forget about it rather than invite such an intimate conversation.
Humidity settled on her. Sweat stuck her clothes to her skin and stung her eyes. A storm in the making, she thought, and remembered the previous one, and kissing Helena in the shelter as the lightning flashed and the wind raged. She wondered how Helena was coping with the heat, following on from her sudden sickness the night before.
The curtains were shut at Elysium, the four-wheel-drive gone. Melanie paused, wondering if Helena’s condition had worsened and Paul had driven her off the island on the morning barge. Waving away a cloud of flies, she walked up the stairs to the deck and hesitantly tapped on the door. Nothing.
The curtain moved as she was about to hang the dress bag on the door handle. Startled, she dropped the bag and reflexively leaned down to pick it up. The door slid open and she saw bare feet, a long hem, and looked up to see Helena staring down at her. The sleeveless dress revealed shapely brown arms, and her face glowed with health. Her lips were pink and moist.
Despite her make-up, Melanie felt like a drudge.
Helena pulled her to her feet and hugged her tightly. ‘Oh Melanie, I’m so glad it’s you. I didn’t know who it might be.’
‘I just wanted to bring your dress back,’ Melanie offered, pinned in the awkward embrace.
‘I told you to keep it.’ Helena released her. ‘But come in, please. You must stay for a drink.’
Melanie kicked off her sandals, wiped the sand from her feet on the threadbare welcome mat, and followed Helena inside. A single candle lit the room, emphasising the darkness with all the curtains drawn.
‘Sit, please,’ Helena said, throwing the bag towards the sofa. It hit the arm and landed hitting the floor, spilling a patch of dull colour.
Melanie stayed standing as Helena went behind the kitchen counter.
‘Tea? Or perhaps … something stronger?’
‘Sure, yes, thanks. Tea. Tea is fine. Are you feeling better?’
‘Much, much better for your company.’ She put the kettle on to boil, then lit a cone of incense in a nearby saucer. The floral scent jarred against the darker aroma of sickly leaf mould choking the room. Melanie wished she could open a window and let some air and light through.
Helena spooned tea into a pot. ‘You must think me rude for leaving you so quickly last night. I apologise.’
‘Not at all. We’ve all felt sick before, I know how it is.’ Unable even to consider going out, let alone handling all the questions and platitudes. And that worst question of all: when do you think you’ll start trying again?
Maybe she should leave.
‘I’m happy you visited,’ Helena said. ‘I thought perhaps I might have upset you with my dress.’
‘What? Don’t be silly. You looked stunning.’
‘I’m glad. It’s a treat for me to be able to wear something nice, that makes me look like a woman.’
‘Well, you succeeded last night. I’m sure the island will be talking about that outfit for weeks.’ She hoped she didn’t sound too bitter.
‘Good. I don’t want to upset you—you are my only friend. I want you to like me.’
The kettle whistled and Helena took it off the stove. She filled the teapot, put it on a tray with two cups and carried it over to the coffee table. ‘We are out of milk, I’m sorry; I should’ve asked Paul to get some more while he was shopping.’
Melanie followed, taking a seat opposite Helena. She felt uneasy, as if she was back on the barge as it hit the swell of the open passage. Her memory of their kiss clouded her mind, sending her pulse racing, electrifying her skin. Helena poured and Melanie took her cup, determined to drink it quickly and make up an excuse to leave. She needed fresh air. She needed space. Helena was fascinating, but unnerving, and she didn’t want to drag this out any longer than she had to. Why had she come? To return the dress. It had seemed like an important thing to do. Now it lay on the floor at her feet
Humidity settled on her. Sweat stuck her clothes to her skin and stung her eyes. A storm in the making, she thought, and remembered the previous one, and kissing Helena in the shelter as the lightning flashed and the wind raged. She wondered how Helena was coping with the heat, following on from her sudden sickness the night before.
The curtains were shut at Elysium, the four-wheel-drive gone. Melanie paused, wondering if Helena’s condition had worsened and Paul had driven her off the island on the morning barge. Waving away a cloud of flies, she walked up the stairs to the deck and hesitantly tapped on the door. Nothing.
The curtain moved as she was about to hang the dress bag on the door handle. Startled, she dropped the bag and reflexively leaned down to pick it up. The door slid open and she saw bare feet, a long hem, and looked up to see Helena staring down at her. The sleeveless dress revealed shapely brown arms, and her face glowed with health. Her lips were pink and moist.
Despite her make-up, Melanie felt like a drudge.
Helena pulled her to her feet and hugged her tightly. ‘Oh Melanie, I’m so glad it’s you. I didn’t know who it might be.’
‘I just wanted to bring your dress back,’ Melanie offered, pinned in the awkward embrace.
‘I told you to keep it.’ Helena released her. ‘But come in, please. You must stay for a drink.’
Melanie kicked off her sandals, wiped the sand from her feet on the threadbare welcome mat, and followed Helena inside. A single candle lit the room, emphasising the darkness with all the curtains drawn.
‘Sit, please,’ Helena said, throwing the bag towards the sofa. It hit the arm and landed hitting the floor, spilling a patch of dull colour.
Melanie stayed standing as Helena went behind the kitchen counter.
‘Tea? Or perhaps … something stronger?’
‘Sure, yes, thanks. Tea. Tea is fine. Are you feeling better?’
‘Much, much better for your company.’ She put the kettle on to boil, then lit a cone of incense in a nearby saucer. The floral scent jarred against the darker aroma of sickly leaf mould choking the room. Melanie wished she could open a window and let some air and light through.
Helena spooned tea into a pot. ‘You must think me rude for leaving you so quickly last night. I apologise.’
‘Not at all. We’ve all felt sick before, I know how it is.’ Unable even to consider going out, let alone handling all the questions and platitudes. And that worst question of all: when do you think you’ll start trying again?
Maybe she should leave.
‘I’m happy you visited,’ Helena said. ‘I thought perhaps I might have upset you with my dress.’
‘What? Don’t be silly. You looked stunning.’
‘I’m glad. It’s a treat for me to be able to wear something nice, that makes me look like a woman.’
‘Well, you succeeded last night. I’m sure the island will be talking about that outfit for weeks.’ She hoped she didn’t sound too bitter.
‘Good. I don’t want to upset you—you are my only friend. I want you to like me.’
The kettle whistled and Helena took it off the stove. She filled the teapot, put it on a tray with two cups and carried it over to the coffee table. ‘We are out of milk, I’m sorry; I should’ve asked Paul to get some more while he was shopping.’
Melanie followed, taking a seat opposite Helena. She felt uneasy, as if she was back on the barge as it hit the swell of the open passage. Her memory of their kiss clouded her mind, sending her pulse racing, electrifying her skin. Helena poured and Melanie took her cup, determined to drink it quickly and make up an excuse to leave. She needed fresh air. She needed space. Helena was fascinating, but unnerving, and she didn’t want to drag this out any longer than she had to. Why had she come? To return the dress. It had seemed like an important thing to do. Now it lay on the floor at her feet
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