by Susan Lewis
‘Not exactly, but I have her number, and even if you do end up deciding that Chloe would be better with different parents, she’ll need someone like Julia to help with the transition.’
A spectacular sunrise was taking place over Hawkes Bay, blood-red streaks of light shooting through swathes of purplish-grey cloud turning the sea to a shadowy molten mass and casting the mountains with an almost mystical glow. Anthony was finding it strange to think of Charlotte in yesterday while he was here in her tomorrow, part of another day, another world, it felt. Yesterday he’d made Chloe laugh on the phone about the time difference between them, teasing her that he knew what was going to happen, because he was already there. Afterwards, knowing what he did, it had seemed almost cruel to have made such a joke and he’d been regretting it ever since.
It was just after five in the morning and he was in the kitchen on the phone to Charlotte, listening quietly as she told him about her call to Julia Minor, who’d apparently qualified as a child psychologist since their last dealings with her.
Should he tell Charlotte now about the iPad her mother had found in Chloe’s room, or wait until she’d met with Julia before dropping the bombshell? A psychologist would have been able to advise on the best way to handle it.
‘I’m seeing Julia on Thursday at eleven in town,’ Charlotte was saying. ‘She still does a lot of work for the courts, apparently, but she’s more than happy to talk to Chloe.’
‘So you’ll take Chloe with you?’
‘No, she wants to see me on my own first to get a clearer picture of what’s been happening and the reasons we think Chloe needs help. The trouble is, it’ll be a drawn-out process and if we end up deciding to let her go I want it to be over as quickly as possible. Does that sound cruel? Oh god, it does, doesn’t it.’
Having lost sight of what was and wasn’t cruel, he simply said, ‘I’m sure you’re right that it’ll take some time to help straighten her out, months, maybe even years, and you can’t stay over there for that long.’
‘No, of course not. I’m missing you all so much already. How are the children? Are they still asleep?’
‘I hope so, at this hour, and they’re both fine. Cooper’s been helping with the picking, supervised by Uncle Rick to make sure he doesn’t mash, or eat the grapes.’
‘And Elodie?’
‘She’s great. No more inflammations or rashes.’ He let the unspoken words lie; they both knew what they were – that everything had calmed down since Chloe’s departure – so they didn’t need to be voiced. ‘I think she misses you.’
‘With her daddy and Nana spoiling her to bits, I doubt it.’
Aware of the picking crew starting to congregate around the vines in front of the house, Anthony went out on to the terrace. They were only just visible through the fiery dawn mist, but their excitement and urge to get going was palpable in the air. ‘Have you arranged to see Wendy Fraser yet?’ he asked, spotting Will turning up in the vineyard truck.
‘Tomorrow at four. She’s coming here, to Maggie’s. We thought it was better than meeting at the office. I expect most people would think I was there to visit old friends, but there could be some who’d draw the wrong conclusion.’
‘Or the right one.’
Charlotte fell silent and he immediately regretted his insensitivity.
‘You sound low,’ she told him. ‘How are things there?’
Where could he begin?
Better not to begin at all when the only news he could give her was bad – apart from the fact that the wine destined for Australia had been located at the docks in Auckland, so was now on its way back to Hawkes Bay. What the hell they were going to do with it when it got here he had no idea. There were definitely no funds for storage, but at least having charge of it was going to make it a whole lot easier to sell than if it had been seized by an Australian bankruptcy court.
Making a note to go over to Wineworks later in the day, he said, ‘Everything’s pretty normal here. The harvest is going well. Will reckons we’ve got a good vintage all round. Oh, and Zoe’s photographer has turned up. He’s been shooting just about everything that moves, and Zoe’s organised some models to stand in for you and me.’
‘You mean to pose as the owners of Tuki River? How would that work?’
‘I don’t think they’re going to claim to be us, they’re just here to make the location and the wines look glamorous.’ He didn’t add, because he couldn’t, that Zoe – or her conscience more like – had assured him there would be no extra charge for the models, nor did he go into any details about Zoe’s flat-out efforts to find a new buyer for the wine. He was spending almost as much time on that as she was, had even reduced the price to a level where there would be no profit, but no one, as yet, had committed.
‘Please don’t tell me you’re thinking about Zoe in anything but a professional way, with me not there to distract you,’ Charlotte teased.
Almost groaning aloud he said, ‘You are so up the wrong tree with that one. I have no interest in the woman other than what she can bring to the vineyard.’
‘But we know she’s interested in you.’
‘Don’t let’s go there, Charlotte, please. We have enough to be worrying about without adding problems that don’t exist.’
‘OK, I’m sorry. I guess being away from you and with all that’s going on I’m feeling stupidly insecure.’
‘Are you taking the medication the doctor prescribed?’
‘Yes. I think it’s taking the edge off things, although it’s hard to imagine feeling any worse when I think about Chloe. Tell me, how are Mum and Bob?’
‘They’re great. I’m not sure how Rowan and I would be managing on our own. Your mother’s got everything under control, and Bob’s throwing himself into the harvest.’
‘Ask Mum to call me later, will you? I’m guessing you’re about to head off into the vineyard.’
‘That’s the plan. Where’s Chloe right now?’
‘Asleep. We still haven’t got ourselves on to UK time. She wants me to take her to the village where I grew up on Friday. Actually what she really wants to see is the house where I kept her hidden while the police were looking for her.’
Able to understand why that might have a fascination for Chloe, he said, ‘Has she asked about her birth parents since you’ve been there?’
‘No. She’s hardly mentioned them, and the one time she did it wasn’t in fond terms.’
‘So she doesn’t want to see her father, or anyone who might be connected to him?’
‘No. Did you think she would?’
Knowing what he did now, he wasn’t sure. ‘What about Cooper and Elodie?’ he asked. ‘Has she mentioned them?’
With a sigh Charlotte said, ‘Apart from when she spoke to you this morning – last night your time – she’s behaving as though it’s just me and her.’
Unsurprised by that, he said, ‘I should go. Call me after you’ve spoken to Wendy.’
After ringing off he turned back into the kitchen and found his mother-in-law making coffee.
‘Did you tell her about the iPad?’ Anna asked.
He shook his head as the blackness of Anna’s discovery descended like a storm cloud. He didn’t even want to think about the damned iPad. His damned iPad.
Coming to put a hand on his shoulder, she said, ‘From what I hear about the headmaster at Te Mata Primary, he might be the one to speak to first.’
‘He’ll want to go to the police. It’s what we should do, but I’m afraid of how it might play out. We haven’t monitored her properly, that much is evident, and you’ve read what’s in some of those messages.’
Anna’s expression was bleak. ‘Do you think it could be her father pretending to be someone else?’ she asked.
His eyes went to hers. ‘It can’t be him,’ he stated. ‘He’d be too closely monitored to get that sort of access to the Internet.’
‘Whoever it is, we know from the things he said that he has knowledge of Chloe’s p
ast.’
Feeling suddenly furious, he said, ‘I can tell you this, Anna, I don’t want my children being sullied, contaminated even, by the daughter of a paedophile.’
Looking as shocked as he felt by the outburst, Anna cried, ‘She’s a victim, Anthony …’
‘I get that, but what’s going on, that disgusting set of messages on my iPad telling her what to do to Elodie … It wouldn’t be anywhere near us if it weren’t for her. I’m sorry, but it’s true,’ and snatching up his phone he left the house.
Chapter Twelve
Another outing had been arranged for Chloe, this time to the shops in town where Maggie and Ron would help her to choose some winter boots. Though she’d wanted Charlotte to go too, she’d been sweetly ready to understand that Charlotte was still a little jet-lagged so was going to stay behind and catch up on some sleep.
Lies, deceit and the most complicated and tortured love; a heavy and harrowing combination that was proving as hard for Charlotte to understand as it was to support.
She’d received a text a few minutes ago informing her that Wendy had been held up, but was on her way. Since Charlotte had no idea how long that was going to delay the start of their meeting she’d begun pacing up and down the elegant sitting room, wringing her hands as she tried to prepare herself for the emotional haranguing to come, not to mention condemnation. She’d deserve it, of course, but that would make it no easier to cope with. Perversely, she’d felt calmer while Chloe was here, probably because she had to; now she was alone with her fears and her conscience she wasn’t holding it together very well at all.
If it weren’t four in the morning with Anthony she’d ring to talk things through again, but she didn’t want to wake him. He was so busy with the harvest now that he needed whatever sleep he was managing to get. Besides, what was there to say that hadn’t already been said?
Remembering the ridiculous question she’d asked about Zoe when they’d last spoken, she felt her insides sink. She couldn’t even think where it had come from, other than a deep-rooted paranoia that she was going to be punished for what she was planning to do to Chloe. But why should she be punished when Chloe’s best interests were at the heart of her decision?
Was she fooling herself about that? What if Gabby was right and this was really all about her? There was no doubt her life would be easier, calmer without Chloe’s hysteria and aggression. Elodie would be safe, Cooper too, and the strain on her marriage, not to mention the worry about schooling, socialising and early sexualisation that seemed to be getting worse by the day, would be over. Looking at it objectively (if that were even possible), she had made a terrible mistake when she’d taken Chloe almost five years ago, and now she was trying to put it right by doing what she should have done then.
Why was she trying to rationalise this in her mind, defend herself even, when her conscience knew the truth and would never let it go? The rejection she’d force on Chloe would very probably prove as traumatising for her as the abuse she’d experienced at the hands of her father. Thanks to Charlotte she would have trust issues for the rest of her life, and trust was only the beginning. The damage was almost beyond imagining, while she, Charlotte, would be a prisoner, a victim, of her conscience, possibly even afraid to love her own children for fear of the reprisals fate might visit on her for what she’d done.
Round and round, back and forth, nothing felt right, and she could hardly remember a time when it did.
Hearing a car pulling up outside, her heart gave such a sickening twist that she couldn’t make herself move. She didn’t want to go through with it. She couldn’t speak to anyone or even think about it any more. Yet here she was walking to the door, letting Wendy in while knowing that she was going to move things ahead in spite of the crushing guilt and misgivings.
‘Charlotte, it’s good to see you,’ Wendy smiled, looking almost exactly as she had the last time Charlotte had seen her, pale with dark-rimmed glasses that lent an owlish look to her hazel eyes, and not a trace of make-up on her wide, thin mouth. Her mousy hair was styled in the same flat bob, and her navy padded coat was either a replica of the one she’d had before, or was a durable original.
Remembering Wendy was uncomfortable with any physical displays of warmth, Charlotte greeted her in as friendly a way as she could while she ushered her in. ‘Seeing you is making me feel that almost no time at all has gone by,’ she commented, directing her along the hall. Did that sound rude? She certainly hadn’t meant it to.
‘Not far short of five years,’ Wendy murmured. ‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?’
Charlotte was trying to remember how they’d lost touch, for they’d emailed regularly when Charlotte was first in New Zealand. She used to send photographs of Chloe and Cooper at the beach or in the vineyard, and Wendy would reply with ironic shots of Kesterly at its gloomiest. Feeling certain she’d been the one to let the contact drop, she felt a burn of guilt for how thoughtless that was, when it had probably meant quite a lot to Wendy to have news of the little girl for whom she’d broken so many rules.
And now, here was Charlotte, on the verge of asking Wendy to break even more, or at least to help smooth a way for Chloe that Charlotte couldn’t even bear to think of her undertaking.
For a while, as Charlotte poured tea and offered her old boss some of Maggie’s home-made madeleines, they made small talk about the weather and how different life was in Hawkes Bay to Kesterly-on-Sea.
‘I’ve always wanted to visit Australia and New Zealand,’ Wendy confided, ‘but it’s such a long way and I’m not sure I’d ever be able to afford it.’
Was she angling for an invite? Under any other circumstances Charlotte might have jumped right in, under these she simply couldn’t.
‘How’s Anthony?’ Wendy ventured. ‘Are you loving being the owners of a vineyard? It sounds so romantic, like something you’d see in a film.’
Grimacing, Charlotte said, ‘It doesn’t come without its pressures, and I can promise you it’s definitely not as glamorous as it might sound, but we love being there and I can’t ever see us coming back.’
Seeming to think that quite reasonable, Wendy said, ‘And how about our little star? How’s she getting along these days? Her life is so very different to the one she started with, bless her. If a child ever deserved a decent, loving home it was her.’
Swallowing dryly, Charlotte managed to say, ‘She’s here with me, actually. Maggie and Ron have taken her into town.’
Wendy nodded, as though unsurprised. Then changing the subject she said, ‘I can’t help wondering why you didn’t want to come to the office? There are lots of people who’d love to see you, and I don’t think you ever visited the new hub, did you? It’s working out very well, everyone being under the same roof.’
‘I’ll have to drop by before I leave,’ Charlotte replied, knowing she almost certainly wouldn’t – unless she had to.
Wendy smiled benignly and took a sip of her tea. After a lengthy pause she closed both hands around her mug and said, ‘So really, why didn’t you want to come to the office?’
Though Charlotte took a breath she could make no words come out.
‘I see,’ Wendy said as though Charlotte had answered the question. ‘I was hoping my suspicions weren’t correct, but it would appear that they are.’
‘What – what did you suspect?’ Charlotte asked.
Bluntly, Wendy said, ‘It’s not working out, is it?’
Charlotte’s throat tightened as her face flooded with colour.
Wendy’s eyes were showing neither censure nor understanding as she said, ‘I can’t say I’m surprised, this sort of thing happens, but of course I’m very sorry and sad, especially in this case.’
Charlotte watched her, unable to gauge what more she was thinking.
‘So what do you want me to do?’ Wendy asked as though they were discussing an everyday issue, though Charlotte knew very well that she would be viewing this as anything but everyday.
It was se
veral moments before Charlotte could make herself say, ‘I’ve heard that some traumatised children do better in a family where there are no other children and aren’t likely to be in the future. They can be the focus of attention, their needs will be fully met and understood … I – I think Chloe requires more attention, more care than I can give her.’
Wendy was watching her closely. ‘And you think this because you’ve consulted a psychologist who’s confirmed it?’ She spoke in a manner that suggested she already knew the answer.
Almost squirming, Charlotte said, ‘It was put to me by a social worker in New Zealand. She and a psychologist colleague are of the opinion that …’
‘Has Chloe had any therapy or counselling since her adoption?’ Wendy cut in.
Charlotte had to admit that she hadn’t. ‘She won’t speak to anyone, but I’m seeing Julia Minor tomorrow. I expect you know that Julia is now a qualified child psychologist. I’m hoping Chloe will feel relaxed enough with her to start receiving the help she needs.’
‘I see. And when, exactly, would you expect Chloe’s treatment to begin?’
‘I guess as soon as Julia can fit her in.’
‘Which could be months considering Julia’s workload for the courts, and even when she can fit it in I’m sure you’re aware that it’s likely to be a lengthy and potentially traumatic process. Are you prepared to see it through with Chloe? You are her mother, after all.’
Charlotte flinched at the reminder, knowing Wendy had intended her to. ‘It’s impossible to put an end date on the treatment,’ she said, ‘but I was hoping Julia might do private appointments that she could fit her into so I can at least be there as it gets under way.’
Wendy frowned. ‘That would be between you and Julia; what interests me is how you see your own overall involvement in Chloe’s life, going forward. If I’m understanding this correctly, just so we’re clear, it’s your intention to relinquish her into care?’
Charlotte could hardly breathe. ‘It’s not my intention, it’s a con—’
‘How carefully have you thought this through?’