Curses Read Free Page A

about the only room in the house they hadn’t made love in, she was all for christening the space.
    The proceedings heated up very quickly as they both knew they would have workmen on the doorstep any second and yet that knowledge only seemed to heighten the delight of the moment. Rhea was just teetering on pure bliss when the kitchen door slammed closed, and fearing they been sprung by the hired help, they brought their encounter to a grinding halt.
    ‘Who’s there?’ Phillip zipped up his trousers and went to investigate, leaving Rhea in the kitchen grinning with unfulfilled exhilaration. ‘Damn,’ she uttered. But it didn’t matter that the moment had been cut short; only that she felt confident about her marriage and filled with love.
    ‘There’s nobody here.’ Phillip returned, rather annoyed by the interruption. ‘It must have been the wind.’ He moved in close to Rhea.
    Rhea glanced out the window at the motionless landscape, which could have been mistaken for a photograph. ‘What wind, honey?’
    ‘Forget the door,’ Phillip insisted, drawing Rhea in for a kiss. But, with the sound of a vehicle screeching to a stop outside, they were forced to concede it just wasn’t going to happen.
    ‘Tonight,’ Rhea suggested and Phillip agreed. ‘It’s high time we lit the fireplace in our bedroom … alongside which we could drink a little champagne perhaps?’
    Phillip liked her thinking. ‘Picnic dinner in the bedroom sounds mighty fine.’
    ‘Done,’ Rhea granted with a kiss.
    ‘I’ve got a shed-load of winches for ya, Mr Garrett?’ The harsh voice of one of the workmen bellowed down the hall. ‘Where do ya want ’em?’
    Phillip exhaled heavily as his responsibilities called him away. ‘Today’s going to seem a long day.’ He winked and left Rhea to it.
    ‘What about breakfast?’ she called after him.
    ‘Your love is all I need to sustain me …’ Phillip popped his head back in the door to exclaim in a corny fashion and found himself wearing the tea-towel.
     
     
    The day was long and hot. Rhea worked in the main part of the house, detailing paintwork, as the studio was just too hot to dance in.
    Toward evening, when the workmen had left and Phillip had yet to show for dinner, she wandered over to the construction site to advise him to pack it in for the day.
    Rhea found him in his large work shed hovering around a forty-foot trailer without the prime mover attached. ‘I see your battery has arrived.’
    ‘Ain’t she a beaut?’ Phillip stopped fiddling with the gauges and switches to kiss his wife, then turned back to admire his storage system for the energy which would be generated from the solar fields he was building.
    ‘It’s gorgeous, hon,’ Rhea replied, trying to sound as enthusiastic as Phillip obviously was, but it just came out sounding condescending.
    ‘It is,’ Phillip said emphatically. ‘It will be able to supply four hundred and fifteen volts, at three hundred amps per cell.’
    ‘God, I just love it when you talk technical,’ Rhea teased, giving him a hug. She was excited for him.
    ‘Wait until I tell you how that translates into dollars.’ Phillip hugged her back.
    ‘Why don’t you tell me over dinner … in our room.’ She jogged his memory. ‘Or have you forgotten?’
    ‘Not even this little baby would make that engagement slip my mind,’ he assured her.
     
     
    Phillip had managed to keep some energy in reserve and their evening by the fireplace was well spent doting upon each other.
    That night, Rhea woke coughing and freezing, but it was smoke and not a chill that was irritating her throat.
    The bed covers were far across the room in the smouldering embers of the fire and the fabric burst into flame before her eyes.
    ‘Phillip!’ Rhea shook him and he woke in a panic.
    ‘Is there a fire?’ he grumbled in jest, and then noted the smoke that was making him cough and splutter.
    ‘Yes.’ Rhea pointed to the burning bedclothes.
    ‘Holy smoke!’