Phil glanced at his watch. ‘Let’s discuss it in a week or two. I’m taking Cheryl and the kids away for a few days. Don’t you ever relax?’
‘I also told you that I’d be back in Western Australia by then.’
Phil gave him one assessing look, heaved an aggrieved sigh and went back inside. He didn’t go far, but sat down on the edge of the reception desk, folding his arms with a long-suffering air. ‘Well?’
‘Before we start our discussion, what happened to the email from Bill Lansome?’
‘Who’s he?’
‘Don’t pretend. He sent an email here, using the office address.’
‘Don’t remember it. If it arrived it’ll be on the computer.’
‘I’ve checked and it isn’t there. But the sender told me it not only arrived but someone clicked on the link to say it’d been read.’
‘Well, it wasn’t me. Are you doubting my word?’
‘Yes I am. I’m very unhappy about that email going missing. It lost me something I wanted.’
Phil’s expression remained bland and bored.
‘It won’t affect my decision, though. It’s time for us to go our different ways and since you won’t go, I will.’
‘Now is
not
the time to bail out. The company’s doing really well, we’ve got several potential clients lined up and you’re hot stuff as a landscape designer round here. Why throw all that away?’
‘Because I’m tired of the pressure. I want a quieter life and now that I’ve come into some money, I’m going to get it.’
‘From what you’ve said, the money you inherited from your uncle is peanuts.’ Phil waved one hand dismissively. ‘Don’t you realise we’re on to a good thing here, a chance to make big money? With your skills and my contacts we’re going to cream the market. You’ll soon be able employ a team of designers and – ’
‘I like to do my own designs and I’ve never wanted to be rich, only to have enough money to buy my own piece of land.’
‘Don’t be an idiot. You’ll get as much money as you want if you stick with me for a few years. Now, I really do have to go.’ Phil stood up and moved towards the door.
Ben barred the way. ‘I heard you’d been seen at the casino again.’
‘Did you indeed?’
‘Yes. And the information came from a reliable source.’ His mother.
‘Well, I had a client who wanted to go there, so I couldn’t say no.’
‘How much did you lose?’
‘I didn’t; I won.’
There was silence, then Phil flourished a mocking bow and walked out.
After a moment’s hesitation Ben followed, in time to see Phil drive away in a brand-new BMW. Where had he got the money for that? If Phil was gambling again, it was definitely good that they were going to dissolve the partnership, because it was only a matter of time before his partner started losing heavily. He always did.
Back in the office Ben picked up the phone, managing to get an appointment with his lawyer the next day. Then he rang a friend who sold real estate and told him he needed to dispose of all the property he owned in Queensland, making another appointment for an inspection of it the following day.
If he wanted a new life, he had to make a clean break with all this and that wouldn’t upset him, except for leaving his mother. He stared round his elegant office, hating the tortured clumps of fashionable indoor plants that an office designer had brought in, the angular modern furniture and the stark blinds. Phil’s office was bigger and even more showy than his.
If Ben couldn’t get that land back that
she
had stolen from under his nose, he’d sell his uncle’s block and look elsewhere. Trouble was, with the extra land, that place would have been perfect for his needs. It had exactly the right configuration. No he’d
have to
get it back. Meriel Ingram would no doubt hold him to ransom on the price, but it’d be worth the extra money in the long run.
From his boyhood knowledge of the local bush, he had plenty of ideas for how to develop that block. And the place had sentimental value too, memories of carefree summers and an uncle who always had time for him.
In fact, he’d set his heart on settling there.
* * * *
Ben had agreed to spend Christmas Day with Sandy’s family. He found it awkward because some of them made it clear they were on Phil’s side. Even his father-in-law took him aside and had a quiet word with him about sticking with the people who had helped set him up in business in the first place.
Ben kept his voice calm. ‘I take it Phil’s told you I’m leaving once this project is finished?’
‘You can’t mean that, lad! You’re not even giving him time to find a new designer.’
‘I told him last August. He’s had plenty of time to find someone else.’
‘Men with your skills and talent aren’t easy to replace. Surely you can stay on until – ’
Suddenly Ben had had enough. ‘No, I can’t and I won’t. Did
you
know Phil’s gambling again?’
‘He knows better than to get into that again.’
Phil’s wife also took time to scold Ben for trying to break things up. ‘What will the children and I do if he doesn’t have an income?’ Cheryl demanded, tears in her eyes. ‘And to leave so abruptly, too. I’d thought better of you, Ben.’
He’d seen before how easily she wept, how she used her tears as a weapon to manipulate people, so he wasn’t going to be taken in by that. ‘I told him last August,” he repeated wearily. “That’s not abrupt. And you and your children aren’t
my
responsibility.’
Strangely enough, only Phil’s father didn’t harangue Ben, or even mention his son. Rod Hantley had grown very quiet these days and looked frail, but he sat and watched everything with his usual interest. Ben had a long chat with him about his plans. It was the only part of the evening he enjoyed.
He left early, feeling guilty even though he knew he had nothing to feel guilty about. But he
wouldn’t
continue working with Phil.
He spent Boxing Day in Brisbane with his mother and the new guy she was seeing. He suspected it was turning into something serious and was glad for her. She’d coped bravely with losing two husbands. But Steve seemed a really nice guy – and was younger than her, a fitness fanatic, so maybe he wouldn’t die on her. She was still an attractive woman, looking and acting younger than her age.
In the evening Ben went for a stroll with her. After a few minutes, she asked casually, ‘Who is she?’
Ben stiffened. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve seen you in love before, remember. You’re wearing all the signs, staring into space, sighing.’
‘I’m not in love, Mum. In lust, more likely.’
‘That’s important too.’
‘Not with this woman. She’s pulled a sneaky trick on me. Anyway, I haven’t got
time
to fall in love. I’ve too much to sort out.’
‘Tell me to mind my own business if you’d rather not talk about it, but are you having business troubles with Phil?’
He nodded.
‘If it’s money you need, I could find a little.’
‘I’d not take it.’ He hesitated then said, ‘Phil and I have different views of where we want to go. It’s more than time to end the partnership, which I’ll do after I’ve finished this project.’
‘Thank heavens for that! I never did trust him.’
He looked quickly sideways. ‘You didn’t say anything.’
‘How could I when he was Sandy’s cousin? Anyway, I’d hoped it might have been the making of him. Everyone deserves a second chance.’
‘That’s what his family said at the time. Now, half of them are blaming me for not continuing to support him, so I suppose if he goes to the wall they’ll blame me for that, too.’
‘He’s a big boy, should be able to support himself by now.’ She hesitated. ‘Is your investment money all right? You shouldn’t have left everything to him to sort out after Sandy died.’
‘No, that’s OK.’
‘And you’re well over the deep grief now.’ She hugged his arm close to her side.
‘Yes . . . only I feel guilty about finding another woman attractive.’
‘You shouldn’t. Life has to go one. It’s normal to grieve and equally normal to make new relationships after a while.’
Ben’s time with his mother was the brightest spot of the whole holiday.
* * * *
For Meriel, Christmas came and went in a blur of packing, getting new business cards printed and buying art supplies. She had a meal with Rosanna and her family on Christmas Day, at which everyone drank to her happiness in her new home.
‘I'm going to miss you, Rosanna,’ she said as her friend walked her out to her car.
‘Well, you'll still be able to phone and email, and you can always invite me to visit. As long as Karl can come too. He’s asked me to marry him, but I’m not telling Mum yet. You know how she’ll fuss.’
‘Well, there's a permanent invitation for you both to visit. No warning needed. Just turn up. You know that.’
Rosanna gave her a smacking kiss on each cheek. ‘I do. And we’ll come. Take care.’
* * * *
Meriel moved to York two weeks after Christmas. The day was a scorcher, over a hundred degrees by the old Fahrenheit scale, the sort of temperature still called a 'century'.
On the appointed day she saw her possessions loaded into a small removal truck then drove to York on her own. A flat tyre slowed her down a little, but she changed that quickly and still managed to arrive at her new home half an hour before her furniture. The two men sweated the meagre collection of items inside, dumped things where she pointed and hurried off as soon as they could. Like everyone else, they seemed to think her mad for wanting to live alone on such a big block.
As the truck throbbed away into the distance, she heaved a sigh of relief and went back inside to start sorting out the chaos of cardboard boxes. She looked round and grinned. She had one double bed, a rocking chair, a cheap plastic garden table and six matching chairs, a computer desk, another old, scarred desk, an easel, a big cabinet for her art supplies and a large old sofa. Not nearly enough to furnish this house.
When she’d finished unpacking as far as she could until she bought some chests of drawers, she went out on to the veranda and sat there with a glass of chilled white wine to celebrate being in her new home.
As darkness fell softly around her, it was filled with quiet rustlings, the murmur of the breeze in the trees and dozens of small animal noises. She sighed happily. Her life seemed to have been filled with one trauma after another since the age of fifteen, ending in her migration to Australia. You never understood how life-changing and traumatic changing countries was going to be until you did it.
But everything had altered on the day she’d won Lotto. They said money didn't bring you happiness, but it had given her peace of mind, which was pretty close to happiness. She’d needed the security of something behind her, she knew.
* * * *
The next morning she went into York to do some shopping, dressing casually in a white skirt, aqua top and flat white sandals, the whole outfit crowned by a wide-brimmed straw hat around which she had twisted an acqua-toned scarf. Even at this early hour of the morning heat was beating up from the pavements, but the wide awnings provided cooler shadows from which to study the contents of the shop windows. She walked along happily, catching herself humming at one stage and hoping no one had heard. She’d never minded the heat, though she had to be careful not to get too much sun on her fair skin.
She stopped first at the tourist office, which also sold souvenirs and local books. After buying a postcard with a picture of the main street on it to send to her mother, she moved on. She fell in love with a dried flower arrangement in another shop, a huge basket crammed with wildflowers in every shade of blue, pink and mauve. She simply had to buy it. It would cheer up her living area.
It was astounding the variety of wildflowers that grew in Western Australia. No wonder the tourists flocked in to see them every spring. She still had a glowing memory of the living carpets of blue and gold that she’d seen in this area the previous year.
Next spring she would try to paint them. No wonder Manet had laboured over his fields of poppies and Monet had been obsessed by his water lilies.
She wondered suddenly what wildflowers grew on her block. There were bound to be many varieties in the untouched bush areas, maybe even some of the tiny native orchids she thought so much prettier than their large commercial counterparts. They would look wonderful as designs for greetings cards. She enjoyed doing meticulous flower paintings.
She carried the flower arrangement carefully back to her car, and propped it on the rear seat, then bought a can of ginger beer from the nearest shop and drank it with relish as she continued her slow tour of the main street.
I've turned into a real Aussie
, she thought with a smile,
doing my shopping on a hot day with a can of chilled drink in my hand
.
Half an hour later, she bought an outdoor setting made of jarrah, another item she fell in love with on sight. The slatted table and six chairs were made in wood of such a rich dark red that she just had to stroke it and then, of course, she was lost. Especially as the designer of the chairs seemed to really understand human anatomy in a way that reminded her of her rocking chair.
The table and chairs would be perfect on her back veranda, far nicer than her current plastic ones. She’d be able to take her sketching materials out there and do the preliminary drafts for her projects with the faint scent of gum trees in her nostrils and the dry rustling of their leaves filling her ears.
Life didn’t get much better.
* * * *
When someone knocked on the front door that afternoon, she thought it must be the men bringing her new outdoor furniture. It was strange, though, that she hadn’t heard them drive up. She opened the door, surprised when she saw who it was. ‘Ben!’ In spite of her vows, she could feel her expression softening in welcome. She stared behind him. There was no sign of a car. ‘How did you get here?’
‘I walked over from next door.’
His face was so grim and unsmiling, her happiness at seeing him again melted like ice in the sun. Why was he radiating anger?