Chapter 2

It took a while, months in fact, and it wasn't always easy, but Alan and I eventually drifted back into a friendship that was almost the same as the one we'd had before. As the awkwardness between us wore off, Alan became more like his old self again, tactile and generous and boyishly funny.

At first Scott kept an eye on us- every now and again I'd catch him watching either me or Alan, like some authority figure who would step in if he had to. But It was not in Scott's nature to bear a grudge. I suppose he was just doing his big brother bit, looking out for his family the only way he knew how, by being the man of steel.

Gordon started taking me out for regular trips on his fishing boat Misty, or 'Miss T, for Tin-Tin' as he called her. We went scuba diving among the reefs where we marvelled at brightly coloured fish and watched sea turtles pecking at coral. If you are ever in the throes of despair, spend a day with Gordon. He is a treasure. He doesn't take anything seriously unless he has to, and the way he swims in the water is a joy to behold. He is as supple as a seal, as friendly as a dolphin. I swear that boy has gills!

Virgil began inviting me to a few of his jazz nights at Kaminsky's, the nightclub he played at in Sydney. I revelled in the jocular attentions of the other band members while Virgil looked on fondly. When he started playing, he sat me at the side of the podium and watched out for me while I enjoyed the music and drank in the heady atmosphere of the place.

One weekend, to my absolute and complete surprise, Scott whisked me off for a trip to Paris. Everyone teased us about it being a dirty weekend, but I think it was just because he knew how much I enjoyed Virgil's jazz nights and didn't want to be outdone. For two days, all we did was eat lots of fine (and sometimes not-so-fine) cuisine, act like tourists around the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower, and drive like maniacs on the roundabout at the Champs Elysees. We sat on a wall by the River Seine and shared bottles of wine which we drank from plastic cups. We stuffed ourselves with French bread and cheese, and laughed at the most immaterial things. I saw the laid-back, approachable side of Scott that weekend, and I realised that I really quite liked it.

One day, not long after the Paris trip, I went down to the pool for a swim and Scott was there, reading a book. He was wearing dark aviator shades and I couldn't see his eyes, but he looked up and grinned at my approach.

"Good book?" I asked.

"It's okay," he replied. "Plot's a little thin though, and I don't think the elephant's needed."

"Coming for a swim?" I put my towel on a chair and removed my kimono. I stood in front of him in my red bikini.

"Nah. Not in the mood to get wet."

"Suit yourself." I went down the steps and dived under, then I started doing my laps. Whenever I looked up, Scott had his nose in his book. When I'd completed one hundred laps, I got out of the pool and went over to him. I held my wet hair over him and squeezed water onto his head. He dropped his book and launched himself out of his chair and chased after me as I ran away laughing. He caught me by the hand and swung me around, and without pausing he hurled me back into the pool. Water went up my nose, and I surfaced, coughing and spluttering.

"Serves you right," he laughed.

I got out and towelled off, then I spread my towel on a sun lounger and lay down on my stomach. Instantly I felt the heat of the sun on my back.

"Hey, water baby, sunscreen." Scott picked up a bottle from the table next to him and threw it over to me. It landed next to me on the lounger. I don't know what made me do what I did next, because I was perfectly content to lie there in the sun and ignore him.

I held up the bottle and wagged it in the air.

"You'll have to come and put it on for me," I said cheekily.

"I thought you were bendy, all that yoga and stuff that you do." I still couldn't see his eyes, just the reflection of the sun on his shades.

"Bendy, but not double-jointed. Come on, Scott. It won't hurt."

He came over and sat down by my side. He took the bottle of sun cream and squeezed a blob onto his hand. He put his hand between my shoulder blades and began rubbing in small, circular strokes.

"I'll have to be thorough," he said. "After all, we don't want you burning."

I lay there grinning as he rubbed cream all over my shoulders and arms. When he had finished coating my upper torso he moved his hand further down. When his hand reached the small of my back I squirmed and giggled.

"That feels very nice," I murmured. "No wonder you've got a reputation, Scott Tracy."

"Feels pretty good to me too," he replied. "And who says I've got a reputation? Although if I did, I guess this wouldn't be helping it any."

"I suppose we all have to get our kicks from somewhere," I said teasingly.

This made him laugh, and would you believe it, he smacked me sharply on the bottom. "Can't I just do a lady a simple favour?" he chuckled.

This was Scott's fun side, with its devil-may-care tomfoolery. He was nothing if not mercurial, changing like the tides, pulling at you like an undercurrent. It would have been lovely to have spent the rest of the afternoon with him teasing me like that, but then Gordon and Alan came down to the pool and the moment was gone.

After that, I found I was seeking out Scott when I could. For some reason I was growing to enjoy his company, I suppose it was nice to be the focus of his attention seeing as he was that much older than me. He got used to me turning up everywhere, but I never once felt that he minded. If he had, I would have stayed away- because although I liked him I was still in awe of him. He was, after all, Mr. Tracy's eldest son and second-in-command, and you didn't want to get on his wrong side. He was still someone I looked up to and I didn't want to get on his nerves, but I would have done anything just to get him to start noticing me beyond the simple playful flirting that we shared.

One morning I went out with him on his hover bike to run routine checks on Tracy Island's security systems. Well, I invited myself, really. I turned up at the hover bike shed with a bag of cake, fruit and bottled water. It was a very hot day and I was wearing a crop top and cut-off denim shorts. He looked me up and down with his sea-blue eyes and I'm sure he was appraising me, but then he took one look at my sparkly pink flip flops and his brows came together.

"Where the heck do you think you're going in those things?" he said brusquely.

"What's wrong with them?" I pouted.

"They're stupid and inappropriate." He shook his head. "Okay, I take back the 'stupid', I didn't mean that. But they're a safety hazard. You get one of those caught up in something and you'll break your ankle. Go put real shoes on."

Like a chastened five-year old I skulked back to my room and did as I was told.

When I got back to the hover bike shed I half expected him to be gone, but he was there waiting for me, leaning on the bike with his arms folded.

I sat behind him on the bike, secured the bag of snacks, and held onto his waist as we took off. I hugged his outer thighs with my knees as the bike soared high into the air.

"Hold on," he said presently. He pulled my hands further round his stomach. "Hook your feet into the straps."

I did as he said, and when he was certain I wasn't going to fall off he sent the bike into a series of rolls until it felt like we were on the world's most spectacular rollercoaster. I screamed like a child with excitement, and when it was over I kept my arms tightly locked around him and rested my head on his back as we went on our way .