A Case For Trust

by Gracie MacGregor

  ‘Is what serious?’

  Matt’s prevarication didn’t hold up to his brother’s eagle-eyed scrutiny and Justin whooped. ‘It is! Mighty Matt Mason has finally fallen. I can hear the hearts breaking all over town. Going to marry her?’

  ‘That’s the general idea,’ Matt said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Then why are you still here? She went home early, wasn’t feeling well, but I’m sure a little tender loving from you will make her all better again.’

  Matt ignored the teasing. ‘She wasn’t feeling well? When?’

  ‘Right before she left. Said she had sunstroke or something. I thought it might have been because she’d just found out you were on your way, but that can’t be right. Or haven’t you told her yet how you feel?’

  ‘The right opportunity hasn’t presented itself.’

  ‘Speak to her like that in your lawyer voice and it probably never will. God, I hope you don’t talk to her like that in bed. Need a few tips?’

  ‘Not from you,’ Matt bit out, and Justin laughed aloud.

  ‘All right, all right, I’m just playing with you. But take it from me: if you’re serious about her, go and find her and get a ring on her finger before she knows what’s happening. If you’re serious about her, you don’t want to lose her.’

  ‘I know that much already.’

  ‘And yet you’re still here, talking to me instead of her.’

  Matt nodded tersely. ‘Need a lift?’

  ‘Nah, I’m all good. Give Philippa a kiss from me. A nice brotherly kiss!’ he yelled as Matt, scowling, strode out of the gallery.

  ***

  She wasn’t home. Matt sat on the top step of Philippa’s verandah and worried his bottom lip with his teeth. He’d seen her get in the taxi, watched it drive off and head towards the city, but if she wasn’t well, perhaps she hadn’t made it home. He’d had sunstroke years ago, after a furious game of tennis in midsummer heat with a competitive, domineering client. Had won the match, as he recalled, and had paid for the victory with his head stuck in the toilet bowl all night afterwards. He could remember the dazed helplessness he’d felt. Had she been able to give the driver the right directions to get home? Was it a yellow taxi or a black and white one? He could ring the taxi dispatch, track down the driver. Perhaps he should check the hospitals.

  He leaned back against the railing, flicking through his mobile phone messages. He’d called her again, texted her, begged her in the last message to call him urgently so he’d know she was all right. Nothing. Not a whisper. He lay the phone on the verandah next to him, and spotted a slip of cardboard in the cracks beside the phone. It took him a moment or two to pull it out with his fingernails, and he was surprised when he flipped it over to see a real estate agent’s grinning mug beside a well-known logo. It was a new card, not faded or bent or grubby. Couldn’t have been there long. Why was Philippa talking to real estate agents?

  He got up and banged on the door again, but he knew it was pointless. The house was locked up tight and the ute was gone, so she must have made it home, must have gone out again. It was well past the time the stores would have closed, but still: he’d wait a bit longer.

  Matt settled back on the step and pulled out the jewellery box. The brilliant-cut diamond winked at him in the light reflected from the street lamp. Justin’s words echoed in his head, and he worked to unclench the knot in his throat that had taken residence since Philippa pushed past him. If she was ill, chances were she hadn’t even known it was him. If she was ill, she was probably just in a desperate hurry to get out, to get home.

  If that was the case, where was she now?

  It didn’t matter where she was. He’d wait. He’d wait until she came home, because wherever she was, whatever was going on, he was asking her to marry him. Tonight.

  Chapter 14

  A sharp rap against the window snatched Pippa from her doze. It was the same cop who’d woken her two hours before. She wound down her window.

  ‘I thought you said you were waiting to see the sunrise?’

  Pippa squinted blearily at the policeman’s face. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Looks like you missed it.’

  He was right. The sun was already well above the horizon and reflecting off the city’s acres of plate glass, transforming green and black and clear and clouded windows into a uniform sea of sparkling amber.

  ‘Looks like I did.’

  ‘Well, I’m finishing up my shift now, and heading home. Might be time you did the same.’ The tone was easy, but Pippa read a warning in his eyes and nodded. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Miss? Nothing that’s going to put you at risk at home?’

  He hadn’t bought her sunrise-watching story; Pippa hadn’t really expected him to. He had the lines of a cop who’d pretty much seen it all. She had no doubt he’d already looked up her registration, knew her name and her address, probably knew about those two licence points she’d lost one day speeding to get to a wedding. She smiled and nodded again.

  ‘I’m sure. Thank you.’

  ‘Well, you take care, Miss. I’d really prefer not to see you up here again tomorrow morning.’

  She waved at him as she pulled away in the car; he didn’t wave back, just watched her turn onto the road that led down the mountain. At the café on Sylvan Road, she bought a takeaway double-shot coffee to save some time when she got home. By rights, she ought to already be at Eleanor’s, making sure all was ready for the pavers that, courtesy of Alec’s company account, were due to arrive at seven. But she needed a shower after sitting in the ute all night; it would be tight, but she could still make it.

  She barely slowed as she entered her street before suddenly braking sharply and pulling up behind another car. Matt’s Audi was just pulling away from the kerb outside her house. She watched it drive all the way down the street and turn the corner towards town before she released her breath. He’d obviously come to see her before heading into the office—although her house was hardly on the way. She’d turned her phone off when she’d left the gallery the night before and had determinedly resisted every temptation to turn it on again. She did so now, saw the multiple missed calls from his number, along with one from Eleanor. She’d explain that away later when she saw her. She’d been ill; had turned her phone off and gone straight to bed.

  She hurried into her house and into the shower.

  ***

  ‘But Philippa, that’s ridiculous. I insist. It’s only a matter of timing, and you’ve more than demonstrated you have both the skills and the integrity to complete the job. No offence, Mr Ryder, but I’m not at all comfortable with the idea of Philippa not being paid for her work. Philippa, let me organise a cheque now for the total amount, so you can be compensated properly.’

  Eleanor’s impassioned and seemingly sincere argument was balm to Pippa’s soul. After the absurd warning last night about hurting her son, Pippa hadn’t been at all sure what welcome she would receive this morning, and had been prepared for Eleanor to fire her from the landscaping job altogether. Instead, the Mason matriarch had met Alec politely and listened closely to Pippa’s explanation about the ‘hiccup’ in her finances.

  She hadn’t told the whole story, of course she hadn’t. She didn’t need Eleanor putting two and two together and coming up with culpability for her ruthless son. There must be no clue that Matt had damaged her, and no sympathy, no condescension; her pride, her heart wouldn’t bear it.

  Alec was looking at her expectantly. ‘Well, lass? I’ll not waste time being where I’m not needed.’ And Pippa was drawn sharply back to the problem at hand.

  ‘Eleanor, it’s kind of you to offer, but I’m afraid that doesn’t resolve the issue entirely. I still need to be sure I have public liability insurance and until I’ve been able to resolve this issue with the bank—and that could take some time—I can’t progress with the work without Alec’s company insurance.’

  ‘Then I’ll wait.’ Eleanor’s tone was unyielding, and Pippa felt her own ner
ves grate against the Mason mulishness.

  ‘You can’t wait!’ she burst out. ‘You have a yard cut up for pavers that will turn to sludge at the first rain. And I no longer have cover for any accidents that might occur. A claim would kill any chance of me getting my business back on its feet. So please, please give your approval for Alec’s company to take over the job.’

  ‘Mother, for heaven’s sake, whatever Philippa wants, give it to her so I can have some bloody peace.’ Justin had appeared, tousle-haired, sexily stubbled and bare above the waist, at the kitchen door. He inched past Alec to get to the coffee percolator, poured himself a mug, added cream and sugar and shuffled back out again. His interruption had distracted them all, and it took Pippa a long moment to recall where she’d left off. She turned anxious eyes back to Eleanor.

  ‘Eleanor, please. I want to finish the job for you, and this is the only way I can finish it. Please, let Alec’s company take over the contract.’

  It appeared Eleanor was relenting, right up until Justin appeared in the doorway again. ‘Sorry, what? What did you say? Why is Alec’s company taking over the contract? What contract are we talking about? Who’s Alec? Are you Alec?’

  Pinned under the eyes of the laggard-suddenly-turned-lawyer, Alec reddened and stuttered before finding his native Scots acerbity again. ‘Yes, I’m Alec. And I’ve got somewhere else to be. So perhaps when you sort out your clients, lass, you can let me know whether I’m needed or not. I assure you, it’s all the same to me. In the meantime, I’d be damned careful laying those pavers if I were you. Good day to ye.’

  Pippa muffled a groan of frustration and buried her head in her hands as Alec collected his car keys from the counter and left without another word.

  ‘Mum? What was all that about?’

  Eleanor shrugged her elegant shoulders. ‘Ask Philippa.’

  Pippa replied grimly. ‘I am trying to ensure your mother’s landscaping is completed. My bank and I are having a small dispute about a loan and while we are disputing, I don’t have capital or insurance cover. If Alec’s company takes over the contract, I can still get the job done as planned. That’s all.’

  ‘What’s the dispute about?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  Justin spoke each word slowly as if she was an idiot. Which she no doubt was. ‘What’s. The. Dispute. About. With the bank.’

  ‘I applied for a loan, secured against my house, to cover the equipment and materials I needed. I had to get mortgage insurance, I made a mistake on the application form and now the bank’s withdrawn the loan and my public indemnity insurance.’ She’d been through the story so many times already, in her head and out loud, she was able to deliver it with a casual indifference that belied the burgeoning despair.

  ‘What was the mistake?’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Justin, just leave it, can’t you?’

  Unnoticed, Eleanor had slipped out of the kitchen, and Pippa found herself pushed none too gently onto a stool while Justin took the one beside her.

  ‘No. I don’t believe I can,’ he said coolly, but his eyes, so much like Matt’s, were filled with the tenderness and concern she’d longed to see in his brother’s. ‘Come on, Pippa, spill. Perhaps I can help.’

  It was too much. Pippa leant her head on her crossed elbows and sobbed, felt Justin patting her back awkwardly and murmuring comforting words that were at least as unfamiliar to him as they were to Pippa. They stayed that way for an age, until Pippa heaved deep gulps of air into her lungs, forcing the sobs back down into her chest, muscling up her courage to fortify the shame.

  And then she told him.

  ***

  Justin was shaking his head. ‘I can’t believe it. I mean, rotten luck and all, but even so: I doubt half the insurance applications the bank receives actually contain the truth. And I’ll bet the bank works on the assumption the number of accurate applications is probably less than a third. I can’t believe they’ve cancelled the loan just because of that. Mind you, you’re probably lucky in some respects. If they really wanted to be bastards about it, they could call up your first mortgage as well.’

  Pippa’s face crumpled again.

  ***

  ‘So here’s what we do: we go back to the bank and ask for a formal review of the decision. They’ll come back with the same answer, but that’s okay, that’s when we hit them with the demand for an audit of all their approved loans. They’ll resist that, of course, claim it’s commercial-in-confidence, and that’s when we’ll issue them with the court order and sue them for sexual discrimination. Because I’ll bet you pounds to peanuts there’ll be an imbalance between the proportion of loans approved for male businessmen and those approved for women. There always is. And at that point, their lawyers will get the heebie-jeebies and advise them to settle, and you’ll get your loan and your insurance and possibly even some compensation for inconvenience and stress.’

  Justin sat back on the stool with a self-satisfied smirk, and looked to Philippa for the gushing praise he so clearly deserved for his clever legal strategem.

  So then, she had to tell him the rest of it.

  ***

  They were still in the kitchen, Justin silently absorbing the scale of the catastrophe, when Marissa arrived. She copied her brother’s movements with the coffee percolator, right down to the cream and sugar, and perched on the other side of Pippa, leaning past her to speak to her brother. ‘No court today?’

  ‘Gave myself a day off. I’ve got a case I’m working on, but it’s weeks away from needing court time. Why aren’t you at the office?’

  ‘Rostered day off.’

  ‘Bloody public servants. No wonder there’s never enough legal aid available, if all the lawyers are helping themselves to days off.’

  ‘Get stuffed. How are you, Philippa?’

  ‘She’s stuffed, too. Matt’s stuffed her. Stupid bastard. He’s got no idea what he’s done.’

  ‘What has he done?’

  Pippa had no interest in retelling the story. She listened as Justin expostulated, interjecting now and then when his self-righteous indignation overcame his accurate recollection.

  ‘No way! There’s no way Matt would do that! There has to be some mistake!’ Marissa leapt to her feet in leaping to her eldest brother’s defence, sending an accusing glare at her twin, which only barely skipped over the woman who sat between them.

  Justin shrugged. ‘That’s what I said as well. But Pippa saw the document, with Matt’s name on it. And since a Mason got her into this predicament, a Mason will have to get her out of it.’

  ‘Well, you can’t handle it. As a barrister, you have no standing,’ Marissa observed.

  ‘You’re right, I don’t. But you do. Couldn’t you take it on, Marissa?’

  ‘I don’t think Philippa would qualify for legal aid, not when she’s got the house and business.’

  ‘But she’s going to lose both. Or does that actually have to happen? Does she actually have to be broke and homeless and unemployed before the Legal Aid Office will help?’

  ‘Please, stop.’ Pippa’s broken voice nevertheless had enough power to cut across the siblings’ argument. ‘I don’t want this issue dividing your family. Neither of you can help without upsetting your brother. And I’m not going to fight it anyway. It was my own fault. Well, mine and my drunk father’s. I’m just going to have to pick up the pieces and start again.’

  The twins exchanged worried glances. ‘Philippa,’ Justin started, ‘from what you’ve said, this bank action is going to bankrupt you. You’re going to end up in debt with no way to pay it back within the bank’s timeframe.’

  ‘We could try negotiating a payment plan,’ Marissa added, ‘but if the amount’s anything greater than, say, twenty grand, the bank’s unlikely to agree, particularly when your business has been responsible for the bulk of your income. They’ll take whatever you’ve got and force you into bankruptcy.’

  ‘And that means you won’t be able to start again, not your own busin
ess anyway, for at least three years. You could struggle to get a job, struggle to get a lease on a place to live, you can’t travel overseas without permission—’

  Pippa smirked bitterly. ‘There goes the round-the-world trip I was planning.’

  ‘Philippa, it’s serious,’ Marissa implored. ‘You have to try and sort this out. You have to fight it.’

  Pippa stood up carefully, quietly. ‘I’m tired of fighting. I appreciate your advice, I really do, but I don’t want any more of your help. If you’ll excuse me, I have pavers to lay.’ She rinsed her coffee mug, ignoring the twins’ anxious eyes upon her back, and then escaped to the backyard where the most troublesome problems could be fixed with a rubber mallet and a spirit level.

  ***

  The real estate agent’s car crawled to a halt outside Pippa’s house, and Pippa, sitting on the top step, consciously collected herself, preparing for the worst. She’d spent the past hour itemising her assets. If she sold the ute and her better tools and the few jewellery items of her mother’s that might have any value; if she could clear a thousand dollars for the rest of her surplus belongings through a garage sale, then as long as she lost no more than ten thousand on the price she’d originally paid for the house, she could probably fall just within the bank’s payment plan parameters. That was a lot of ifs. But surely the cards had to fall her way at some point in this whole rotten nightmare?

  The agent already had a pre-filled contract of agency appointment sitting on top of his corporate folder, she saw. She tried not to resent his keenness. He was just doing his job. It wasn’t his fault so many of her dreams for her future were tied up in this house she’d bought on her own and the gardens she’d lavishly loved. She led him through the house and out onto the back verandah, hoping the sprawling vista of native gardens, sheltered in the mountain’s shade, would add a few thousand more to his assessment.

  He didn’t even glance at them.

  ‘We’re excited to be selling your property for you, Ms …’ he had to look at the contract to prompt his recollection of her name, ‘Ms Lloyd. As I mentioned to you the other day—yesterday? Was it only yesterday?—the market’s been quite flat for some months now, but still, my agency’s had some good success in moving properties in this area. Now, if I can just ask you to sign here, and here—’