Chapter 3

Her busy days passed by in a blur. The tedium of everyday routine—household chores and rehearsal—filled each hour to the brim. Darci didn't have much time to indulge in any extracurricular thinking, so it came as a surprise to her, standing in the makeshift dressing room within the cathedral, to realise she was anxious to see if the handsome stranger had kept his promise and come.

The nervous excitement pressed down upon her, suffocating until she could bear it no longer and crept from the dressing room towards the stage. Wooden folding screens stood on either side of the stage, their dark, varnished panels blocking the entranceway from the view of the audience. The noise within the room would have drowned out even the loudest of footfalls, but still, Darci tiptoed as she approached the closest of the screens, peering out into the auditorium through the gap between the slats.

People were beginning to take their seats, the pages of their programmes a thousand insect wings, rustling as they turned. She saw a few younger faces, but as usual for these lunchtime performance, the majority of the audience was older. Her eyes scanned row after row, finding spectacles, blue rinses and one very bad perm. But her stranger was nowhere in sight.

"If you're looking for me, Darci my dear, then look no further."

Darci spun round. Her elbow slammed into the screen and she had to make a desperate grab for it to stop it from toppling over. Her fingers slipped over the lacquered surface, finally catching hold of the edge. When it was securely in place once more, she turned and glared at Mark.

"Actually, I was looking for a friend who said he'd come, but he isn't out there." Mark might be a friend and colleague, but he could be a real pain in the arse, and she wasn't in the mood for his wisecracks today. Luckily, he seemed to realise that and backed off.

"There's still ten minutes to go; I'm sure he'll be here." He slipped an arm around her shoulders and guided her off the stage. "Come on, let's finish getting ready."

Mark was first in the line-up, and Darci waited in the dressing room. She paced, arms crossed tightly, her steps in time with the sounds of Mozart and Puccini that drifted down to her from the stage. At last, Mark bounded back in and she made her way out onto the stage.

She spotted him as soon as she looked out over the audience. He was seated right at the back as before, his face obscured in shadows, yet there was no mistaking those waves of chestnut hair. With his smart, well-cut suit and rigid posture, he would have stood out in any crowd even if she hadn't been looking for him.

She gave a brief introduction to her programme in a breathless voice then launched into her first song, hoping the melody would quell her raging heartbeat. It worked, the music carrying her away, and soon she was able to forget the stranger enough to concentrate on her performance. When it was over, she left the stage to a polite round of applause and hurried to change and collect her belongings.

Somehow she had known with complete certainty that he would be waiting for her when she left the building. It was as if it could not have been any other way. The afternoon sky sparkled, a cloudless azure offering little escape from the glare of the sun, but he had found himself a spot in the shadows cast by the church spire. A pair of dark sunglasses covered his eyes, and he was standing so still he almost appeared to be a statue. She wondered if she should walk over and greet him, but before she could act, he approached her.

"Miss Madison, it was a joy to hear you sing again." He inclined his head and smiled. "I wondered if you'd care to join me for lunch, assuming you haven't already eaten."

"No, I haven't. I rarely eat before a performance, but I'm always famished afterwards."

"That settles it then. Does O'Connell Street suit you? I know a nice Italian restaurant there."

"That's fine by me. Can I know your name now if we're going to eat together?" Darci asked as they turned and began to walk up the road. She was determined not to part from him this time without learning such a vital detail.

"How rude of me. I do apologise. My name is William, William Molins, but at present, people call me Will. Here…" He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew a small rectangular card, handing it to her. "Take my card. It has my number if you ever need to contact me."

Darci looked down at the business card. The black background covered the whole of the card, broken up only by the embossed silver lettering. The card stated Will's name and a mobile number, nothing else. She slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. What did he mean by saying he was called Will "at present"? Darci started to open her mouth to ask him when Will came to a halt outside a restaurant.

"Are you sure it's open?" Darci asked, her previous questions forgotten as she tried to see into the darkened interior through one of the windows.

"It's open." Will beamed reassuringly, holding the door. "After you, Miss Madison."

Despite appearances from the outside, the restaurant was indeed open. Dark wood and ambient lighting made the room feel intimate despite its size. It seemed a venue for secret liaisons, one that wouldn't have been out of place in a mystery or a film noir. A few groups were already there, some eating and others relaxing on soft sofas, chatting over a cup of coffee. Will placed a gentle hand on the small of her back, guiding her to a quiet table in the corner. He held out a chair for her, which baffled her for a second until she realised what it was he was doing. As she moved to sit down in the proffered seat, he tucked it in under her in an easy, fluid motion. She picked up the menu and perused it slowly, her stomach gurgling in happy anticipation as the smell of warm bread and burning wood drifted towards them from the kitchen. The rustic, hearty smells hinted at what was to come.

After a short verbal scuffle over who should pay, which she lost, Will went up to place their orders. She glanced idly around the restaurant, casually surveying the other diners. She'd nearly finished with her people-watching when a man caught her eye. He sat in the corner opposite them, his chair angled in such a way that he appeared to be facing her. An untouched glass of beer stood on the table in front of him. His eyes were cast down, scanning a newspaper that lay in his lap, although she could have sworn those eyes had been focused on her only moments before. Her attention was diverted, the figure forgotten, when Will returned to the table and placed a glass of red wine in front of her.

"I took the liberty of choosing a wine for you. I hope you don't mind."

"No, that's fine, thank you." Darci eyed the wine suspiciously. Will was certainly charming, and he had been quite the gentleman so far, but she didn't really know him and she had no intention of getting drunk and leaving herself vulnerable. Better safe than sorry, as her father had always told her.

Still, she didn't wish to be rude so she picked up the glass and took a sip. It was the single most delicious wine she had ever tasted, full-bodied with a smooth finish, a feast of flavours in her mouth. "What is this?" she asked, gesturing to the glass.

"A 2007 Penfolds Bin 707 Cabernet Sauvignon. I trust it meets with your approval."

"W… well, yes, it's amazing." Darci found herself stammering. She would not consider herself a wine buff by any means, but living so close to the Barossa, with all its award winning vineyards, it was hard to avoid learning something, and one thing she did know was that this was not a cheap wine. She was too embarrassed to bring up the cost. She just hoped he wasn't expecting more in return for his outlay than she was willing to give.

"The lasagne?" asked the waiter, approaching their table.

"For the lady," Will said.

The waiter placed the dish in front of her. "Parmesan? Black pepper?" he offered, brandishing an enormous pepper grinder, its proportions bordering on the ridiculous.

"Neither, thank you," Darci answered, holding up her hand to ward off the monster.

"Very well then. Buon appetito." The ding of a bell rang out, and the waiter darted off to answer its call.

"What did you order?" she asked Will as he gestured for her to start.

"Oh, nothing; I ate earlier. But please, don't let my abstinence stop you from enjoying your meal."