It bobbed its head again.
‘Saying yes to everything is not a trick,’ Mark stated. ‘It’s actually a lack of discipline. Observe. Augustus?’
The turkey looked up.
‘Are you dumb?’
The turkey nodded.
‘I rest my case.’
Zara laughed. ‘We’ll work on that.’
Charlotte cleared her throat, not quite knowing how to take their friendly banter. ‘So how are you finding your new pet?’ she asked Mark politely.
‘Satisfactory.’
Only he would describe a new bond of friendship in this way. As he turned away she allowed her eyes to run over him curiously. What was it about him that unsettled her? He was handsome, that was for sure. But arrogant and rude too. Even in the Barnes site uniform: he wore it like he was above it. His shirt was well ironed, unlike the wrinkly ones worn straight from the drier by his employees. His hatless hair was unruffled. Parted and neat. She longed to shove her fingers in there and mess it all up.
She bit her lip when she realised where her thoughts had wandered and reminded herself he was married.
‘What does your wife think of your adoption? Have you told her?’
‘It was her idea to get a pet,’ he bit out. Was it her imagination or did his shoulders sag ever so slightly? ‘She wanted me to get a pet.’
‘Oh.’
Why did she see pain in his eyes? It didn’t make any sense. She would have explored the thought further if another woman hadn’t interrupted them. She was dressed in plain clothes and carrying a notebook. Charlotte could only assume she didn’t work at Barnes Inc. The second she opened her mouth, she confirmed it.
‘Hi, I’m Casey Williams from the Mackay Times. Are you Mark Crawford?’
His eyes narrowed on her. ‘Yes.’
‘I was just wondering how you felt about the fact that your project is disrupting turtle mating season.’
His expression turned completely blank. Charlotte wished she had the talent to do that the way he did. ‘You’ll have to make an appointment with my receptionist,’ he said smoothly.
Casey ignored the suggestion. ‘I mean, you obviously have an affinity with animals. Rumours say you’ve adopted an injured turkey. Is this the one?’
‘We’ve adopted an injured turkey.’ Zara jutted her chin. ‘We did it together.’
Casey turned on her and then Charlotte with interest. ‘So it’s a family project, is it?’ Her eyes sparkled as they rested on Charlotte. ‘Tell me, does your husband normally do this sort of thing? And if so, why is he turning a cold shoulder on our turtles?’
‘He’s not my husband,’ Charlotte snapped.
‘She’s not my wife,’ Mark Crawford growled, his blank expression now perfectly ruined.
Casey waved her hand nervously. ‘An easy mistake to make.’
‘Really?’ This time it was Charlotte who put her hands on her hips and took an intimidating step forwards. ‘ ’Cause I don’t see it.’
Zara giggled. Augustus bobbed his head excitedly.
Casey bit her lip, her eyes darting from one to the other. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder and whispered, ‘Maybe I’ll just go inside and make that appointment.’
‘You do that,’ Charlotte responded as she backed away slowly. Crazy, tactless woman. What was she thinking?
‘That was pretty funny.’ Zara chuckled again. ‘Isn’t that like the second time you two have been mistaken for marrieds?’
It was actually the third time if you counted the incident at the vet plus the one in Silver Seas reception. But she wasn’t going to correct Zara and embarrass herself even further. Mark didn’t look pleased either. He was glaring at her like it was her fault. Like she’d orchestrated these misunderstandings to annoy him.
Was it really that bad that people mistook her for his wife?
Was he above her too?
Pride pricked her. And also a pinch of mischief. This guy needed to be taught a lesson and maybe now was the right time to do it. She tossed her head. ‘Well, Zara, you can stay a little longer but I really think I should get back to Mum.’
‘A very good idea.’ Mark’s eager nod only consolidated her thirst for revenge.
‘Before I go,’ she said demurely, casting her lashes down over her eyes, ‘I just wanted say, Mr Crawford, and please don’t take this too seriously.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Yes, Ms Templeton?’
‘You’re a very handsome man.’
She watched him blink in shock, his skin pinkening, his lips moving but no sound emerging. She turned away smugly.
That’ll teach you to call me attractive.
And on this ‘satisfactory’ thought, she walked away.
Charlotte kept busy for the rest of the week, her spirits slightly brighter with hope. The barrier between herself and her sister had been broken. She knew Zara still had more questions to work through, but they had made the first step: they were talking about it.
‘It’s hard knowing,’ Zara said to her one day at dinner with head bowed. ‘But at the same time, I’m so grateful to Mum.’
Charlotte put out her hand and squeezed it tight.
‘I mean, she could have chosen not to have me.’ Zara swallowed hard.
Charlotte squeezed tighter. ‘I was wondering . . . would you like to see a friend of mine? A psychologist in Mackay. Sometimes, it’s easier to talk about things with a third party or someone who wasn’t involved.’
She had expected Zara to say no immediately but her sister surprised her. After a moment’s pause she said, ‘Maybe just once or twice.’
‘It’s all thanks to that stupid turkey,’ she told Luke over the phone a couple of days later.
He coughed. ‘Not entirely. You have a stronger bond with her than you realise, Lottie.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Now it’s time for you to start taking better care of yourself.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think when you accepted all Mum’s burdens, you didn’t allow any room for your own goals and dreams.’
She’d heard this song before and was happy to cut him off. ‘When things settle down –’
‘Lottie, things are never going to settle down. Don’t you get that? There’s never going to be a good time and then you’ll be dead.’
She gasped. ‘Thanks a lot.’
‘Just giving it to you straight. You should do something for yourself. Get a sport or hobby. Join a club. Something just for you. I’ll come over and look after Mum. Just say the word – you know I’ll be there.’
‘I know,’ she responded defensively, feeling the pressure already building. ‘I’ll think about it.’
As she hung up the phone she supposed it wasn’t bad advice. His question put her in mind of the long chat she’d had with Emily Woods the other night. That had been fun and relaxing. Perhaps she should try catching up with her again.
So on Wednesday evening she decided to pop in, just to see how her young friend was doing. She left her mum with Zara at around five o’clock and knocked on Emily’s door.
Emily greeted her with a big bright smile. She was the embodiment of all that was good in life. Young, fresh-faced and ready to take on the world. If only she knew it. ‘Hey, Lottie, I was just thinking of you. Come in.’
Thank goodness Emily was pleased to see her. After knocking on the door, she suddenly had an attack of paranoia about showing up announced. ‘I hope I’m not intruding,’ she said as she stepped over the threshold. ‘I hadn’t seen you around and was wondering how you were getting on.’
‘Much better, thanks.’ Emily smiled. ‘Will’s finally got around to briefing me on some of the work I’ll be doing for the drive tower.’
‘That’s great.’ Charlotte followed the girl into the kitchen, where she was buttering hot-dog rolls.
‘I mean, I’m going to have to do some research first, so I know what I’m doing,’ Emily went on. ‘But overall I’m really pleased. What about you?
How are things?’
My sister is seeing a therapist. My mother has started wetting her bed. And I find Mark Crawford very attractive. ‘I’m good.’
Emily laughed. ‘Why do you sound like you need convincing?’
Charlotte sighed. ‘Probably because I do. Tell me, what’s your family like?’
‘My family?’ Emily pressed her hand to her chest. ‘Well, my parents live in the suburbs. Mum’s retired, Dad’s on the verge and my sister, Megan, is a schoolteacher – married, two kids.’
Charlotte leaned against the counter. ‘Sounds delightfully uncomplicated.’
Emily regarded her sympathetically. ‘Hard week?’
‘No, just tiring.’
‘Well, looking after your mum and raising your little sister as well can’t be easy. Where does your dad fit into all this?’
‘He passed away when I was in my early twenties,’ Charlotte sighed. ‘I miss him so much.’
‘That would have been hard,’ Emily nodded and then her brow furrowed. ‘Wait, does that mean Zara has a different father?’
Charlotte tensed. ‘Er, yeah. But I shouldn’t be dampening your day with my worries. Would you like some help buttering those rolls?’
‘Don’t be silly. And I’m done.’ Emily put down her knife and dusted her hands. ‘But it does sound like you need a hobby other than taking care of your family.’
‘Have you been talking to my brother?’ Charlotte demanded, but didn’t wait for her response. ‘The truth is, I do have interests apart from the family business.’
‘Really? What?’
‘Before I got roped into taking care of Zara, I lived in Brisbane and I worked as a social worker.’ A wave of nostalgia washed over her. All her big bright plans flashed before eyes. Those days of carefree adventure were long gone.
Emily started chopping some onions. ‘You studied psychology?’
‘Yep, got a degree and everything. Really enjoyed it too. But when I moved back home to help out with the resort and Zara, I couldn’t really continue with it so I used writing as an outlet.’
‘Writing?’ Emily’s nose wrinkled. ‘How is that linked to psychology?’
‘I wrote self-help books,’ Charlotte said proudly. ‘Three of them even got published.’
‘That’s not a hobby,’ Emily accused. ‘Sounds suspiciously like work to me.’
Charlotte sighed, thinking fondly of the three slim handbooks she had produced. ‘Well, it wasn’t. It was almost therapeutic really. I used to write about issues I’d had to deal with myself. So it all came rather naturally.’
Emily nodded. ‘Are you staying for dinner? I’ve got stacks here.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I don’t like leaving Mum with Zara for too long.’
‘At least stay for a little while,’ Emily urged and continued chopping. ‘So are you writing a book now?’
‘Sadly, no,’ Charlotte shook her head. ‘When my mum was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s my focus had to switch to her.’
‘Well, if you’re not doing it now, then you can’t call it a hobby.’ Emily shook her finger. ‘What else are you interested in?’
Charlotte stopped to think. ‘You know what? I have absolutely no idea.’
‘Spoken like a true workaholic,’ Emily grinned, holding up a bottle. ‘Wine?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
‘Do you think you’ll ever go back to being a social worker? Even part-time?’ Emily asked as they retired to the couch with a couple of glasses.
‘I don’t know. I’d love to. Part-time work is very difficult to come by though.’ She sank gratefully back onto the cushions. ‘Enough about me, what else has been happening with you? Has your ex texted you again?’
Emily groaned. ‘A few times, actually, and I’ve responded. But we seem to be talking in circles. He won’t give me anything definitive.’
‘That must be frustrating.’ She wished she had something more illuminating to say, but relationships, even failed ones, weren’t her forte. She had never allowed herself to get close enough to a man to want him as a permanent fixture in her life. And marriage . . . it was a concept that scared her more than anything else.
‘Well, it’s not helpful,’ Emily confirmed. ‘Sometimes I wonder why he’s bothering to text me at all.’
There was a knock at the door, making them both look up.
‘Oh, that must be Will.’ Emily stood up. ‘We’re going to watch a movie and eat hot dogs for dinner. You really should join us.’
Charlotte immediately felt bad again for showing up without calling first. ‘Oh no . . . I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel.’
‘Third wheel?’ Emily blushed. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
She got up so quickly to answer the door that Charlotte had to wonder if she had offended her. But she came back into the room a second later all smiles.
‘Hey, Charlotte!’ Will called from the kitchen. He was carrying a plate of sausages and a bag full of DVDs. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine,’ she said, smiling. ‘And call me Lottie.’
‘So what are we talking about?’ Will asked as he put a saucepan on the stove and turned on the heat.
‘Oh, you know,’ Emily said with a wink at Charlotte, ‘just girl stuff.’
Will grimaced as he separated the sausages. ‘So I guess we’re watching a romantic comedy tonight? Should I slit my wrists now or after dinner?’
Charlotte laughed and then, much to Will’s embarrassment, Emily regaled her with an account of all his failed relationships. She watched the two of them in wonder, finishing each other’s sentences, teasing each other like two kids in a playground. Did they honestly not see themselves?
‘You never did tell me what went wrong between you and Sasha,’ Emily said light-heartedly as she poured a glass of wine for Will. Charlotte couldn’t help but notice how he took it but looked away.
‘Didn’t I?’
‘No, you didn’t,’ Emily took a swig of her own. ‘Why did you break up with her?’
‘She,’ Will went back to the fry pan to check on the sausages, ‘broke up with me.’
Emily lowered her glass. ‘Yes, but why?’
‘She said she didn’t trust me.’ Will glanced up, his eyes strangely intense. ‘Accused me of being in love with somebody else.’
Emily let loose a peal of laughter. ‘Well, that was pretty dumb of her, wasn’t it?’ She turned to Charlotte and said informatively, ‘Will is physically incapable of being dishonest. He couldn’t tell a lie to save his life.’
‘Good to know,’ said Will dryly.
‘So I take it you’re both single at the moment?’ Charlotte asked nonchalantly.
‘Yeah,’ Emily nodded.
‘No one’s caught your eye?’ She looked carefully at Emily.
‘Well, I’m pretty fussy,’ Emily sighed. ‘After Trent, I want to be really careful.’
She walked out of the kitchen to sit down with Charlotte on the couch again, happy apparently to let Will take over all the cooking.
‘So what are you looking for?’ Charlotte asked quietly.
Emily tilted her head in thought. ‘I want someone who isn’t going to stuff me around. They have to be in touch with their emotions and know for sure how they feel.’
‘Ow! That’s hot.’ Will dropped the sausage he’d been trying to put into a hot-dog bun.
‘I want someone who cares about my opinions, who asks me what I need.’
‘Em, do you want onions in yours?’
‘I want him to be hot, don’t get me wrong. But it can’t all be physical. He’s got to be content to just talk to me sometimes.’
‘Earth to Emily. Earth to Emily!’ came an irritated voice from the kitchen. ‘I’m speaking to you!’
She rolled her eyes and threw over her shoulder, ‘Yeah, yeah, onions.’ She turned back to Charlotte. ‘Do you hear what I’m saying?’
Charlotte’s gaze passed from Emily to Will, who was piling five
hot dogs on a plate, and threw the question back at her. ‘Do you hear what you’re saying?’
‘Huh?’
Just then Will sat down on the couch next to them, putting the plate of hot dogs on the coffee table. ‘Personally, I think we should watch Zombie Land,’ he said from left field. ‘It’s definitely the pick of the bunch.’ He finally noticed the silence that had fallen between Emily and Charlotte. ‘What?’
‘You know, I might leave you guys to it.’ Charlotte got up under a chorus of protest. ‘No, I really should go. I should get back to Mum. Have fun, you two.’
They said goodbye and she smiled to herself as she shut the front door behind her. Some people have the best problems.
It had been a very difficult fortnight to say the least. First, the painting subcontractor’s team was playing up. They were working far too slow and putting everyone else’s schedules behind. A couple of the workers were refusing to come in. Something about poor amenities for their use or some such rubbish. What did they expect? A five-star lunch room, complete with chef and hot dinner towels before your meal? Honestly, he wasn’t even going to credit their complaints with a comment. Then Will’s girlfriend had rocked up, immediately decreasing the level of concentration in his office by half. He couldn’t conceive how he had ever agreed to that one. The girl was eager enough but that only served to make her all the more attractive and he wasn’t running a Miss Australia pageant.
Now it was Thursday and he found himself in his office, not answering technical queries, not planning his four-day look ahead, not scheduling progress meetings but glancing at the clock.
In one hour he had to take Augustus for his check up.
There was an annoying knock on his office door. What now? ‘Come in.’ The door opened and a head poked around. It was the planning manager. ‘What do you want?’
‘Um . . .’ His eyes darted. ‘We have a three o’clock meeting, don’t we?’
Mark frowned. He’d forgotten about that.
The planner swallowed. ‘I can come back.’
‘Come in,’ Mark gestured sourly.
The planning manager complied, bringing with him a couple of large bar charts, which Mark eyed suspiciously. This distrust was not unfounded. The figures were in fact worse than his own mental projections. They were behind in all areas of the project. All areas. Not a single team was running on schedule. What was wrong with his staff?
The Girl in the Yellow Vest Page 15