The list of companies he had dragged back from near extinction in the last year alone was sizable. Each one was a personal triumph, apart from being financially rewarding.
And yet, right now, he almost couldn’t be bothered going through it all again.
Slipping his arm out of the sling, he rested his elbows on the edge of the mahogany office desk, and dropped his head into his hands. It stretched the stitches on his left wrist. The tingle of pain distracted him from the emotional turmoil in his heart.
It was all meaningless, totally meaningless.
The aroma of freshly brewed Colombian coffee preceded Samson into the room. A black and white moggy followed at his heels. Roy raised his head and forced a smile.
‘Coffee, Boss.’ Samson placed the steaming mug of strong coffee on the table.
‘Thanks, Sam.’ Roy looked down at the moggy and laughed at the cat’s adoration of the large man. ‘You’re the only man who can shrug off three tacklers and flatten a scrum, yet cry over a sick kitten.’
Samson bent to tickle the cat under her neck, and was rewarded by a shuddering purr. ‘Well, I saved her from being dog food, didn’t I? And now Ares and Tyche love her.’ He straightened and placed his large hands down on the office desk. ‘I’m worried about you, Roy.’
‘Worried?’
‘Yes, worried. You can’t do it all alone, Roy.’
‘I won’t be alone. I’ve our whole company team backing me.’ Roy gestured to the screens. ‘Just a few days sorting out more corporate rubbish.’
Samson dragged a chair across from Roy, and fitted himself into it. The kitten scrambled up his trouser leg, and settled, purring on his lap. ‘You know what I’m talking about, mate.’
‘You think I should tell Doctor Sheva the truth about Father, don’t you? He would be furious, Sam. I can’t let out his secret.’
‘He wants you to have help, Roy.’
‘How do you know, Sam? It’s not like he can have a conversation—’
‘That is where you are wrong, Roy.’
‘What—’
Samson held out his hand to interrupt Roy, ‘I’ve read all about early onset Huntington’s Disease. I also consult with Professor Pennington regularly. There are periods when Edward can speak well enough so I can understand his words, and even phrases. Other times, I’ve learned to interpret his vocalisation. It is slow and painful for your father, but he and I talk.’
‘He doesn’t talk with me. All I ever get are his grunted responses.’
‘You’re always so busy. He doesn’t want to waste your time.’
‘Dear God, Samson. I’ve never had time for him, have I?’
‘Water under the bridge, mate.’ Samson reached across the desk to pat Roy’s hand. ‘He’s worried that the burden is too much for you. I think you should speak to the doctor. He would agree.’
‘I don’t even know if she would be clued up about HD.’
‘You’re kidding, right? Does she come across to you as a dumb cookie?’
Roy smiled at the memory of the brilliant ebony eyes staring him down at the gate, recognising the names of the dogs. ‘She asked if you cut your hair.’
Samson’s loud guffaw scared the kitten off his lap.
‘Samson, you’re right. Sheva is almost too competent for a country GP.’
They both jumped at the shrill ring of his phone. With one glance at the caller identification, Roy pressed the button to speaker and signalled for Samson to stay.
He flicked a look at the clock on his desk. ‘Mother, it’s almost midnight in London.’
‘Good morning, Royston. It is morning there, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is. What is it you want, mother?’
‘Son, I just want to know how you are. How are you?’
‘Would you like to know how Father is, too?
She drew a shuddering breath. ‘Royston, he is my husband. Of course, I care how he is. It’s no use expecting you to understand.’ Her voice caught on a sob.
‘Spare me the histrionics, mother. You walked out on him when the diagnosis was given, with a sizable settlement to set you up in comfort in London.’
‘Son, your father asked me to leave him when he found out. He begged me to stay in London, and not come back to Sydney. He wanted me to remember the good times. Your father always protected me. He knew I wouldn’t be able to stand the strain of seeing him go downhill, with the loss of movement and the dementia. It doesn’t mean I don’t love him.’
‘But, you are in London, Mother, and father is here. What about the marriage vows you made. How long ago was it? Thirty-six years. Now, how does it go? For better, for worse, in sickness and in health; until death do us part.’ He looked at Samson.
‘Mother, do you even know Father built and furnished a room just for you here on the farm? In your favourite colours: all blue, silver and white. I tried to dissuade him. He wouldn’t listen; he kept hoping you would come back to him. He probably still does.’
He drew a deep shuddering breath. ‘I don’t know why I bother to tell you this.’
She choked back a sob. ‘When did you get so cruel, Royston? So hard and unforgiving. I hardly recognise you.’
Roy laughed, a harsh sound to his own ears. ‘Most times, Mother, I hardly recognise myself. Maybe it happened when you walked out on Father and me. Or when you told my fiancée to reconsider our engagement because of the fifty percent chance that I would inherit Huntington’s disease.’
‘I only told her the truth. She needed to know.’
‘I would have told her in my time, Mother. Perhaps you did me a favour. It’s better this way.’ He paused as bitter memories flogged his brain. Charlene had moved on to shack up with Adam, a high-flying financier, within a week of breaking up with him. It was made worse by the fact that Roy had counted Adam as a good friend. She had been sleeping with him while she was still living in the flat Roy had rented for her.
‘Mother, what do you want?’
‘I would like to come visit you. You and Edward,’ she whispered.
‘Mother, you want to visit the farm? It’s over two years since you left Australia. You hardly call. Why would you want to visit now?’
‘I’m not getting any younger, Royston. I think I’d like to see Edward once more. Is that too much to ask?’
‘Mother. The truth, please. You want money.’
‘No, it’s more than that—’ she faltered, ‘Royston, I— I miss you— both.’
‘And if you come back to Australia and to the farm, will it be a permanent move?’
‘I don’t— I can’t live there, Royston. I won’t be able to stand the strain. The isolation. The horror of seeing the change in him. Your father understands. I want to visit—’
‘A holiday on the Alpaca farm. What do you plan to do after that, Mother? Go back to your London lifestyle, I assume.’
‘Royston—’
‘Stop it, Mother. You have the money from the trust funds, and the flat in Knightsbridge. You have a life there. I don’t want you visiting father. Seeing you will only get his hopes up. He will be devastated again, when you leave. You are welcome here at the farm, but only if the move is permanent.’
A muffled sob was all he heard. ‘I can’t’
Roy stared at the phone. ‘Goodbye, Mother.’ He thumbed the phone off and dropped it on the desk. ‘You mean you won’t,’ he muttered.
He released the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. ‘Well, Sam,’ he said, looking at his sympathetic friend, ‘that, is an example of a loving wife and mother.’
‘Not all women are like your mother and Charlene, Roy.’
‘If there are other kinds of women, I sure haven’t met one yet.’
Samson smiled. ‘Maybe you had one visit you this morning.’
‘Doctor Sheva? What makes you thin
k she’s different from Mother or Charlene?’
‘She cared enough to drive here to see you. She thinks you are sick—’
‘Why ever would she think I am unwell?’
‘Maybe because you employ a full time nurse physiotherapist?’
‘Blimey, I wasn’t thinking.’
‘Well, she sure was thinking. She’s a bright one. You think she needs six vials of your blood to check for wound infection? She’ll send them to Sydney for a full evaluation.’
Anxiety caught in his throat. ‘Is there any way she could run a test for HD?’
‘Sure, but I don’t think she will. She’ll run a regular set of tests. Huntington’s Disease doesn’t show up on those.’ He bent to pick up the kitten, and, tucking her under his arm, he punched a finger at the computer screen. ‘Well, get back to work, mate. If you have to travel, take all the days you need.’
Roy scowled at the figures on the screen. ‘Might take three or four days.’
‘I’ll go get your bags packed and ready. Two suits. I’ll put in your casuals too. Maybe you could find some time to socialise.’
‘Socialise. You really mean catch up with a girlfriend in Canberra, don’t you?’
Samson’s round face split in a grin. ‘Stop being so tetchy, mate.’
‘You think a night with a woman will solve my moodiness?’
The smile faded, but Samson looked at his friend with fondness in his eyes. ‘Roy, you have to relax. Your father would want you to. Right now, it’s all work, but—’ he grinned— ‘the sexy Valerie called just yesterday to ask when you were next visiting her.’
Roy shook his head. ‘Sam, I appreciate what you are doing, but sex is not what I need. I have just too many irons in the fire. I couldn’t survive it without you, Sam. You’ve been an amazing friend. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.’
Samson shrugged. ‘No thanks needed. You were there at my lowest.’
Roy looked back at the computer screen. ‘Sure you can manage? I can fly back in-between Canberra and Adelaide—’
Samson’s deep throated growl cut him short. ‘I’ll be thinking you don’t trust me here, Roy.’ He reached out and patted Roy on the shoulder. ‘Don’t you worry, mate. Get the job done. No more talk of gratitude and thanks. It cuts both ways.’ He picked up the card Sheva had left on the table, his smile roguish. He winked at Roy.
‘I’ll call the good doctor if I need help.’ He sauntered to the door, the purring kitten cradled in his arms.
He turned at the door. ‘By the way, your father wants you to get tested for HD.’
Chapter 20
Maybe he was destined to be a helpless imbecile in a few years. He didn’t want to know. It was better to live for today.
Carpe diem.
Memories of years gone by crowded Roy’s brain: his father running the company, his mother occupied with her charity work and sundry committees, the couple living their parallel lives at a companionate distance from each other.
It had not always been that way. As a child, he remembered the family holidays here in Jindabyne. With his parents. In a cabin by the lake. Skiing together. Having fun together. His father setting up his consultancy firm. Mother busy helping him and keeping house. He smiled at the memory of Christmas in their three bedroom home in Sydney. Sitting between his mother and father in church, listening to their voices blend in the age old hymns.
Money. Fame. A scramble up the social ladder. A slow growing cancer that had eaten them all up from the inside. They had all changed. The business magnate, his socialite wife, and their playboy son.
As an adult, his days had been filled with work at the office, and the evenings spent clubbing with Charlene and his friends. Weekends had been for playing rugby and horse riding. They skied in winter. Summer holidays were spent setting up the farm. He had joined his father in learning the alpaca trade and choosing the Suri alpaca stock.
He had been so occupied with his own life that he had failed to notice what was happening in his father’s life.
He picked up the phone. Maybe he was he being unfair. He could ask his father’s neurologist, Professor Pennington, if he should allow his mother to visit. There was a time when his parents had loved each other. Maybe that was something that could be rekindled again.
He put the phone down. No. It was better this way.
He would cope, as he had done for the two years past. He sat back in his chair gathering his thoughts. He was unsettled today and it wasn’t just his mother’s telephone call.
Samson thought he should talk to Dr Singh and tell her the truth about his father. She was here in Jindabyne. She had no connections with his old life.
He had been unacceptably rude to her in the clinic yesterday. He was angry at his carelessness on the farm and the injury, and had taken out his frustration on her. She had been professional and courteous in her acceptance of his apology.
She would accept his request for medical help.
Roy stared at the computer screen. He was trying, but instead of seeing the charts and numbers, he saw a feisty young face with ebony black eyes that flashed like lightning bolts when angry, and grew deep like a clear winter night in concentration. A man could lose himself in those eyes. Her brown-black hair cut in a severe bob didn’t suit the heavy lidded sultriness of her face. Her accent: a pleasing blend of Queen’s English with the burring roll of the ‘R’ and an upward lilt at the end of the sentence betrayed her subcontinental heritage.
There was a certain impudent audacity about Sheva. It was obvious that she was bright and well-read. It was endearing and attractive.
She was competent. But, he didn’t know yet if she was trustworthy.
He sat back and thought of Annie. She would be married by now. Wonder how she was coping. He tried to picture her, but found himself thinking of Sheva instead.
Sheva had told him all subcontinentals looked and sounded alike to Anglo folk.
Roy smiled, remembering the way she nibbled on her lower lip, trying hard to look stern and cool, when she really seemed to want to burst into giggles. Annie had done something similar. Maybe it was a subcontinental habit.
Her whole demeanour spoke of professionalism and expertise. She didn’t fit the part of the country-town doctor. The way she handled his injury was so proficient. More like a surgeon than a general practitioner.
On the other hand, she was also all woman; Sheva, a name consonant with sensuality.
He felt a tightening in his body. He wondered how it would feel to nibble on those luscious lips or run his fingers through her silky hair.
Neither the silly Sri Lankan Elephant T-shirt, nor the severe work suit she had worn today disguised her curves. He had teased her by telling her Annie was sexier than her, and it had riled her.
At the gate, she had asked him if he felt hot. He had been looking down the hint of cleavage at the neck of her blouse. He had been more than just hot.
Dan Cooper had been mighty concerned when he called. Maybe they were lovers.
No, she was not a woman who would give herself easily, either in friendship or in love. A man would have to earn her respect and affection. It was an interesting challenge.
He smiled. His old mates in Sydney would be shocked. Look at Royston Broughton-Knight, contemplating a romance with a subcontinental girl. The second in about as many months. Not white, not a socialite from an accepted family, and definitely not a doyen of the Sydney society scene. Both girls were as different to Charlene as firebrands to an ice sculpture.
He let his mind rove over the last two years. After his romantic debacle with Charlene, he had encased his heart in armour. He had been forced to do it. His occasional dates had been in Canberra and Sydney. They didn’t expect promises or commitments. This was the way he had survived.
Now, something about the firebrand doctor had found a chink in his iro
n-clad heart. He should tell his father. He already knew what his father would advise him to do. He could hear his voice, as he would never hear it again: ‘Follow your heart, son.’
Heart. He doubted he even had one.
Business first.
Roy picked up his phone and tapped in the telephone number for the pilot of his aircraft. The purchase of the Cessna 210 had been one of his father’s last decisions before relinquishing control to Roy. The six-seater single-engine high-performance aircraft was perfect for his needs. Day trips to his Canberra office or business meetings in Adelaide, Sydney or even Brisbane could be done in a day or two at most.
‘Mike, how are you? I need to fly out for work. How soon can we be ready?’
‘I’m fine, Boss. Was wondering when I’d hear from you. I’m getting itchy feet here. We’ll be ready by noon, if you want.’
His father had also found and hired Mike, headhunting him from a country airline. Mike was paid a full-time salary, and kept himself busy as an aircraft mechanic at the Jindabyne aerodrome. Mike’s mannerisms and speech were stereotypical to the country, but his heart was pure gold. And his competence at the controls of the Cessna was inimitable. There was no one Roy would rather fly with than Mike.
‘It’ll be a day in Canberra and Adelaide for a few more. Maybe four or five days in all.’
‘No worries, Boss. I’d better get cracking. See you this arvo.’
‘Make it two pm. There are a couple of things to get done on the farm. We could be in Canberra for a late meeting today. Leave for Adelaide tomorrow at dawn.’
‘No fuss, Boss. We’ll be ready to go.’
Roy turned back to the computer screens. His mind searching for solutions.
He kept getting distracted by the memory of a piquant dark face.
Chapter 21
Canberra was three hours behind them. Roy snapped shut his briefcase and settled back in the seat of the Cessna.
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