Midway through a conversation about Tim’s little boy Theo’s upcoming second birthday party, her phone beeped with a message. She slipped it from her handbag and glanced down at the screen, warmth spreading through her body as she read Jasper’s message:
Hey gorgeous. How’s our little bundle going? x
‘Sorry, Mum, just gonna reply to Jasper.’ And she smiled.
Dr Manera said we are both healthy and the baby is a good size for thirty weeks. I’ve just had lunch and am about to hit the shops. XO
So that’s why my back pocket is suddenly hurting! Have fun. X
She laughed as she put the phone back on the table.
Joanne wiped her mouth with a paper serviette and then gestured out the window. ‘I think we should hit the shops before the storm arrives. I don’t want you driving home in that.’
‘Nor me you,’ Claire said as she saw that the clouds outside had turned even darker.
Soon they were browsing the baby section at David Jones, their arms laden with tiny outfits. Claire was in heaven. Polly had warned her not to go over the top because they’d get more than enough clothes as presents, but Claire couldn’t help herself. And nor could her mum.
‘You don’t know what you’re having then?’ asked the older woman behind the counter as she rang up all their purchases.
‘No, we want a surprise,’ Claire replied.
The woman nodded. ‘Best way, I reckon. In my day, no one had the option and it was always a lovely surprise at the end of all that pushing.’
Claire laughed—not even scary stories about painful labours could dampen her mood.
They left the department store and continued into other smaller shops, browsing and adding to their purchases until neither of them could carry even one more bag. Due to the weather and Joanne’s eagerness for them both to be getting home, they bypassed a pedicure and Claire took her mum back to collect her car instead.
‘Thanks for coming up today,’ she said as she hugged her goodbye.
‘The pleasure was all mine, sweetheart,’ Joanne said as she stepped out of Claire’s car into the pouring rain. ‘Text me when you get home, okay?’
Claire nodded. ‘You too.’ Sydney drivers always seemed to go a little crazy in a storm.
She waited until her mum was safely in her own car before driving off. As she began to navigate the traffic to the main road, she was almost bouncing in her seat with eagerness to show Jasper everything they’d bought. She was even excited about the prospect of washing all the little outfits and putting them in the nursery in readiness.
‘You really are a hopeless case,’ she said to herself with a chuckle.
She was on the Expressway heading towards the Hunter Valley, lost in a fantasy about how she was going to fit all the stuff she’d bought into the baby’s drawers, when she blinked.
A car was coming towards her from the other direction. And it was travelling fast. Way too fast.
Horror drenched her in an icy sweat. Instinctively, she spun the steering wheel to get out of its way.
Am I on the wrong side of the road?
That was Claire’s last thought before the other vehicle slammed into her and everything went black.
Chapter Nineteen
‘Good morning,’ Harper almost sang as she handed Lilia the takeaway coffee. It was her day to bring drinks. ‘Did you have a good weekend?’
Lilia raised an eyebrow as she took the cardboard cup and leant back in her swivel seat. ‘Sounds like not as good as you. Your smile is blinding me.’
Harper laughed, dropping her bag to the floor as she plonked into her seat. ‘It was quite a lovely weekend. Samuel finally got promoted to partner on Friday and we’ve been in celebration mode ever since.’
‘Oh wow!’ Lilia leant forward, her lips twisting into a smile. ‘Weren’t you beginning to think it was never going to happen?’
Harper nodded and took a sip of her coffee. ‘Yep. But it appears the partners were true to their word, if incredibly slow.’
‘Samuel must be beside himself.’
‘That is an understatement. We’re having dinner at one of the partners’ houses tonight so I’ve booked myself in to get my hair done after work this afternoon.’
‘Wow, give him my congratulations.’
‘I will. Thanks.’ Harper grinned—things had been so great between her and Samuel lately. Since their trip to the Hunter Valley in February, she’d felt closer to him than she had in a long time, and she couldn’t be happier that all his hard work had finally paid off. ‘I’m going to pick your brain soon about exotic holiday locations, because when things have settled down at work again for Samuel, I want to take him overseas to properly celebrate.’
‘Sounds good,’ Lilia said with a wistful sigh. ‘You know I’m your girl when it comes to all things travel.’
‘Anyway, why did you have such a long face when I walked in? I thought you were in new relationship heaven?’
Lilia glowered. ‘There’s no such thing as heaven. Or the perfect man. Well, mine might be perfect if his mother was dead.’
‘What?’ The cup jolted in Harper’s hand—thank God for plastic lids or she could have had a major coffee spillage down her white shirt.
Lilia’s lips quirked a little. ‘David is divine—I haven’t met a guy I’ve felt this way about before—but his mother hates me.’
‘I’m sure she doesn’t. How could anyone hate you?’
‘She thinks I’m too strong-willed and focused on my career. So much so that she’s taken it upon herself to start trying to set David up with other women. Can you believe that?’
Harper couldn’t. She was absolutely speechless.
‘Maybe we need to interview a hit man,’ Lilia said after a few moments. ‘Get some tips.’
And Harper laughed, because she knew her producer was only half joking. ‘Speaking of work …’
Dosed up on caffeine, they threw themselves into the day’s tasks. That afternoon they had an underwater archaeologist on the show but they also had a pre-record to get done before then and the usual research and preparation.
‘And now it’s over to Lucy for the news, but I’ll be back soon with a very special guest. Here’s a clue—there’s more to this man’s job than Titanic.’
Harper removed her headphones, stood and went out to meet the giant of a man waiting beside Lilia. She’d been expecting someone older, a mad professor type, but this guy couldn’t be more than thirty and with his mussed-up blond hair and terribly tanned skin, he looked like he’d just stepped off Bondi Beach.
Lilia barely noticed Harper as she stepped out of the studio to join them. In the end she had to clear her throat and then they both spun round to look at her.
‘Oh,’ Lilia exclaimed as if Harper was the last person she expected to see. ‘This is Tr-Troy. Troy Davies … My … I mean our … shipwreck guy.’
Harper tried to hide her smirk. Lilia had never before stuttered in her presence. The way Troy and Lilia were making eyes at each other, maybe David with the crazy mum had cause for concern.
‘Nice to meet you,’ she said as she thrust her hand towards him. ‘I’m Harper and I’m really looking forward to talking to you.’
‘Likewise,’ Troy said. His shake was firm and his palm warm but not sweaty.
‘Well, we better get in there. Lucy is almost done with the news.’
Troy nodded, tossed a quick dreamy smile at Lilia and then followed Harper into the studio. She gave him the spiel she gave all her guests about microphone use and then glanced down at her computer screen.
FIND OUT IF HE’S SINGLE.
Harper made a funny noise as she tried to swallow the laugh that erupted in her throat at Lilia’s uncharacteristically unprofessional message.
‘You all right?’ Troy asked, settling into his stool on the other side of the desk.
‘Fine.’ She smiled widely and gestured to her throat. ‘Just swallowed some air the wrong way. You know how it is.’
/> He nodded slowly, looking at her as if he had no idea.
Harper went to reach for her bottle of water but realised it was empty and dammit, Lilia—obviously flustered—had forgotten to bring in the usual glass for their guest either. Oh well, too late now, the news jingle was finishing.
‘Welcome back to Afternoons with Harper,’ she said, not allowing herself to meet Lilia’s gaze through the glass. ‘Today I have a very interesting man with me in the studio. Troy Davies—can you tell us exactly what an underwater archaeologist does for a living?’
Grinning, Troy leant close to the mic. ‘Maritime or underwater archaeology is much the same as regular archaeology. It just happens beneath the ocean rather than on land. There are a number of types of maritime archaeology but my speciality is the study of shipwrecks. Exploring wrecks can give us great insight into the lives of those who lived before us.’
Harper asked what an average day in Troy’s world was like, how he had found himself in such a specialised area and if he’d worked on any famous shipwrecks. Troy had fallen into his career after embarking on an arts law degree and choosing archaeology as an elective. He’d always loved the ocean—yes, she was right about her assessment of him as a surfer—and as a child, he remembered reading books about shipwrecks that fascinated him.
‘But I never imagined I could explore wrecks for a living. There was only a brief reference to maritime archaeology in the unit I did at uni, but that was enough to pique my interest. Over the next few months, I read everything I could get my hands on about the topic and then when I finished my Bachelor degree I applied for a graduate program in maritime archaeology. I guess the rest, as they say, is history. Since then I’ve worked on wrecks all over the world.’
‘What brought you back to Australia?’ Harper asked after he’d talked about some of his favourite shipwrecks.
He blushed a little. ‘Love. I got engaged and my fiancée wanted to be back in Sydney close to her family.’
At his words, Harper chanced a glance up at Lilia and saw her scowling. She looked back to Troy. ‘Well, congratulations.’
‘Not really,’ he said with a self-deprecating chuckle. ‘She left me at the altar.’
‘Oh.’ That Harper hadn’t been expecting—she looked to Lilia again and saw her hand pressed against her heart. ‘I’m sorry.’
Troy shrugged and Harper remembered she was here to talk about his work, not his love life. Damn Lilia.
‘Can you tell us a little bit about how shipwrecks are discovered?’ she asked, smiling encouragingly.
Indeed he could. Troy talked non-stop about his work and she found herself caught up, almost able to visualise what it would be like exploring history beneath the sea. This is what she loved about her job—the enthusiasm her guests had for their vocations was infectious and she learnt something new and exciting every day. Since donating her eggs to Claire and Jasper, she no longer felt like she was living life on the sidelines. Her contribution might not be as obvious as some of her guests, but she had made a difference to someone, and that was enough.
When Lilia gave her the wrap-up signal, she smiled at Troy again and thanked him for his time.
‘It was my pleasure,’ he said with a nod.
‘And here’s Lucy with the four o’clock news.’
As Harper stood and went around the desk to show Troy out, Lucy’s voice sounded over the studio speakers.
‘In breaking news, a horrific car accident on the Hunter Expressway north-west of Newcastle has claimed the life of a young woman who was thirty weeks pregnant. The male driver of the other vehicle has been taken to hospital with minor injuries.’
Harper halted in her stride, her heart turning to ice at the newsreader’s announcement. No. It can’t be. The rest of her body still frozen, she shook her head vigorously as she repeated this mantra over and over to herself. It can’t be! It can’t be!
She barely registered the door opening and Lilia ushering their guest out. As the news jingle sounded and the drive time announcer’s voice came on air from studio two, she rushed out into the corridor and hurried down to the newsroom.
‘What do we have on that car accident?’ she screamed.
Lucy and the news intern simply stared at her.
‘I said, what else do you have on that car accident?!’ She forced herself past Lucy, shoving her out of the way as she stared at the main news computer screen.
‘Excuse me? What are you doing?’ Lucy asked, her hands on her hips.
‘What’s going on?’ Lilia’s voice came from the doorway and Harper spun around.
‘That accident on the Hunter Expressway. Lucy said a pregnant woman has died.’ Uncharacteristic tears burst from her eyes and she saw Lucy and the intern look at each other as if she were deranged.
Lilia’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as understanding dawned. ‘Claire,’ she whispered.
Harper nodded, barely able to breathe at the possibility.
Lilia marched in and put her hand on Harper’s shoulder. ‘Let’s not jump to conclusions. There must be hundreds of pregnant women in that area.’
‘But Claire’s thirty weeks.’ Harper sniffed.
‘What’s going on?’ Lucy asked, her voice softer now.
Lilia looked to Harper and she nodded, silently giving the producer the okay to explain.
‘Harper donated some of her eggs to a childless couple late last year. The woman she gave them to is now thirty weeks pregnant and lives in the Hunter Valley.’
‘Wow,’ whispered Lucy and the intern at exactly the same time.
Then Lucy added, ‘I’m sorry Harper, but no other information has been released yet. You know what it’s like. We probably won’t get a name until tomorrow at the earliest, but I do know that this accident was closer to Newcastle than the Hunter.’
Harper nodded, her breathing finally starting to slow again. Of course Lilia was right. The likelihood of Claire being the woman who’d died was tiny, but still she had to find out.
‘Do you have her number?’ the intern asked. ‘You could try calling her.’
It was so simple, Harper didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it. Without another word to any of them, she raced back into the studio and snatched her mobile up off her desk, found Claire’s number and pressed call. It rang a few times, then voicemail clicked in and Claire’s effervescent voice told her to leave a message.
But she hung up. What could she say? Hi Claire, just wondering whether you’re still alive?
‘She’s not answering,’ Harper said, her stomach knotting as Lilia walked into the studio.
‘It doesn’t mean anything. Try him,’ Lilia suggested.
Harper nodded, looked down at the phone in her slightly trembling hand and then remembered she didn’t have Jasper’s number. ‘Dammit, I don’t have it.’
Lilia frowned. ‘I wonder if Samuel has any contacts that might be able to get information for you.’
Harper wasn’t sure—the police force didn’t tend to look fondly upon defence lawyers—but in the absence of any other ideas it was worth a shot. She pressed his name in her recent calls list and then held the phone up to her ear again. Come on. Pick up. But his phone went to voicemail as well, his authoritative voice promising to get back to her when he could.
Her fingers tightened around her mobile as the urge to punch something came over her. ‘Why won’t anyone pick up?’
She was about to call Samuel’s office and tell whichever CrossFit receptionist answered that it was an emergency, when Lilia said, ‘Doesn’t Willow’s girlfriend work for the police?’
‘Of course.’ Ten seconds later Harper had her big sister on the line. Barely able to string a sentence together, she told her about the accident and her concern that Claire might be involved. ‘Would Miriam be able to find out the name of the deceased?’
‘I’m not sure, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,’ Willow promised.
Lilia persuaded Harper to go to the bar down the st
reet for a stiff drink while they waited for information and by the time her phone rang fifteen minutes later, she’d almost managed to convince herself that she was being a drama queen and panicking over nothing.
‘Willow?’ she said, snatching the phone up, her heartbeat halting as she waited for confirmation.
‘I’m so sorry, Harper.’
Chapter Twenty
As Jasper popped the lasagna he’d just made into the oven and closed the door, he glanced at the kitchen clock. He was expecting Claire home any moment and although dinner was a few hours away, he wanted it sorted before she came back so they could chill together for a bit. Knowing she’d be exhausted after her busy day shopping, he was contemplating running her a bath when he heard a car turn into the driveway.
Unable to see the front yard from the kitchen window, he jogged through the house to meet Claire but when he opened the door, the smile fell from his face. A police car had pulled up and two of the local officers were climbing out of it. He recognised one of them—Nick Gilbert—as a bloke he’d gone to school with.
Trying to swallow the fear that rose in his throat, he told himself there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for their visit. Maybe they were simply driving by and had decided to pop in and say hi.
Yet, as they got closer, he saw the solemn expressions on their faces. His rib cage tightened around his lungs.
‘Hi Jasper,’ Nick said, his tone sober, not even a flicker of a smile on his lips. ‘This is my colleague, Constable Gail Morrissey. Can we come inside?’
Jasper didn’t even glance at the constable. Instead he looked his old friend dead in his eyes. ‘Don’t bullshit me, Nick. It’s Claire, isn’t it? Just tell me. What happened? Is she hurt?’
‘I’m so sorry, Jasper.’ Nick blinked and rubbed beneath his nose as if trying not to cry. ‘There’s been an accident on the Expressway. She didn’t make it.’
‘No.’ He shook his head as a cold clammy feeling crept over his skin. ‘It can’t be true. She only messaged me …’
But he couldn’t finish the sentence—she’d messaged him over two hours ago saying she was almost finished shopping. She should have been home an hour ago, but he’d just assumed she’d been distracted and hadn’t left when she’d planned to. He’d almost messaged her to check but he hadn’t wanted her to look at her phone while driving.
The Greatest Gift Page 19