by Douglas, Michelle; Gordon, Lucy; Pembroke, Sophie; Hardy, Kate
He didn’t know why, but her words burned through him. He shifted on his chair. ‘I could buy the house anonymously.’
Tash grabbed two beers from the fridge and tossed him one. ‘No.’
His hand tightened around the can. ‘This is not your decision to make!’
She snorted at him. ‘What would you be doing tomorrow if we hadn’t told you about the situation?’
He didn’t answer.
‘You’d jump in your car and head up the coast without a backward glance, right?’
She was spot on. As usual. The thing was, she had told him about the mess Nell was in and—
‘She came to us for help—me and Mitch—not you. It’s not even help but advice she asked for. All Mitch and I plan to do is arm her with the information she needs to make her next move.’
He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. ‘She said she doesn’t want some white knight riding in and saving the day.’ Tash took a long slug of her beer. ‘She’s not some helpless woman you can ride in and rescue to ease your damn guilt, Rick.’
‘What guilt?’
‘The guilt at leaving.’
He stared at her. He could barely breathe, let alone speak.
‘She can save herself. What’s more, I think she needs to do this on her own so she can prove exactly that.’
The Princess was resilient—strong. It was just...
He wanted to be her white knight.
Why? To ease his guilt, as Tash said? His stomach churned. ‘She thinks you don’t like her, you know?’ It would’ve taken a lot of courage for her to approach Tash.
‘I don’t really know her, but I like her just fine. I really like what she’s prepared to do for you.’
That only made his stomach churn harder. ‘It harks back to when you made it clear she should leave the Royal Oak after one drink and kept such a close eye on her the entire time.’
Tash stared at her beer. ‘I didn’t want any trouble. I didn’t want anyone hassling her. Her father wasn’t a popular man at the time.’
‘I knew it’d be something like that.’
‘She’s in love with you, Rick.’
His beer halted halfway to his mouth. His heart pounded.
‘Don’t play games with her.’
He wanted to jump up and run.
‘You have two choices as far as I can see. You either get up in the morning, get in your car and drive off into the sunset.’
He thrust out his jaw. He wasn’t leaving. Not until he knew Nell and her dreams were safe.
‘Or if you’re so hell-bent on sticking around you better start doing something to deserve her.’
Tash rose then and left the room. He realised his beer was still stranded at that crazy angle and he lowered it to the table, his heart pounding. Why wasn’t he already in his car, tearing away from Sydney as if the hounds of hell were at his heels?
Because Nell was about to sacrifice everything that most mattered to her for him.
For him!
He couldn’t let her do that, because...
He stared at the wall opposite as it all fell into place. He loved Nell. He was in love with the Princess.
Somewhere along the line her dreams had become his dreams. She’d given meaning to his hobo existence and he didn’t want to go back to drifting aimlessly through life.
He wanted...
He swallowed and tapped a finger against his beer. He wanted the dream he’d had before he’d gone to prison. He wanted the wife and kids and a regular job. He wanted a place in the world and he wanted that place right by Nell’s side.
You better start doing something to deserve her.
* * *
On Sunday her father and Byron Withers, the estate agent, arrived promptly at eleven a.m.
Byron smirked at her with so much I-told-you-so satisfaction it was all Nell could do not to seize him by the ear and toss him back out of the front door. It took an effort to pull all of her haughty superiority around her, but she did. She wasn’t giving these two men the satisfaction of knowing how much she cried inside.
Besides, she was doing this for Rick. He didn’t deserve what her father had planned for him and that gave her strength too.
Both men, though, faltered when they found the solicitor Mitch had organised for her already ensconced at the kitchen table.
‘This isn’t necessary,’ her father boomed.
‘Nevertheless, I am having Mr Browne read over the contract before I sign it. That’s non-negotiable.’ She wasn’t afraid her father would walk away in a huff. She knew how much he wanted the sale of Whittaker House to go through. ‘So the sooner Mr Withers hands the contract over the sooner my solicitor can read it and the sooner you can both be on your way.’
With a curt nod from her father, Byron Withers did as she’d suggested. She’d provided Mr Browne with coffee and cupcakes when he’d arrived. Her father eyed the cupcakes hungrily. ‘Coffee, daughter?’
‘No, Roland, I’m afraid there’s none on offer.’ She’d never called him by his Christian name before and the shock in his eyes gave her little pleasure. But she wanted him to know that she’d meant what she’d said to him the previous day. If he insisted she sell Whittaker House, if he persisted in his threats against Rick, she would never acknowledge him as her father again.
The solicitor glanced up. ‘We are not signing this clause, this clause or this clause. Mr Withers, these are not only immoral but they’re bordering on illegal.’
Her father’s cheeks reddened and his face darkened.
The solicitor turned to her. ‘If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take this to the authority that is, in effect, the Estate Agents’ watchdog. This kind of thing shouldn’t be allowed.’
Thank you, Mitch.
Byron came bustling up between them. ‘I’m sure there’s no need for that! It’ll have merely been some innocent oversight by the contract department.’
‘But—’ Her father broke off at Byron’s shake of his head. He took to glowering at her instead.
She folded her arms and glared back while her solicitor forced Byron to initial the changes and insert clauses that had apparently gone inadvertently ‘missing’. ‘I’ve had a lifetime of that look,’ she informed him. ‘But I find I’m impervious to it now.’
His jaw dropped.
They both glanced back to the table when Byron groaned. ‘But that means she can pull out of the sale at any time without making any financial recompense to the agency for advertising or...or...anything!’
Nell lifted her chin. ‘As my father claims he already has a buyer for the property, pray tell me what advertising you’ll actually be doing? I mean, of course, if you’d prefer we took this to the authority Mr Browne mentioned earlier then by all means...’
‘There’s no need to be so hasty,’ Byron muttered, scrawling his signature at the bottom of the newly formed contract. He pushed it across to her.
She almost laughed when Mr Browne winked at her. ‘This is now a document I’m prepared to let you sign.’
She signed it.
She turned to her father and Byron. ‘The two of you can leave now. I’m busy. And I don’t see any point in the two of you lingering.’
‘I’ll need to contact you when I have clients to show through the property,’ Byron said.
‘Yes, of course, but you’ll do that without Roland present if you please.’
Her father’s head came up. He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before.
‘I’m afraid I don’t trust him not to steal from me any further.’ Something flickered behind his eyes and if she hadn’t known better she’d have almost called it regret. ‘Now, good day to you both.’
They left. She walked back to kitchen and to Mr Browne. ‘Thank
you for your advice. I have a feeling it was invaluable.’
‘They were trying to rob you blind.’
No surprises there, but... ‘You helped me gain back a little of my power. I’m very grateful.’
‘It’s all part of the service,’ he said, gathering up his things. ‘Besides, I haven’t had that much fun bringing someone to their knees in a long time.’
She grinned and handed him half a dozen cupcakes. ‘Make sure to send me your bill.’
He merely winked at her again and left.
Nell sat at the kitchen table with burning eyes and rested her head against the wooden table top. She gripped her hands in her lap. She pulled in a deep breath and then another. She kept deep breathing until she was able to swallow the lump lodged in her throat. When she’d done that she forced herself to her feet. There was work to be done—another two orders to fill. And then boxes that she would need to start packing.
* * *
Mitch turned up on her doorstep on Tuesday morning, just before she was about to set off in Candy. Candy who was now running like a dream thanks to Rick.
Rick.
A burn started up in her chest, at her temples and the backs of her eyes. He’d be hundreds if not thousands of kilometres away by now. She hoped so—she dearly hoped so. She wanted him well and truly beyond her father’s reach.
Oh, but how she ached to see him, hungered to hold him, yearned to know he was safe.
‘You okay?’ Mitch asked.
Nell shook herself. ‘Yes, sorry. Please come in. Can I get you a coffee or a—’
‘No, thanks, Nell, I only have a few minutes before I have to get to work.’
Right. ‘I want to thank you for sending Mr Browne on Sunday. He was superb.’
‘I heard. I’ve also spoken to him about your father’s threats against Rick and he assures me that he can draw up a clause that prohibits your father from bringing any action against Rick.’
She fell into a seat and closed her eyes. ‘Thank God,’ she whispered. They flew open again. ‘Is it watertight?’
‘As watertight as these things can ever be.’
Right.
‘I’ve also hunted up some other information that might be of interest to you.’
She gestured for him to take a seat. He did and then pulled her grandmother’s ring from his pocket and laid it on the table in front of her. ‘I’ve found out who really had this copy made.’
Her lips twisted. ‘I know—my father—but he’ll bribe people to lie for him and I’m not putting Rick through a trial. He’s suffered enough grief due to my family.’
‘It wasn’t your father.’
She stared at him. ‘Not...’ She swallowed. ‘Then who?’
Mitch glanced down at his hands and she stiffened. ‘If you tell me it’s Rick I won’t believe you. He’s not now nor has he ever been a thief. If that’s what your informers have led you to believe it’s because they’re on my father’s payroll.’
Mitch smiled then. ‘You think a lot of him, don’t you?’
She nodded. She loved him.
‘It wasn’t your father and it wasn’t Rick. This fake was made almost thirty years ago.’
Her eyes felt as if they were starting out of her head. Mitch pulled several receipts from his pocket and handed them to her. She read them, blinked and then she started to laugh. ‘These are signed by my grandmother.’
‘During the recession in the eighties, your grandfather’s business took a bit of a beating.’
‘So my grandmother sold her jewels to help him out?’
‘That’d be my guess.’
She stared at the receipts, she stared at the ring and then she stared at Mitch. ‘This is proof.’ The import of that suddenly struck her. Her shoulders went back. ‘I...I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘No thanks necessary. It only took a little digging to find the truth. I was glad to be able to do Rick a good turn.’
She nodded.
‘And it means, as far as all this goes, the ball’s now in your court.’
She could now ensure Rick didn’t go to jail. She could save Whittaker House. She could make her dream of a Victorian teahouse a reality. And she could make sure Rick’s investment paid him back fourfold.
She straightened. She lifted her chin and pushed back her shoulders. ‘I feel dangerously powerful.’ And very far from useless.
‘If you want me here when you confront your father or if you want me to haul him in on blackmail and attempted extortion charges, just say the word.’
‘No, thank you, Mitch. I’d like to deal with this on my own now.’
* * *
The moment Mitch left, Nell rang Byron Withers and took her house off the market.
‘But,’ he blustered, ‘it’s only—’
‘It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid, Byron.’
‘Your father will be most displeased!’
She smiled. ‘Yes, he will.’
Then she rang her father. ‘I’ve just taken the house off the market,’ she said without preamble. ‘If you wish to discuss this any further then you’re welcome to drop over at five this afternoon.’
She hung up. She switched off her phone. And then she went out in Candy to sell cupcakes and coffee.
* * *
Her father was waiting for her when she returned home that afternoon. ‘You changed the locks!’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘I’ve been waiting over half an hour!’
‘I told you what time I’d be here,’ she returned, not in the least perturbed, unlocking the door and leading the way through the house. Her house. She’d become immune to her father’s demands and anger. Her body swung with the freedom of it.
‘Would you like coffee and cake?’
‘No, I wouldn’t! I want to know the meaning of this!’
‘Would you like to take a seat?’
‘No!’
Fine. She shrugged. ‘I found out it wasn’t you who had the copy made of the ring after all.’
‘I told you it wasn’t.’
‘I didn’t believe you. I also discovered it wasn’t Rick Bradford who had it made either.’
The skin around Roland’s eyes sagged, making him look a lot older than his fifty-seven years.
‘It was Grandma herself. It seems she did it to help Granddad out of some financial difficulty at the factory.’
Roland closed his eyes, but she refused to let pity weaken her. This man had bullied and harangued her all her life, had made her feel she’d never measure up. He’d threatened the man she loved.
She lifted her chin. ‘I have the receipts to prove it. So now I’m going to tell you for the last time that I am not selling Whittaker House. I promised Grandma I would cherish it and that’s exactly what I mean to do. You can demand and yell all you like.’ She shrugged—a straight from the heart I am not useless shrug. ‘But none of that will have any effect on me.’
‘I’ll be ruined!’
‘Maybe so, but I’m not the one who ruined you.’
He sagged, looking older and more helpless than she’d ever seen him.
‘When you demanded it, I gave you my trust fund, my apartment, my sports car and I didn’t even say a word when you took the majority of my designer wardrobe, but not once did you ever say thank you. You just wanted more and more. Nothing I have ever done has been good enough for you. I’m through with that. I’m not giving you anything else.’
His face turned purple. ‘This house should be mine!’
‘But it’s not. It’s mine. And I’d like you to leave now.’
He called her names, but none of them hurt. He threatened her, but it merely washed over her like so much noise. And then he left and a weight lifted f
rom her shoulders. She would never have to deal with his demands, his threats and his ugliness again.
* * *
At nine o’clock on Thursday morning a registered package arrived; Nell had to sign for it. It was from the solicitor, Clinton Garside.
Clinton’s enclosed note merely said: Following the instructions of the late Mr John Cox. Inside was a letter from John. Her heart picked up pace as she read it.
Dear Miss Nell,
I left instructions with my solicitor to have this sent to you if Rick should ever turn up to claim his letter. I know you won’t understand my attitude to my children or why I’ve spoken now after so long keeping the secret. You were about my only friend and you added the only sunshine I had in my life, so I’ll try to explain it to you.
The truth is, when I was a young man, I killed someone. I was charged with manslaughter and went to jail for eight years. I’ve always had a temper. I was never afraid you’d be in any danger of it because you were too well supervised, but I couldn’t inflict it on my children. I didn’t dare. That’s why I stayed away from them.
Her jaw dropped. The words blurred. Nell had to swallow hard and blink before the page came back into focus.
I could’ve loved the woman who had my other child, but I would’ve had to tell her the truth about my past and I couldn’t do that.
‘Oh, John,’ she whispered, wiping her eyes.
So why haven’t I told Rick who his sibling is outright? I stayed away in the hope it’d protect him, but he turned out too much like me anyway. He needs to prove himself and that’s why I set him the test. I involved you because... Well, you were such a shy, quiet little thing but I saw the way you two connected when you were just little tykes. You’ll know now why I chased him away. Maybe you’ll become friends after all.
‘In my dreams, John.’
I wish you well and very happy and I hope you don’t think too badly of me.
Your friend, John.
She folded the letter and stared at the wall opposite for a long time, wishing she could share its contents with Rick.