Wealthy Australian, Secret Son

by Margaret Way

  “And you’re not looking good, Barbara. You’re taking on the persona of the Wicked Witch of the West.”

  To Barbara it was a hard slap in the face. “For you of all people to say that! You loved me madly.”

  “And how much did you love me?” he countered, his mood abruptly shifting. “You never loved me, Barbara, did you? It was the Marsdon name. The Marsdon money.”

  Barbara gave him a vicious smile. “Which you promptly lost.”

  “Just like it’s now the Reiner money—poor old fool,” Vivian continued, as though she hadn’t spoken. “By now he must know you’re crazy.”

  Barbara threw up her hands in frustration. “We were supposed to be talking about your daughter and the things she got up to.”

  Vivian gave her a look of utter contempt. “You surely can’t think you can turn me against my daughter? You can’t think you can turn me against my beloved grandson? I don’t give a damn who Chrissie’s father is. My daughter Charlotte is his mother, and I’m his grandfather.”

  “Costello is his father!” Barbara shouted. “So that’s your answer, is it? You don’t mind that Rohan Costello is the boy’s father? Rohan Costello—who let our boy drown?”

  “Oh, Mum!” Charlotte moaned in despair, thanking God Christopher was far away in his room.

  Vivian Marsdon was so angry he was temporarily unable to speak. “I should have stopped you, Barbara,” he said grimly after a few moments. “I shouldn’t have let you crucify young Costello and his mother—a struggling young woman you had once helped. Losing Mattie has deranged you. You desperately needed counselling at the time. I should have seen you got it. Instead I let you wreck your mental health and the Costellos’ lives. Rohan was not to blame for Mattie’s death. It was a tragic accident. I’ve long since accepted that.”

  “So he’s not so bad. Is that it?” Barbara asked, breathing heavily. “You can adjust?”

  “I may need a little time.” Vivian turned to his daughter. “It’s true, Charlie?”

  “Of course it’s true,” Barbara cut in. “I don’t go around making up stories.”

  “Keep out of this, Barbara,” Vivian Marsdon warned. “I’m running out of patience with you.”

  Barbara gave a shriek of horror. “Patience? I just got here.”

  Charlotte ignored her mother. “Yes, Dad. But I believed when I married Martyn I was carrying his child.”

  “What else do you need, Vivian? A blasted DNA report?”

  “Shut up, woman,” Vivian Marsdon thundered, shocked at his ex-wife’s vindictiveness. “If you can’t shut up then I’ll show you the door.” He had never sounded so authoritative.

  Barbara Reiner reeled back in her chair. “I—beg—your—pardon?” She could scarcely believe her ears.

  “Please…please stop. Both of you,” Charlotte begged. “Marrying Martyn was a huge mistake, but I didn’t know what else to do at the time. It wasn’t as though you were here for me, Mum. I didn’t have the guts to tell Dad I was pregnant. I didn’t have the guts to go it alone.”

  “Go it alone?” Barbara repeated with scorn. “You took all the comfort you could from poor Martyn, though, didn’t you? So much for your endless love for Costello!”

  Charlotte met her mother’s hard, accusatory gaze. “I did go to Martyn for comfort. I was missing Rohan terribly. We’d been friends all our lives.”

  “And you used him,” Barbara condemned.

  “I suppose I did.” It had never for a second entered her head to abort her child. But she couldn’t have turned to Rohan when she was carrying Martyn’s child. There’d be no way out of it. She’d married Martyn.

  “That’s it. That’s enough, Barbara,” Vivian Marsdon said sternly. “How could Charlie go to you? Her mother? You were never the soul of comfort at the best of times. You spent all the years of Mattie’s life dancing attendance on him.”

  “Because he was delicate, you ignorant fool!”

  “The bitter truth was you spoonfed him. You would never listen to me—”

  Charlotte cut in. “Please keep your voices down. I couldn’t bear for Christopher to hear you.”

  “He won’t hear us, Charlie.” Vivian reached out to pat her hand. “His bedroom is too far away.”

  “Just as well.” Charlotte shuddered. “What did you hope to achieve, Mum, by coming here?”

  Barbara straightened her shoulders. “I need your word, Charlotte, that you won’t marry Costello. I couldn’t live with that. If you give me your promise there’s no more to be said. You can carry on with your charade.”

  Charlotte stared back at her mother in wonderment. So wonderfully elegant on the outside, a total mess within. “I’m afraid there’s no question of that. Rohan recognised his son the instant he laid eyes on him.”

  “Did he really?” Vivian Marsdon turned to his daughter, showing his shock.

  “As per usual, Vivian, you’ve had your head in the sand,” his ex-wife said contemptuously. “The boy will grow into the image of him. Those blue eyes, for a start. One rarely sees eyes like that. Are you really prepared to create a great scandal, Charlotte? For Costello? He’s making quite a name for himself in the city. An illegitimate child won’t help. Or the mother of his child marrying his childhood friend. What about the Valley? The news would shock the entire district. God alone knows what the Prescotts will think, let alone do.”

  “They’ll do nothing,” Vivian Marsdon said, his eyes on fire.

  “They won’t have to. There are few things Nicole and her mother like better than airing their suspicions,” Charlotte said. “Rohan and I are prepared to wear it all. One can’t hide the truth for ever.”

  “Just another nine-day wonder,” Vivian Marsdon said with a hopeful smile. There would be a scandal. No question. But it was high time he came out on the side of his long-suffering daughter. “Good God, woman, Costello has bought Riverbend. He has big plans for it. Christopher is his son and heir. Christopher will one day inherit his birthright. Think of that. The wheel of fortune has turned full circle. Marsdons planted the first vines in the Valley, the first olive groves. We won’t just be selling our harvested crops. I’ve heard Costello is planning to build a new winery. Bring in all the best people. I believe he’s already having talks with the von Luckners—father and son. Remember old Konrad predicted young Rohan would have a splendid future?”

  That was true. The von Luckners were members of a very posh clan from Germany, who had migrated shortly before the First World War to get away from Europe.

  “Who told you, Dad?” It was no secret the von Luckners were in need of a big inflow of cash to expand and continue the late Erich von Luckner’s bold vision.

  “My dear girl, people tell me things. Always have. I am a Marsdon—a community leader.”

  “So, you’re all going to finish up friends?” Barbara cried out in disbelief, appalled that things weren’t going as she’d planned.

  “There are worse things than friends, Barbara. Like ex-wives.” Vivian glanced down pointedly at his watch. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to poor old Reiner? I suppose he let you have the Bentley without a whimper?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  AFTER Barbara had left, acting as though she was cut to the quick by their refusal to heed her warnings, father and daughter returned to the living room, their hearts heavy.

  “This is my fault,” Charlotte said, her psyche so wounded by years of blame she sought not one ounce of sympathy for herself.

  “Of course it isn’t,” groaned her father. “Was that really the woman I married?” he asked in genuine wonder. “What’s bugging her most, do you suppose? The fact that you’re going to marry Rohan Costello? That’s he’s Christopher’s father? Or that you slept with poor old Martyn too? She always did take his side, you know. She believed Martyn’s version of events over yours. Rohan never defended himself.”

  “He didn’t have to, Dad. Rohan was an innocent victim. I was only with Martyn once before we were married.” She turned her bea
utiful eyes on her father. There really had to be something wrong with her. Post-traumatic stress? That was a popular diagnosis. Terrible things happened, yet they were never mentioned. Abuses of all kinds. Perhaps she should get a big sheet of cardboard and write Rape on it? It wasn’t going to trip off her tongue.

  “What awful luck! It’s women who pay the price, isn’t it? Women who get hurt the most. We weren’t there for you, Charlie. And you were so young.”

  She couldn’t bear to talk about it any more. Had she been able to depend upon a loving, wise mother, her life might have turned out differently.

  Charlotte turned her head, as though her son might suddenly appear. “It’s a wonder Chris hasn’t come downstairs,” she said, with a puzzled frown. “He would have seen the Bentley leave.”

  “We did tell him to remain in his room. He’s a good boy, and a highly intuitive one. He knew there was going to be trouble. Barbara doesn’t care how many casualties there are in her one-woman war.”

  “I’m so sorry, Dad.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Charlie! It’s your parents who should be sorry. You’ve had some very difficult episodes in your life. Mostly because we failed you—your mother and I. We failed the Costellos. We failed Martyn. He should have been made to retract his damaging statements. It’s a wonder you have any love left for me.”

  Did one ever lose the capacity to love a parent? Even a bad one? “Plenty of love!” Charlotte rose to her feet, dropping a kiss on her father’s silver-streaked blond head. “I’ll look in on Chris, then make us both a strong cup of coffee.”

  “I’ll get things going.” Vivian stood up. On the surface he was calm enough; underneath he was full of intense regrets about his own past behaviour and horror at his ex-wife’s lack of compassion. “Did you hear the way that woman spoke to us?” he huffed. “I’ll tell you this: she won’t put a foot inside the door again.”

  “Try to put it out of your mind, Dad,” Charlotte advised. “With Mattie gone, love is something Mum cannot provide. I think of her as not being in her right mind.”

  “One wonders if she ever was.”

  All was quiet inside when Charlotte knocked on her son’s door. “It’s me, Chris. You can come out now, darling. Sorry it took so long.”

  She waited for him to come to the door, full of questions. Gifted children had many advantages. They also suffered disadvantages. They recognised too much, too early. Maybe he was taking a nap? He hadn’t been feeling one hundred per cent, but as usual he made no complaints.

  “Chrissie?” She knocked again, and then when she got no response, opened the door.

  The room was empty. She sucked in her breath. He had to be in the bathroom just down the hall. Maybe he’d been sick again? She hoped not. She had thought the short bout of vomiting the night before was over.

  “Chrissie, love?” She knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you sick again?”

  Again no response. She opened the door, taking in the empty white and turquoise tiled bathroom at a glance. Where was he? It was too early for her to be worried, yet she felt a chill run right through her body. Was it possible Christopher had crept down the stairs to listen in on the adult conversation? Would he do that? Had he heard his grandfather’s lion-like roar? That would have put him on the alert. Christopher was a great one for knowing the facts. Why had his grandmother come visiting? They rarely saw her. Why had his grandfather shouted in that angry voice?

  It was possible—more than possible—her son had decided to find out. Christopher was no ordinary child.

  Oh, God! Oh, God! Was it happening all over again? A missing child? A mother’s worst nightmare short of a child’s confirmed death. Swiftly she got a hold on herself, trying to think things through. She had to accept now that he had listened in. Made the choice to run. Run where? Could he have gone to Peter’s place? Could he have sought the comfort of his best friend? She hurried away to put a call through to Peter’s house. Pray God he was there. Peter would be home from school by now.

  Rohan’s secretary, Shona, appeared at the door, her pretty face without its usual dimpled smile. “I know you told me to hold your calls, Rohan, but I think you’ll want to take this one. It’s Charlotte. She sounds very distressed.”

  “Right, put it through.” He was scheduled to meet up with one of his more important clients, but if there was anything wrong with Charlotte he would cancel.

  Under fifteen minutes later he was in the air, the company helicopter heading for Riverbend. Children were life itself to their parents. He had found Charlotte. He had found his son. Nothing would be allowed to put their future in jeopardy. He knew Charlotte’s fears were gaining momentum with every passing hour, but what he had seen of his son gave him hope. A boy under tremendous stress, he had gone off on his own. Maybe he should have told his mother first. But he had needed to do some thinking alone. He had a strong feeling Christopher had inherited his temperament.

  The instant she heard the thrump-thrump of the rotors Charlotte was flying out through the door, feeling as though if anyone could find Christopher it would be Rohan—his father. She hurled herself at him, the bone-deep stabs of fear abating to a level she could bear. It was torture to think her seven-year-old son had had to run away to counteract the shock and the grief he must have felt as powerful deceptions were exposed. Would she ever be the same for him again? Would his great love for her, his faith in her, change?

  Rohan caught her up, pulling her close into his body. Her anguish couldn’t have been more visible. “I spotted the police car and the scouters from the air,” he said, his cheek against her thick curtain of hair. “There are a lot of people out there, all up and down the riverbank.”

  The river.

  A half-forgotten poem sprang disturbingly into his head.

  Whoever said happiness is the light shining on the

  water?

  The water is cold and dark and deep.

  There could never be another drowning. That was his belief, and it was strong. He wasn’t about to panic. Mattie wouldn’t allow it. Mattie who had ceased to be and yet lived on.

  “Practically the whole village is out.” Charlotte’s willowy body was shaking like a leaf. “Where is he, Rohan?” She stared up into his brilliant eyes as though he alone knew the answer.

  He took her firmly by the shoulders. “Wherever he is, Charlotte, he’s safe. He loves you far too much to do anything silly. He’s a clever, thoughtful child. He wants to be by himself right now. He wants to sort everything out in his own mind. I used to go off by myself, remember?”

  “Yes, you did.” She felt a flutter of hope.

  “I can tell you one thing,” Rohan said grimly. “Your mother will never be allowed near Christopher again. Where’s your father?”

  He put his arm around her waist, leading her back into the house. She was trying so hard to be brave. That was the thing! Charlotte was brave. And she had never been one to tell even the smallest lie. It wasn’t a matter of degree with Charlotte. A lie was a lie was a lie! Even now her inexplicable action in marrying Martyn brought him to near breaking point. Only he didn’t have the time now for all the convolutions of his mind.

  “Dad is out searching,” Charlotte said. “He’s tremendously upset. I shouldn’t say this, but I’m feeling near hatred for my mother. She provoked this thing. Dad went off in a sick rage. He loves Christopher.”

  “I know. There are too many people searching the riverbanks. Christopher isn’t there.”

  She lifted her eyes to him, tears welling. “But how can we be sure of that, Rohan? What Chrissie learned would have destroyed all his certainties about life. About me—his mother. About you—his real flesh-and-blood father. He’s only a little boy, no matter how intelligent. What he overheard would have been shocking to his ears. Who knows what a child in shock will do?”

  He bent to stay her quivering mouth with a kiss. “Mattie won’t let Christopher fall in the river.”

  Her expression totally changed. “You’re s
aying that as though Mattie is still alive and breathing.”

  “So what if he isn’t? He’s still out there. Somewhere. Parallel universe—who knows? I continue to feel a spiritual connection to my childhood friend. I don’t go around analysing it. It just is. Christopher wouldn’t do anything so radical, anyway. He knows Mattie’s story. He’s a child with deep feelings. He’s trying to understand what he heard. Weigh it up. I’ll get the Sergeant to direct more searchers to the vineyards and the olive groves. But somehow I don’t think he’s there. The old winery?”

  “It’s been searched. The house has been searched from top to bottom.” She meant the Riverbend mansion.

  “Right—well, I’m off!” He spoke with immense purpose.

  “I’m coming with you.” A tear ran down her cheek. She dashed it away. She would search until she dropped down dead.

  Only Rohan wasn’t having it. “I know how hard this is for you, Charlie, but you must stay here,” he said with quiet authority. “For all we know Christopher could work his way back. We don’t want him returning to an empty house.”

  “But, Rohan—he must have heard all the commotion.” She was ready to argue, her nerves strung taut. This was her son. Their son. “The noise of the chopper arriving. I’m so frightened. I’ve spent so many years of my life frightened.”

  No time either for him to question that shock admission. Years of her life frightened? He knew next to nothing about her life with Martyn. She wouldn’t tell him. “Well, I’m here now.” He let her body slump against him, feed off his strength. “And I won’t be back until I find our son. Trust me, Charlotte.”

  “With my life!” She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. “With our son’s life. Forgive me, Rohan. I’ve made so many mistakes. And now our son knows them.” A sound of agony escaped her lips. “He thought me perfect. He won’t any more. Rohan, he mightn’t even love me any more. The thought is too dreadful!”