An emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time scoured at his heart, making him pause for a moment as he tried to figure out what exactly it was.
Aaah, yes, guilt.
It had to be.
He returned his attention impatiently to the conversation unfolding in front of him. Charlotte had her hands resting lightly on slim hips, her chin jutting in annoyance as she tried to persuade her mother to go back to their home. Virginia didn’t seem to be keen on taking her advice.
‘It’s absolutely none of your business where I go after hours.’
‘You’re not going anywhere. I’m sorry but you’re not . . . thinking clearly.’
Virginia’s eyes narrowed. ‘Sarah, I think it’s you who is not thinking clearly. I don’t discuss my personal life with my employees.’
A thought seemed suddenly to occur to Charlotte. ‘Where’s Zara?’
Virginia’s face, which only moments before had seemed extremely self-assured, took on a somewhat confused look. ‘Who is Zara?’
‘Your other daughter. Weren’t you two supposed to be doing a puzzle together?’
‘But I’m terrible at puzzles.’
‘That at least is true.’ Charlotte threw Mark a whimsical smile that made his collar suddenly feel a little too tight before she turned back to her mother. ‘The doctor said it’s good for you to exercise your brain.’
‘Doctor?’ Virginia’s eyes lit up. ‘Is he single?’
‘So you have a sister too, Ms Templeton?’ Mark inquired.
She nodded. ‘She’s only fifteen, which is why I’m so concerned about the behaviour of your men at my resort.’
Fifteen?
Then there was a huge age gap between them, considering Charlotte looked like she was in her mid-thirties. He wondered why this was the case before realising the information couldn’t possibly interest him. Besides, she looked like she was about to try to embark upon her list of complaints again. Best to get out of there as soon as possible.
‘I have your list, thank you, Ms Templeton.’ He turned to take his leave when he thought of something else. ‘You know, while I think of it, I might as well let you know.’
‘Let me know what?’
‘You might want a word with your chef.’
‘Sorry?’ Charlotte’s eyes sparkled like twin diamonds, making him ponder how much prettier – even prettier – she might be if she didn’t exert herself so much at being a pain in the arse. He’d have to put this gently. ‘I just thought, with you wanting to pull this dying resort out of its grave to preserve your ragtag family and all . . .’
Her eyes began to get very large so he decided to make his point. ‘His scotch fillet is always a little tough. He might want to work on that. You know, for the sake of the business.’
On her gasp of what he hoped was gratitude, he walked out, the bell on the door ringing to punctuate his exit.
Alleluia. Released from hell at last.
The Silver Seas units were quite inviting, even in their rundown, eighties state. For sure, the place could definitely do with a facelift. But all in all Mark had nothing to complain about the level of comfort it provided to a tired man after a hard day’s work. He removed his coal-stained boots by the front door. A small tiled foyer turned into a short carpeted hallway that split the unit in two. Bedrooms and bathroom on the right, kitchen and dining on the left. He walked straight to the telephone and picked it up.
After dialling the restaurant, he ordered the salmon. He had room service every day even though the units were equipped with kitchens and it would probably be much cheaper to make his own. Cooking brought back many, many memories that only pulled all his dissatisfaction screaming to the surface. Got him fixated on how unfair life was. How brutal. How unkind.
He was angry. He was always angry.
Tonight, however, the memories and the frustration refused to be suppressed by his clever dinner arrangements. Sitting on his dining table in its understated brown packaging was the parcel from his wife. He had brought it in before going over to the Silver Seas reception. He leaned against the wall, arms folded, looking at it for a moment. Trying to work out what its deal was as it sat there, practically burning a hole in the polished pine table.
He certainly hadn’t been able to open the thing at work due to prying eyes. At least that was what he’d told himself. Now he had to wonder if he was game enough to open it at all.
Oh to hell with it.
He walked over to the table, put Charlotte Templeton’s list down beside the parcel, then picked up the brown tough bag. Ripping off the sides, two things dropped out. A DVD in a white casing, labelled Watch me first. And a blue envelope labelled Read me second. His hands trembled as he picked up the plastic disc cover first.
Did he dare watch it?
He couldn’t afford to go back to that place he’d been two years back. He’d hauled himself out of there by the fingernails, surfacing from the abyss with not much of his soul still left intact. If this was what he thought it was, he didn’t know if he could handle it. But what else was he supposed to do? Store it? Watch it in three years? Five years? Destroy it?
No, he could never destroy anything of Kathryn’s.
He gritted his teeth. Damn you, Kathryn! Even now you’re still able to get your way.
Before he lost his nerve he went over to the TV cabinet and opened it. On a shelf below was a DVD player. He supposed he should thank his lucky stars it wasn’t a VCR. Taking a breath, he slipped the disk into the player and turned on the TV.
The disc played automatically, nearly flooring him with the sudden image of her smiling on the screen. As though she was really there.
‘Hi, Mark.’
Oh God. God help me.
He reached out, blindly grabbing for the arm of the couch as the sound of her voice hit him in the chest like a physical blow.
‘Surprised to see me?’
She was wearing a loose T-shirt and a scarf. This must have been just after all her hair had fallen out. Her face was pale but her big blue eyes sparkled with all the love they’d shared on the day they’d first met, back in their early twenties. He sank slowly onto the couch, his gaze never wavering from the screen.
Her eyes grew glassy and her hand immediately went to her cheeks, dashing the wetness away. ‘Sorry, this is harder than I thought.’
No shit.
She was sitting on the couch in their apartment, the window open behind her, a gentle breeze billowing the curtains towards her. He never thought he’d see her like that again.
‘You’re probably wondering how you got this.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘I, er . . . I’m going to leave it with a solicitor with a delivery date after my death. The fact is, I know,’ she glanced up then, ‘I know you will need me.’
If only you knew how much.
‘I mean, you need me to help you get through this because we both know you’re not going to listen to anyone else.’
Tears stung his eyes. It wasn’t news to him. He’d do anything for her. All their friends used to comment that she had him wrapped around her little finger.
Used to. He hadn’t really spoken to any of them in a while. It reminded him too much of everything he’d lost.
She paused, licking her lips. ‘I remember when Simon died and you turned into such a bastard. I nearly divorced your arse. Remember that, Mark?’
How could he not? Losing his twin to a shark attack had been one of the worst moments of his life. The two of them had both been really into water sports, any type, any form. It was their favourite thing to do on the weekend. One innocent day on the beach had cost his brother, Simon, everything. Simon had always been such a strong swimmer and to make matters worse had the fearless attitude of a daredevil. If it occurred to him that a shark might attack him, he certainly wouldn’t have expected to die from it. But he did, on the operating table, in Royal Perth Hospital. Shark attacks were frequent on the WA coastline, but Mark had never believed it would happen to either of them. Th
at sort of story belonged on the news, not in his family history.
They hadn’t just been brothers but best mates as well. Having that constant struck out of his life was like being pushed out to sea on a brittle raft. He hadn’t known what to do at first. But when the shock cleared, he was angry. Splinteringly angry, with a rage that went so deep he had no idea how to fuel it. And so it fed on his life.
He’d retreated into a hole and pushed everyone away, including his wife. It had been months and months before he found his way back to her. He had wanted the world to suffer as he had suffered. How wrong he had been.
‘I think you made more enemies that year than you had hot dinners,’ the ghost on the TV continued. ‘That tongue of yours cuts like a knife, Mark. Doesn’t help that you’re too smart for your own good. You know exactly where to throw your poisoned darts and you had a lot of them.’
She paused. ‘Well, I’m guessing,’ she smiled, ‘just going on past experience . . . that the same thing has happened again.’
Kathryn, no.
‘I mean, we both know that a person doesn’t lose the two most important people in his life within five years and then just snap out of it. Especially not you, Mark.’
He closed his eyes. Losing his brother had been like cutting off a limb. But when she had died it had been far, far worse. Like his world had descended into darkness. Everything was black. Nothing was enjoyable because all he could think was that he could have had that moment with her.
As he opened his eyes, he watched her pause, licking her lips and giving him that secret smile that made his heart struggle to beat. His hand closed around the top of his shirt near the collar, fisting the material in his hands. Why did he feel like he couldn’t breathe?
Kathryn continued to eyeball him. ‘I’ve got news for you, mister. I’m not letting you drop out of life for me. I’m not letting you burn every friendship you’ve ever had because I died on you. I’m going to pull you out of this hole you’ve put yourself in if it kills me.’ She laughed, and the achingly familiar sound made an unwanted wetness pool behind his eyes. ‘Oh, crap, it already has.’
Cancer.
They’d battled with it for three years. When she was diagnosed with stage-three breast cancer, they had done all the treatments. Surgery, chemotherapy, radiation. He had thought losing his brother was bad but at least that had been quick. Watching the love of your life waste away before your very eyes, helpless to do anything, did something to a person.
And that something wasn’t good.
‘It’s been two years, Mark. It’s time to let go.’
Like hell.
He reached for the remote, his fingers trembling over the buttons, his brain malfunctioning so he couldn’t figure out which one to push to make her stop talking.
She appeared to be reading his mind. As usual. ‘Just hear me out. I’ve written you a list. It’s in the box with this disc. I want you to do all of it. In that order. Promise me, Mark. Promise me now. Don’t think I can’t hear you, because I can. I know that I –’
His brain finally played ball, his thumb jabbed the stop button and abruptly the TV screen went blank. His breathing was coming short and shallow. Sweat beading on his brow as images of her collided in his head. He shut his eyes against the tears.
I was just starting to get it together. I was fine.
And then you had come along and do this.
What business is it of yours how I grieve anyway? I told you not to worry about me. Why is it that you never listen to anything I say?
He threw the remote across the room and walked out, straight to the bedroom, where he shed his clothes, wrenched at the taps and entered the shower. Hot steam infused the room. The water scalded his skin but he didn’t turn the hot down. He wanted to burn her imprint off. How could he recover if she was back in his life interfering? He’d been doing just great – excellent, in fact, recovering beautifully.
Really? Who are you kidding?
He hadn’t lived in Perth since her death. When he went home on R and R he stayed in a hotel because he couldn’t bear to sleep in the bed they’d once shared. The calls from her family had stopped coming because he’d refused to take them. His friends had given up ages back too, when they realised his anger wasn’t going away.
There was not a single person in his life who hadn’t been burned by the dark mood that wouldn’t release him.
And now here, at Hay Point, the place he thought he’d escape to, his subordinates hated and feared him. At first he’d found it amusing because he liked to be feared. But perhaps being considered cruel and unforgiving wasn’t something to be proud of, or at least not something that Kathryn would be proud of.
The fact that he didn’t give a damn seemed to pale in comparison.
He twisted the water off, and stepped out of the shower, furiously wrapping a towel around his waist and knotting it. His fingers clenched and unclenched as he started to pace the floor. Finally he stalked out of the bedroom and back to the kitchen; snatching the blue envelope off the dining table, he tore it open. It fluttered to the ground like an autumn leaf as he unfolded the paper that had been inside. The words on the page were handwritten. A lump formed in his throat at the sight of Kathryn’s familiar lettering. He could just imagine her writing this, sitting at her desk, chewing on the end of her pen. All at once the note became the most precious thing in his possession. Teeth clenched, he pulled his thoughts together and read:
To Do (in this order):
1. Pay someone a compliment
2. Do someone a favour
3. Get a pet
4. Bake a cake
5. Ask someone you wouldn’t normally ask for advice
6. Go diving again: it’s been too long
7. Visit an old friend
8. Give all my stuff to the Salvos
9. Buy yourself some new clothes, especially underwear
10. Read a book
11. Go on a date
12. Go on a holiday
13. Talk to someone about me – the good memories
This was the list that was going to change his life? He read it again, turning it over, searching for something more from a message that seemed woefully inadequate.
That’s all you’re giving me?
His eyes flew back to his ‘supposed’ first task.
Pay someone a compliment.
‘Come on, Kathryn,’ he looked up at the ceiling, ‘this will change nothing. You can’t brow-beat me into being a nice person.’
At first he thought the sudden banging was his wife’s wrath being sent down from heaven and he dropped the list on the table with a start. Then reason set in and his gaze swung to the door.
What now?
A muffled voice sounded through the wooden pane. ‘Mr Crawford, are you in there?’
For the love of God.
He strode down the short hall and yanked open the front door. Charlotte Templeton practically fell through the threshold as her hand, still in the knocking position, followed the disappearing door. On her other arm she was balancing a tray. His salmon, he presumed. He’d forgotten he’d ordered room service. Funny, the resort manager didn’t usually bring his tray around. Was she letting staff go now too?
‘Mr Crawford.’ She gaped at him and he realised belatedly that he was still semi-wet from his shower and wearing only a towel.
‘Your skin –’ She shook her head. ‘I mean in! You’re in!’
‘Of course I’m in,’ he growled.
‘It’s just that I was knocking awhile. Is everything okay?’
‘Peachy. What are you doing here? You aren’t normally the person who brings my dinner.’
He didn’t know why but for some reason he found this sudden and uncharacteristic change of operations unsettling and he hoped that she didn’t intend to make a habit of it. After work he liked to wind down and Ms Templeton always seemed to have the same effect on his nerves as a steel winch. He had no idea why except perhaps that she appeared to be t
he only one of his subordinates who wasn’t afraid of him. It didn’t help that her cool green eyes were currently roaming over his now hot skin as though she’d never seen a naked torso before.
Damn the woman!
She blinked, shaking her head again. ‘I thought it chest – I mean best – to bring you your dinner. After your comments about the steak, I wanted to make sure you knew that I personally oversaw the preparation of your salmon.’
‘Really?’ His mouth arched.
‘I was also feeling a little guilty about what happened earlier and wanted to assure you in person that this meal is cooked to pec . . . pecfection –’ She gasped. ‘Perfection. I meant perfection. I hope you’re hunky – I mean hungry!’
The woman shut her eyes and breathed deep. ‘Can I just put it on the table?’
He stepped back. ‘By all means, Ms Templeton.’
As she approached the table, too late he noticed the torn blue envelope on the floor and the brown tough bag sitting on the table. He hurried over just as she was pushing it all aside to lay the tray down. Two bits of paper scuttled to the floor.
He went to pick them up but she was before him. As his nerves twanged like a violin string, she straightened with a smile on her face, holding up her list and Kathryn’s. ‘I see you’ve been going over my items. Oh hang on, this one doesn’t look like mine –’
He snatched it off her, perhaps a little too sharply. ‘No, it’s a letter from my wife – a private letter.’
Her face turned a deep shade of red. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.’ She looked down, dusting her hands as she backed away from the table. Then she stopped as something seemed to occur to her. His unwinding nerves tautened again.
‘What?’
Her eyes darted as though she were trying to figure out a tactful way to open the subject.
‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ he demanded impatiently, ‘just say it; my dinner is getting cold.’
He wanted her out the door and on her way as quickly as possible.
She squared her shoulders, a determined expression on her face. ‘I also wanted to just make clear that those rumours you heard about this resort being in trouble –’
The Girl in the Yellow Vest Page 6