Thursday proved to be one of those days. A day she weathered with true grit and determination.
There were few students who saw the need to learn the technicalities of English language usage. Yet their knowledge was tested, their grades counted, and at the end of the school year…it mattered.
Why? became an oft-asked query, usually accompanied by a groan of despair, when computer software held a dictionary, spell-check and grammar-check at the click of a mouse?
Besides, who cared ?
With back-to-back classes, surviving the day became something of an endurance test, and Anna experienced a short-lived feeling of relief as she eased her Mini towards a suburban shopping centre where, after searching a number of boutiques, she discovered a lovely design in ivory voile, whose simplicity enhanced her slender curves. A scooped neckline, elbow-length sleeves, and a hemline that fell just below her knees.
Not exactly bride wear, it nevertheless was sufficiently stylish for a very small intimate wedding where the number of attendants were restricted to the bride and groom, the bride's father and Liam's lawyer.
It was almost six when she entered her apartment to the welcome aroma of cooked food, and she crossed to her father's side, brushed her lips to his cheek, and offered an appreciative smile.
'Thanks. Smells great.'
'Spaghetti bolognaise with garlic bread,' Andre enlightened. 'Go wash up and we'll eat.'
She did, and she expounded on her day, asked about his, and insisted on dealing with the dishes before retreating to her bedroom in order to pack.
There seemed little point in transferring every item of clothing she possessed, and she simply placed what she'd need for a week into a capacious bag, then carried it into the lounge.
Her father cast her a look of concern, and his lips parted as if he would say something, only for them to close again.
Go, a silent voice prompted, and she did, offering a faint smile as she moved towards the front door. 'I won 't be long.' An inane comment, if ever there was one…except any words she might utter right now seemed superfluous.
So she'd visit Liam's Brighton home, say hi, deposit her bag…and leave. How difficult could it be?
There was no reason for the stirring of butterflies in her stomach as she hit the main road and made her way along the busy thoroughfare.
No reason at all, she assured herself. Liam might not even be at home, and she could simply hand her bag to his housekeeper.
Sure, like that's going to happen, Anna thought as she closed the distance to his prestigious address.
By the time she drew the Mini to a halt before an imposing set of closed gates the nerves in her stomach had tightened into a painful ball.
What now? Where was the speakerphone to announce her presence?
At that moment the gates slid open, and she bit off a silent oath at the reality of electronic surveillance. A necessary precaution for the wealthy in today's era, she had to admit as she eased her car onto the illuminated semi-circular driveway.
A two-storied Tuscan-style mansion stretched across the block of land, and she caught a glimpse of landscaped gardens, shrubbery, in the time it took to reach the front entry. Wide double wood-panelled doors which opened as she closed off the engine .
Liam's tall, broad frame was unmistakable as he crossed the tiled forecourt and reached for the car's door clasp as she released her seatbelt.
For a brief second, she resembled a frightened doe caught in the spotlight, he mused, watching as her expression assumed a bland mask.
'My bag is in the trunk.' Amazing, her voice sounded normal! She caught up her purse and slid out from behind the wheel as he retrieved her bag, then she preceded him into the spacious lobby.
She caught a glimpse of marble floor tiling, a wide, curved double staircase leading to an upper level, solid mahogany furniture, paintings adorning the walls.
Wealth, representing superb taste, was clearly evident, the crystal tiered chandelier linked to the high ceiling magnificent as it lit a lobby highlighted by wall sconces.
Liam set her bag at the foot of the staircase, then indicated an open door to his right.
'I'll have Maria serve coffee.'
She wanted to say she couldn't stay, except he'd see it for the excuse it was. And she refused to give him the satisfaction.
'Thank you.' She could do this…exchange polite conversation over coffee, then she'd leave.
The large formal lounge was vaguely intimidating, and she wondered if his choice was deliberate.
Oh, for the love of heaven, get a grip , she bade herself silently.
He caught the slight edge of tension apparent and chose to ignore it as his housekeeper appeared with a tray.
Introductions complete, Maria poured steaming aromatic coffee into two cups before retreating from the room.
The need to say something… anything, seemed paramount in the ensuing silence.
'I've arranged for my father to take over my apartment,' Anna said quietly as she accepted a cup and saucer from his hand. 'Naturally, I'll maintain the lease.'
Liam offered sugar and cream, both of which she refused. 'He's there now?'
She inclined her head and met his gaze with equanimity. 'Is this where I ask about your day?'
'Do you really want to know?'
' Give it a shot.'
The edges of his mouth lifted a little, and a glimmer of humour lit his dark eyes for a few seconds. 'Meetings, closing an important deal.' He waited a beat. 'Having my PA organize accommodation at Peppers on the Mornington Peninsula for the weekend.'
Her heart missed a beat. They were going away? 'Is that necessary?'
'You thought we'd stay in?'
She didn't know what to think! 'It's hardly appropriate .'
One eyebrow rose. 'No?'
'It's not as if we're embarking on a real marriage.'
'Define real.' His voice was a silky drawl. 'I'm intrigued to hear your interpretation.'
Oh, hell, she'd fallen into that one! 'Do I need to spell it out?'
'Indulge me.'
'You want a verbal fencing match, go play with someone else,' Anna managed calmly.
'It seems I've chosen you.'
She was sassy, Liam mused. Older, not only in years, and there were only a few, but there was a maturity existent that hadn't been apparent during their relationship.
The loss of her mother and her father's downfall had undoubtedly contributed, but it was more than that, and he wondered at the reason.
A love affair gone wrong?
Somehow that didn't sit too well, and he chose not to examine it in depth.
Anna sipped her coffee, then she carefully replaced her cup and saucer onto the tray. 'If you'll excuse me?' She rose to her feet. 'I have papers to mark.'
Not exactly a wise move, given he followed her action, and he stood too close, heightening her awareness of him to an alarming degree.
It wasn't fair. She had every reason to hate him…and she did. She really did. So what was with the spiralling sensation curling through her body? The increased pulse-beat, and the nerves clamoring inside her stomach like a silent cacophony?
Did he know?
Hell, she hoped not!
'You could stay.'
The drawled query almost brought her undone, and she lifted her chin and met those dark, enigmatic eyes.
'No.'
'Pity.'
He was amused, darn him, and she spared him an expressive glare that was more telling than mere words, then she turned and made her way to the front entrance, aware he walked at her side.
He accompanied her out to her car, saw her seated behind the wheel, then bade her, 'Don't work too late, hmm?'
Like sleep would be an option anytime soon.
As she cleared the gates she slotted in a CD, turned the dial up loud, and let the sound drown out any coherent thought.
It was only as she entered Marine Parade that she muted the music, and inside the apartment she collected her satchel, bade her father 'goodnight', and went to her room…to work way past midnight before she discarded her clothes and crawled wearily into bed. To sleep within seconds of her head touching the pillow.
It seemed only an hour or two when her alarm sounded, and she groaned out loud as she checked the digital display.
Time to rise and shine and face a new day.
The temptation to burrow her head beneath the pillow was uppermost, and for a few seconds she indulged the possibility before tossing aside the bedcovers.
She needed to hit the shower, dress, grab something to eat, then ride the lift down to her car and head for school.
It helped that her father had fresh coffee, cereal and fruit ready, and she expressed her appreciation, demolished the food in record time, then collected her satchel and blew a kiss in his direction.
'I should be home late afternoon.'
Andre inclined his head. 'I'll be ready.'
The question was…would she?
A thought which permeated her mind as she rode the lift down to the basement car park and uppermost as she battled peak-hour traffic to the northern suburbs remained.
It was her wedding day.
A day when most girls indulged in bridal pampering while her mother and attendants fussed and tended her every need, ensuring all the preparations fell into place with minimum hassle. The dress, the cake, the limousines, the church, reception, food, guests…
Supposedly the best day in a girl's life.
Hah…so much for tradition!