Nathan laughed. ‘Try thirty or forty. She’ll respect your expertise more.’
They alighted from the car. Bonnie was fast asleep. Nathan took the carrycot. Sasha collected the baby’s bag. They started up a massive concrete staircase that curved up to the lower-level veranda.
Nathan caught Sasha’s hand. ‘For courage,’ he said, his smile a promise of support.
‘Is she so formidable?’ Sasha asked, inwardly marvelling over how good an act of friendliness could feel. Friendship was more important than passion.
‘Depends on her mood. But, yes, she can be difficult.’
Sasha hoped Hester Wingate was disposed to like her. She wanted this job. It could mean a lot to her.
They reached the veranda. A huge variety of exotic plants in exotic pots suggested the owner was a collector of the unusual. Nathan led Sasha to a white aluminium dining setting which was positioned to catch the breeze off the water and a steady stream of sunshine. He placed Bonnie’s cot on the table.
‘I’ll give Hester a call.’
He was very familiar with this house, Sasha thought, watching him slide open a set of glass doors and stroll into a vast living-room. It made her wonder once more if the job with Hester Wingate was a genuine one, or a contrivance agreed upon between Nathan Parnell and an old and trusted friend who could afford any indulgence.
Sasha dropped the holdall on one of the chairs and waited. She took several deep breaths to calm herself. Voices alerted her to their approach. The image Sasha had conjured up in her mind of Hester Wingate was blasted to pieces by a completely different reality.
She was little. She was old. She used a walking stick. But that was definitely the only concession to her ninety-two years, and even the walking stick was an elegant ivory and silver fashion statement.
Her hair was like a finely spun candy-floss confection in a silvery mauve colour. She wore a flowing caftan that shimmered with pinks and blues and aqua. Her eyes were a fascinating light blue, twinkling with lively interest, radiating energy. She stopped in the doorway between the living-room and the veranda and gave Sasha a thorough once-over that might have been rude from anyone else, but quite clearly Hester Wingate assumed it her right to examine guests as she pleased.
‘I see,’ she said, nodding vigorously. ‘So this is the girl who is creating all the fuss.’
Sasha felt she had been catalogued under the wrong identification. She looked to Nathan for guidance.
‘Under the will of...’ Nathan began blandly.
‘Don’t pay any attention to him,’ Hester commanded. ‘Young women are meant to create a fuss. To leave a trail of devastated men in their wake. It’s the only thing young women can do effectively.’
But it wasn’t true. Not in this case. Unless Nathan had made a fuss about giving her the job.
‘Are you clever?’ Hester fired the question point-blank.
Sasha was at a loss as to how to answer. Fortunately Hester Wingate didn’t require a reply. She appeared to be adept at holding conversations where only she spoke.
‘It’s a matter of bloodlines,’ she said, and stepped over to the table to examine Bonnie. ‘Never buy a horse without examining its bloodlines.’ She shot a piercing look at Sasha. ‘Do you understand that?’
‘I have no intention of either buying or selling a horse,’ Sasha said weakly. ‘I’ve come about a job.’
‘Now there’s a child anyone might be proud of,’ Hester declared, giving Bonnie her nod of approval before turning the full blast of her attention back to Sasha. ‘Is she healthy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you healthy?’
‘Yes, I’m healthy, too.’
Her eyes skated down Sasha’s body. ‘I like to see a woman with good wide hips. Saves a lot of problems.’
Sasha burned. This was going too far. It made her feel she was being regarded as a brood mare about to be put to stud.
‘I whinny when I’m given oats for breakfast,’ she said, flashing a withering glare at Nathan Parnell for his part in subjecting her to this absurd farce.
‘Spirited,’ Hester remarked as though Sasha had scored another high mark. ‘Let me see you smile.’
‘Madam, I must protest...’