Willow cupped her gloved hands and blew on them to keep warm as she waited for her breakfast. It wasn’t even winter yet but Melbourne was already experiencing what felt like arctic temperatures. It had been the wettest summer on record and now it was the coldest start to autumn the city had ever seen. Of course, Willow was no climate change specialist, but surely that meant something? She peered in through the small window of her favourite hole-in-the-wall café, looking expectantly for her coffee.
It was the end of another long week and Willow was excited about the prospect of a relaxing weekend of doing not much at all: cooking, eating and curling up on the sofa with a good book. Bliss! Her job as a music teacher at an exclusive private school in Melbourne’s inner south was rewarding, but did take a lot out of her. The last couple of weeks had been particularly difficult as she started to prepare the final year students for their exams. It was only May, but before they knew it the end of the school year would be upon them. She had learned the hard way that the more she pushed them now the fewer irritated teenagers and nagging parents she’d have to deal with later. This was, of course, on top of the ‘Carlo Incident’, as it was now referred to, and the weird fight that Mia and Johnny seemed to be having that neither of them would admit to, but was affecting everyone.
Yep, she definitely needed a low-key weekend.
Willow rubbed her hands together again and stamped her feet, dreaming of the steaming hot caffè latte that would soon be coming her way. The café owner waved to her as he hauled a crate of milk to the side entrance, his breath forming thick clouds in the bitter morning air.
“Cold enough for you?” He called out, grinning.
Willow laughed and nodded. She came here every morning before work to grab a quick breakfast that she ate on her walk to school. The tiny café produced sensational coffee and it was not unusual to see a queue, sometimes fifteen people deep, waiting anxiously for their caffeine fix. They also served wonderful food, which was a lovely blend of Japanese and Australian culinary traditions, the owner having lived in Japan for many years when he was younger. This morning, Willow had succumbed to the delicious-looking okonomiyaki to accompany her usual, strong caffè latte. Her mouth watered as she watched the sweet miso and mayonnaise being drizzled over the savoury pancake.
***
She walked briskly towards the school, nibbling on the corner of her breakfast, conscious that she had a meeting in a few minutes with the principal. She was about to cross the small side street behind the secondary school when a dark green Aston Martin screamed around the corner, nearly hitting her. She fell backwards onto the nature strip as the car’s horn blared and tyres screeched. Shaking from the near-miss, she staggered to her feet and noticed the car reversing. It drew level with her and the window silently opened a couple of inches.
“You’re OK?” a voice enquired. Whoever it was, they didn’t sound particularly concerned.
“You should watch where you’re going,” Willow said irritably. She could feel a bruise forming on her elbow as she tenderly rubbed her arm.
“Well, you should learn to look both ways before you cross the road,” the driver responded, his voice retaining the same casual nonchalance.
Fuming, Willow peered inside, but couldn’t see the driver’s face. “You shouldn’t be driving like a maniac. There is a school around here. What if you hit one of the kids?”
This silenced him momentarily. “Point taken. I’ll drive more carefully and you can head over to that school and perhaps get some lessons in how to cross the road. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late.”
Before she could reply, he had screeched off again. Willow shook her head in frustration.
It really just confirms what I already know, she thought to herself. All men are complete and utter idiots!
She surveyed the carnage around her. Coffee was dripping down the front of her coat and the okonomiyaki – that she had been so looking forward to finishing – had sailed gracefully though the air, landing face-down on the footpath. Her bag had upended and sheet music was fluttering gently along the street. Brushing the grass off her tailored trousers, Willow glanced at her watch.
“Shit!”
She was already late. She scooped up her bag and started chasing runaway papers down the road.
* * *
Willow burst into the principal’s office, still trying to rub the coffee stain off the front of her winter coat. “Gail, I’m so sorry that I’m late but…” She stopped mid-sentence when she saw they had company.
“Willow. This is Mr Fortescue.”
Willow took in the gentleman before her. He was tall, well-dressed and certainly not unattractive. Not her type, of course. He had a sharp, arrogant look about him. Even though she’d never met him before, the name was well known to her. Around the school, some spoke of him with hallowed reverence because he’d donated a lot of money for various buildings over the years. Most recently his philanthropy extended to the new music conservatory. Other teachers had told Willow to be wary of him. Apparently he was over-protective of his son, Samuel, and liked to contribute more than his two cents’ worth when it came to his offspring’s education.
Mr Fortescue held out his hand, a bemused expression on his face. “Call me Robert.”
Willow started. She’d recognise that voice anywhere.
Green Aston Martin!
“Mr Fortescue would like to speak to you about his son’s performance last term,” said Gail warily, fully aware that keeping the peace between these two might not be the easiest task.
Robert Fortescue cleared his throat. “Samuel didn’t do particularly well in your subject.”
Willow regarded him cautiously. Samuel was a good kid but, unfortunately, tone deaf and far more interested in science and maths than music.
“Sam doesn’t seem to be particularly keen…”
He interrupted her. “He’ll be taking music as an elective next year and I’m expecting him to do a lot better.”
Here we go, thought Willow, puffing her chest out angrily. The bullying begins.
Gail, who had got far in life with her ability to nip tension in the bud before it erupted, stepped between the pair. “Perhaps, Robert, if that is the case then you might consider a tutor for Samuel. I have some excellent recommendations.”
Robert held up his hand, a twinkle in his eye. “That won’t be necessary, Gail. I’m sure that Willow would be happy to tutor him a few afternoons a week. For an additional fee, of course.”
First, he’d ruined her breakfast and now he was demanding she give up her spare time for his son? Willow exploded. “I absolutely would not be happy to do that, you arrogant bastard!”
There was a tense silence in the room. Willow cursed herself inwardly, not so much for the yelling but for potentially causing Gail any trouble. She suspected that no one ever spoke that way to Robert Fortescue.
You couldn’t just have said ‘no thank-you’? she chided herself silently.
Suddenly, he laughed. “I certainly didn’t expect to elicit that response! Gail, you’ve got a fiery one here.” He glanced at his limited edition Breitling wristwatch. “I have to go. I won’t forget this though, Willow.”
He shook hands with Gail and let his gaze fall on Willow momentarily, savouring her like one would a fine work of art, before letting himself out of the room.
Willow turned to face Gail, apologetic. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that. But you can’t expect me to…”
Gail shook her head. “I know, Willow, I know. But his wife was a musician before she died. I suspect he wants to keep that alive through Sam.” She sighed. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him and sort it out.”
* * *
Willow carefully checked the road for oncoming Aston Martins before crossing. She noticed a miso-coloured stain on the pavement where her breakfast had come to its unfortunate end. She had been annoyed – and hungry – all day thinking about her interaction with Robert Fortescue. Just the mention of his name made her blood boil!
“Willow.”
She turned and was horrified to see the green Aston Martin again. It stopped and Robert got out. She was once again astonished by his commanding presence. She stood up straight and put her hands in her pockets so he wouldn’t see them shaking.
“Mr Fortescue…”
“Call me Robert.” He smiled, engagingly.
She glared at him. “Mr Fortescue. If you would like to make an appointment to discuss this further, then please do so through the school. Although, I can tell you now there is no way that…”
He interrupted her. “Have dinner with me.”
Willow was startled – certainly not what she had expected him to say. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to get words of protest out, but none came. She looked like a goldfish gasping for air.
“I’m heading out of town for a while. When I get back, I’ll call you.”
Before she could even respond he was back in his car and had driven off. Willow clenched her fists inside her jacket. What unbelievable… arrogance! Muttering aloud in the direction of the retreating vehicle she said, “I can promise you this, Robert Fortescue. I will never, ever go on a date with you.”