was screwing her up again.
The only way to be sure of anything was to thwart him by making her own decisions her own way. In the meantime she’d play along like a good little girl. Which meant giving directions from the directory.
Amy had never lived on the north side of Sydney and didn’t know the Middle Harbour area at all. Her only previous reference to Balmoral was an interview she’d read about a TV celebrity who lived there and loved it. Which undoubtedly meant it was very classy. And expensive. Any place on the harbour was expensive.
Having found Estelle Street on the map, Amy stared at its location with a sense of disbelief. It was only one block back from The Esplanade which ran around the beach. It faced onto a park that extended to The Esplanade, giving residents a view of greenery, as well an uninterrupted vista of the water beyond it. This had to be a prime location.
She frowned over the rental Jake had mentioned. It was steep for her to pay alone, but it had to be amazingly cheap for an apartment on this street. Even the most run-down place would surely command double that amount, and Jake had said it was being refurbished.
“This doesn’t make sense,” she muttered.
“What?” Jake inquired.
“I’ve found Estelle Street. It’s almost on the beach. The property there has got to be million dollar stuff. Even with the strict rules, the owner could ask a really high rent.”
Jake must have made some under-the-table arrangement with Ted Durkin. She just didn’t trust this sequence of events. Or coincidences.
“I did tell you Ted said it was a bargain. For the right person,” Jake reminded her. “There is the catch of the six months’ lease,” he added in the throwaway tone of an afterthought. “But even if this is only a stopgap place for you…”
“What catch?”
She’d been waiting for a “catch.” Jake was being altogether too persuasive about this wonderful chance for her. There had to be a “catch.”
“Seems the owner plans to take up residence there. Only waiting on selling the current home. Doesn’t want to hurry that.” He sent her a wise look. “Always best to hang out for the asking price. It’s a losing game, selling in haste.”
“So it’s only for six months.”
“Mmh…more like a house-sitter than a tenant, according to Ted. Someone who’ll value the place and look after it. Never a good idea to leave a property empty for an extended period of time.”
It was beginning to make more sense. Maybe her suspicions were unwarranted. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that Jake might want to do her a good turn. If she hadn’t overheard those words…was she reading too much into them?
Whatever the truth of the matter, it didn’t make a great deal of sense for her to shift house if she had to shift again in six months’ time. Changing apartments was a high-cost exercise what with putting up bond money and the expense of moving her furniture, not to mention the hassle of packing and unpacking. Nevertheless, she was curious to see the apartment now. Especially since Jake was investing so much time and talk on it. She still wanted to know why.
They were well along Military Road so she started giving him directions. Within a few minutes he’d made the turns she gave and they were heading down a hill to Balmoral Beach. Amy was entranced by the view. The water was a dazzling blue this morning. A fleet of small yachts were riding at anchor, adding their interest to the picturesque bay. The curved shoreline had a welcoming stretch of clean sand, edged by manicured lawns, beautiful trees and walkways.
This beach had a quiet, exclusive air about it, unlike the broad sweep of Bondi which invited vast public crowds. Even the populated side of The Esplanade looked tidy and respectable, no litter, no grubbiness, not a tatty appearance anywhere. Amy was highly impressed by its surface charm, wishing she had time to explore properly. She made a mental note to come here another day. After all, with Steve gone, she would have plenty of free days to do whatever she pleased.
They turned off into the street beside the park and found the address with no trouble at all. The block of apartments was on the next corner, a fairly old block in red brick and only four storeys high with garages underneath. Amy guessed Apartment 8 would be on the top floor, and found herself hoping it was on the corner with the balcony running around two sides, both east and north.
“There’s Ted waiting for us,” Jake pointed out, waving to the man standing by the entrance to the block.
As they cruised past in search of a parking place, Amy caught only a glimpse of the agent, a broad, bulky figure, smartly attired in a blue business shirt, striped tie, and dark trousers. Jake slotted the car into the kerb only twenty metres away. Amy checked her watch as they alighted. Twelve-thirty. They were on time. Ted Durkin had arrived early. No fault of theirs, but both she and Jake automatically covered the distance at a fast pace.
Amy was conscious of being scrutinised as they approached. It wasn’t a sexual once-over, more a matching up to specifications. The agent looked to be in his late forties, his iron-grey hair thinning on top, making his slight frown very visible. It only cleared when Jake thrust out his hand to him, drawing attention away from her.
“Good of you to give us this opportunity, Ted,” he enthused genially.
“Not at all. You’ve put business my way in the past, Jake. Appreciate it.”
“This is my P.A., Amy Taylor.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Durkin,” Amy chimed in, offering her hand.
He took it and gave her a rueful little smile. “To tell you the truth, Miss Taylor, I wasn’t expecting someone quite so young.”
Single career woman— had he been envisaging a spinsterish woman in her late thirties or forties, someone entrenched in her career with little else in her life?
One thing was suddenly clear. This had to be a bona fide deal or Ted Durkin wouldn’t be raising questions.
Without pausing to examine her eagerness to dismiss objections to her possible tenancy, Amy rushed to reassure him.
“I’m twenty-eight, Mr. Durkin, and I’ve held a job since I was sixteen. That’s twelve years of solid employment, working my way up to my current position.”
“Very responsible,” Jake slipped in emphatically.
Ted Durkin shot him a chiding look. “You didn’t mention how very attractive your P.A. is, Jake.” Another apologetic look at her. “No offence to you, Miss Taylor, but the owner of the apartment was very specific about…”
“No wild parties,” she finished for him. “That’s not my style, Mr. Durkin.”
“Amy’s been with me for two years, Ted,” Jake said. “I really can vouch for her character. An ultraclean living person.”
“Uh-huh.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “No boyfriend? I don’t mean to get personal. It’s a matter of satisfying the owner. Did Jake explain…?”
“Yes, he did.”
Regardless if she was prepared to
