Читать книгу Idle Lies - Lian Knight - Страница 12

Monday, 2 October

INDIO SCOTT SAT ON the balcony of her first floor apartment with her feet up on the outdoor table. The classic nineteen-thirties residential block, located directly on the Harbour’s edge, had been stylishly modernised into a series of contemporary apartments with commanding views. From this position, and with her keen eye, she could see directly across to the Sydney Opera House, with its incredible array of interlocking shells lying side by side, or further up the bay to the Harbour Bridge where its panel arch trusses created the majestic beauty of its steelwork. This truly was a breathtaking spot, and one she had admired from the moment she arrived in Australia.

But not today. Today was crap.

Ryan, her husband, had promised he would be home an hour ago but his promises were about as reliable as an eyewitness under questioning from the mafia. Anything he said, no matter how persuasive or disarming, had to be taken with a grain of salt. He could ring with a last minute change of plans that meant Tuesday, Friday or next week. Or when he was home he would suddenly go out. A change of shifts, the boss was sick, an ex-colleague was visiting, new training – the list of reasons was endless. He could never come out with a straight answer, which was annoying. Initially she had found his rotating shifts almost acceptable – they were generally three weeks on when he stayed in Sydney and three weeks off when he returned to Perth, so she knew more or less where she was at. But now, with the constant interruptions any day could turn upside down. It drove her insane.

She took a sip of her remaining coffee, which was now semi-cold, and debated whether to drink it or toss it and pour another. She lifted one foot, considered the effort involved, and then put it down again. Instead, she rested her head on a back cushion and wriggled it so that the padding shielded the hard bars of the white cast iron chair and soothed her tense muscles. She closed her eyes. The warm afternoon sun did its best to placate her; slowly, almost reluctantly, she allowed it to work its magic.

Sydney, glorious Sydney. On her arrival the vitality had been captivating. Nightlife at The Rocks was always pumping, with no shortage of bars and pubs available to meet people and share a few drinks. Aussie guys were charming and they seemed to love an American girl, especially one with a vivacious personality and an infectious laugh. She was never short of attention but then her eye-catching looks did help – long auburn curls, high cheeks, full lips and a figure she kept tightly in check led to a myriad of prospective suitors vying for her company. Then, eighteen months ago, she had met Ryan, and life couldn’t have been better.

What had happened? Where was that bewitching man she had first met?

As the sun beat down, she drifted to that May afternoon …