Black Wattle Creek (Charlie Berlin #2)(6)
She had listened and silently considered his comments. Then, after a pause, she had said, ‘Good God, you’re right, of course, what was I thinking?’ And his heart had dropped as he realised he didn’t want to lose her.
She’d laughed at his expression and put a hand to his cheek and said, ‘God, Charlie, you are so easy.’ Then added, ‘But so am I, which I suppose is why we’re in this situation.’ Then she had that look of casual carnality he’d first seen in his room at the hotel in Wodonga, and they made desperate love on his creaking boarding-house bed and afterwards he formally asked her to marry him and now here they were.
The kitchen was warm from the oven and something smelled good. Berlin dropped the pay envelope on top of the box of chocolates in the middle of the laminex-topped table. Rebecca looked up from the sink and smiled. She was wearing the blue dress he liked, protected by an apron. He’d come to realise this was the only part of his day he really looked forward to coming home. He crossed the kitchen and kissed her on the cheek. She kissed him back, hard on the mouth, her tongue flicking quickly between his lips. He liked her way better. He was a little shocked, as he always was when she did that unexpectedly. She smiled at his reaction.
‘Welcome home, Mr Berlin. Chocolates and cold hard cash, you certainly know how to get a girl’s attention.’
‘It’s a celebration, I suppose. I’ve got a week and a bit off, starting now.’
‘What?’ He could see the sudden concern in her eyes. ‘Is there anything wrong, Charlie? Did something happen at work?’
He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Nothing to worry about, Rebecca, everything’s fine. I guess they finally just got sick of me asking for my overtime from the Olympics. Chater dumped a pay envelope on my desk and told me to buzz off till Monday week.’
Chater was in charge of the detective squad and ‘buzz off’ wasn’t precisely the term that had been used. Chater had been junior to Berlin before the war but had stayed on, valiantly policing the home front while Berlin was serving overseas, and now he outranked him. The man had a miserable home life with a harping wife and four grasping daughters. He also had an expensive car and an elegant Toorak home no honest copper could afford. Chater was a bloke who regularly disappeared from the office to go to unexplained meetings, and could be found every weekday at one minute past twelve holding up the bar at the nearest pub.
Rebecca picked up the buff-coloured envelope and checked the figures written on the outside. ‘Just your regular pay, this week and next week’s, nothing extra.’
‘You know what they’re like in there, Rebecca, tighter than a fish’s … ‘ He glanced towards the open hallway door … ’bottom. Nothing I can do about it, but at least I can put the time to good use. I broke a fiver at the milk bar for the lollies and I’ve kept the change.’
Rebecca dropped the envelope into her apron pocket. ‘You deserve some time off but the extra cash would have been better, with the car acting up. How is it, by the way?’
Berlin avoided her eyes. ‘Seems to be running okay, I guess. What’s for dinner? Something smells great.’
‘For your dining pleasure this evening, Mr Berlin, we have one of your favourites, a delightful steak and kidney pie.’
Rebecca’s steak and kidney pie was also Sarah’s favourite. No wonder the girl was so happy. But Berlin knew his wife’s suet pastry took a little bit of extra effort to get just right, and this was always more of a weekend treat or dinner-party dish, not that they gave many of those. He searched his mind for any anniversaries or birthdays he might have forgotten.
‘Sounds good, Rebecca, special occasion?’
‘Not really, I just felt like something a little different. You can have baked beans on toast if you like.’
‘I’ll stick with the pie if it’s all the same to you. Anything I can do?’
‘Can you turf that dog our, please? And make sure the children have finished eating. I made them their own little pies and let them have dinner early.’
Rebecca was bent over the oven, with the door half open. Ten years, two children, she was wearing an apron and oven gloves, and yet he still felt the desire rise up in him.
She glanced around and saw the look on his face and smiled. ‘Why, Detective Sergeant Berlin, I do believe I could have you arrested for what you’re thinking right now. But you know the rule in this house, dinner first and then dessert.’
The word dessert was said with no particular emphasis but the meaning between them was clear. He was still amazed that his desire for her was reciprocated, and strongly too. And more amazed that he could go to her seeking solace sometimes and find passion, and that sometimes she knew before he did that his passion was in reality a search for peace. She knew him better than he knew, or wanted to know, himself and yet she loved him still. If the children were the two miracles in his life then she was the third.
FIVE
The hallway leading from the kitchen to the bedrooms and lounge room was lined with low shelves holding Rebecca’s books and hung with simply-framed black and white photographs – pictures of the kids. Rebecca was the family photographer and Berlin was always struck by how she’d managed to capture the children’s moods and moments, even their personalities as they grew from babies. Sarah’s infectious joy and bubbling personality were there for everyone to see, along with Peter’s less sunny character. He was a funny boy, dark and morose, and Berlin had once confessed to Rebecca that while he loved his son he wasn’t all that sure that he liked him.