by Margaret Way
“And you contributed to the death of my mother.” Corin’s voice was a whiplash across her back. “Get out, Leila. Do your worst. I assure you, it won’t be half good enough.”
It was just after ten in the morning London time when the news came through.
Australian mining magnate Dalton Rylance killed in a light airplane crash in China.
The newsflash posted on the Internet went on to report that Mr Rylance, his wife, Leila, and two other passengers, one believed to be Rylance’s son Corin, had all been killed, along with the experienced pilot, the greatly respected Dr Lee Zhang, CEO of CMDC, a leading Chinese resource and development company.
Miranda was having coffee with Peter and his friend Natalia when Zara texted a message for her to go home immediately, where she would soon join her.
“What’s that all about?” Peter asked, his high forehead creasing with worry. “Must be serious for Zara to send you a message like that.”
Miranda, who had been enjoying Natalia’s account of her accompanying a budding young diva, suddenly lost all colour. For long moments she was panic stricken, with streams of images flowing through her mind. None of them good. “It must be something to do with the China trip.”
Peter thought so too. “We’ll come with you,” he said instantly. “At least see you home.”
“I’ll fix this.” Natalia pushed back her chair, ready to make her way into the coffee shop to pay the bill. “There could be other reasons, Miri.” She tried to offer comfort.
“I don’t think so,” Miranda answered. “I know this isn’t good.”
“Wait until you speak to Zara,” Peter advised. “You don’t really have any idea.”
“I’m so afraid I do, Peter.” Miranda’s small white face was very still.
Zara had already arrived back at the house when Miranda arrived. She opened the door to them, her beautiful face, like Miranda’s, pale and stricken.
“No—oh, no!” Miranda tried to ward off what was surely coming. She stood on the top step as though petrified. Peter and Natalia were frozen behind her. Clearly the news was very bad indeed.
“Come in. Come in,” Zara urged. Her slender figure was swaying. “You too, Peter, and your friend.” She tried to smile at Natalia.
“What is it? What’s happened?” Peter asked, aghast, keeping one eye on Miranda. She looked as if she was about to faint.
Zara didn’t answer. She didn’t have the strength. She beckoned them into the drawing room, where she gave them the news.
“Father has been killed in a light aircraft crash in Anhui Province in China,” she told them, chilling them through. “A distinguished Chinese businessman was the pilot. Leila was with Father, as usual, and there were two other passengers. The plane came down in the hills. No survivors.”
“God!” Peter blurted out, flinching with shock.
“But this is dreadful news!” Tears of sympathy sprang into Natalia’s green eyes. “Miri?” she cried out in alarm. “Miri?”
Galvanised, Peter got an arm around Miranda before she hit the floor. He held her for a moment, then settled her into an armchair. “Put your head down, Miri. There’s a good girl. Nat—” he appealed to his friend “—can you make us all tea? You can find the kitchen.”
“Don’t worry.” Efficient in all things, Natalia moved off, controlling her own shock. Did this mean Zara’s father, stepmother and her adored brother Corin had all been killed? It was too horrible to contemplate. Miranda looked as badly affected as Zara. Peter hadn’t said much, but she had gained the impression Miranda and Corin Rylance had a strong connection. That had to be so.
An hour later Zara’s mobile rang. They had stopped answering the incessant landline phone calls. It was always the press, avid for news and hopefully some comment from family on the other end.
“Who? Who is it?” There was a fearful catch in Miranda’s voice. The shock was so violent even tears wouldn’t come. Peter and Natalia, on call for rehearsal, had left some time earlier, still reeling with dismay, leaving the two distraught young women to try and comfort one another.
Under Miranda’s stunned gaze, Zara’s grief-stricken expression eased. She looked as though the worst had been averted. Faint colour returned to her cheeks. With her great dark eyes fixed on Miranda’s face, she passed across her mobile.
And, with that, Miranda spoke to Corin.
Corin brought his father’s and Leila’s bodies home in a corporate jet, and they rested overnight in the Rylance family mansion.
The morning of the combined funerals dawned in glorious sunshine. A State funeral had been graciously declined by the family, although mourners dressed in black, with Dalton Rylance’s colleagues all wearing black armbands, came from near and far to fill the cathedral to capacity, so it might as well have been. Everyone, right up to the State Premier, was filled with shock. The terrible suddenness of it all—the unexpectedness. Dalton Rylance had been only fifty-eight, a man in his prime, and his beautiful wife Leila some twenty years younger. They had been such a devoted couple. Dalton Rylance had strode the business scene like a colossus. No one had been prepared for it.
Such a tragedy! Now all eyes were on his son and heir, Corin, formidable in his iron-clad grief. His beautiful sister, Zara, back from London for the funeral and to be close to her beloved brother, stayed by his side. As did a young woman called Miranda Thornton, understood to be a Rylance Foundation recipient. Not a classic beauty, as was Zara Rylance, but immensely pretty. Neither Corin nor Zara Rylance did anything to hide their ease with her. Indeed, both appeared as though they were trying to protect her. She might well have been family.
It was something that alerted a lot of people. Indeed, many turned to stare after Miranda. She would be difficult to miss with her eye-catching head of silver-gilt curls.
Decisions, pressures and obligations came upon Corin from all directions. The responsibilities that accompanied being a Rylance. He scarcely had a minute to mourn.
Zara stayed on for a month, before she had to return to London to hand in her notice. There was no longer any need to live and work fourteen thousand miles away. She could come home. There was plenty for her to do. It was agreed she would wind up her affairs in London, then return.
Miranda elected to remain in Australia. Her mother’s death had hit in her unexpected ways. The what ifs? Although at the same time she knew those “what ifs” would never have happened. Leila had taken what she had really wanted out of life. Not her daughter. Leila had craved the rich husband, the social prestige. She’d had it all for a while. Still, Miranda found herself grieving. Death was so final. No chance to work things out. She realised she had entertained a glimmer of hope.
Never mind, Miranda! that familiar voice said inside her head. You were kind to her when other daughters mightn’t have been. You chose to let Leila keep her secrets. She died with them.
One increasing difficulty since the funeral was that the media had decided to take an interest in Miranda. Something she hadn’t been looking for. It was worrying. Now she was linked to the Rylance family, they might start to concentrate their attention on her. What could they learn? She’d been born and raised on a small country farm. Her parents had been respectable community people. She had always been clever, an exceptional student. She had been awarded a scholarship by the Rylance Foundation to study for her Bachelor of Science degree, which she had attained with high distinction. In the year to come she was to take Medicine. Her ambition was clearly to become a doctor. Well, good doctors were desperately needed…
Harmless enough stuff surely? Only some reporters chasing a good story were unstoppable. That very morning, when she’d left Zara’s riverside apartment where she was staying, it had been to find a member of the press camped outside.
“Staying in Miss Rylance’s apartment, are you, love?” A cheeky-looking young man wearing a press badge swiftly closed in on her as she went to her small car, parked on the street.
“Is that any of your business?�
�� She swung on him, so frazzled she wanted to hit him with her handbag.
He held up his hands. “Be reasonable now, love. Only asking a simple question.”
Miranda faced him, a warning sparkle in her eyes. “First of all, I am not your love. Zara Rylance is my friend. I’m looking after the apartment for her. Does that answer your question? You might step out my way. There are laws against harassment.”
“Hang on. Hang on. Who’s harassing you? I don’t much care for that.”
“And I don’t much care for your hanging about outside,” she responded sharply. “I’m nobody you could be interested in.”
“Can’t be a nobody, love, and a friend of the Rylances.” He smirked. “Could Corin Rylance have an interest in you, by any chance?”
Miranda forced a peal of laughter. Never again would she be caught off guard. “You’ve got to be joking!”
The reporter pulled back. “You’re saying he isn’t?”
“I’m saying you’re on the wrong track, pal.” She managed another derisive laugh. “Bye, now!”
It might be wise for Corin to stay away from her altogether. He had more than enough to contend with. As always her first thought was for him.
Corin had left it late, using a different car from his own Mercedes and parking in Zara’s double spot in the basement car park. No one was around. In the car park, or in the lift that took him to the penthouse level. There were two apartments. One belonged to a prominent businessman and his wife, well-known to the family and trusted, the other was Zara’s. There were all sorts of problems he had to face, then somehow solve. Prioritising took precious time and there was more to come. A long-time member of the board had been so upset by the death of his father he had given notice of his retirement. That meant finding the right replacement. He had his eye on someone. Young, like himself, but with the intellect and the business acumen to take him far.
The weeks following the death of his father had been so labour intensive he’d scarcely had a minute to dwell on his grief. And grief it was. He had no idea, nor would he ever know, if Leila had carried out her threat to blacken Miranda’s name and thus save her own. His father had appeared only mildly irritated by his decision not to join them on the Anhui Province trip, so he’d known nothing then. Corin prayed he never had. His father had failed him and Zara in many ways—certainly he had broken their adored mother’s heart—but he had loved him and greatly admired his razor-sharp brain.
This current invasion of privacy was hard to take, but it was one of the hazards of public life. Miranda had already told him she didn’t want the media anywhere near her. He knew she feared her whole sorry story would come out, but he had his PR people controlling the flow of information. The last thing either of them wanted at this point was press speculation on a possible love affair. Worse, a love-nest. He couldn’t bear the thought of Miranda being hounded. Anyone in the extended family who had raised doubts about his stepmother in the distant past had been told very firmly to keep their mouths shut. His grandparents had to know, but to his eternal relief after the first resounding shock they’d rallied. If there was a price to pay for Leila’s deceptions they were united in their belief her abandoned daughter shouldn’t have to pay it. Genealogy had to be put to one side.
His grandparents had met Miranda at the reception held at the house after the funeral. They’d had no idea of her true identity then. At the time they had confided they found themselves “quite taken” with Zara’s little friend—indeed felt curiously protective of her. They didn’t know exactly why. Miranda really was a child of light, Corin thought. His grandparents had had no difficulty seeing it. If anything, they were full of good will. Miranda might be Leila’s daughter, but over and above that she was herself.
Corin moved Miranda into the living room before he took her in his arms. Every time he hugged her it was to realise she had lost weight. It wouldn’t do for a featherweight like Miranda.
“I’ve a suggestion.” He had lost much of his tension in one single kiss. “A friend of mine has a great hideaway on the Gold Coast. I can’t send you to our place, obviously. You wouldn’t have any peace or privacy. Dave and his wife are in Los Angeles at the moment. They’ll be away for six months or so. They’re more than happy to let you stay in their beach house. Secluded, a short walk to the beach.”
Miranda turned up her face, her sombre mood lightened just with his presence. “Sounds good to me.”
“You need the break.”
“I do. Life is so fragile, isn’t it? Sometimes it seems as though it’s hanging by a mere thread. What would I have done, Corin, if you had gone on that fatal trip? The very thought is a terror.”
He clasped her tighter. He had picked up on her depressed mood the instant he had walked through the door. She really did need to get away. “It’s been an ordeal. That’s why the beach house seems like the answer. Somewhere quiet and beautiful, tranquil, where you can shut down all the images that are passing through your head. I share those images. Both of us have lost a parent. It’s a milestone in life. And this was a particularly bad way for them all to go. Dr Zhang was an experienced pilot, in apparent good health. No one could have foretold he would have a stroke at the controls.”
“There’s no total security anywhere,” she said. “You can be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He would have survived had he been back in Beijing. They all would.”
“No one can control fate, Miranda,” he said gently. “Profound fears for the safety of our loved ones are part of life. Those fears, at least, we can and must control. You need peace and quiet. No one to bother you like they’re starting to bother you here. You’ll have the sun and sea, dazzling white sand. We have it all at our doorstep there. We’ve known its healing power since we were kids. It’s a glorious spot. You can surf, go for long walks, read, drive up to Marina Mirage to shop. I’ll call you every day. I’ll come to you at the weekend. You look exhausted.” Very gently he touched the mauve shadows beneath her beautiful eyes.
“Not sleeping,” she confessed, pressing her mouth against his hand. “Not eating much either. Not hungry. First time ever. I’ve always had a good appetite. The accident killed it. And those horrendous moments when Zara and I thought you were on the plane too. Maybe we shouldn’t love too much,” she said in an unsteady voice. “To love is to risk losing. The more intense the love, the greater the risk. I never knew my mother, Corin, yet I’m mourning her. I’m mourning your father. The only way I can describe it is to say I feel…hulled.”
He pressed her silver-gilt head against his chest. “Oh, Miranda! If only I could go with you, but that isn’t possible,” he groaned.
“I know. I’m not asking.”
He held up her chin. “You take too much on yourself. You can’t carry your natural capacity for caring beyond certain boundaries. You’ll have to do it when you’re a doctor.”
“I know! But such a lot has happened. Losing my grandparents—especially my grandmother—was a terrible experience. Then Leila and your father. What if I’d lost you?” Her voice broke in anguish.
“Well, you didn’t. I’m here.” He gathered her against his heart. She clung to him. His Miranda. He lowered his head to kiss her, this young woman he cherished. “Love you. Love you. Love you.”
The fervent admission was deeply thrilling. Within moments all the sadness that had beset Miranda vanished like morning mist. Heat ran through her veins. Soon an overwhelming desire lapped them in a ring of fire. She was transported to another world, a world with only the two of them in it.
“I’m not going anywhere either,” Corin muttered against her parted lips. “You’re stuck with me.”
She lay on the sofa, where he had carried her. He sat at her head, quite comfortable on the floor. Her hand was delicately tracing the outline of his face. “I love you so much it frightens me, Corin. I feel ashamed, too, for showing my weakness. I know the demands on your time. No demands are being made on me.”
He made a little scoffing
sound. “Carrying around multiple griefs is a demand. You’ve had a series of powerful shocks, Miranda. Dad’s end was so sudden and violent we’re all affected. Even the staff are traumatised. Everyone is walking around in a near trance. Dad always appeared indestructible. Now he’s gone. Just like that! God knows, I’m finding it difficult to keep my mind ticking over.”
“Of course. I’m sorry, Corin.” She turned her head, bolstered by a few silk cushions, towards him. “Do you think she told him? That question haunts me.”
“We’ve been over that, Miranda. The answer is no!” He spoke firmly, catching her fingers and holding them tight. No point whatever in dwelling on the possibility that Leila might have, he thought.
“It’s hard coming to terms with death, isn’t it?” she said very quietly.
Love for her pierced his heart. She had known too much sadness. He was going to change that. “We have one another now, Miranda. That means everything!”
“Everything to me too,” she whispered, her voice very soft.
“I want Zara back home as soon as possible. She’s given in her notice. Her colleagues are sorry to see her go, but they understand.”
“She’s coping,” Miranda said, glad that was so. She and Zara were in frequent contact. “One loves one’s parents even if they don’t always treat us kindly. Why don’t I get you a drink?” she asked with haste. She would have got him one long before this, but their lovemaking had taken precedence over all else. “I’ve got plenty of food in the fridge. Salmon fillets, scallops, fresh crab meat. Everything we need for a salad. I thought we could sit out on the balcony.” Miranda sat upright, straightening her short, loose dress, a lovely water-colour print that tied on the shoulders like a little girl’s dress. It was a style back in fashion.
She swung her legs to the floor. A beautiful breeze was blowing in from the balcony. She walked to the open sliding doors, looking out across the plant-filled area at the night-time glitter. City towers on the skyline, apartment blocks, wonderful old buildings, bridges that spanned the broad, deep river, the City Kats moving passengers smoothly from the inner suburbs to the city, rippling dark waters shot with multi-coloured reflected light—blue, orange, red, gold and silver. The breeze coming off the water was as soft as a silk banner against her bare skin.