by MJ Doherty
“I can recommend someone for you if you like, or Charlie can?” Darren said gently.
When Phoebe didn’t respond, he offered, “At least you don’t have to worry about the joint properties, they automatically became yours on Michael’s…er…passing. I can give you copies of all the necessary documents now if you like? Then you can proceed to sale if you decide to.”
Phoebe paused, clearly thinking for a moment before saying, “Yes, please. I never want to go to Noosa again and I can’t live at Hamilton.” Phoebe looked faintly sick at the idea.
Darren sorted through his file and buzzed his PA. When she came into the office he handed her a sheaf of documents, including a death certificate and title deeds, “Please copy these for Mrs. Rawlins,” he directed her.
After she left, he said to Phoebe, “Would you like me to recommend a succession practitioner for you?”
“Can I think about it, Darren?” Phoebe responded, “It’s just all a bit of a shock. I hadn’t thought about his will or the estate at all. I’m still trying to get him back from the police so he can be buried…” Phoebe replied, tears brimming again.
Charlie put her arm around her and said, “Take as long as you like to decide what you want to do.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Darren agreed, nodding sympathetically at Phoebe.
He said, “The last thing is the matter of the insurance claim. As Michael’s executor, I’ve taken the liberty of progressing it. There may be some more steps in the process depending on the assessor’s decision making requirements, but I believe you will receive the full five million dollars in due course.”
Darren and Charlie sat silently watching Phoebe for a moment as she tried to absorb the information.
“Thanks, Darren. I appreciate your help.” Phoebe’s expression was sad but grateful.
The meeting over, Phoebe went to Darren’s washroom so she could put some cold water on her face and repair her makeup. Charlie reflected that it was something Phoebe often did these days. She stood with Darren in the foyer, waiting for Phoebe.
“She’s just become an incredibly wealthy woman,” Darren remarked to Charlie, his love of gossip surfacing.
“I’m sure it’ll sink in later on, right now she’s got a lot on her plate.”
Darren’s eyebrows raised in a silent request for more information, his favorite commodity.
“She’s organizing a funeral, albeit without a body yet.”
“Can’t you do that for her?”
“She won’t let me. She’s determined to do what she thinks is right for Michael all on her own.” Charlie shrugged, “So far it seems be helping her to have something to focus on. She’s been so caught up in it and trying get the body from police that she hasn’t thought about much else. It’s good you mentioned the properties, that will give her another task, maybe take her mind off Michael…”
“This isn’t exactly the nicest way to become the heiress to a fortune…” Darren commented.
Charlie said nothing, trying not to dwell on the horror of it all.
*****
Phoebe stood on the deck at the Hamilton house she had shared with Michael, looking out at the lazily flowing Brisbane River. Memories came flooding back to her. She recollected the moment she and Michael had first seen the house. Their excitement at finally finding the right place for them had been such a wonderful feeling. The champagne had flowed when they celebrated the contract going through. Then came the fun of buying furniture and planning the garden together. The moments she sat on this very deck, relaxing and chatting with Michael flashed into her mind. Then she remembered how things went sour as he became distanced and she started dreaming about Charlie. She used to sit on this deck alone then.
Suddenly the image of Stillman in his balaclava attacking her in the garage appeared in her mind. She shuddered. Rubbing her hands together briskly in an effort to dispel the awful sensation, she left the deck to resume her task of identifying and tagging items to be given to charity.
When the benevolent society van arrived, Phoebe directed the men to take the tagged items, leaving only what the realtor had insisted should stay to make the house presentable for sale. She got them to take all of Michael’s clothing and belongings along with many of her own. Most of what she wanted to keep had already been taken to Roman’s house. She had already engaged a realtor to sell the Noosa property, along with its contents. There was nothing at all she wanted from there. It was a relief to her not to have to set foot in the place. It was difficult enough preparing the Hamilton house.
When she was going through Michael’s study she came across Honore’s diary in his desk. Sadly, she placed it carefully to one side as she went through Michael’s papers methodically. She set aside documents related to tax and asset ownership. Everything else she consigned to the rubbish. She did the same for her own documents. She called and arranged for a service to clean the exterior of the house and the windows, a task she was not up to. The garden was always tidy thanks to their regular gardening service.
After the benevolent society men left she set about cleaning the house. She dusted every surface. She vacuumed, mopped and scrubbed, all the while formulating what to do with Michael’s inheritance. The work was mildly painful due to her bruising, but it was something she felt she needed to do.
The house was clean and her catharsis was complete several hours later. She paused to examine her efforts. With a minimalist flavor, absent everything except some of the larger items, the house gleamed. The house looked like a different place, not hers, not theirs. Satisfied, she took the box containing the documents and Honore’s diary and left the Hamilton house for the last time, having made up her mind about what to do with the money. She knew Michael would be happy with her plans.
*****
Phoebe sat quietly by Mark’s bedside, waiting. She had arrived early and Mark was showering. He soon made his way back to his bed, looking quite silly in his ill-fitting hospital gown. A ridiculous garment for a tall man, it barely covered his upper thighs. She might have laughed at him or teased him about it if his hospital stay had been for less gruesome reasons. He leaned over to kiss her cheek in greeting before sitting in the chair next to her, covering his lower half with a light blanket.
“Sick of staying in bed?” Phoebe asked with sympathy.
He nodded.
“When are they letting you go?”
“I’m having another assessment today, so maybe this afternoon if I pass,” he said with a hopeful expression.
“Great!” Phoebe replied with animation, excited by project of Mark’s homecoming. “Does Roman know?”
“No. If it happens, I want to surprise him,” Mark said with a cheeky grin.
Phoebe beamed, happy to finally have some good news.
*****
Roman held the breakfast tray in his hands as he made his way back to Mark, still in bed. Leo trailed behind him, his nose elevated, sniffing in the delicious scents of bacon and eggs on buttery toast, his face hopeful and his perked ears up.
Mark smiled as Roman settled the tray on his lap.
“Thank you sweetheart,” he said.
Roman kissed the top of his head and lovingly brushed his fingers through Mark’s hair.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, unable to prevent the tears that started to fall.
Mark lifted the tray out of his way as he rose from bed to hold his beloved closely to him. Roman cried with sadness for what had happened, and with the joy of reunion.
*****
Phoebe carefully adjusted her black dress as she stepped out of the limousine. Charlie, Roman, Mark and Amanda surrounded her, shielding her from the gauntlet of waiting reporters and cameras. The media had been banned from attending the ceremony. Instead some had followed the hearse from the church, leaning out of their vehicles with cameras in hand, snapping away merrily. Many of them had gone ahead to wait in the cemetery car park for the mourners to arrive, like a pack of shameless vultures preying
on the vulnerable.
As she looked at them, she found she was not angry for once. After all it was Michael’s day, not hers. The day she had fought so hard to achieve for him. It had taken far too long before the authorities would release Michael’s remains to her. She knew they needed him for autopsy and investigation but they had tried to hold him until after the trial. Refusing to accept the necessity of that, she had wrangled relentlessly with Inspector Marsh’s boss, the Assistant Commissioner of State Crime Operations. Finally he had given in, almost six weeks after the murder, when, in desperation, she had threatened to take the issue to the media to garner sympathy. They had their uses, she supposed.
Thankfully, Roman had acquired a black veil for her to wear, blocking the photographers from taking direct shots of her face. The small group moved slowly to the graveside, following the coffin on it’s stately journey. As they moved, other mourners joined them in a disorganized procession.
Phoebe hardly noticed the arrival of several police vehicles. She did see Sally Middleton and Inspector Marsh, in full dress uniform, joining the group heading to the graveside. She nodded at them before returning her focus to Michael’s coffin. Suddenly, she was startled when an especially brazen journalist broke from the pack and ran up to her, accompanied by a cameraman.
She shouted, “Any comment, Mrs. Rawlins?”
The cameraman did his best to get a close up.
Charlie quickly steered Phoebe away while Mark stepped forward, imposing himself between Phoebe and the pair.
Rapidly, Marsh intervened and directed the journalist to leave. She did so, but the cameraman filmed the entire episode.
Phoebe was surprised by her lack of outrage. Over the weeks since Michael’s murder, she had swung between deep misery and uncontrollable anger. She had been enraged that Michael had his life so brutally stolen just when he was beginning to reclaim himself. At times, her fury over being stalked and manipulated had consumed her.
The suffering of her friends, especially Mark, exacerbated Phoebe’s rage and anguish. Poor Roman had been through hell. Amanda should never have had to do what she did. And what had happened to Charlie was almost too much for her to bear. The only respite she had from her feelings was the time she spent with Mark, who understood, and Charlie and Roman, who loved her.
Sadly, poor Charlie had endured her pain and fury for nearly six weeks now. Not to mention the denial of the time before, when she was conflicted by representing Michael. Phoebe knew she deserved so much more but it was all she had been able to offer. Damaged, emotionally crippled and obsessed with re-claiming her Michael’s body, she needed to lay Michael to rest. And now that time had finally come.
Phoebe stood by the gravesite, her face solemn. She didn’t cry as the coffin containing Michael’s body was slowly committed to his final resting place. Her tears had already been shed. She felt dry and empty, as if her insides had been carved out and removed.
Edna Baxter stood on the other side of the grave. Amanda had brought down the old lady the day before. She stood with Phoebe’s parents and a collection of Michael’s colleagues and friends. Most of the people from Phoebe and Roman’s firm were also present. Phoebe ignored everyone except for Charlie and Roman, whose hands she held tightly. Blocking out the presence of the media and doing her best to ignore the helicopter that had hovered over them twice now, she focused on Michael as he descended. Sleep peacefully my friend, she said quietly to him in her mind, praying that Michael’s tortured soul would find the peace he had never had in life.
*****
The wake was held at Roman’s house. Charlie watched the guests as they gathered in small groups, chatting quietly. Charlie had been to many wakes, most of which were a drunken celebration of a life well lived. This one was far more reserved. The horror of the revelations of Michael’s life did not lend themselves to raucous celebration.
She watched as Phoebe stood with her parents, sipping a glass of water. Her mother seemed to be lost for words while her father was asking questions about the inheritance and giving minute directions to Phoebe about the sale of her properties. Deciding to rescue her, Charlie approached the group and whispered in Phoebe’s ear.
“Sorry Dad, Mum, I have to go. The caterers need me.”
Phoebe’s father looked irritated while Phoebe’s mother nodded in understanding, “Is there anything I can do, dear?”
“Thanks, Mum. I should be fine,” Phoebe replied.
Charlie escorted her away to the kitchen, where everything was well under control.
“Thanks,” Phoebe said in relief.
Charlie said sympathetically, “Get used to being asked about your money. You’ll be surprised about how much it’ll change people.”
Phoebe smiled at her, “Not for long,” she replied enigmatically, turning to leave the kitchen.
What is she up to? Charlie wondered as she followed Phoebe out.
After most of the guests had left, the remainder sat in Roman’s lounge, chatting over coffee. Leo, sporting a stylish black bandana around his neck, was sprawled across the Persian rug, snoozing. Charlie was having a quiet conversation with Mark about his plans to get back into working on his business. It had suffered greatly during his hospital stay.
The sound of a glass being tapped by a spoon took her attention. She looked up to see Phoebe sitting quietly, waiting for everyone to be quiet.
Looking at the little group lovingly, Phoebe announced in a shaky voice, “I’ve decided what to do with Michael’s money.”
Everyone fell instantly silent. Charlie looked at the object of her desire with fascination. Knowing Phoebe, there were some generous gifts about to be given.
Phoebe said quietly. “I’m going to give the bulk of it to sexual abuse survivors services in honor of Michael’s sister.”
Everyone nodded in appreciation and understanding.
Next Phoebe pulled several envelopes from her bag and handed them out to Roman, Mark, Amanda, Edna and Charlie.
“These are allotments that will be made when the estate is administered in about four months time.”
Charlie looked at her envelope in stunned silence. She hadn’t been expecting anything from the estate.
A loud whooping cackle startled her.
Edna chortled, “First thing for me, I’m going on a world-wide cruise!” She waved her paper around in the air joyfully before getting up to give Phoebe an exuberant hug. Phoebe welcomed the attention from the excited old lady, smiling at her.
Roman looked completely gob-smacked. Charlie leaned over and looked at the paper he was holding open in his lap as he stared ahead, uncomprehending. Five million dollars. Smiling in appreciation, she quietly thought how well deserved it was.
Charlie looked across at Amanda. Her face was a mask of disbelief and joy as she held her bit of paper. Mark was also smiling.
Phoebe interrupted the conversations that were beginning to spring up, “I know nothing can ever compensate you for the damage that’s been done…” she paused, looking at Mark and Roman before continuing, “but I know Michael would want you to have this. He said in his will that he didn’t want it to sit there moldering away. He wanted me to use it to make things better. That’s what I’m doing.”
Gingerly, Charlie opened her envelope. It simply said, “I love you so very much. Thank you for waiting for me.”
Chapter Twenty
Phoebe stood admiring the magnificent vista of sand and ocean from the bedroom window of their elevated waterfront holiday rental house at Byron Bay, south of Brisbane.
“It’s so beautiful!”
She turned from the view to admire Charlie, a warm smile blossoming across her lovely face.
Charlie stopped unpacking and joined Phoebe at the window. She took Phoebe’s trembling hand. Maybe she’s as nervous as I am? Finally they were away, alone together. Charlie had waited far too long for this moment. Now that it was finally here, she felt awkward, as if they were on a first date.
Not knowing wh
at to say, Charlie simply looked at Phoebe, her eyes full of love and longing.
Phoebe met her gaze. As if she was being drawn in by the intensity in Charlie’s blue-grey eyes, Phoebe moved slightly closer. Charlie hesitated at first, but then she was overcome by long-repressed desire and slowly took Phoebe’s face in her hands and kissed her passionately.
To Charlie’s mounting joy, Phoebe responded with complete abandon, kissing her desperately in return. Charlie felt her shirt being ripped off and before she knew it she was standing naked, pressed against Phoebe, also naked. Phoebe’s hands roamed Charlie’s bare skin, unabashedly exploring her lithe body, moving over her breasts and thighs. She responded in kind. Utterly ablaze, she fell victim to a torrential flood of desire as Phoebe pushed her breasts and hips against her own. The twin sensations of skin against skin, and lips joining hungrily made Charlie weak at the knees. She had craved this moment so fervently for so long. Now that it was here, she was overwhelmed. Her heart felt as though it was expanding and she thought it might just burst out of her chest.
Suddenly, Phoebe pushed her down onto the bed. She stood staring down at Charlie, her hands on her hips, her eyes devouring what she saw. Charlie’s tension escalated as she watched Phoebe’s eyes move over her body, drinking her in. She couldn’t help looking up at Phoebe’s beautifully proportioned form. Her eyes traveled over Phoebe’s flawless breasts and taught nipples, her pale skin enhancing their roseate perfection. The sight of Phoebe’s trim abdomen and firm thighs made Charlie draw a sharp breath. When she finally allowed herself to look at Phoebe’s sweet center, she was overtaken by an avalanche of need. Her mouth opened involuntarily as her hips rocked and her legs parted in anticipation.