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Queens, Harlots and Halos
Queens, Harlots and Halos
Queens, Harlots and Halos
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Queens, Harlots and Halos

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Alpha female is a successful, beautiful and kind transsexual, Davina Nishizawa. Recently returned from Japan to retire in Sydney. She bunks with two old friends, Queens, at their Paddington terrace.
The men, partners for over twenty years, own an entertainment agency. Terry is very theatrical and given to Hollywood moments. Geoff is his balancing opposite.
Dickie Diamond is a former friend of them all, one they’d rather lose. All these characters have mutts. Geoff’s mother, Maureen, is a constant thorn in his side. Well, everyone’s side really.
Davina is a sublime cook. Everyone falls for Davina, including Andrew, a South Coast vet surgeon with a deranged surgery nurse, Laura. Davina has her own deranged follower in the character of Ho Nishizawa, criminal son of her former mentor and husband, the now deceased Tak Nishizawa.
Allison is also a friend. She’s a sex worker for a very high class boutique brothel; top end business only. She met Sam Sherman, the fabled American industrialist, through her work. However, that’s behind them and they have become friends. It doesn’t stop Allison feeling a tad prickly when Sam meets Davina and becomes another slain Spartan at Davina’s altar.
Kay is PA at the entertainment agency. She’s an Aussie, solid gold brick and a single mum. Unfortunately, she’s with Trev, a total Aussie 1980s style drongo. Trev believes that women should be “good value for money”. Kay is in charge of looking after acts that the boys bring to Australia. She’s having a hard time of it with the hottest little Latino about to take the world by storm – Stella Novocaine. Stella has a huge talent – fabulous singer and dancer. Unfortunately, she has a propensity of losing all her clothes on stage.
On the other side of the coin there is the Portland crew. A small country town between Bathurst, Lithgow and Mudgee. The Vegas of the West. Portland’s hero is Jack Harbour, his wife is Toni. These are very down to earth Australians and some of the group include Bubbles, Bounce, Foggy, Oddy and Splinter.
Jack also become the face of Lacey Lanegan’s new CD. Portland meets Paddington. Lacey versus Stella.
Jack’s son is Kevin who meets Sydney stylist, Leah, at Rushcutters Bay Park. They both have Westies and they become lovers. Leah’s former lover is a snake called Vaughan Tripodi, an advertising exec plotting the downfall of his boss, Nicola.
Helena Bingham Smythe is a social reporter for the Sydney Sunday. She has great UK connections and knows everyone’s secrets. She’s also a former lover of Vaughan and they detest one another. She awaits her opportunity and it presents itself at the nuptials of Davina and Sam.
There is a double homicide, stalking and a group of people held captive in a cliff top mansion, two with murderous intent outside, and with a wild storm whipped from hell.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherJan Wallace
Release dateFeb 27, 2019
ISBN9780995439870
Queens, Harlots and Halos
Author

Jan Wallace

I was born in Sydney, and was brought up in working class Botany. I worked at the Bondi Lifesaver (The Swap) and relaxed at The Midnight Shift and Capriccios, Oxford St. Darlinghurst. I tried my hand at many different types of work ... you name it, I had a go. I mixed with crims and coppers, rock and roll legends and low life junkies ... also high life junkies. Hookers with hearts and queens with credit cards. In and out of marriage, fled at the suggestion of children and still managed to have a bloody good time. Travelled incessantly, drank far too much for a person in any position and rocked on. Same old, same old and all the while reading. And then I thought I had a book in me. I now live a much more respectable life in a small, quiet, unsuspecting country town in NSW.

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    Queens, Harlots and Halos - Jan Wallace

    Queens, Harlots and Halos

    Kings Cross, call girls, queens, courtiers, millionaires, dogs, the press and provincial boys and girls all converge for a wedding, for revenge and for a homicide or two.

    Jan Wallace

    Published by The Write Site,

    Brisbane, Australia

    Copyright 2019 © Jan Wallace

    Jan Wallace has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author.

    ISBN- 978-0-9954398-7-0

    Typing and first editing by Anna Bradbury - www.annalouiselifecoaching.com

    Second editing, formatting, cover design and book creation by Philip J Bradbury -

    www.philipjbradbury.com

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

    Thanks and Nods

    You all know who you are. Thank you. In a nod to Messrs. Lennon and McCartney ... In My life ... I've Loved You All.

    Jan

    ONE

    Kevin woke at his usual time and it took him a few minutes to remember that Molly wasn't there. Wouldn't ever be there again. It was just Angus and Kevin now and Angus needed his breakfast. He made his way to the kitchen and got two bowls down from the shelf, slashed in the milk and cereal, made his coffee and put a bowl in front of a still very sleepy Angus.

    He'd been devastated when Molly died and had very quickly slid down a slope that found him drinking too much, smoking like a train (inside) and neglecting both himself and Angus. He looked at his little man, a lopsided smile on his fatherly face and brushed a silver curl out of his boy's eye.

    'Come on my little Angus. Today is the day. Things are going to get better from this very minute. We've been sad too long and Daddy has been very slack. Will you forgive me? Can you forgive me?' Angus, not being given to lengthy conversations at only three years old, gazed at his Daddy with that so familiar look, head on one side.

    'We're going on a picnic mate. I'll get together some food for us both, only take me a minute and we're off to the city. Rushcutters Bay Park. Remember, we all went last year …' Kevin fell silent for a moment, but was in control pretty quickly as he set about fill the picnic basket with all manner of inappropriate items. Pate (out of date), biscuits (ditto), chocolate and cheese found themselves quickly packed with ginger beer, plates and mugs.

    'Mmmm, Angus. No fruit. I know you love your sliced apple so we'll get some from Mrs Groves in town, Ok?' And they did.

    In no time at all they were heading for Sydney. Gosh, it had been an age since Kevin had even driven into Lithgow, never mind Sydney. He put the window down on the passenger's side and smiled when he looked across at Angus. His little soldier loved the wind and his beautiful, silver hair blew straight back. Kevin felt a familiar lump in his throat and his nose began to tingle. He was very close to tears now.

    'Bloody Celt,' he shouted into the wind-filled car. 'Bloody tears never far from the eyes. That's what Mummy used to say didn't she, Angus?'

    After nearly three hours, they were at Rushcutters Bay and found a park almost immediately under a lovely Moreton Bay Fig. Kevin spread the old tartan blanket on the grass and motioned for Angus to come sit beside his Dad.

    'Mate, I want to talk to you, man to man. I know I haven't ever talked to you like this before and I'm sorry for that. Everyone says you're supposed to talk about being sad with your kids. We've been through a terrible time, the worst time we've ever had in all our lives together. Mummy's had to leave us. She really tried so hard to stay but, in the end, she just couldn't. She asked me to love you even more than I ever did before. And I do, honestly. I didn't think I could love you any more, didn't think it possible, but she said I'd need you like never before. There'd be more space in my heart and, of course, she was right again. I'm promising you that I am going to make up for all the sad time we've had and every day you have to help by reminding me. This is your part, your job. Do you think you can do this, Angus?'

    Before Angus could even think of what all this might mean, they were interrupted by a furious barking, white blur straining on a bright pink lead. Kevin stood up and turned to see a tall girl with an unruly halo of apricot hair around a face as pale and broad as one of the sails on the nearby bobbing boats. A Celtic face it was.

    'I'm sorry, we've come too close. I thought you had a Westie there … a West Highland white terrier. I've one myself, her, Bunny, wicked little woman.'

    'Yes, yes … not a problem at all, always happy to meet another Westie. This is Angus. Angus, be nice to your relation.'

    Angus needed no encouragement. His right shoulder was on the ground, front paws straight out, head on one side and his little bottom in the air, tail doing helicopter spins.

    ‘We’re just walking to the water’s edge,’ said the girl. ‘I think your Angus intends to join us.’ And that’s just what Angus did intend.

    ***

    'God Almighty Tonight! What's that carry on?' The two guys with the beautiful Mini Schnauzer were looking towards Angus and Bunny.

    'Don't worry, doll, just a couple of straight people with a couple of terriers.'

    Geoff and Terry had been together on and off for 20 years. They'd been in love, out of love, into hate, out of money and decided this was it for them. It was the morning that Terry had woken up in the middle of Kings Cross, in a Mini Cooper S (Vintage, so the dude must have had some class) naked, without a mobile, that he knew the only person who would help him, loved him the most, was his Geoff. Reality struck. That was years ago and they didn't even bother with the Mardi Gras after party these days. Who needed it?

    They continued on their walk with Kurtis, gave him a yoghurt drop as he was such a good boy and retreated back across the park towards Paddington. They loved that dog to bits. Thank God their place had a courtyard for Kurtis and a walk in Rushcutters Bay Park two or three times a week kept everyone healthy.

    The only fly in the ointment was Geoff's mother, Maureen. Whilst loudly acclaiming her devotion to all things gay and avowing that Terry was the best 'girl' Geoff had ever had (singly amusing), Maureen managed to hurt and annoy both sides of the family, waging a silent but violent war of tactics. Terry called her the Generalisimo of Chaos.

    Who could ever forget their commitment ceremony on the island of Mykonos when she had the bakery make a cake in the shape of a giant phallus and set about taking the balls away from their father's appendage with, if not glee, serious enjoyment at any rate?

    Anyway, their relationship sustained the mother-in-law, but not with pleasure, ease or grace.

    'Terry dear. Did you see your dear prostitute friend in the park today with her standard poodle?'

    'Allison's not a prostitute, Maureen, she's a sex worker and is working towards her dream with degrees in geology and archaeology. She already has a law degree and ultimately hopes to work in Egypt. She's a lovely girl and a close friend.' Terry fumed.

    'Yes dear, I'm sure she is. Never mind working towards her dream via her vagina,' sniffed Maureen.

    'Just pissed off she never thought of it herself while she was busy giving it away in the sixties and seventies.' Terry muttered to Geoff, who made a face like a chook's bum, trying to suppress a giggle.

    You get the overall picture.

    Geoff and Terry ran an entertainment agency and were just closing a deal with a hot new singer from the States, Stella Novocane. Kay, their assistant, had a list a mile long of Stella's 'must haves' in all the hotel and dressing rooms and swore this was it, this was the finish, and she was out of this business.

    'Yes, doll. We know. You're packed. Just don't forget to tell your new employer that you can't start till after 9 am, have to leave by 2.30 pm and are likely to vanish any time in between if there's a call from the day-care nurse. No problems. Not to mention they'll have to front up at least once a year to watch 60 little girls sing, I'm Being Followed by a Fucking Moon Shadow. One .. at .. a .. time. Pure torture.' Geoff's eyebrows pointed skyward as he delivered this line.

    Of course, the guys were right. Kay smiled despite her temper and she knew that while her bum pointed to the ground she would stay with the boys. As her dear old Dad used to say, she was on a good wicket, or was that a sticky wicket … whatever.

    Kay was born on the cusp of Aries and Taurus. Whilst she fired up quickly, it was mostly gone in a flash. Many a big-named star she'd turned on and told them where to get off, but mostly, they copped it from her.

    'Who do you think you are anyway?' Kay had screeched at some over-blown diva. 'I can tell you right now, you are not acting like a madam, you are acting like anything but a madam.' It worked. The object of her wrath usually dropped the bottom lip then broke into a broad smile.

    Both Terry and Geoff adored Kay and her daughter, Wizbus. They were the child's godparents and she became Wizbus for life when she was unable to pronounce her name, Elizabeth.

    ***

    Kevin and Leah walked back away from the water's edge. A cool breeze had sprung up and it was getting late.

    'Yeah, Mum is a Roy Orbison freak, it's bugged me all my life,' said Leah. 'You know, kids singing it to you in school, that sort of thing.'

    'It doesn't get any tougher. You know I'm saddled with Kevin Harbour.'

    'Oh, no.' Despite herself, she laughed out loud. Not a small laugh, a very big, head thrown back, open throated laugh.

    Kevin actually stopped and looked at her. 'Oh, oh. I'm um, very sorry. It just caught me by surprise.' She tried her best to look apologetic but the corners of her mouth would not behave.

    'Angus, I think we've just been laughed at, big time. What say we get them both back and ask them to the Coro next week for lunch? Maybe even put them up at the pub. That should fix 'em!'

    Angus, who was out of puff and out of condition, was flat out like a lizard drinking and only thumped his tail once.

    Leah gave Kevin a business card, she was a stylist he noticed. He wrote his email and phone number on an empty packet of ciggies.

    'What do you style? What's a stylist do anyway, Leah?'

    'Oh, interiors, shoots for magazine, food shoots, anything really. I'm not making very much money but it's coming on slowly.'

    'So, would you like to see Portland, the Vegas of the West, any time soon? You'd be quite safe at the Coronation Pub, I think …'

    Kevin put his head on one side; he had no idea how attractive he looked.

    She didn't miss a beat. 'Yes, yes, I've even heard of Portland. I thought it was by the sea or something. Yes, I'll come up, as long as I can bring the pupster.'

    'Did you think you were being asked for you? Oh no, that's a given. Must bring Bunny.'

    They said their goodbyes and Kevin was in the car with the lad. His last sight of her was walking out of the park whilst the sky glazed purple and orange. Kevin loved summer.

    'Name's Leah, Angus. Nice girl. Easy to talk to, mate. And very pretty didn't you think?'

    Angus settled down in the passenger seat and Kevin drove. Everything felt a bit better.

    ***

    Allison checked her emails and sure enough, as she'd guessed, there was a booking from the Agency for tomorrow evening. That was fine, she'd told them she was having Monday to Wednesday off. She'd taken a very excited Gigi, her Standard Poodle, to Palm Beach and booked into a lovely dog-friendly beach cottage. No makeup, no fancy stilettos, no sex!

    Long walks with Gigi and a good book, and a great bottle of red. She never drank when she worked. Right now though, she really felt she needed a break and she took her breaks regularly. She was able to chill with just Gigi for company. She felt justified with the price she demanded from the clients - she was the best and kept herself in top condition.

    Whilst not classically beautiful, Allison had what Terry called the 'chameleon gift'. He said she was Cate Blanchett's lost twin and had the ability to switch on from within and become whatever was perfect for the occasion. The Luminescence, The Look, he called it. The one gift she did not possess was a good voice and she refused to acknowledge this short coming.

    Allison was absolutely determined to get her degrees. Archaeology she always found absolutely riveting and to this end she had joined the Dreamz Agency. She'd been a secretary to the boys and though they had been generous, at the end of the day, there was no way that her salary at That's Entertainment (or, That's Entertainbent as the boys joked) was going to pave her way to her working in archaeology in Cairo.

    And honestly, many of her bookings, such as the one tomorrow evening with US based media mogul, Sam Sherman, would not involve a sexual encounter. She would shower, dress and do a perfect makeup and daub her wrists with Shalimar. No need to do the backs of the knees or the gentle mound beneath the almost concave belly.

    Then she might step into a Versace or Armani gown with Jimmy Choo stilettos, wait for the limo and go to Sam's private apartment atop of the Lido apartment building in Sydney. Here, she'd spend an idle hour gazing at the azure harbour and Opera House, taking careful note of the fabulous new art acquisitions that Sam had picked up. A Whitely, Water Pond with Plankton, a new Salvador Dali, Christ in the Desert, and be ready to discuss the new prizes over dinner if Sam was inclined to. Then she'd handbag it the rest of the evening. Never imbibing anything stronger than cranberry juice, never smoking - that was a vice well left behind. And paramountly, never doing any drugs of any type.

    Sam would be the complete gentleman. If his hand found its way to her knee, he'd apologise and at the end of the evening it was a fatherly kiss on her cheek. Usually a beautiful gift, which she often on-sold, a Hermes scarf; a Ferragamo handbag; Sam was the old fashioned, classy type of bloke. He always managed to sneak a stash of dollars into her bag. 'Just for you, no need to tell the Agency.'

    Once or twice they'd ended up in bed together and after the flailing about, he'd told her all about his house in Maine, his early life, his interest in the arts. They'd become friends.

    It had pretty much gone down that avenue ever since. She was fond of him and he was kind and very generous. It worked for both of them. Sam had no interest in picking up girls for the sake of it. Allison thought they had a type of laid-back relationship. He loved female companionship, especially bright, lively minded companionship, and she provided it. Everyone was happy.

    Allison was in a position where she could decline certain clients, those who fetish extremes were not to her liking. She had attained a level in her chosen profession where she could do relatively straight sex with clients she liked and, if she chose, have a fabulous evening out. Occasionally however, she threw caution to the wind and just had a fucking wonderful evening with a stud rock singer or visiting opera star. There were her 'teddy and leather jacket' evenings, and she loved them.

    Allison never allowed her thoughts to wander to the, then unknown, actor who would not give up his wife and family for her. She had waited for him for five long years. It has been tremendous fun with a lot of passion and she'd been able to devote a lot of her spare time to study.

    Really, she'd been a child and Allison didn't intend to waste one more minute. She smiled a rueful smile when she remembered the first time she'd clapped eyes on him. She'd been working as a junior receptionist at London Heathrow Hotel and it was very late. Whilst pouring over the reservation charts, manually back then, and sitting on a high swivel chair, she heard a delicious Scottish voice say, 'Excuse me. Would you happen to have a double room for two weary travellers?'

    She looked straight up into the eyes of Sean Connery. Of course, she fell off her swivel chair and found herself being picked up, red as a beet, by Mr Connery and his very handsome young mate. The rest, as they say, is history.

    ***

    Kevin arrived back in Portland late and decided it was early and late enough to visit his father, Jack Harbour. Jack knew everything, seriously. He was as kind as he was good and strong.

    At sixty, he and his second wife, Toni, had just completed a retaining wall up the back paddock. Twenty-five tonnes and twenty odd metres of cement from the Portland Tip were used. The latest project was a huge herb garden with concrete paths and stepping stones, compliments of the tip. It was 200 square metres all up, so a big job. Jack had found a book at the tip that gave him the idea for the garden. Seems Mediterranean herbs didn't need much water. Well, they'd come to the right spot. Not much water round Portland.

    Jack, not one for diplomacy, got straight to it. 'You look better boy. Get laid or something?'

    'Dad, mate, and no I haven't. But I feel a bit better. Thanks for noticing.'

    There wasn't much Jack missed. He'd been in the shearing sheds for twenty odd years and, before that, odd jobs such as labouring and farming; whatever it took to keep the family fed. Kevin loved to listen to the shed tales and they were plenty and heart-warming.

    'Dad, tell me about the old guy and the stamp.'

    'Oh, yair boy. That was a great night. Swaggie was in to keep the wood up and peel potatoes for a bed and a feed. This night, he wrote a letter to his daughter and when he'd addressed the envelope to her, he got the stamp out of the back of his wallet, and all the gum had gone from the back of it. Don't think the stamp was still legal tender it was that old. Anyway, he gets his needle and cotton from his swag and sews the stamp to the envelope. Bloody beautiful it was.'

    'Aw, Dad, that's bloody beautiful.'

    'Yair, I know. And, did I ever tell you about the tennis player from Toorak? Nah? This day the cockey said would we like a hit of tennis? So a few of us picked up some rackets from him and went down to his courts and had a hit. Well, bugger me, this bloke, the same bloke I'd moved rooms from the night before 'cos he kept me awake with drinking wine in a line. That's from the flagon with a plastic pipe, mate. Well this bloke steps onto the court and starts hitting.

    'He ballet danced really, he was that bloody good. I asked him later, how come he played so good? Told me he'd come from a good family, rich. Could have played Davis Cup tennis for Australia. Then he'd gotten married and got on the turps. Lost everything, family, home, the lot. Now he was a swaggies' mate. Bloody awful.'

    'Yair.'

    Jack was keenly aware of Kevin's despair and was at a loss, despite his deep understanding of the human condition, as to how to help heal his boy. He hugged him and told him that it was darkest before the first light. But he knew at the end of the day, that the boy was alone between deep dark and dawn, and the warmth required during those first moments of the day could only be provided by a heart balm, a soul mate. Jack was pretty sure that those two gifts did not usually come along twice in one lifetime.

    Jack's dog was Dusty - Dusty the red heeler. What a cracker she was. Too fat of course, and loved her tucker almost as much as she loved Jack Harbour. Should really have given her away when he left the shearing shed, given her to a farmer to keep her working and fit. But in the end, hard man that he was, Dusty put the pressure on and Jack caved in.

    Toni had taken a photo of Dusty and emailed it to an address in Sydney. She hadn't told Jack; he would have laughed at her. She'd read an advertisement in the Lithgow Mercury. Someone wanted a picture of a farm dog and would pay a nice little earner for a picture of the right dog. Stranger things have happened right? If you don't ask, you don't get, as Jack was fond of saying.

    Toni had even put a handkerchief on Dusty's neck but she looked ridiculous, like an old sheila in a tight dress, not comfortable. So she had whipped it off. Better.

    ***

    Davina stepped off the plane at Sydney airport looking a million bucks. Better than a million bucks. She'd requested a limo and it was there. Though feeling a tad weary she was determined to go straight to Watson's Bay for a good feed of fish. It was a ritual. She loved the view and the memory of working there as a waiter was a fond one. So long ago, so very many painful operations. So much bloody money. She had to admit it was worth every damn cent.

    She had worked as a cabaret dancer at first in Japan. It was meat and potatoes to her. But she hated Tokyo and moved to the smaller city of Sakatai, where she was a very glamourous exotic fish in a much smaller pond than Tokyo.

    When she told everyone at the pub in the Cross that she was leaving the drag show and flying to Japan with no job or language skills, well, you can imagine how they laughed. They were laughing on the other side of their faces now. Incredibly, within two weeks of her hitting the ground, she was speaking Japanese and was writing that incredibly tricky, stylised language in a month. Said it was like coming home to her. First time in her life she didn't feel like a freak, a mistake.

    Japan had been very kind to Davina. She loved the people and they in turn loved her. Loved her lewd, dirty laugh and her very white skin. Even as a bloke, Davina had looked after her porcelain skin. It was so fine, unlike anything anyone in her family had ever seen. As she said, the Japanese had a very respectful attitude to things exotic or different, out of the norm. Why wouldn't she feel at home?

    She's never felt comfortable as a gay bloke. And the first time she put a frock on that was the finish of that. The Adam's apple went west, as did the thick ridge over her brows and, of course, the nose turned into something quite lovely pretty quickly.

    She'd flown back to Australia to have the penis refashioned into something altogether more suitably befitting a gal with three bars of her own in Japan.

    That was such a very long time ago. Davina still did little cameos in her clubs, but she had dance troupes now to do the hard yards. She'd met her match in Tak Nishizawa twenty or more years ago. He'd been about twenty-five years older than her. Very well educated, polished and travelled, Tak very much did the Professor Higgins/My Fair Lady job on Davina. In a short space of time she had been transformed from an inexperienced bar girl/hoofer, (that's Hoofer), in a provincial town, to a stunning and accomplished courtesan. Occidental Geisha she liked to call herself.

    Tak came from an extremely wealthy family. Their home was built in the same area as the Imperial Compound but it was classier thought Tak; not all red and gold. Tak was not a man to take his wealth or heritage lightly. As soon as his father allowed, he began growing the family fortune many times over. Everything he touched seemed to turn to gold. Whilst Japan still used horse power in the main, he built a railway and joked that he delivered the very last load of horse shoes to the country.

    He'd gone to college in the States and graduated from Harvard with honours. Tall and athletically built, he was often taken for being Hawaiian instead of Japanese.

    He excelled at sport and took great pleasure in punishing the American jocks who had ridiculed him for pulling on a gridiron kit at all. He was a demon on the football field and the college boys soon gave up trying to best him.

    Tak's own wife had passed away and his grown children were ambivalent about Davina; they were like ships that passed in the night, really. Tak had only ever expressed one worry and that was about his eldest son, Ho. The boy had everything but always wanted more. Worse still, he was unkind to his sisters and dishonest in business dealings with his brother.

    For Davina, however, Tak's wealth both thrilled her and more importantly, it set her free to become the woman she always wanted to be. It was better to be rich and unhappy than poor and unhappy, right? And rich and happy certainly worked for this girl.

    Well, the dear man was dead now and Davina was retiring back to Australia. She'd never have to work again thanks to Tak's generous bequest.

    Just before Davina left her adopted home for what she imagined would be the last time, she'd been paid a visit by Tak's closest male friend, Atsushi. In a very roundabout and typically inscrutable manner, he'd offered a formal farewell from three of Tak's children. The second eldest son and the two younger daughters. She noticed, uneasily, that Ho, the firstborn son, sent no such farewell. Oh well, no matter. No skin off her perfectly fashioned nose.

    She'd planned on buying somewhere in the eastern suburbs of Sydney. Maybe even get a mutt, who knew? She'd kept in touch with Geoff and Terry from the old days and they were having her stay till she decided which way was up. Just as long as they didn't expect her to do any star turns at the pubs on Oxford Street. Those days were over and she was looking for a husband, big time.

    It was a new start and she was a new woman. She'd been to see a very good surgeon in Tahiti to remove the frown lines on her forehead before coming back to Sydney. And, following Tahiti, she'd spend a month under the care of Dr Fredric Baumgarten in New York City. Best skin bloke in the world.

    It would have taken a very seasoned campaigner and a one in a million shot of picking Davina Nishizawa for David Wallace from Lithgow. She would not, of course, be trying to re-establish a relationship with anyone in her family. That was a door that had been very firmly slammed in her face many years ago, and it still hurt.

    TWO

    Leah jumped when the phone rang. She'd been day dreaming actually. Bunny was asleep on her bed and the answer machine cut in. That was okay too. She didn't feel like talking.

    'Leah, are you there? Pick up the phone. It's me, Vaughn. Ahh, I know it's a bit late but wondered if you'd like a quick pint at the Elephant and Castle? Hello?'

    She lunged for the phone but stopped, thank goodness. Did she want all that again? Did she? This was so typical of this man, this bastard more like it. Two years of torture. What was that joke about the girl wanting to get rid of the cockroaches in her apartment, so she asked them to commit? Vaughn was that cockroach.

    Talk about the Love God on wheels. Foolish girl really. Thought she had the real deal in Vaughn. Daniel Cleaver in Bridget Jones Diary was an introvert compared to Vaughn. Daniel Cleaver was a monk compared to Vaughn! He'd broken her heart so many times she'd lost count. And now she was ready to walk … she had walked … hadn't she?

    She knew the drill; in about twenty minutes, he'd be at her door; flowers contrition, promises, a token, great sex …

    She grabbed Bunny's lead and the pup. Bunny thought it was a drive-by kidnap or worse, pupnap.

    Coward, she thought. Face him, piss him off. Tell him you've met someone else. Met Kevin, a good bloke.

    She didn't put Bunny down till she reached Rushcutters Bay Park. She'd brought her big torch but still she stayed pretty close to the road, it was awfully dark in there.

    ***

    Geoff and Terry were looking forward to having Davina stay. She was a fabulous cook and the funniest company. They'd met her when she was putting on bar shows around town. Annie Get Your Gun - topless. Anything to show off those tits! Well, as they said, that was then and this is now. They both agreed that her years in Japan and, of course her mentor, Tak Nishizawa, or Nishi as they called him, had been nothing short of miraculous for Davina.

    Another plus was that Davina and Maureen DETESTED one another. Couldn't bear to be under the same roof. They were hoping Davina might stay at least a year.

    It was true that on Mykonos, after the cake incident, Davina had two unsavoury Greek merchant seamen nab Maureen, who was as pissed as a rat and had thought her luck had changed. They'd put her in their little boat and ferried her to an out of the way island where she languished for a week. It wasn't all bad news; they left her with a huge vat of Domestica and a fishing rod. So she lost a lot of weight. Everyone told her she looked fabulous, she should be grateful.

    Not for the first time did Davina tell herself it helps to have friends on the waterfront, right? If Maureen had contacts like Davina's she would have had her murdered.

    The boys expected Davina about four pm and she was on time. She'd hit David Jones foodhall before she arrived though and they needed four trips to and from the limo to get all the stuff inside. She was cooking alright!

    It'd been about five years since they'd all been together and, while she was busy with a quick shower, the boys unpacked for her. Really, it was a fabulous excuse to have a quick sticky at her gorgeous collection of bags, shoes, gowns and jewellery. Like Rose Hancock Porteous's wardrobe with taste.

    As soon as the bathroom door slammed, both of their eyebrows went through the roof.

    'I don't care how much it cost, I'm having my frown lines done, Geoff, and that's final,' said Terry.

    'Yeah, I agree, she looks sensational. Absolutely! Wonder

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