A Case For Trust

by Gracie MacGregor

  And where will you go? How far is far enough away to avoid seeing or hearing or thinking or dreaming of Matt? If she were truthful, she doubted there was anywhere far enough to change the shape and colour of her dreaming. But for the rest—Toowoomba, perhaps, or the Blue Mountains. Somewhere landscapers—or even garden labourers, she wasn’t proud—were needed by people who could afford to pay them. Where she could rent a little place and just quietly start again; pay off her debt to the bank; start to build up some reserves; create a new sanctuary for herself where lawyers were things other people needed.

  And no more weddings. When she’d believed in happily ever afters, she didn’t mind all the work for what amounted to little reward. She couldn’t afford to waste time celebrating strangers’ weddings any more. Couldn’t afford the time, couldn’t afford the heartache, and couldn’t, wouldn’t pretend any longer that she still believed in enduring love. From now on, Saturdays were for working on things that were real, that provided shelter and joy and beauty and certainty throughout the seasons, throughout the years.

  That was a plan. At last, she had a plan.

  You’ve had plans before. There was the plan to have your own business. The plan to pay off your own house. The plan to force Matt to see you were worthy of him, worthy of his love. You had all those plans. They haven’t worked.

  This one would work. This one had to.

  ***

  ‘Well, I don’t know what else to do. She point-blank refuses.’ Marissa’s frustration as she pounded on his desk was almost as great as Matt’s own. ‘In the end, Matt, she’s the one who has to sign the documents. I can lodge them but she has to sign them. And she won’t. I’ve argued myself hoarse with her for a fortnight, but she won’t sue you. She’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Apart from you, of course.’

  Matt closed his eyes and rubbed them as Marissa continued to catalogue Philippa’s recalcitrance. In the end he cut her off mid-sentence. ‘Okay, okay, I hear you. Let’s forget it. You’ve done all you can. I appreciate it. Now, let’s just forget it.’

  ‘Well, at least this way you won’t risk the Consolgard account. If there’s no claim from Philippa, there’s no case for you to defend, no conflict for you to declare—’

  ‘I’ve resigned the Consolgard account already. They’ll transfer out at the end of the month.’

  ‘Oh, Matt, why?’

  ‘It was the right thing to do.’

  ‘It’s going to cost you.’

  ‘It already has.’

  ‘Well, it’s going to cost you more.’

  ‘Yes. I know.’

  Marissa regarded her eldest brother across his massive silky oak desk. He’d always worked hard, but he looked wearier now than she’d ever seen him. He’d always been good looking, but now he looked his age. There were dark craters below his eyes and his end-of-day stubble emphasised the new hollows in his cheeks. Two weeks didn’t seem like a long time, until you saw how it could change a man. She’d never seen Matt less than confident; now he looked defeated.

  Impulsively she jumped up from her seat, rounded the desk and hugged him. He didn’t reciprocate, but he didn’t pull away either, and she thought she heard a small sigh before he leaned into her a little. Then he did pull away. ‘Thanks, kiddo. Unexpected, but appreciated. Now you’d best get back to work.’

  Marissa was collecting her handbag from the corner of the desk when she saw the little square box half hidden under a sheaf of papers. She slid it out carefully, taking care not to disturb the documents. ‘What’s this?’

  Matt was pretending to read a file. ‘Hmm?’

  Marissa flicked the lid open and gasped aloud at what she saw. ‘Oh, Matt. You really were serious.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  Marissa was struggling to comprehend the enormity of Matt’s commitment. She’d always assumed, vaguely, that he would marry and raise a family of his own, but she’d been equally happy for that to happen sometime in the distant future. It was a given that Matt always had time for his younger siblings, always dropped everything to deliver what they needed. She’d taken for granted he always would. The idea he was ready, now, for his own family, that he’d finally found a woman he loved enough to offer her his name and his life, was breathtaking. And possibly heartbreaking. Marissa trod carefully.

  ‘Did she say no? Is that why you still have the ring?’

  ‘Did who say no to what?’ He was still pretending to read.

  ‘Oh, Matt, don’t be dense. This is too important. Did Philippa say no to your proposal?’

  ‘I didn’t ask her.’

  ‘For god’s sake, why not?’

  Matt sighed and closed the file he’d been scanning. He looked up at Marissa, and there was an uncharacteristic resignation in his eyes. ‘Because events … unfolded before I had the chance. Anyway, it doesn’t change anything.’

  Marissa groaned aloud with frustration. ‘It changes everything. Matt, you have to tell her. Tell her you love her and you want to marry her. Put the house and the business and the insurance nonsense aside and just tell her. If you love her, nothing else matters. And if she loves you, you can work it all out, I know you can.’

  ‘And what if she doesn’t?’

  The low, anguished question brought Marissa up short. ‘Well …’ she stuttered. ‘Well … how couldn’t she? I mean, you’re gorgeous, for a man of almost forty. And, you know, intelligent. Rich. Generous, compassionate, kind, honourable …’

  ‘I doubt Philippa sees me that way. My firm filed a suit against her, remember?’

  Marissa winced. ‘Yes. There is that. You know, I still don’t understand how that happened. I get that you told Simon to investigate her, and I get that he uncovered her insurance application with the alcoholism question, but why didn’t you just tell him to drop it?’

  ‘I thought I had.’

  ‘Then why didn’t he drop it?’

  Matt sat back in his chair and pushed his hands through his hair. He stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head with what looked like bewilderment.

  ‘It was stupid. Just a stupid miscommunication. He asked if he should file it, and I said yes, meaning file it …’

  ‘You meant, put it in a filing cabinet. And he thought you meant …’

  ‘He thought I meant, file it. So he filed the action.’

  ‘But Matt, that’s perfect! I mean, it’s practically the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, but still … it’s perfect. Don’t you see? It wasn’t your fault, it was Simon’s!’

  ‘It was my fault. Simon should never have been investigating her, and should never have known about her father’s alcoholism in the first place. That was an unforgivable breach of trust.’

  ‘Well, you weren’t working for her, it’s not as if you were bound by client privilege—’ The severe eyebrows challenged Marissa to continue with the argument they both knew was fatally flawed. ‘Okay. So it was your fault. You were a mean, heartless, cruel and manipulative bastard. But Matt, you love her. That was then, this is now. And you love her now. Go and see her and tell her. What have you got to lose?’

  Matt gazed at his sister for a long moment, then abruptly pushed his chair back.

  ‘I will. I will tell her. But I have to see someone else first.’

  ***

  ‘She did a great job, don’t you think?’

  Eleanor’s voice came from behind him, and Matt swung around on the verandah where he’d been staring in stunned disbelief at his mother’s backyard. Only six weeks ago, they’d held Eleanor’s birthday party there and the work Philippa had done to transform the garden for that occasion was sensational. But this—this was nothing short of miraculous. As Eleanor joined him at the verandah railing, he turned back to the garden and marvelled.

  He’d spent his whole life in that garden and knew every inch of it, and yet the vista before him—so very different from his childhood memories as to be unrecognisable—nevertheless looked as if it had always been there. Sure, some of the p
lants clearly had some growing up to do, but the paths, the terraces, the beds, even the old pavilion—all were perfect. She had the vision, and the skill, and the determination, and had made something truly special for his mother. He practically burst with pride. And for once, he didn’t bother trying to hide it.

  ‘It’s fantastic. I can’t believe what she’s achieved. And you too, of course.’

  Eleanor waved her elegant hand at him. ‘I’ll be happy to take credit for it with the neighbours, but you and I both know I had very little to do with it. The best ideas are all Philippa’s. And the hard work too, of course. You know I’ve entered it in the Open Garden scheme and the Urban Design Awards? I’ve nominated the kindergarten project for the awards as well, for best community landscaping. I’d been thinking I’d hold a garden party here to officially launch it, so she could meet some of my friends and perhaps win some new commissions. But there’s no point now.’

  Matt frowned. ‘But that’s a great idea. What do you mean, there’s no point?’

  ‘She won’t be here to meet them.’ Eleanor shrugged with almost-convincing indolence, eyeing Matt sideways to check his reaction. He didn’t bother hiding that either.

  ‘I wish you’d stop tormenting me, Eleanor. Where is she going to be?’

  ‘Bowral, I understand.’

  ‘Bowral? What the hell’s in bloody Bowral?’

  ‘Apart from some beautiful old houses? A lot of gardens, and a lot of retired hobby-gardeners with big ambitions but without the healthy knees or hips to fulfil them. God’s waiting room, is Bowral. I suppose there are uglier places.’

  ‘She’s taking her business to Bowral?’

  Eleanor shook her head disparagingly. ‘She hasn’t got a business, as I think you well know. She’s got a job as a gardener with the local council. But it won’t take her long to get back on her feet, and she’ll soon have more commissions than she can possibly handle, I’m sure. I wrote her a reference.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Of course. It was the very least I could do. It was all she’d allow me to do. I offered to invest in her company, pay her a retainer. She wouldn’t even consider it. Whatever she is, whatever you thought she was, one thing she is not is grasping. But she did agree to let Justin put together a lovely portfolio of photos of the garden, so she can build a website when she’s ready. I’m quite looking forward to when she’s famous, telling everybody I was one of her first clients. Are you leaving so soon, darling?’

  Matt paused at the doorway beside her, impatience warring with courtesy. ‘I need to talk to her.’

  ‘Do you? What about?’

  ‘I’m not sure it’s any of your business, Eleanor.’

  The glittering façade dropped and Eleanor rested a trembling hand on his arm. ‘You’re my son. And Philippa’s my dear friend. Of course it’s my business. You know, I told her not to hurt you, never realising for a moment she was the one who was getting hurt.’

  ‘You what? When?’

  ‘At Justin’s gallery party. I saw her face when she heard you were joining us; I’ve never known someone look so hunted. I thought she was avoiding you because she planned to dump you. She must have known already by then what you’d done, and she never said a word.’

  Matt looked away, shamefaced. It was a long time since he’d allowed his mother to dress him down, since he’d given her any excuse to. His inclination was to walk away; to throw her words back in her face. After what she did to his father, Eleanor was the last person he should take relationship advice from. But the truth was, he didn’t know what to do next. The news Philippa was leaving had knocked him for six. He’d thought he had time, time to make amends, time to persuade her to give him another chance. So when his mother started speaking again, he listened.

  ‘Philippa has a lot of class, Matt. I like her very much. So I’ll say the same thing to you I said to her: take care. Be sure of what you want before you see her again now, because she’s vulnerable and trying to put her life back together. I think perhaps, if you’re not serious about her, it would be best if you let her go. I don’t know if she could take another betrayal from you.’

  He nodded silently, and Eleanor waited, patient, wise, not pushing, not judging, just waiting for him to find his own mind, to know his own heart. Just as she’d always done, through all his growing years. As she’d continued to do, despite the chasm that had opened between them, and which he had steadfastly refused to bridge.

  Finally: ‘It’s serious. I’m serious. About Philippa. I love her. I want to marry her. But …’

  ‘But what, Matt?’

  He moved away restlessly, to the edge of the verandah and back to her, then flung himself into one of the drovers chairs that lined the verandah. Eleanor followed more sedately. ‘Matt? What’s stopping you? What are you afraid of?’

  He answered her question with one of his own; less a question, more an entreaty. ‘Won’t you please tell me what happened between you and Dad? What made you stop loving him? What did he do wrong to lose your love?’

  The anguished gasp, the fervent, head-shaking denial from his mother reminded him bitterly that she’d never answered him before, clearly had no intention of answering him this time, and he sprang out of the chair again, ready to leave. His mother’s quiet, proud, defiant voice stopped him in his tracks.

  ‘I loved your father until the day he died, Matt. I still love him.’

  He’d heard that before. It still didn’t make sense to him. But this time, he tried to understand. Tentatively: ‘But you loved Uncle Jack more?’

  ‘No.’ The syllable was unequivocal, and when he looked at his mother, she was clear-eyed, calm, dignified. He turned his back on her again, leaning his hands on the railing, and though he pitched his lawyer’s voice at the garden, he knew she would hear every furious, long pent-up word.

  ‘Then why? Why did you betray Dad? Don’t you see, you and Dad were the exemplars. I looked at my friends, saw them struggling through their parents’ nasty, mean-spirited divorces, and thanked god every night that my parents’ marriage was strong. D’you know, I briefly considered specialising in family law, because I really imagined, I actually believed I knew how a good marriage worked, that I could help the poor sorry sods who didn’t have that example. I believed that because of you and Dad. Then I found out it was all a pack of lies. And now I don’t know what I believe. I think I love Philippa enough, I even think deep down she loves me enough, or at least I hope she does. But what if I’m wrong? What if we start out loving each other and end up tearing each other apart? What if we end up betraying one another? You say she’s vulnerable now; how much more vulnerable will she be, will we both be, later on, when we’re older, tireder, busier? How vulnerable will our children be? I look at you, at you and Dad, and think if you couldn’t make it, as much as you loved each other, how the hell am I supposed to?’

  Matt finally turned around and saw the effect the speech he’d rehearsed so often in his head had had on his mother. She sat trembling, tears running down her papery cheeks, and he swore viciously. ‘I’m sorry. I am. I wish I could talk about this rationally, but I can’t. Forgive me. I’ll go now.’

  ‘Matt, wait.’ Her voice was steady in spite of the tears. ‘Darling, try and understand. No two loves are the same. No two marriages are the same. And nobody outside a marriage can see what’s going on inside it. You can’t look at my marriage with your father and say, I’ll do this differently or that differently and that way my marriage will last. There are no guarantees in love, Matt. It’s a leap of faith. There’s no other way. You can stay safe on the edge of the precipice, but you can’t love that way. You have to love with all your heart, darling, all your trust, everything you have. You have to risk it all. And if you’re lucky, if you’re very careful and very lucky, you’ll have what your father and I had. It wasn’t perfect. But for almost forty years, it was wonderful. Even in the bad times. Even in the ugly times.’

  This time, his voice was so low she had to
strain to hear it. ‘Was it worth it?’

  ‘Absolutely. Every moment.’

  He stayed silent another moment, then nodded. Leant over his mother’s chair and kissed her cheek softly. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

  ‘Courage, my darling. It will be worth it for you, too. I promise.’

  Chapter 16

  Pippa stared at the document in front of her. All she had to do was sign it, and it was done. The real estate agent hovered expectantly, rightly pleased with himself that he’d upheld his side of the bargain. He’d negotiated a sale and a very fast settlement that would leave her homeless but would satisfy the bank’s conditions. She’d be repaying the last of the bank debt for a couple of years yet, but she wouldn’t be bankrupt and she’d be in control of her own destiny again. She could take her ute and her tools and her dreams somewhere else and start again.

  So just bloody sign it.

  She glanced up momentarily from the paperwork, in time to catch the dappled twilight filtering through the big jacaranda. She’d loved that tree. Loved the bank of golden wattles beneath it. Loved the yard at the back with its grevilleas and callistemons and lemon myrtle. Had poured so much of herself into creating a little sanctuary that was all her own. The buyer who’d visited that morning had loved it too, loved it so much she’d immediately made an offer which the agent had spent the rest of the day haggling upwards. And here he was, with a pretty good contract, really, considering the state of the market.

  Still she hesitated.

  It wasn’t just losing the house and leaving her garden; she knew she had to do that. It was leaving Brisbane, leaving the only place she’d known. Leaving Matt, her heart whispered traitorously.

  As if she’d conjured him by wishing, she saw the familiar black Audi pull up outside her gate. The agent saw it too, craning his neck and tutting that he should have removed the ‘for sale’ sign already. Then he recognised Matt getting out of the car, and his anxiety ramped up a level, matched by the speed of his patter.

  ‘Ms Lloyd? The contract? I assure you, I’ve coaxed our buyer as high as she’s likely to go. I don’t believe you’ll get a better price. And I did tell her I’d finalise the sale tonight.’