by Karen Bell
Enthused by their suggestions, Mila had headed out into the January sales to look for colourful cushions and throws and some inexpensive artworks to brighten up the space. She hadn’t planned to buy yet, given her state of diminishing finances but she’d taken a couple of hundred from her stash just in case and came back a couple of hours later, laden with bags.
‘Damn,’ she swore, hearing the landline ringing inside as she carried everything towards the back door. Typical. She hurried to get the key in the lock and dashed down the corridor towards the kitchen. I bet it stops ringing just before I get there.
Dropping the parcels on the floor, Mila grabbed for the phone. ‘Hello? Hello?’ There was no answer. Darnit! Didn’t I know that would happen.
As she put down the receiver, she heard the warning beep of the alarm that she’d forgotten to turn off on her way in. Oh hell, that’s all I need, for the alarm to go off! She spun around, prepared to make the dash back through the living room to the keypad, but as she tore through the doorway, she ran headlong into someone and screamed.
‘Mrs Taylor, I think you had better go and turn off your alarm.’
Mila immediately recognized the voice and the accent, the same calculated diction as the one on her answering machine and her stomach dropped. He was holding his mobile phone and Mila immediately realized she’d been set up.
It was as if every bone in her body dissolved at that moment but some how, she made it on jelly legs to the back door where another man stood, barring the exit. Every hair on her body stood to attention and her heart hammered against the wall of her chest. She couldn’t have found the voice to scream even if she’d tried but the threatening expression on the face of the thug at the back door would have made her think twice anyway. Trembling fingers punched in the code and the beeping stopped.
Without a word, she crept back to the living room, and saw that the suited man was now seated in one of her armchairs. With a sweeping gesture, he motioned for her to sit.
Her legs had turned to lead, and knowing she would never make it to the front door, she willed herself to the sofa and sat down.
‘I apologise for the unorthodox entry,’ he began ‘but in light of the events of past two days, I believe you may not have invited me in and I very much need to speak with you.’
Mila was rendered mute and he continued.
‘I was a friend of your husband’s, my condolences on your loss.’
That was the first lie; there been no friends – he’d had clients and co-workers and they had been informed that he had passed. Judging by the vulgar expression this was not the kind of friend one met through the church either.
‘Your husband and I met maybe three years ago. Our meeting was by chance, but let’s just say that we realized we each had services to assist the other and we became … business acquaintances.’
It was taking all of Mila’s strength to keep her breathing steady and prevent her body from shaking uncontrollably. She was hearing the words but struggling to maintain focus.
‘Your husband needed some financial assistance and my boss was in a position to help. Since your husband had some time available, we agreed that he should repay our organisation in accounting services.’ He paused, while Mila absorbed the implication. She was processing in slow motion. Did he just say that Robert needed to borrow money? But how could that be? Robert had plenty of access to money. There was his business income, the interest from the proceeds of her parents’ house. He could have taken a mortgage against their own home before getting involved with someone like this. Mila just couldn’t understand it. This was some kind of extortion attempt. It had to be.
‘The arrangement was for some time – how do you say it, ‘mutually beneficial’, only we had no idea that his health was in decline. And until we saw the many sympathy cards in your drawer, well then we realized. Then we understood why he missed our last meeting. Mrs Taylor. I don’t wish for you to be concerned. We only want to recover what is owed to us and then we can leave you in peace.’
‘H...how much did he owe?’ she asked cautiously.
‘Well, I don’t want you just take my word for it,’ he answered. ‘We have a written agreement. Here, so that you know we are telling the truth, I will show you the loan contract signed by your husband.’
He took a folded A4 sheet from the inside pocket of his jacket and opened it. Then he leaned in, stretching his arm to pass it to her.
As Mila reached to take it, she saw her hands shaking uncontrolled. On it was a copy of Robert’s driver’s licence and a loan statement with his signature. She read the amount several times before it sank in. Five hundred thousand dollars. Half of a million. The room swam and Mila thought she might pass out. She stared at the numbers before her, trying to take in the enormity of the figure.
‘I understand that this is a surprise for you but we can deduct something for services already rendered. I notice you have been interviewing some real estate agents this morning. You are thinking of selling?’
How long had they been watching her, waiting for her to leave the house? She felt nauseous at the thought of it. Think fast Mila. At that moment, her primary goal was to get these men out of her home so she could call the police. Ryan would take care of this. He would know what to do. She decided to play along. Don’t upset him, she thought. Just try to buy yourself time.
‘I am thinking of selling the house but my husband was the sole signatory on all our accounts. I don’t have access to this kind of money until the house is sold and I can’t do anything until my husband’s will has gone through the usual process. I would need a minimum of three or four months to put it on the market, go to auction and get a settlement.’
The man looked unmoved by her answer.
‘Surely you have line of credit, or redraw facility? Maybe a superannuation account to be released to you? Your husband said he was very high up in his old firm. He must have been paid a good salary for many years.’
‘My husband didn’t share that information with me,’ Mila answered honestly.
‘The timeframe you speak of is unacceptable. If you cannot help me, then we will have to look into …another form of payment.’
This time there was no mistaking the lewdness of the way he looked her up and down. What the hell was he suggesting? Mila was sickened to think that during the last break-in, this man had more than likely seen the dungeon. What exactly did he mean by ‘another form of payment’?
Not for a million dollars would she ever go through that again; anything but that. Her fears were somewhat assuaged by the knowledge that the contents of that room were now broken and buried somewhere in a landfill. Mila would sooner sell her house and live in a tent than trade sexual favours.
‘I am seeing the bank manager and my solicitor in the next two weeks. I’ll have a better idea after that, as to my access to funds. My husband was not paying you in one lump sum. I would expect the same courtesy.’ She tried to sound business-like, tried to sound nonchalant, but was unconvincing at best.
‘Your husband was able to provide one kind of service. It would appear that your qualifications may be of different kind?’ He paused for maximum effect. I can give you one month Mrs Taylor. Then we return for payment in either one way or other.’
Somewhere in the deepest recesses of Mila’s psyche an imperceptible switch had been turned on. She felt the familiar sensation of mind leaving body, and registered his voice from further and further away as she lifted from the scene.
‘That police officer you have been seeing,’ came the far away voice, ‘of course you will not make mention of this meeting to him. I think it is a good idea for you to keep seeing him. You make a handsome couple and a sudden change of mind might make him suspicious.
Mila willed herself to come back into her body; she just had to put the right voice in her head back in charge.
‘I think it would be best too if we mention none of this to your daughter Holly. Melbourne is such a long way away and we wouldn’
t want to involve her unless it became necessary, wouldn’t want to worry her would we?’
The comment had the desired effect. Mila was snapped back into the moment and gripped by an insanity that she could barely contain. If she had been holding a hatchet she would have flown across the room sunk it into his skull.
‘Oh and do not worry Mrs Taylor, when your husband’s debt is paid, we will leave you and your loved ones in peace.’
He stood to leave but then turned and added ‘It might be best to keep your doors locked and the security on, whenever you go out – you never know who might come for another visit. Initially, Mila didn’t understand the point he was making but then she remembered Ryan’s advice to her the previous day. He was repeating it word for word. The realisation made her heart stop. It was a warning, a very effective power play, letting her know that her phone was tapped, that there were quite likely other recording devices in the house – and what else? She thought with mounting horror.
With that, he walked brazenly from the room, down the corridor and out the back door, leaving Mila in stunned silence.
She heard the door close but she made no attempt to move. In fact she was paralysed, the tightness of breath closing her throat.
From beyond the grave, Robert was back. He was probably somewhere laughing right now, as if to say I will always control you Mila. Don’t think that you will ever be free of me.
She clutched the arm of the sofa as the room began to spin. She sucked the air in short, sharp gulps. Through the vortex of panic that was engulfing her, she imagined that the walls had eyes and ears watching her every move, imagined that she was being seen through a dozen monitors in some anonymous surveillance van, even now that they were gone. She forced herself to her feet, willing herself along the hallway to the bathroom. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and splashed to the floor as she closed the bathroom door and fell against it, a loud sob freeing itself as she slid down onto the cold tiles.
Robert’s death had been a cruel joke played on her, to allow her a fleeting glimpse of hope. She’d been tricked into believing that she might be worthy of a second chance at life, happiness, freedom, but now she realised there could be no freedom, no rescue from his legacy. He would go on hunting her, haunting her forever.
Shocked and defeated by the enormity of events over the past twenty-four hours, she sat sobbing on the tiles for a long time. She cried until there was nothing left inside but a giant ball of empty, but she could only stay there for so long and eventually she heard a voice telling her to get up. You’re a survivor Mila, you come from a long line of survivors and you will get through this on your own, just like you’ve done before. She slowly pulled herself to her feet and washed her face without looking in the mirror.
Her house no longer felt secure and she couldn’t stand to be in there alone, so she went for a long walk, wishing she had Jack for both protection and company.
She tried to think rationally, making the decision not to use the landline for any important conversations and not to speak to either Holly or Ryan from home in case the house was somehow bugged.
She reassured herself that she was in fact safe in her home as long as she kept the place locked and alarmed. She resolved to stop putting off the inevitable and to go and find and empty Robert’s post box immediately after her trip to the bank tomorrow. Knowledge was power and she had to find out if he really had borrowed all that money or if it was somehow a fraud. Finally, she called from the park, to Jerry Freeman, the solicitor who Robert mentioned had drawn up his will. Mila had been relieved that Robert had used him. He was an old family friend who had handled her parents’ estate and Mila was comfortable making a time to see him. She wished she could share her predicament, he was wise and would know what to do but she couldn’t risk telling anybody for now.
Taking action went some way to settling Mila’s anxiety but she wanted to check on Holly, who was now back in Melbourne following her holiday. She was relieved to hear her voice, to switch off and listen to her chortling narrative about her adventures and a new romance. Mila hadn’t planned to mention anything to Holly about Ryan, but getting caught up in her daughter’s excitement, she decided to share a little, telling Holly only as much as she’d told Adie about her date. She didn’t mention the kiss, only the dinner and the fact that she’d met an old friend of the family.
She wasn’t prepared for the response. Unlike Adie, Holly was not in the least bit happy for her Mum. In fact she was clearly shocked and very defensive on behalf of her father.
‘What are you thinking Mum! Are you out of your mind? How could you even be considering other men so soon, I mean Dad’s only been gone a few weeks.’
‘I didn’t go looking for it Holly but it’s nice to have some company and it’s nice to think that someone might still find me attractive. I mean you were the one who told me that, before I went on the cruise with Adie, if I remember rightly.’
‘Yeah, but I didn’t think you were going to fall for the first man to look twice at you. There are con men everywhere out there just looking to prey on lonely and desperate women.’
‘Wow, don’t hold back, will you.’
I’m sorry Mum, maybe I’m just hurting for Dad, but couldn’t you just go and join a chess club or take some courses for company? I didn’t imagine that you were going to start dating so soon.’
Mila was feeling just a little hurt herself, but she kept it quiet and decided not to divulge anything else for at least some time. Their conversation ended on a happier note, with a promise of a visit from Holly at the end of February before the start of the next semester of uni.
By the time Mila returned home, she felt a little better emotionally, but her brain and body had gone on strike. She prepared Robert’s post box keys and spent a further hour preparing documents she might need for the bank and the solicitor such as the death certificate and Robert’s identification.
She had been relieved to remember that her in-laws had been minding Robert’s keys and wallet when the first break-in had occurred. She had collected them when she’d visited with Jack and it meant that she still had one thing over them, that she could now find and open his post box and possibly learn some truths that might help her out of this situation.
Finally, Mila prepared an outfit to wear that might induce the bank manager to release some money to her before probate. Ridiculous, she thought, that she might have to beg to get her hands on her own money, but it was her own stupid fault she conceded, allowing him to open accounts for which she was not a signatory and others still that she couldn’t sign without him.
Too tired to eat dinner, she collapsed exhausted on the rug in front of the sofa and switched on the TV. She was mindlessly watching something, when her mobile phone rang. Caller ID showed it to be Ryan.
She hesitated to pick up, a hundred thoughts racing through her head. Was her home bugged and would their conversation be heard? If so, where could she take the call, certainly not outside, at this time of night. Would she be able to sound happy and bright, given all the stress of the day and how she was really feeling? And in the light of her conversation with Holly and the recent turn of events, could she continue letting him into her life or open up to him in any way? She would be on tenterhooks. Besides, lies and secrets were no way to build a relationship.
All this and more spun through her head in the space of a few rings. She finally pressed the green icon to accept the call and put the phone to her ear, covering her mouth as though someone might be listening.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi Mila. It’s me,’ he replied as if they’d known each other forever and that of course she would know who me was.
‘Hi me. How was your day off?’ she tried to sound bright and unfazed.
‘It kind of ran away from me which is why I’m calling you in the hope that you might like to help me salvage what’s left of it now.’
‘What at 9 p.m.?’ she answered looking at her watch and sounding more like a schoolmarm t
han a potential love interest. She was curious though to see what he had in mind.
‘Well given that it’s still over thirty degrees outside and airless in the house, Jack and I were about to make the most of a beach walk and possibly a swim before the Southerly comes through and we thought you might like to join us. We could pick you up.’
Although exhausted, Mila could think of nothing more wonderful than escaping the confines of the house and nothing more reassuring than the company of Ryan Blake and his dog Jack.
‘Sure. I’m feeling adventurous,’ she answered, though the word ‘reckless’ would have been closer to the truth.
‘In that case, bring a swimsuit. The water’s unbelievably warm. We’ll be over in fifteen or twenty.’ He hung up, leaving Mila to wonder what kind of swimsuit was appropriate for a night-time swim.
She was expecting to hear his car pull up and was surprised when the roar of a motor bike shattered the quiet of her little suburban street and even more surprised when it stopped outside her house. She looked out her bedroom window and sure enough, there was Ryan stepping easily off a bike and Jack sitting happily to attention in an open box at the back.
Mila glanced down at her sandalled feet and quickly grabbed some sandshoes instead. As she headed down the stairs she was also having serious second thoughts about the short, strappy sundress she’d thrown on over one of Holly’s many spare bikinis.
She opened the door to see him in a basic white v-neck T-shirt that clung to his broad chest and did little to conceal his ridiculously toned body. Well-loved denims happily hugged his hips and thighs. He saw her look beyond him then to the motorbike, and his grin, told Mila that he was enjoying the surprise.
‘So do I need to get changed?’ she asked, raising one eyebrow.
‘Not at all,’ he answered. ‘You look to be the perfect accessory for the Duke.’