The Reluctant Wag

Chapter 11


Cal played an uncharacteristically bad game the following Friday evening, and early on Saturday morning he decided that he needed to go home, to get away from everything, at least overnight. By lunchtime he was sitting with his father on the broad verandah of Manna Views, the family homestead in Echuca, on the Murray River. He was looking out over the broad brown waters of the Murray, soaking up the isolation and the silence broken only by the occasional raucous laugh of the kookaburras perched in trees on the opposite bank. He loved it here and stayed overnight whenever he could during the season. It gave him a welcome break from Melbourne, where, even without the recent trouble, there were always eyes on him, always people talking about him, analysing his footy; and they always expected more.

Once the true story about the Windrush Hotel scandal emerged, interest had quickly waned. He was relieved that by the end of the week something else had grabbed public attention. But for him the damage had been done, and it was irreversible.

As if he could read his son’s thoughts, Dan McCoy asked, ‘What about that lovely girl who was in all the ads with you? What was her name? Merise? Do you ever see her these days?’

‘No.’ Dan noted Cal’s abrupt response and the sudden tension in his son’s face. The older man kept silent for a moment then said gently, ‘You liked her, didn’t you?’

Cal turned to study his father’s face. He hated to see him looking so frail, but his spirit was still strong, and his mind as sharp as ever. He’d seen right through Cal, who’d never even mentioned Merise at home. Cal couldn’t lie to his father.

‘Yeah, I liked her – a lot. I wanted to get to know her better, after September. It’s just . . . well, she was too ready to think the worst of me after the whole Windrush fiasco.’

‘Was she?’ His father sounded surprised. ‘She is very young.’

‘Old enough to judge me pretty harshly.’

‘Yeah, but maybe she made a mistake because she doesn’t really know you.’

‘She’ll never know me any better now,’ Cal said bitterly.

Dan laid a frail hand on his son’s broad back. ‘Listen, son, go easy on the girl. Sometimes I think if you have a fault, it’s that you expect too much from everybody. You’ve always driven your teammates hard.’

‘If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be top of the ladder now.’

‘Fair enough, and I know you drive yourself even harder. But not everyone’s like you. You can’t treat everyone the same. I mean, sport is aggressive. It’s a substitute for war. Playing footy’s a bit like going into battle. But you can’t lead your whole life like that. You can’t always be ruthless. Sometimes you have to compromise, and sometimes you have to make allowances. Especially with women. They’re a bit different from us – a bit more sensitive and complicated.’

‘I’ll say, but she’s no delicate flower. She’s pretty tough-minded, believe me.’

Dan smiled. ‘I’d say she would be. Women are tough as all-get-out, but you still have to treat them with tenderness. This girl isn’t a player, Cal. Don’t delist her because of a misunderstanding.’

‘It’s not just one misunderstanding, we’ve been squabbling since the day we met.’

‘Have you now?’ Dan laughed at the idea. ‘I don’t know, son, but it sounds to me like a match made in heaven. Have you told her the way you feel about her?’

Cal was silent for a moment. ‘No.’ He was only starting to realise himself how much he felt for her.

‘Why not? What are you waiting for?’

‘No point starting something I can’t finish at the moment.’

Dan looked baffled. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I can’t get involved, not seriously, while we’re going for a flag. I’ve got to focus on the footy.’

Dan leant out of his chair and looked askance at his son. ‘Are you serious? Are you telling me you can’t tell this girl you’re mad about her until you win a premiership?’ And he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

‘What?’ asked Cal, bewildered.

‘That’s just about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say, son! Look, love doesn’t wait on sporting glory. Go after the girl like you go after the ball – with a bit of heart and passion – and the footy will take care of itself.’

As Cal travelled back to the pressure cooker of Melbourne’s footy world, he had one consolation – his father had had a good life. He’d had a happy marriage, a loving family, and he’d fulfilled his greatest ambition on the footy field. Cal wondered if he’d ever get half so lucky.

It tore him up that Merise thought so little of him, when he thought the world of her. She was one of the few people whose opinion mattered a damn to him, and she’d judged him without even giving him a chance to explain. As he joined the Hume Freeway and put his car in fifth gear, he told himself it was her loss, if that was the way she felt. But as the kilometres passed in an empty silence, he knew that the real loss was his, and he wondered bleakly if he’d ever get over it.



Merise spent the next month with her head buried in her books by day and in her pillow at night, crying. But she spoke to no one about her feelings, not even Erica. The hurt was still too tender to share, and the fact that the loss of Cal’s regard was all her own fault hurt more than anything. She’d pushed him away just when he’d tried to approach her. She’d thought of contacting him, just to let him know that she was sorry that she hadn’t listened to him – hadn’t had faith in him. But what would be the point? He might have been annoyed with her at the time, but really it would be no big deal to him. Better to just leave things as they were.

Maybe someday she’d get over him, maybe she’d find somebody else, but she didn’t believe it. All the other men she knew seemed so boyish, so immature compared with Cal. People did recover from a broken heart. But she knew with absolute certainty that if she lived to be a hundred, there would never be anyone else like him, not for her. And she’d just have to get through the rest of her life knowing that.

She’d been relieved to have finished with the modelling business and to return to her normal, quiet life. Then one particularly desolate Monday afternoon she had a call from Bev, who got straight to the point.

‘Hey, I hate to bother you when I know you’re not interested, but I have a job for this Thursday and the model just pulled out. She’s come down with flu. It’s really bad timing because so many of my girls are over in Perth on a major shoot for Southern Cross Mode, so I was just wondering if you could possibly help me out, just this once.’

Merise hesitated. She was about to refuse, but she liked Bev and was grateful to her for the way she’d given her a chance and supported her when she had no experience, and the money had been great. But more than anything, this would be something to keep her busy, to stop her from brooding. She was tempted.

‘And I must tell you, Merise, they’ll be paying very, very well.’ She named an amount that had Merise breathing, ‘Wow!’

‘That’s what I said. It’s a big event for a mining company – Ladco – opals and tin, I think. All you’d have to do is be there and look glam. They want plenty of pretty faces to guarantee lots of pics in the papers and magazines. There will be absolutely no expense spared. And you’d only need to be there for two or three hours.’

All that money for one evening’s work, Merise thought. She could do with it. She’d put half of the money she’d earned from modelling into an account to fund her studies and given the rest to her parents to help pay off the debt on the farm. They’d been thrilled and the financial relief had eased much of the stress on the hardworking couple, but there was still more to pay. Merise had enough for her own needs, so anything extra could go straight to her parents.

She quickly made up her mind. ‘Yes, I’ll do it, Bev. What do I need to know?’

Bev gave her the details, then paused and added, ‘By the way, Merise, I think it’s only fair to tell you that Ladco is one of Yarraside’s sponsors, so Cal McCoy will be there.’

Even over the phone, Merise felt her face fire up, ‘Will he? Ah, that’s . . . not an issue . . . I mean, so what?’

There was another pause at the other end of the line. ‘Oh, it’s just . . . I thought that at one stage maybe there was something between you two.’

‘No, nothing,’ Merise snapped – too quickly, she realised once the words were out.

‘Okay, fine then. We’re all set. Lucy will call you about your outfit and I’ll see you there?’

‘Yes, I’ll look forward to it,’ she lied brightly, then added, ‘One thing, Bev – can I choose my own dress?’

‘Sure, if you like. We can easily arrange that. There’s not a designer in the country who wouldn’t kill to dress you. What did you have in mind?’

Merise had something absolutely knockout in mind. If Cal was going to be there, she was going to pull out every possible stop. She was going to do everything to make him remember exactly why he’d wanted to kiss her so badly that night. She was determined to look irresistible, to see if rekindled desire could possibly melt his flinty heart.

Erica went with her to choose the dress. Merise had arranged to visit her three favourite designers that day, starting with the elegant Collins Street salon of Demolita Designs. The dramatic red-and-black interior was the perfect backdrop for displaying the powerful Gothic-inspired gowns that shimmered in the glass cases that edged the reception area.

‘Gosh,’ Erica whispered as a silent, wan-looking girl led them to the inner sanctum. ‘You pick any of these and you’d be a winner.’

Merise tried on half a dozen dresses, but felt that none was quite right.

‘Bu, Merise, you looked fabulous in all of them,’ Erica protested as they raced down the street just in time to make their second appointment.

‘They were nice – fabulous in fact – but I have something else in mind.’

‘What exactly?’

‘I don’t know. But I’ll know when I see it.’

She didn’t see it at Carelle’s Boutique at Southbank, despite Carelle personally selecting dresses for her to try. By then it was time for lunch. It was a very quick lunch.

‘I can’t eat much or I won’t fit into the dresses,’ Merise explained as Erica selected a chocolate mousse for dessert. Just half an hour later, the girls hopped on a tram to South Yarra and descended outside the home of the ultraexclusive Toujours label.

And here, at last, Merise found what she was after. She’d tried on a half a dozen dresses before designer Luc Manet threw up his hands in frustration and said, ‘Okay, okay! There’s nothing else for it. I’m going to have to let you see it.’

‘It?’ Merise and Erica chorused.

‘It. The loveliest gown I have ever created, which I’d destined to be the centrepiece of my spring collection, and which no one – no one but me and my seamstress – has seen yet. But I’m getting this feeling that it’s destined for you, Merise. Sort of written in the stars.’

Merise could feel something tingle. Could this be the one – the divine dress she needed for the devilish purpose she had in mind? The second she saw it, she knew that it was.

Erica gasped aloud when Luc and his assistant gently eased off the layers of tissue paper and unwrapped the soft cotton cover to reveal the gown. Merise just stood silently in front of it. She’d recognised it at once. It was subtle and stunning and sensuous all at the same time; it was utterly beautiful and it was hers. Luc didn’t need to be persuaded about that; he saw at once that she must wear this dress.

‘I didn’t know it at the time,’ he said, ‘but I created it for you, Merise. You will wear it like an empress.’ Yes, she silently agreed, that was exactly what she meant to do.

Thursday arrived and Merise felt an upsurge of nerves as she prepared breakfast. But underneath the heart-fluttering was a steely resolve to do what she what she intended that evening. She knew she’d have to weave a spell. It wasn’t an ego thing. She was doing this for Cal. She knew she wasn’t beautiful enough to capture his heart again and to hold him in thrall – no one was; but she also knew that beauty was a useful illusion, and one that she could create. If only she could somehow project an image of female loveliness, then a man’s imagination could be depended upon to do the rest.

She arrived at seven o’clock on the dot. She paused at the entrance to the great, glittering room and composed herself. She wasn’t going to walk across that floor, she was going to float with consummate grace, and every eye was going to be on her. She was going to glow with a soft yet dazzling radiance that came partly from the glorious gown, partly from the make-up and partly from her own heart reaching out to him. She was going to pass underneath the rows of chandeliers, and will their light to reflect incandescently off her smiling face.

She stepped into the room and it felt like stepping off a cliff. She was suddenly aware of the music playing –’Meditation’ from Thaïs – an impossibly romantic air that was gradually building to a heart-tearing crescendo. She could feel her breath rise with the sweet notes, could sense the soft silk of the gown mould more closely to her womanly form. And as she moved she could feel her feminine power rising within her – that power to arrest the attention, to charm and delight the eye of the male of the species. She was thinking of that poem he’d recited, but she was going to use those words against him now – Today I put on a terrible strength, and tonight her strength would be manifest as beauty.

It was working. She could feel the eyes on her, the heat from the intense glances that turned to hungry stares and tracked her across the ballroom. From the corner of her eye she could see heads turn, mouths drop open, just a little. She could almost hear the little gasps caught in the throat, and she didn’t care about any of it. There was only one man whose breath she wanted to trap in his chest, and she sensed – she knew – that his eyes were on her.

Cal had been there for less than half an hour, and was chatting with a group of Ladco executives when he noticed a stir pass through the room. He looked up, saw her, and his heart turned over. She was gliding down the room in a long gown that floated out on all sides, shimmering like a water nymph in blues and greens and aquas. A bolt of desire shot through him. He’d never wanted any woman the way he wanted her at that moment.

He’d heard she might be here tonight and he’d resolved not to be fazed by her presence. He’d meant to give her no more than a polite nod. She’d hurt him so much he still couldn’t think about it without the bile rising. But the minute he saw her, all the bitterness melted away and he only saw her face – a face he could look at forever.

He moved distractedly from conversation to conversation, and all the time he was supremely aware of her. Finally he could no longer help his eyes tracking her around the room as she was approached by one person after another, all drawn to her like moths to a red-hot flame. He couldn’t follow what was being said to him. He couldn’t even pretend to listen any more.

He finally excused himself. ‘Sorry, I’ve just seen someone I must speak to.’

She felt him before she had the courage to glance up and meet his eyes. She saw an expression on his face that made her heart beat harder. He was coming towards her – she could feel his presence looming. How would he greet her after all this time, after all that had happened? Their eyes met and instantly the powerful pull between them was there again.

The next second he was at her side. He looked down at her, a constrained smile on his handsome face. Oh! It struck her that she’d never fully realised how handsome he was until this moment. He’d never looked more gorgeous. He was wearing a white tuxedo and black tie, but he was towering over her, his hands in his pockets as usual, despite the glamour and formality of the occasion. And it wasn’t just that he was handsome – there was something in his face that made her want to keep looking at it – an appeal that spoke of strength, warmth and kindness as well as something intense and darkly exciting. He was the most attractive man she’d ever seen, or ever would see, and she’d never get over him. No one else would ever do. She knew that, even as she stood looking coolly up at him, and all the time it felt as if her heart was swelling in her chest.

‘Hello, Merise.’ His voice was unusually low, almost hoarse. ‘How have you been?’

‘Fine. You?’ She heard the catch in her own throat, prayed he wouldn’t notice.

‘Good.’ He was looking grave now.

‘I heard your father wasn’t very well.’ She said it gently, but his face closed down at once.

‘Yeah, he’s not real good,’ he said.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘He must be so proud of you.’

He shrugged. ‘Yeah, I suppose.’

She felt that she’d been holding her breath forever. She had to do something to break the tension. She forced a broad smile, trying to appear jolly, to keep her voice steady. ‘I see the Wolves are going really well – still unbeaten. Even you’ve got to be happy with that.’

The smile barely creased his face. ‘Yeah, the footy’s going well – I wasn’t sure you’d be here tonight. I thought you were done with the modelling business.’

‘Yes I am but Bev was stuck. One of the girls got sick at the last minute and she asked me to help her out. She’s been so good to me.’

He nodded. He obviously wasn’t going to help her out of this awkward moment. Was he still angry at her? Probably, and she couldn’t bear his unspoken hostility. There was no point prolonging the agony.

‘Well, I’m starving,’ she chirped, ‘must go grab some nibbles before they’re all gone. Great to see you. Bye!’ And she was halfway across the room before he could reply.

Later, Merise sat silent in the taxi as it drove her home through the empty night streets. She felt shattered. There was no doubt about it, he was lost to her forever and she’d finally, fully realised what she’d lost.

How had it come to this? There had been such a spark between them, and a few occasions when they’d got on really well and felt comfortable with each other. But there had also been too much tension, too many misunderstandings for it ever to work well between them; and now he’d spoiled her for any other man. She could never look at anyone else without comparing him to Cal, and no one could ever match him, not in her eyes, not in her heart. Yet she’d have to live without him, because she couldn’t force him to feel about her the way she felt about him.