Chapter 11

Jake collected Mary and Sharmila from the hospital about two in the afternoon. Mary brought her down in a wheelchair and they both assisted her into the back seat of the car. She clearly had great difficulty walking and Jake locked his arm around her for support. She asked to stop off at her apartment first to collect a few things.

The stairs to the flash new apartment block were too much for Sharmila, so Mary and Jake volunteered to go on up and get the things she requested. While Mary packed a bag of clothes and underwear for her, Jake gathered up her files and packed them into a briefcase. He didn't find the gun in her drawers and assumed she must have hidden it out of the way.

Jake manhandled two large suitcases down the stairs and thanked his lucky stars it was only a week she'd be staying. He went back up for the hangers of her business clothes and met Mary, on the stairs, shaking her head in wonder.

"Shit, babe," she said, "it's like an expensive, department store showroom up there. The TV's even got its sticker still plastered to the screen. I don't think it's ever been turned on."

"Told you! There's a shit load of money up there. I wonder where it all came from?"

"Maybe she's got a sugar daddy we don't know about?" she grinned, "besides you?"

"I'm not... " Jake started to say before noticing Mary's playful grin. "Stop winding me up!" he told her, as he continued up the stairs.

"Hey!" she called, "y'know, you've got a nice bum from down here?" He turned and smiled, before going back into the apartment.

Sharmila sat in the back with her eyes gently closed as they drove out to the cottage. Jake had to practically carry her inside, as he did that night when he found her lying on the lawn. She smiled a thank you as he sat her on the sofa. She seemed in pain and Mary went to fetch some paracetamol. She came and sat beside her, hovered as she swallowed the tablets, and stroked her face. Sharmila had a contented look on her face and smiled sweetly at them both.

Jake hauled her things into the back room. Mary used to keep it for storage and he'd spent half the day clearing out old planters, boxes of old kitchen things, broken items of furniture and stuff Mary hadn't got around to throwing out. He'd scrubbed and dusted and assembled an old bed that was kept as a spare. He'd found an old hand-stitched quilt and some clean sheets and made it really nice for her. Mary told him he'd make someone a nice wife someday and he'd told her to 'get stuffed.' He had a twinkle in his eye and Sharmila caught them smiling at each other, like sharing some personal joke.

Women notice things that pass men by. Sharmila saw the gleam from Mary's finger in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. She understood immediately its significance but was too preoccupied with her own suffering to mention it. She watched them from the sofa as they busied themselves with her comfort and took in every look, every gentle touch and whispered endearment. Their love created a warm glow in the room and she couldn't help but be affected by it.

"Let me see?" Sharmila said, taking Mary's hand. She had a keen eye for value and knew she was looking at a very expensive item of jewelry. "It's beautiful!" she gushed. "The setting... it's wonderful!"

"Jake was an idiot..." she started to say, but Sharmila stopped her.

"No, no!" she protested, "it's the right thing, it suits you beautifully. You must wear it forever and never take it off."

"I'm too scared of losing it," Mary told her, "he shouldn't have spent that amount of money."

"But he loves you. You must allow him to demonstrate his love for you. It is perfect, Jake," she called, "you knew exactly what to buy her!"

"Yeah?" he replied, "I just went 'eenie meenie minie mo' over the display case."

"Ah, but you knew instinctively what the right ring was. Your spirit was guiding you, your love was telling you what the right thing to do was."

"It did? I was? Shoot!" he grinned and looked at Mary, who smiled back.

"Can I ask you when is the day?" Sharmila asked, "have you set a date?"

"I think towards the end of the year," Mary said, "then Jake and I are going off on holiday overseas."

"Wonderful. You will have such a happy time together. You must send me an invitation to the wedding."

"Of course," Mary said. Jake shot her a strange look but she chose to ignore it.

Sharmila was delighted with the room. Jake warned her that, mornings, the sunlight streamed in and it could get hot and stuffy. She told him she didn't mind and she enjoyed the sun. She told him he didn't know what heat was. The sash windows had lost their counterbalance weights but Jake propped them open with short pieces of timber. The cool breeze was refreshing and Sharmila said she'd like to lay down on her bed for a while. He later brought in some sandwichs and juice and left it beside her as she dozed.

The next morning Jake rose early and prepared breakfast for the two women. Mary was anxious to get back to work and Jake offered to drive her. When he returned, Sharmila was awake, her computer on her lap. She was studying so intently, Jake decided to excuse himself.

It was just before lunch time when she was ready to receive him. He asked her what she would like. She yawned, smiled sweetly, and asked him what he was offering. She settled on some chicken salad and he brought it in, with their daily paper.

"You are a good man, Jake," she said, before devouring the paper.

Mary had helped her change into another nightdress and sponged her down. She now wore the pale blue satin number, and looked scarcely less delectable. She needed escorting to the toilet, and Jake gladly lent his shoulder. She walked slowly and gingerly, wincing now and again, and Jake placed a steadying hand on the small of her back. The smooth feel of the satin and his hand in close proximity to her sexy arse was a strain for Jake. He managed, manfully, he thought, and didn't betray his discomfort.

Jake went out after lunch to purchase a fax/printer on her account and soon Sharmila had the back room set up as a small office. He, himself, found himself running messages for her and later that afternoon, he went to view a property at her request.

When he returned she listened carefully to what he described and asked specific questions. She showed him plans for a possible future development sketched, apparently, by some surveying firm she'd persuaded to come on board. He was in no doubt that she wouldn't spend any money if she could avoid it.

"You see?" she told him, "you must keep your bottom line as low as possible. Government and city compliance costs come right out of your profit..."

"Sure, but you can't avoid that, can you?"

"Perhaps there are other ways? We must comply with the law, but it's complex and there are many ways around it."

"You're not suggesting anything illegal?"

"Of course not," she laughed, "that's foolish. It will cost you hundreds of thousands in fines and your reputation will be destroyed. No-one will work with you for fear of being burned."

It was all a little beyond Jake and he struggled to keep up.

She was high maintenance. Sharmila was apt to skip meals unless Jake placed a tray in front of her and watched her eat. He fetched her medication at the appropriate times and dosed her with painkillers when she complained of being sore. She seemed not to notice her personal discomfort in her singleminded desire to succeed with her business.

He imagined this vast army of gofers out in the city doing all the leg work required. Her cellphone was always pressed to her ear issuing instructions or consulting some expert. He could see clearly how she worked and began to believe how easy it would be for her to burn herself out and act irrationally. Perhaps Mary was right and fatigue had unhinged her?

She may well have been coming to see them about some deal and had lost track of the hour. It was easy to believe time losing relevance for her at the pace she was running.

At the same time, the human body could only take so much and Jake was concerned. Even injured, she flogged herself harder than Jake could envisage.

"Sharmila?" he said, as he brought in some food for her, "don't you think you ought to slow down?"

"I'm all right," she insisted. Conversation was difficult as her cellphone was always going off.

"You're taking too much on. You're all banged up and need to rest."

But she insisted she was fine and thanked him for his concern.

Sharmila was pleased with the way everything was going. She'd already bought three properties and was negotiating for a couple more. She'd chosen to use proxies, as the same person buying up properties would alert the market. Inevitably, prices would go up as other speculators sniffed around for the action. She had a basic stock target calculated, based on the expected capital gain, and she'd just about reached that. Development, finance and regulatory compliance costs would hose up profit below that. Anything above was pure cash in the bank.

She liked the room Jake had prepared for her. It smelled faintly of lemon cleanser, and paint where he'd touched up a few patches. The patchwork quilt was kinda charming, she thought, with reds and golds. The sun beamed in mornings and she had views of the backyard and out over the fields to the distant ranges. She couldn't wish for a better aspect, with Jake's flowerbeds and the fern shrouded spa pool.

When she gets better she thought she'd like to try out the spa. Perhaps one moonlit night when the wind was still and the only sound was the distant owls? She would need to have her stitches out, she knew, to ensure there was no infection.

Jake had brought her car down from the layby and parked it on the front lawn. He told her there were 'far more doodahs than I could cope with.' Sharmila didn't really understand what he was getting at but it sounded funny and she laughed.

Mary was jealous of her, she thought, because she worried that Jake likes her more. Sharmila didn't think that was very fair because he obviously adores her. But Jake is a kind and decent man: a man that will make Mary a good husband. Mary cannot expect him to reserve his kindness just for her. Sharmila thought Jake was too easily dominated by women and she needed to give him some space to be himself.

Jake helps her to the toilet. She enjoys the feel of his body close to her's. He puts his hand on the small of her back for support and she can feel it long after it's gone. She senses that Jake doesn't want to let her go and his fingers trail wistfully across her back when they reach the door.

The first night of her stay, Sharmila lay awake on her bed listening to the sounds in the house. Mary's cottage was old and not particularly soundproof. The country night is dead quiet except for the distant lowing of cows. Sharmila's room was right next door to Mary and Jake's bedroom and she could hear quite clearly. Their bed had a squeaking spring and the floorboards a creak. Sharmila could hear them moving around next door and their voices carried, even though they were keeping them low to not disturb her. She could hear every sigh, every whisper and every movement on the bed.

They didn't make love that first night but she didn't expect that situation to continue. She doubted they could keep their hands to themselves, and who could blame them? When you're in love you want to enjoy the feel of each others bodies and make passionate love together.

Sure enough, the very next night was Friday and their lust couldn't be contained anymore. Sharmila heard them talking in murmers for a long time and the squeak from the bed as they moved around. Then she heard them turn on a radio softly, as if that'd mask the sounds of them fucking together. But you only need to listen carefully to pick out the different noises. The ear is a wonderful instrument and the brain can analyse a mixture of sound quite easily into different sources. It is well nigh impossible to drown out the sound of lovemaking unless with volume, and, clearly, they're hardly likely to turn the radio up that loud for fear of waking her.

She knew when they were kissing together, their whispering would stop, then resume. She could hear them rolling around by the squeak of the spring. The creak told her when they were moving rhythmically and the tapping of the bedhead against the wall was a sure sign of vigourous fucking.

Mary tried to keep quiet, but she was one well-used to making a lot of noise. She'd once attended university and lived in student flats with lots of others. Under those circumstances, it was easy to lose one's embarrassment.