into his back pocket for his wallet, extracted several notes and held them out.
She noticed the glint of gold again. He was wearing a signet ring, engraved with a crest and worn on his little finger.
‘You will charge extra for all the trouble you’ve gone to, won’t you?’ he said.
‘Not when it’s Christmas.’ She sent him a quick smile as she handed him his change.
She expected him to leave then, but he continued to stand there, looking at the bright parcels on the counter with a long distance look in his eyes, as if he were lost in thought.
‘Was there something else?’ she asked tentatively. She wouldn’t mind at all if he wanted to stay longer. Nothing else like him was likely to happen to her this Christmas.
‘If only I could take something more exciting, something Ivy would really love,’ he said and he glanced behind him to the slightly dusty row of reading material and reached for a comic book. ‘What about this?’
An Action Man comic? Jo did her best not to look shocked. ‘I don’t think Ivy’s started school yet,’ she suggested gently. ‘I’d be surprised if she could read.’
He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘It would have been so simple to pick up a toy in Sydney. There isn’t time to ring a city toy shop and fly something out, is there?’
‘Well…no. I shouldn’t think so…’ Goodness, if he was prepared to hire an aircraft, this must be important. He must be Ivy’s father—and he must also be a man who made sure he got what he wanted. No wonder a box of chocolates seemed unsatisfactory, even with the pretty wrapping.
‘There are no other shops around here?’
‘No toy shops, I’m afraid. Not unless you want to backtrack about two hundred kilometres.’
With an air of resignation he began to gather up his parcels, but he moved without haste.
‘You really want to make a big impression on Ivy, don’t you?’ Jo suggested.
He nodded. ‘It’s vitally important.’
There was an intensity in his voice and a sadness in his eyes that sent an unexpected tiny pain sweeping through her. How awful for him if he was Ivy’s father, but had never met his daughter. And where was Ivy’s mother? What tragedy had occurred? Jo’s own family were very close and her soft heart ached for him.
‘Well…thank you very much for all your help,’ he said, turning to go.
Oh, crumbs. She felt rotten about sending him away with such inappropriate presents. ‘Look,’ she said to his back. ‘If this present is really important, I might be able to help you.’
He turned and looked at her, his green eyes intense. Fuzzy heat flashed through her.
‘I have a mountain of toys that I’ve bought for my brothers and sisters,’ she said. ‘Probably more than I’ll need. If—if you’d like to take a look at them, you’re welcome. We should be able to find some little toy to add to the chocolates.’
His green eyes studied her and she tried to look calm and unaffected, but then he did the crooked smile thing and her insides went crazy.
‘That’s incredibly kind of you.’
‘I’ll just call one of my brothers to come and mind the shop,’ she said. ‘Wait here.’ And, before he could protest, she hurried away through a door at the back of the shop.
It led directly into their house.
Down the central hallway she rushed, heading straight for the backyard where she knew from the boys’ shouts that they were playing cricket. And with every hasty step she fought off doubts.
She knew it was impulsive, but somehow this was something she had to do. Poor little Ivy deserved a proper Christmas present. And of course spending more time with Ivy’s gorgeous father was simply a chore to be endured…
She managed to convince her brother Bill that he was needed and then she almost ran back through the house. She was a touch breathless as she re-entered the shop.
The Englishman was still there, looking strangely out of place beside a mountain of dried dog food. He seemed to be making polite conversation with old Hilda Bligh, the town gossip.
‘There you are, Jo,’ said Hilda. ‘I was just telling Mr Strickland that if the shop’s empty we usually holler until someone comes.’
Goodness, Hilda already knew the man’s name. No doubt the old girl had been treated to one of his dangerously attractive smiles.
‘Sorry, Mrs Bligh, you know what Christmas Eve can be like. Here’s Bill. He’ll look after you.’
Jo glanced towards the Englishman, feeling rather foolish because she was about to invite him into her home and she didn’t know the first thing about him. ‘Can you come this way?’ she asked him.
‘It was very nice to meet you, Mr Strickland,’ called Hilda Bligh, smiling after him coyly.
Jo led the man through the doorway and into the shabby central passage that ran the full length of their house.
‘So you’re Mr Strickland?’ she said once they were clear of the shop.
‘Yes, my name’s Hugh—Hugh Strickland. And I believe you’re Jo.’
Jo nodded.
‘Short for Josephine?’
‘Joanna.’ She held out her hand. ‘Joanna Berry.’ Somehow it seemed important to shake hands—to make this exchange businesslike. But it wasn’t exactly businesslike to have her hand clasped warmly by Hugh Strickland.
‘I take it Hilda Bligh filled you in?’ she asked.
‘Indeed and with astonishing attention to detail.’
She groaned. ‘I hate to think what she’s told you.’
Hugh smiled. ‘I don’t think she told me what you scored on your spelling test in the second grade, but I believe I know just about everything else.’
‘I’m sorry. Outback towns are so—’
‘Exposing?’
Jo nodded her head and sighed. This really was the weirdest situation.
‘Yes, well…’ She took a deep breath. ‘We’d better take a look at these toys. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you into my bedroom.’
‘Really?’
He didn’t look shocked—he was too smooth for that—but Jo knew he was surprised. She made a joke of it. ‘Of course I don’t usually invite strange men into my room within minutes of meeting them.’
Amusement sparkled in his eyes. ‘Mrs Bligh didn’t mention it.’
Thank heavens he had a sense of humour.
