by Douglas, Michelle; Gordon, Lucy; Pembroke, Sophie; Hardy, Kate
And then she told them about her father’s threats and demands. Tash’s face darkened further. She leaned across the table towards Nell, but Nell held up a hand. ‘I know, okay, I know. My father is a nasty piece of work. I’ll do what he demands...I’ll sell my grandmother’s house.’ Her voice cracked. She swallowed and cleared her throat. ‘But none of that will ensure Rick’s safety. I mean, once the house is sold and my father has the money, what’s to stop him from attempting to press charges against Rick anyway?’
Hell, if her father found out how much money Rick had... The thought made her temples throb.
Tash slumped back. ‘You believe Rick is innocent then?’
‘Of course he’s innocent!’ Surely Tash hadn’t thought—
‘Who do you think is responsible?’ Mitch broke in.
‘My father, of course.’
Mitch frowned. ‘But you said he demanded the money you made from the sale of the ring.’
‘No doubt to cover his tracks. He has no right to that jewellery. It was left to me. I could press charges against him if I chose to.’ Not that she would.
‘The rest of the jewellery is still in the bank?’
‘Yes.’ First thing on Monday she was changing banks.
‘Would you trust me with it?’
She gazed at Mitch. ‘Of course I would, but, Mitch, I don’t want to make any of this official.’
Tash straightened. ‘What do you want?’
‘I want to ensure Rick is free from any of this. I want to make sure my father can’t go after him.’
Mitch nodded. ‘You said you’re signing a contract with some estate agent tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’ She could barely get the word out.
‘You’re not doing that on your own. I’m sending my solicitor along.’
‘I’ll pay.’
Tash shook her head. ‘We’ll sort all of that out later.’
Nell swallowed and fished the diamond ring—the fake diamond ring—from her pocket and set it in front of Mitch. ‘I’ll retrieve the rest of the jewellery first thing Monday—I expect they’ll all be fakes.’
Mitch surveyed the ring. ‘Whittaker House is in your name, right? That means, even if a buyer is found immediately, we have six weeks before the property officially changes hands and the bulk of the money is transferred into your account.’
Which she’d then have to transfer to her father.
‘That means for at least the next six weeks, Rick is safe.’
A sigh eased out of her. Six weeks of knowing Rick couldn’t be hauled in and charged with a crime he hadn’t committed. But what then...? All the tension shot back into her.
‘If we have to,’ Mitch said, ‘we’ll force your father to sign a clause to the effect that he won’t press charges against Rick.’
That could be done? Nell sagged in relief. ‘Thank you.’
There didn’t seem to be anything else to say after that, so Nell left.
* * *
‘Damn!’ Tash muttered as she and Mitch watched Nell drive away.
Mitch rested an arm across her shoulders. ‘What?’
‘She’s in love with him.’
‘Lucky man.’
Tash snorted. ‘As soon as he realises he’ll bolt.’
‘Why?’
She shook her head. ‘He just will. It’s what he does.’
‘She’s prepared to make a hell of a sacrifice for him.’
Tash glanced up. ‘Will we be able to get him off the hook and save her house?’
‘We’ll give it our best shot.’
She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him. ‘Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?’
* * *
Nell wasn’t sure what to do when she returned home. Start packing boxes in preparation for her imminent eviction?
She fell into a chair, pulled a box of cupcakes towards her, opened the lid, stared at them for a few moments before pushing them away again. Eating cupcakes wouldn’t make her feel better.
She could hear Rick hammering something in the dining room, even though it was past six o’clock on a Saturday evening. She should tell him not to bother. She should tell him...
She dropped her head to the table. How was she going to explain selling Whittaker House to him? She’d have to give him his money back too, of course. The dream of a Victorian teahouse wasn’t going to come to fruition any time soon.
She frowned. Had her bank manager traced where that money had come from? If so, had he informed her father? She lifted her head...
To find herself staring at a woman in the doorway.
Marigold.
Marigold shifted her weight from one foot to the other. ‘Have I come at a bad time?’
Nell stared and then shot to her feet. ‘Of course not. I... Please! Come in.’
She thought about Rick thumping away in the dining room and swallowed. Dear Lord, all of this could end in tears. Lots of tears.
Mostly hers, probably.
She swallowed, but the uncertainty in the other woman’s face caught at her. ‘Please, sit down. Can I get you a coffee or a soda?’
Marigold perched on a chair, twisting her hands together, her eyes wide in a pale face and Nell shrugged—nothing practised or elegant, but simply a shrug. ‘To heck with that, let’s have some wine.’
She pulled a bottle from the fridge, grabbed two glasses and poured. ‘You’ll have to excuse this—’ she handed Marigold a glass ‘—but it’s cheap and cheerful rather than elegant and expensive.’
‘If it’s alcohol, bring it on.’
‘Amen, sister.’
They clinked and drank. Rather deeply. Nell topped up the glasses and then wondered what to do...what to say.
‘I remember when you were a little girl.’
Nell’s glass halted halfway to her mouth. ‘You do?’
‘I went to school with your mother. I came to a few parties and afternoon teas here over the years. You’d have not been more than six or seven when I fell pregnant with Poppy.’
‘And that’s when you stopped coming round?’
Marigold took a gulp of her wine and nodded. ‘I met John at one of those parties.’
‘And you had an affair?’
Marigold stared down into her wine and a tiny smile touched her lips. ‘We did, yes. It was rather short-lived, but intense. We were very careful to keep it secret. If we’d been discovered John would’ve lost his job and my friends would’ve...well, they wouldn’t have understood.’
Wow! ‘And you fell pregnant?’
She nodded and they both gulped wine. ‘That’s when things turned bad. John wanted nothing to do with a baby.’
Nell swallowed. Double wow. ‘Do you know why?’
‘Not really. I glimpsed something extraordinary in him, but there was a hardness there too. Maybe it’s because he grew up in a boys’ home and from what I understand it was a rather brutal place. He never said as much, but I don’t believe he trusted himself around children. Or maybe he didn’t want to be reminded of the childhood he’d had.’
‘Does Poppy know he was her father?’
Marigold nodded. ‘I told her when she turned fifteen. You see, she knew the man who she calls Dad—my husband Neville, who she adores and who adores her back—wasn’t her biological father; we met when she was two. But she really wanted to know who her biological father was...and it only seemed fair to tell her.
‘She sent him a letter that he never answered, and she insisted on sending him an invitation to her birthday party every year—the party in the park is an annual tradition. But he never did turn up.’
Nell stared into her glass of cheap wine and recalled the way he hadn’t let her plant marigolds. Was it because they’d have
reminded him of this woman and a vision of a different life, a different path he could’ve taken? None of them would ever know now.
A sigh escaped the other woman. ‘But if Poppy has a brother...’
Nell glanced up.
‘Well, of course, she has every right to know him. I can’t prevent that and I wouldn’t want to. All I ask is that you give me a chance to tell her about him first, that’s all.’
‘But of course!’
‘I’m sorry I panicked earlier and—’
‘Nell!’
Rick’s voice boomed down the hallway, his footsteps growing louder. ‘Where the hell have you put the masking tape?’
He stopped dead in the doorway. Across the table from her, Marigold gasped. ‘Dear heaven, you’re the spitting image.’
Those dark eyes fixed on Nell with an accusation that cut her to her very marrow. Very softly he said, ‘Deal’s off.’ He walked through the kitchen, out of the back door, and she knew he headed for John’s cottage to pack. To leave. For good.
‘What just happened?’ Marigold whispered.
Nell blinked hard. She reached for her wine and tried to force a sip past the lump in her throat. ‘Rick is... I don’t think he means to make himself known to Poppy. He thinks it’ll complicate her life.’ And he thinks I betrayed him.
Marigold rose. ‘I mean to tell Poppy about him. She has a right to know and I don’t want there to be any lies between us.’
Nell rose too. Marigold pushed a card into her hands. ‘I sincerely hope you can convince that young man to reconsider his decision. Perhaps you’ll be kind enough to give him this?’
Nell stared down at the card—a business card with Marigold’s phone number and address. ‘Yes, of course.’
Marigold left. Nell grabbed her glass of wine and drained it. Then she headed outside for the cottage. She knocked twice—a quick rat-tat—and then opened the door and walked in.
Rick whirled around from throwing things into a holdall. ‘I didn’t say you could come in,’ he snarled.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, shut up and listen for once, will you?’
He glared. She merely thrust her chin up a little higher. ‘You need to know some things.’
‘If it’s anything to do with Poppy or John-bloody-Cox then no, I don’t.’
‘Back at the park after you raced off,’ she said as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘I told Marigold that John Cox had another child.’
‘You had no right!’
She snapped herself to her full height. ‘If you’d hung around I’d have let you deal with it, but you’d raced off! You left me to improvise the best I could.’
His glare didn’t lower by a single degree.
‘Marigold—that’s Poppy’s mother—went pale at the news. So I pushed the box of cupcakes at her, told her my business card was taped to the lid and asked her to contact me. And then I left. That’s what happened in the park and that’s why Marigold was in the kitchen this afternoon. She didn’t ring or give me any warning.’
‘You were drinking wine together!’
‘I wasn’t going to turn her away! Besides, she was nervous...and so was I. Wine seemed like a good idea.’ She thrust her chin out, daring him to challenge her. ‘And it still does.’
Rick dragged a hand down his face.
‘And now you can jolly well listen to what she had to say.’ And then she outlined the conversation she and Marigold had just shared, leaving nothing out.
‘I don’t care,’ he said when she finished.
Her heart stuttered. ‘But—’
‘I’m leaving.’
Just as she’d known he would, but it didn’t stop the blow from nearly cutting her in half. Given her father’s threats, it’d probably be better if he did leave. If he left Sydney and went far, far away, but...
But it didn’t mean he had to turn his back on his family!
‘Do whatever you damn well please!’ she hollered at him. She strode forward to poke him in the shoulder. ‘We can’t choose our families. You and me, we’re perfect proof of that except...’
She whirled away from him. ‘Except in this case you can choose—you can decide to choose your sister!’ She swung back. His face had gone pale and wooden. ‘Poppy seems lovely. Marigold seems lovely. Her husband Neville sounds lovely. They all seem lovely, but you’re not going to choose them—you’re going to reject them instead. Just like John did!’
* * *
Rick’s jaw worked for a moment, but no words came out. ‘Reject?’ he finally spat out. ‘Their lives are perfect!’ He wasn’t going to waltz in there and ruin it for them.
He’d met people like that before—good, decent people who wouldn’t turn him away. But their lives would be that bit worse for knowing him, their happiness diminished. They didn’t deserve that. That lovely girl—his sister! She didn’t deserve that.
Nell glared at him. ‘Who’s to say their lives wouldn’t be more perfect with you in it?’
He stepped in close to her, pushed his face close to hers and tried to ignore the sweet scent of cake and sugar and spice. ‘Fairy tales don’t come true.’
‘You have a sister. That’s a reality. This isn’t a fairy tale.’
Her belief in happy ever afters was a fiction, though, and he had to take a step back before some of that magic took hold of him. ‘This is my decision to make.’
Her head snapped up. ‘You’re going to walk away?’
He glanced heavenward. ‘Finally she gets the message.’
‘Fine!’
He glanced back down.
‘Marigold asked me to give you this.’ She took his hand and slapped a business card into it and then dropped his hand as if she couldn’t bear to touch him. ‘Now get the hell off my property.’
* * *
Rick scowled and pounded on Tash’s door. Tash opened it. ‘Is it okay if I bunk here tonight?’ he asked without preamble.
‘Sure.’ She pushed the door wide. ‘I take it you and Nell have had words.’
‘What?’ He rounded on her.
Tash didn’t even blink at his growl. She gestured for him to dump his stuff in the spare bedroom and then continued through to the living room. Mitch sat at the table. He and Rick nodded their greetings to each other. Tash turned. ‘You ought to know she was here earlier.’
He slammed his hands to his hips ‘So she told you about John Cox and Poppy and the whole mess of it, I suppose, and tried to enlist your help?’
Mitch opened his mouth but Tash took the seat beside him, elbowing him in the ribs, and he shut it again. ‘Something like that. She made a good case.’
‘Can it, Tash.’ He couldn’t believe she’d be on Nell’s side. ‘I don’t care if that girl is my sister.’ And it didn’t matter what Nell or Tash or Mitch had to say about the matter. ‘There’s no law that says I have to meet her.’
‘Holy crap!’ Tash’s jaw dropped. ‘John Cox, the gardener, is your father?’
He stilled and then swore. She’d played him to perfection. If Nell hadn’t riled him up so much he’d have never fallen for one of Tash’s tricks.
‘And he fathered more than one child?’
He closed his eyes.
‘That wasn’t the mess she told us about.’
Obviously. He waited for Tash to grill him further, but she didn’t. A wave of affection washed over him then. Tash knew how to give a guy the space and privacy he needed. His face darkened. Unlike some others he could name. He glanced up, but the expression on Tash’s face made his blood chill. He straightened. ‘What the hell was she here for then?’
Tash and Mitch shared a glance. ‘You might want to sit down to hear this, Rick,’ Mitch said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RICK LISTENED TO the tale Ta
sh and Mitch recounted with growing disbelief. ‘You have to be joking? You’re telling me she’s going to sell her house—the house she’s done everything in her power to hang onto—in an attempt to keep me out of jail?’
‘That’s exactly what we’re saying.’
Oh, Princess. ‘She knows that’s crazy, right?’
‘No,’ Tash said, as if it were obvious it wasn’t crazy. Or as if it should’ve been obvious to him that Nell wouldn’t think it crazy. She had a point.
‘And she’d be right,’ Mitch said. ‘It’s not crazy.’
Ice filtered through his gut. He wasn’t going to prison again for anyone. Ever. Again.
Except...
Except he wasn’t letting the Princess sell out on his behalf.
‘She picked a fight with me on purpose. She kicked me out to get me out of the way.’ Because Nell could twist him around her little finger and if she’d wanted him to stay, if she’d argued with him to stay, if she’d promised no more interference on the Poppy and Marigold front, he’d have stayed.
‘That’s my best guess,’ Tash said. ‘It’s what I’d have done in her shoes.’
Rick’s mouth opened but no words came out.
‘She has a point, Rick. It might be best if you do disappear.’
And leave Nell to bumble along as best she could? ‘No way, I’m not going anywhere.’
Tash fixed him with a look that made him fidget. He rolled his shoulders. ‘I’ll buy the bloody house.’
‘No you won’t!’
Tash and Mitch both said that at the same time. He scowled at them. Mitch leaned towards him. ‘It wouldn’t be a good idea at this point in time for Roland Smythe-Whittaker to know you have money.’
Rick slumped back in his chair, silently acknowledging the truth of that.
Mitch glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve gotta go.’ He rose, kissed Tash and left.
‘Do you have enough money to buy Whittaker House?’
He nodded.
‘How?’
He lifted a shoulder. ‘It’s amazing how much money you can make playing poker, Tash.’
She closed her eyes. ‘Oh, Rick.’