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Holly was taken aback. Just like that. A new car. One part of her thrilled to the idea of driving round in her own new car. But there was another part of her that worried Richard was buying her again.
Silly, really. They were going to be husband and wife. Why shouldn’t he buy her a new car? But as much as she tried to be logical about it, she still didn’t like it.
“I…I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SUNDAY saw them driving into Hobart, Tasmania’s capital city. Situated on the estuary of the Derwent River, on the lower east side of the island, Hobart was one of Australia’s oldest and most beautiful cities.
“Reminds me of some of the large port towns in the south of England,” Richard said as they drove slowly along the harbour foreshore, which was only a stone’s throw from the CBD.
“I’ve never been overseas, so I wouldn’t know,” Holly said. “All I can say is that it’s very picturesque, with almost as good a harbour as Sydney.”
There were lots of boats of all shapes and sizes moored against the many piers, from small runabouts to expensive-looking speedboats and racing yachts. In the distance, a massive, grey-painted catamaran was churning across the wide expanse of water, looking quite magnificent, but rather menacing. Richard speculated that it had to belong to the armed forces.
“Could even be American,” he said.
Further along, a white ocean liner was anchored against a jetty, glistening in the sunshine. It made the ferry they’d travelled down on look small, yet Holly had thought the Spirit of Tasmania very large when she’d first seen it docked at Darling Harbour.
“Did you know Hobart has the second deepest harbour in the world?” Richard said when she commented on the size of the liner.
“What’s the deepest?” she asked, curious.
“Rio.”
“How do you know such things?”
He shrugged. “I read a lot. I also have a photographic memory. Made studying for exams a lot easier, I can tell you.”
“I never had to sit for any proper exams,” Holly said without thinking. “I never even sat for my school certificate. I left school at fifteen to work with Dad in the shop.” That feeling of inferiority flooded Holly with her admissions. “You must think me very ignorant.”
“I don’t think you’re at all ignorant. Just the opposite. I think you’re a very smart girl. Look at the way you did those books without any formal training. Passing exams is no gauge to a person’s intelligence, Holly. Simply their ability to recall facts and figures.”
“You might think that way, but a lot of people don’t. They think a degree is the be-all and end-all.”
“It isn’t.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You have your degree. It’s a bit like people saying money isn’t important when they already have it. Try not having any money and see how important it suddenly becomes.”
Holly had no idea how she got onto this subject. But she regretted it immediately. Regretted her sharp tone as well.
The past few days had been so wonderful. The first night of their trip—the night before she’d got her period—they’d stayed at this lovely historical house. It had originally been a doctor’s residence before it had become a hospital during the late nineteenth century. Now, it was a B&B.
The owner had taken them for a tour when they’d arrived, telling them its history and showing them all the rooms with their many antiques, pointing out that the spacious suite they were sleeping in had been where the babies were born.
It had been decorated in blue with a big brass bed and a wonderfully romantic atmosphere.
That night, Richard had made love to her in the big brass bed for ages. Really made love to her. Very tenderly, telling her all the while that soon they’d be making a baby. The next morning, when she’d looked at him over breakfast Holly had felt more confident than ever that their marriage would work.
They’d driven across the north-eastern part of Tasmania on the Thursday and Friday, exploring the countryside by day, and relaxing over a fine meal each night, discovering that they didn’t need to be having sex to enjoy each other’s company. They’d stayed at a different place every night, another historic home that had been converted to a boutique hotel on the Thursday, a B & B in Swansea on Friday and a guest-house in Richmond last night.
Holly had never realised till she came here just how beautiful and interesting Tasmania was. Very rich in history. Richard thought the same. Every night, both of them had devoured the travel brochures they’d picked up on the ferry, seeing where they could go and what they could do the next day. Next Tuesday they planned to drive down to Port Arthur, the famous old convict jail, after which they would follow the highway up the east coast before crossing to Devonport for the ferry’s departure on Thursday.
