The Sister's Gift

by Barbara Hannay

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Detective Dexter said again and he switched off the recorder.

  Billie let out her breath in a heavy sigh. ‘Do you think someone killed him?’

  Uncomfortable seconds ticked by before he answered, as if he was considering how much to reveal. ‘A Swedish backpacker has admitted to knocking Howe on the side of the head with a winch handle. She says he was attempting to rape her in the cockpit and she grabbed the winch in self-defence.’

  Oh, God, the poor girl.

  The detective sat straighter now, his brown eyes serious as he regarded her. ‘Belinda, I’m going to need you to give evidence in the Coroners Court in Cairns.’

  ‘In Cairns?’ Billie cried, shaking her head. ‘No, I —’

  He held up a hand to silence her. ‘I’m sorry, but your evidence could provide crucial support for the backpacker’s story. As it stands, she risks being referred by the coroner to the Director of Public Prosecutions.’

  Billie gasped. ‘You don’t mean she’d be charged?’

  ‘There’s always that risk.’

  ‘Not for murder?’

  ‘Perhaps a charge of manslaughter or unlawful killing.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Billie closed her eyes. She felt overwhelmed, but she knew that her fear and stress would be nothing compared to the plight of the poor Swedish girl.

  Opening her eyes again, she realised that the detective was waiting. ‘It’s a bad time for me to be away from the restaurant.’ The last thing Freya needed was an absent waitress. Gavin’s imminent departure was already causing stress.

  ‘I know this is inconvenient,’ he said. ‘But if this skipper has a track record as a sexual predator, tricking young women into believing more crew were about to join them, your evidence will definitely help the Swedish woman’s case.’

  ‘I – I see.’ Billie took a deep breath. ‘What’s this girl’s name?’ Somehow it seemed important to know this.

  ‘Ebba Nilsson,’ he said.

  ‘Ebba,’ Billie repeated, and a stranger she’d never met felt suddenly real.

  ‘Your evidence could be vital.’ The detective tapped the recorder still sitting on the table. ‘You’ll be compelled to attend, I’m afraid.’

  So there it was. She had no choice. Billie shivered. ‘How long will I need to be away?’

  ‘At least overnight. It’s hard to say. It all depends on the coroner and how things progress.’

  Freya would have kittens.

  ‘You’ll be flown to Cairns,’ he said. ‘And your costs will be covered.’

  Billie supposed that was something, at least.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Freya enjoyed working in Pearl’s kitchen. The layout was excellent, with a walk-in pantry, whiz-bang appliances and an induction cooktop that was a dream to use. As an added bonus, she had a spectacular outlook with sea views guaranteed to keep her mood upbeat as she worked.

  And now that she was actually producing food to supplement Seb’s efforts at Island Thyme, she was even more grateful for the fabulous workspace. Okay, her offer had been rash, but it was true that she’d always loved making desserts, and at least all those dinner parties on the Sunshine Coast hadn’t been in vain. Mind you, Won Ton was sulking because they hadn’t been for their usual long walks. The little dog now squatted in a corner of the kitchen watching Freya intently, no doubt hoping she would drop a tasty morsel.

  It was only Freya’s second day on the job, though, and she was still nervous about the level of professionalism required. The day before, she’d produced a classic tiramisu made with sponge fingers and mascarpone, as well as dainty little meringues to be served with mango slices and a berry compote. This morning she was tackling a white chocolate cheesecake with an accompanying brandy sauce.

  Seb’s contribution was fruit salad, which he’d claimed was merely a backup, but it had turned out, in fact, to be a classy affair with a delicious mint syrup. From all reports, the diners last night had been extremely happy with the desserts on offer, so with luck, they’d pull this off.

  Freya was relieved, though, that she’d come up with the brainwave of making the desserts at home and delivering them each day when she dropped in to check the orders. Gavin had made this arrangement official by declaring that Seb, as a cook rather than a qualified chef, could not legally have an apprentice in his kitchen.

  By keeping out of Seb Hudson’s orbit as much as possible, she was hoping to maintain a polite, if cool, working relationship. Obviously, neither of them was keen to spend too much time together, but so far, so good.

  The main hiccup had been Pearl.

  Freya couldn’t avoid telling her sister about Gavin’s departure. After all, Pearl was phoning him regularly to keep a long-distance eye on things. Predictably, when she’d spoken to Freya she’d moaned noisily over the loss of their chef, but when she heard about Seb, she’d exploded.

  ‘Seb Hudson, Freya? You’ve got to be joking!’

  Freya felt obliged to defend the decision. ‘Gavin swears he’s a very good cook. Actually, I know he is, Pearl. He made dinner for us on Monday night – the most amazing grilled fish and —’

  ‘I don’t care about his grilled anything. So what? He could have Michelin stars coming out his bum for all I care. That’s not the point.’ Pearl was yelling so loudly, Freya had to hold her phone away from her ear. ‘We can’t have you and Seb and Billie all working there together. It’s impossible. The three of you after all these years. My God, it’s a recipe for absolute disaster.’

  Freya was glad she’d rung Pearl while Billie was at work. She was glad, too, that they weren’t using FaceTime. Pearl’s screeching voice was distressing enough without graphic visual accompaniments.

  ‘I’m sure you’re exaggerating, Pearl,’ she’d said. ‘What kind of disaster are you imagining? What on earth do you mean?’

  ‘You know very well. There are still folk on the island who remember everything.’

  Everything? Freya knew there were a few long-term islanders who might remember that she and Seb had once been engaged and that she’d given birth to a baby that Pearl had ended up adopting. But if they wanted to make a thing of it, surely they would have done so by now?

  She tried to placate her sister. ‘But no one knows the actual —’

  ‘For God’s sake, Freya. We might know the true story, but other people only know what they think happened.’ Pearl’s voice was shrill now. Distraught. ‘Seeing you all together will stir everything up. Tongues will wag. They’ll put two and two together and come up with God knows how many. Billie will hear about it —’

  At this point Pearl had burst into tears and Troy had taken over her phone. Freya was close to tears herself, but luckily, Troy was his usual calm self and he’d listened to reason when Freya explained that Seb Hudson was only a stopgap. She was doing everything possible to find a replacement chef.

  ‘I know Seb is not an ideal substitute,’ she said. ‘But I assumed that keeping the business open would be Pearl’s top priority.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ Troy assured her. ‘And I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’re doing great, Freya. Thanks.’

  ‘The last thing I want is to ruin Pearl’s holiday.’

  ‘You haven’t ruined anything. She’ll get over this.’

  Remembering Billie’s concerns about her mum, Freya felt compelled to ask. ‘Pearl’s all right, Troy, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, yes, she’s fine. Don’t worry.’

  His answer had been swift. Almost too swift? Had she imagined the new brittle edge in his voice? It was so hard to tell.

  By the time they’d finished the call, Freya was quite shattered, but the contact with Pearl had confirmed one thing. Billie was right when she’d declared that her mother mustn’t be told about her pregnancy.

  She reminded herself to take a deep breath. One step at a time.

  At least she’d learned a thing or two from the crazy mess that her life had become over the pa
st twelve months. She could view herself now as a battle-hardened soldier. A veteran, who’d learned that the best strategy for coping with ongoing disaster was to focus on whatever simple job came to hand.

  And right at this moment, her task was to carefully combine melted white chocolate into a cream cheese mixture. After that, it was a matter of slowly beating in vanilla and heavy cream. Then she would set the cheesecake in a pan filled with warm water before baking it, and leave it to cool for an hour before it could go into the fridge.

  She had plenty to keep herself busy and worrying about Pearl wouldn’t help anyone.

  ‘You’re really good at this, aren’t you?’

  The grudging respect in Seb’s voice was a surprise, but Freya had to admit the cheesecake did look rather professional, topped with curls of white chocolate, strawberries, piped cream and a dusting of icing sugar.

  ‘Here’s the sauce,’ she said, trying to sound offhand, as if his praise hadn’t filled her with ridiculous delight. ‘You’ll need to heat it up gently when it’s time to serve.’

  ‘Is that a brandy sauce?’ Seb asked, sniffing.

  ‘Yes. Is that okay?’

  ‘Perfect. Thanks, Freya.’

  So silly to be excited simply because he’d actually spoken her name. For heaven’s sake, she wasn’t still fifteen. She knew it meant absolutely nothing.

  And yet hearing her name on his lips felt significant, lighting a kernel of warmth deep inside her.

  ‘Right,’ she said, dismissing such nonsense and adopting her most efficient and grown-up tone. ‘Do you have a shopping list for me?’

  ‘I do.’ Spinning around, Seb grabbed a notepad from the counter and ripped off the top page. ‘I hope you can read my scrawl. I have all the steak and lamb I need and a fisherman will be dropping off an order shortly. It’s just a few grocery items. If there’s no fresh asparagus, snow peas or runner beans will be fine.’

  ‘Goodo.’ Freya ran her eye down his list. Miso, Dijon mustard, canned tomatoes, coconut milk, several types of cheese, a range of vegetables. It all looked pretty straightforward. ‘Anything else? Any problems with equipment?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘All good so far.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Tucking the list into her shirt pocket, she turned to leave, relieved that they had once again conducted this meeting with businesslike briskness. ‘I’m planning a flourless chocolate cake for tomorrow.’

  ‘Sounds great. We’ll probably use the last of the tiramisu tonight, so that’ll fit in well.’

  She gave a tight nod. ‘Be seeing you then.’ She was almost out the door when he said her name.

  ‘Freya.’

  She tried not to react, but her skin had other ideas. Her arms were tingling with goosebumps as she turned back.

  Seb was still standing in the middle of the kitchen, hands resting lightly on lean hips. All shaggy haired, with a day’s growth of beard. No sign of a chef’s white apron.

  ‘Yes?’ Freya asked in a strangely tight voice.

  ‘Billie’s told me about everything you’ve been through.’

  So silly of her to now feel like crying. She swallowed. ‘I assume you must be referring to the divorce and the fire?’

  Seb nodded. ‘I just wanted to say how sorry I am.’ To his credit he looked and sounded quite genuine.

  ‘Thanks.’ Very deliberately, Freya shifted her gaze to a spot on the wall just beyond his left shoulder. Her emotions were all over the place. Eye contact was dangerous.

  ‘You deserved better,’ Seb said gently.

  She’d been steeled for resentment or derision. The last thing she’d expected from this man was sympathy. Now her eyes really did begin to water and she had to blink hard. Damn.

  A deep breath helped, even though it sounded slightly ragged. ‘Life’s not about getting what you deserve, though, is it?’ she said.

  ‘Not for everyone, no.’

  The tension in the air was so thick now she could have cut it with one of Seb’s kitchen knives. But surely she was overreacting? He was merely trying to say the right things.

  ‘At least you’ve had the success you deserved,’ she added. ‘I’m really pleased that your career’s gone from strength to strength.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, but he frowned and let out a huff that might have been a sigh.

  ‘And Pearl and Troy are grateful that you’re helping out here.’ She might as well get a few points up while she had the chance.

  ‘I’m doing this for Gavin,’ Seb said tightly. ‘Not for Pearl.’ His gaze narrowed. ‘But it seems you’ve made a lifetime habit of helping your sister out?’

  The barb hit home and Freya flinched. ‘It’s hardly a habit. And I’m sure Pearl sees this arrangement very much as the other way round. She’s providing me with a roof over my head and a steady income for six months.’

  He pulled a face, clearly not impressed.

  Now was definitely the time to retreat. ‘Anyway,’ said Freya. ‘I’d better go and put these orders through.’ Once again she turned to leave.

  And again Seb’s voice sounded behind her. ‘She’s a great kid.’

  This time Freya froze and her heart banged so loudly she was sure he must hear it. ‘Are you talking about Billie?’

  ‘Of course. Although I shouldn’t call her a kid. She’s a fine young woman. Hardworking, fun. She’s terrific.’

  When Freya looked back, his mouth was tilted in a lopsided smile, but the expression in his eyes was impossible to read.

  Nevertheless, she saw it as a white flag. A fragile truce.

  ‘Catch you later,’ she said and she smiled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Billie wasn’t looking forward to telling Freya about the inquest. She’d already given her aunt enough hassles with her pregnancy news and now Freya had the added pressure of having to produce daily desserts on top of her management responsibilities. Not to mention that the poor woman was still getting over a divorce and the loss of her house.

  Yikes. How much pressure could one woman take? Billie’s private concern that she couldn’t tell Freya about the court hearing without reliving the sordid experience on the yacht yet again was a minor issue by comparison.

  The best thing she could do, she decided, was to first find someone to fill in for her at the restaurant. And with this, she was in luck. Josie Barnes, the local baker’s granddaughter, was home on leave from uni. Josie was studying some obscure strand of philosophy, but she’d also worked in cafés in Brisbane, and she was more than keen to earn a few holiday dollars.

  So with that sorted, it was crunch time. Freya arrived at Island Thyme mid-afternoon, looking rather pleased with herself as she delivered yet another of her fabulous dessert offerings.

  Billie was polishing wine glasses and she waited till Freya returned from speaking with Seb in the kitchen before she shared her news.

  Okay, deep breath. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to need a day or two off,’ she said.

  Freya immediately looked concerned. ‘Are you unwell, Billie? Is it the baby?’

  ‘No.’ Billie hadn’t found an easy way to say this, so she just blurted out the bare facts. ‘A detective was here earlier this week and I’m needed in court. I have to give evidence in Cairns.’

  ‘You what?’ Clearly appalled, Freya sank onto the nearest dining chair. The poor woman looked pale, as if this was one shock too many.

  ‘I’m really sorry to lay this on you out of the blue.’

  Freya stared at her. ‘What’s it all about?’

  The story didn’t take long. Billie took a seat and Freya remained very still with her hands folded in her lap, her forehead creased with a frown, her eyes round with worry.

  ‘You poor girl,’ she said when Billie finished, and then she let out a sigh and remained slumped in her chair, as if she needed a moment to take everything in.

  ‘I can’t imagine what the poor Swedish backpacker is going through,’ Billie said.

  ‘No, but still . . .’ Freya gave a sad
little shake of her head.

  ‘I’ve found someone to fill in for me here at work,’ Billie added, needing to inject a positive note, and she quickly explained about Josie.

  ‘That’s a relief. Well done.’ Freya drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. ‘Do your parents know about this?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Does that mean you haven’t told anyone?’

  ‘Back in Shute Harbour, I talked about it with some of the other backpackers. They seemed to think it wasn’t worth making a fuss.’

  ‘Billie.’ There was a note of reproach in Freya’s voice now. ‘Women need to speak up about these things.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I know.’ Billie did feel guilty. But she wasn’t convinced that an official complaint in Shute Harbour would have spread quickly enough to stop the Swedish girl from boarding Encounter in Townsville.

  ‘It’s just – so – so icky to have to talk about it,’ she said. ‘And I knew I’d cop a load of lectures about how stupid I was to get on that yacht in the first place.’

  Freya’s face softened with sympathy. Reaching out, she took Billie’s hands in hers. ‘I guess you’re right,’ she said gently. ‘It’s all very well for outsiders to point the finger.’ She offered a small smile. ‘But at least you’ll have a chance to speak up in Cairns.’

  Billie closed her eyes. She’d never been inside a courtroom and she felt sick at the very prospect.

  ‘You can do this, sweetheart.’ Freya gave Billie’s hands a gentle squeeze. ‘You’ll be great. I know you will.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She would try to hang on to those words.

  Despite her aunt’s reassurance, Billie spent a sleepless night before heading to Cairns, tossing and turning, worried that she’d freak in court and stuff up her answers.

  The next morning, still sick with nerves, she decided that rather than wearing her usual jeans she would borrow a blue linen shift dress from her mother’s wardrobe. That was one advantage of being the same height and build as her mum.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Freya said when she saw Billie. ‘That’s just the right conservative touch. Good choice.’