopped looking, okay?’ she replied somewhat aggressively. ‘I could ask you the same question, you know,’ she swept on, always having been skilled at the art of verbal counter-attack. She hadn’t been captain of the debating team at school for nothing! ‘Why is it that you’ve never found anyone? No one you dared to bring home, that is.’

      He laughed. John Mitchell actually laughed. Things were getting seriously weird here.

      ‘Come now, Scarlet, you know my mother. If I brought a girl home, she would immediately start wanting to know when the wedding was.’

      ‘I could tell her that. It would be never!’

      ‘You know me too well, Scarlet.’

      ‘I know you well enough to know you’re not interested in marriage. If you were, you’d be married by now. You’d have no trouble finding a wife.’

      ‘Thank you for the compliment,’ he said. ‘But you’re right. Marriage is not for me.’

      ‘That’s still no reason not to bring a girl home occasionally.’

      ‘I can’t agree with you on that score. There’s enough tension whenever I come home as it is.’

      This was true, Scarlet conceded. John and his father didn’t get along. She’d always blamed John for this; he’d been such a difficult boy. But she now wondered if there’d been some secret reason for John’s antisocial attitude, something which might have happened before they’d come to live in her street. He certainly wasn’t being his usual gruff self with her right at this moment. Frankly, he’d spoken more words to her since getting into her car five minutes ago than he had over their whole lifetime together! Curiosity demanded she use this uncharacteristic chattiness to find out some more about his personal life.

      ‘Do you have anyone back in Brazil at the moment?’ she asked, glancing his way.

      His face, which had been open and smiling, suddenly closed up again.

      ‘I did have,’ he answered. ‘Till recently.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quite sincerely, and wondered what had happened.

      ‘So am I,’ he said. ‘Now, that’s enough personal information for one day.’

      Scarlet’s teeth clenched hard in her jaw. She should have known that his being nice and normal wouldn’t last.

      ‘Why didn’t you keep going straight along the main road?’ he asked when she swung right onto Terrigal Drive. ‘It’s quicker.’

      ‘Not any more, it isn’t. It’s suffering from terminal roadworks. If you came home a little more often, you would know that,’ she pointed out somewhat waspishly. ‘Apart from that, I’m the driver here. You’re the passenger. The passenger does not tell the driver where and how to drive. That’s bad manners.’

      He laughed again, though this time it had a harsher sound. ‘Glad to see you haven’t changed, Scarlet.’

      ‘I was just thinking the same about you. You might look different, John Mitchell—you’re certainly dressing a damned sight better—but deep down, you’re still the same obnoxious boy who thinks he’s smarter than everyone else.’

      This time he made no come-back, leaving Scarlet to feel totally ashamed of herself. She’d overreacted, as usual. She’d always had a quick temper, especially around John.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said swiftly into the uncomfortable silence. ‘That was very rude of me.’

      ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said, surprising her with a wry little smile. ‘It wasn’t far off the truth. I can be quite arrogant.’

      She couldn’t help it. She smiled back at him.

      Their eyes met for a long moment, Scarlet being the first to look away, John’s eyes still on her as she struggled to put her mind back on her driving. It kept rattling her, this sudden attraction between them.

      ‘Will you stop staring at me?’ she snapped at last, but without looking his way.

      ‘I wasn’t staring,’ he denied. ‘I was just looking and thinking.’

      ‘About what?’

      ‘Don’t forget there’s a speed camera just along here.’

      Scarlet rolled her eyes. ‘For pity’s sake, John, I live here twenty-four-seven. I know about the speed camera.’

      ‘Then why are you doing nearly fifty?’

      ‘I can do fifty. It’s not a school day.’

      ‘The sign said forty. Roadworks ahead.’

      Scarlet jammed on her brakes. Just in time, too.

      ‘If they dig up one more road around here,’ she muttered, ‘I’m going to scream.’

      ‘No screaming,’ John said in droll tones. ‘Can’t abide screaming women.’

      When she glared over at him, Scarlet was astounded to find him smiling at her.

      ‘John Mitchell,’ she said, her mouth twitching. ‘You’ve actually found a sense of humour.’

      ‘I have today, it seems. Which is just as well. I’m almost home.’

      Which they were.

      The

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