Vivienne hadn’t spoken to her supervisor since he directed her return to Brisbane. Combined with her current unsettled state of mind, the command to attend an unexpected meeting put her on edge.
Something was not right.
She dumped her Hermes handbag and turned on her computer, letting it boot up and tidied the pens and notebooks on her desk. After it had successfully logged on to her emails and the bank’s intranet, she collected an official bank notebook and her favourite quill pen and set off for the kitchen. Better to be fully armed this morning, her gut told her, so coffee was a necessity before facing down Whipplegate.
Passing Irene, she fought the temptation to ask who else would be attending this urgent meeting, and bit her lip and proceeded on. She’d find out soon enough, and why tempt fate?
“It’s a fucking disaster!” The words hit her as soon as she entered the expensively furnished boardroom. In centre place sat a large, sixteen seat elongated, deep mahogany table whilst famous art works adorned all the white walls that weren’t windows. The glass panels provided a one hundred and eighty degree view of the Brisbane River.
The first time she’d been invited into this room had been success; finally, she’d made it. At the time the smile could not be wiped off her face. Only the big time players in the bank or important clients being wooed, made it into the inner sanctum.
Today, she worked her facial muscles hard not to grimace. What was wrong with her?
Taking a calculated sip of her coffee, she slowed to seek out a spare chair. She needn’t have bothered as those around her paid no attention to her entrance and kept on with their discussions.
Mr Watson, CEO, Mr Robinson, Head of Operations, Mr Kewley, Director of Staff and Public Relations. Wow. She could keep going but all members of the management team were present. Ten men milled around the room, exchanging greetings, finding seats and quietening. One woman, Frieda Morton, Associate Director of Finance stood alone at the far end of the room, wearing an amazing figure-hugging red dress with black stiletto heels so high Vivienne imagined even she wouldn’t manage to walk in them. Dressed to impress evidently.
Then there was her. Head of the legal team admittedly, but not part of this power pack.
“We need to get that little arsehole back here pronto!”
“What a schmuck. How can he have stuffed up so badly?”
Vivienne was sure she’d been part of many expletive-ridden male conversations at the bank before, but today these words tasted sour on her tongue.
She found a seat and listened.
“Okay, okay, it’s all good to name call and curse Zac, but we need to fix this. The situation has deteriorated and needs intervention.”
Zac? Now her ears pricked open.
“Have you got those slides, Jeremy?” asked the head honcho.
“Yes.” The room darkened and the blinds automatically enclosed the room as a PowerPoint presentation lit up the screen. “You can see here the trends over the last twelve months on these first two graphs.” Jeremy discussed those and the next fifteen pages in intimate detail. “And, here we have the number of loans or other associated work obtained over the last month. See these spikes here, and the drops here,” he said pointing with a green laser light. “And, finally, here are the number of complaints. I have summarised their issues.”
Vivienne ran her eyes over the facts and figures; familiar names popped up. Those spikes belonged to her. Go girl!
The Deputy stepped in and turned off the show and illuminated the room once more in sunlight. “I’m not sure what’s happened up there, but we need to pull him out straightaway. If we don’t, we are facing the potential that the entire town will transfer to our opposition and they haven’t operated a bank in the area for over ten years. Customers have to travel to the coast to even speak to a teller.”
“At the moment, that is exactly what they are prepared to do to avoid banking with us,” another suit piped in.
Vivienne sat silent. She didn’t need to contribute and not being called upon to offer her opinion, she wasn’t inclined to do so.
Ideas were thrown around and options considered and rejected.
It was good old Mr Whipplegate who made the winning suggestion. “Vivienne spent good on a month up there and the locals loved her. We rarely receive favourable feedback, particularly when bank business can be a PR nightmare, but I spoke with a few Rosebrooke residents who were delighted with how she managed their affairs in difficult circumstances.”
News to her; be nice if they’d told her.
“So, with that in mind, I suggest he gets ripped out now, today, and we return Vivienne to fix up this mess and then work toward setting up our virtual office. That old bank site is prime real estate and could be sold for a tidy profit. But, moving forward we need to outdo our competitor and be at least accessible to the townsfolk even if we aren’t physically present. Thoughts on that anyone?”
The next fifteen minutes were consumed with modern day banking practices and the best way to keep transactions on the ground in remote areas. Rosebrooke and other regional towns were the victims of the modern age and where the prospect of operating an old-time bank had become no longer viable.
Men started to disperse and began slapping each other on the back and shaking hands.
“Good job.”
“Well done, superb idea.”
“Um, excuse me,” Vivienne cleared her throat to be heard. “Is there a decision then about Rosebrooke? We don’t seem to have reached agreement. Who is telling Zac Gardiner he’s to return to Brisbane today? That’s the first issue and then is it agreed that I’m to return and if so, to do what exactly and for how long? I have a full caseload here and work that requires my attention. It seems more appropriate to send someone else.”
Vivienne sat back as the suits regarded her. It was as if she was an apparition because they stared dumbfounded and open mouthed. Or was that because she was a woman and had spoken without being addressed?
Watson sorted this issue out quickly and with a wave of his hand.
“Whipplegate. Sort out the details with um, ah . . . ”
“Vivienne,” she interjected before the situation became embarrassing.
“With Vivienne,” he concluded and did not look back before departing the room. He was, no doubt, returning to his luxury offices on the top floor with his billion-dollar bonus package for making the tough decisions.
Whipplegate nodded his head at her and shot his thumb out in a sideway manoeuvre – it said, my office, now.
***
Shocked, Daniel couldn’t make his limbs move.
He forced them into compliance and raced across the field and trudged up Estelle’s long drive. He forced the door open of her prize home.
Her Kelpie pup barred his entry.
He pushed away the devastation knocking against his ribs, refusing to acknowledge it, yet.
“Estelle?” he called out whilst putting his fingers to the dog’s nose, reigniting their friendship.
It worked, the dog moved away, uninterested. Daniel held out his ear, straining to hear movement. The dog didn’t help his search by lounging itself on the comfy corner of the plush settee.
“Estelle,” he said louder this time.
Familiar with her home, he walked his way through the kitchen, long hall way and toward the back of the house. He peered through windows as he passed, attempting to spot her in the garden.
He found her in the bedroom situated at the rear of the house, to take advantage of the vista opened up by the length-size windows looking out upon the valley.
“Estelle?”
“Hm, oh, hi Daniel,” she muttered without looking up and attending to the pile of clothing on her bed.
“What’s this then?”
As if abruptly awake, she took him in and assessed the strewn clothes in front of her. A frown crept across her brow as she paused to formulate a response.
Estelle lifted her chin to match her rigid stance and
pursed her lips.
Why did she appear defensive?
She finished folding a plush cashmere cardigan and placed it neatly in a suitcase spread open on her bed.
“I’m taking a little trip. I think it’s time I had some fun. I’m going overseas,” and then she looked at him, “an around the world vacation actually.”
“That sounds nice.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “There’s just one thing I need to talk to you about.” Daniel glanced down, sideways, anywhere but at Estelle. This discussion still embarrassed him, but desperation urged him on.
“Yes?” she said with rising intonation, a smile having reached her lips.
“You know the fundraising, the money, those papers you showed me. Um, what’s actually happened to the money? The bank says they didn’t receive a payment.”
Estelle put down the black slacks she carried from her wardrobe and placed them carefully on the bed, removing lint with her fingers when they were neatly folded.
Then, standing tall, she looked him straight in the eye.
“It didn’t come good.”
Daniel’s stomach flipped, almost making him lose his breakfast.
His voice came out as a squeak. “What do you mean?”
“You know people. They promise the world and then don’t deliver. Everyone promised big donations and agreed to pay later when their crop came in or on pay day or when old Aunty Mavis died. Problem was, it seems as if those events didn’t occur.” Estelle shrugged, an innocent gesture but like a punch to his guts.
Daniel’s heart dropped lower in his chest.
“There is, of course, a few dollars. Not everyone is like those other people. Some paid cash at the time, but it is nothing like we discussed. Lucky if it would buy you a new cow.”
Estelle spoke matter of factly, like a robot reciting recorded information.
Daniel stared at her, words caught in his throat.
“Do you know, um, how much cash there is?” he asked trying to keep the hope out of his voice.
“Why, Daniel?”
The first surge of anger ran through his veins. “What do you mean why, Estelle? You know why! That whole ridiculous project you invented had only one purpose in mind. To save my farm!” He yelled now and couldn’t help it.
“You sat in my kitchen and showed me the numbers. Showed me numbers that would bail me out of this mess. Now, now, the bank visits me and says payment hasn’t been made and I have thirty days to pay up or get out. Then, you inform me, only now, that there aren’t the funds you thought, in fact, there’s only a pathetic pissy little amount that I probably couldn’t even wipe my arse with!”
“Come now, Daniel, you don’t need to be vulgar! It’s hardly my fault.”
He struggled with her calm disposition. Estelle didn’t blink an eyelid whilst a tsunami raged within him.
“So, why? Why! I’ll tell you why, because as much as I didn’t want it, I need it to save my livelihood and my children’s home.” He buried his head in his hands.
“Oh dear. I thought it was just one of your options. Are you telling me that this is it, you have to sell up and move on?”
Not a skerrick of emotion passed over her face as she uttered the words that wrenched his gut.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“Why didn’t you tell me that it was a lie. That there wasn’t any money as soon as you knew, before now?”
“I only just found out, Daniel, a few days ago. I’m hardly your secretary, and quite frankly you were never on board with the idea, and never supported it or even liked it.”
Daniel stood taller as he listened to the words. It felt like the walls were closing in on him.
Estelle sat down on the edge of her floral duvet and smiled as if the world did not collapse around him.
“Oh, but you know what? Someone was telling me that there is another, um, what do you call it?” She bowed her head in concentration. “Oh, dear, I can’t think of what it’s called, but there’s another campaign, raising money for you. Something to do with that television show. Yes, that’s right. You should consider that. I even donated a few dollars.” She beamed up at him like a child who’d won a prize at the fair.
He stepped backwards. He needed to get out, the room started to suffocate him. The words she spoke didn’t even register.
As if someone else controlled his body, he managed the short walk back to his property.
Once he stood on the veranda, he grasped both hands in each other, trying to stop their trembling.
For once, he didn’t have a plan. Too many thoughts raced through his mind to capture any, but he wracked it, desperate to unlock the solution because there had to be one, a fix. Be damned if he could think of anything to solve this mess, now.
So, finally, this was it. He’d done it. Lost his farm, lost his home, and his wife. He’d struggled to hold things together for them as a family, and even though at times, a perilously thin string kept tenuous connections, it had been enough and they’d survived.
What if he sold off equipment? His own mind mocked him. If he sold equipment, how would he produce the milk he needed to sell? Land? No one wanted the lower paddocks with their rock terraces, steep gradients and the near pastures was where he kept the cows.
Where would they go? What would he do?
An image of Ned popped into his mind; faithful Ned who had stayed by his side through all of it. He would be out of a job; working here was all that he knew.
And in amongst the mist of his mind, a beautiful, strong redhead appeared. She’d won, too. Defeated him, even though in the recesses of his brain he knew it wasn’t her fault. But amongst all the thoughts fighting for space, that one didn’t hold any traction.
He hadn’t even been able to hold on to her. What had scared her off? The farm? His bad financial management? Life on the land? He didn’t know, but one thing was certain-he hadn’t been good enough to hang around for.
Daniel reached for the nearest thing. Picking up a discarded beer bottle left behind on the outdoor table, he flung his arm back and threw it, and then another. One collected with the chicken house causing the hens to scatter in a frightened pace. Glass smashed against the veranda, splintering shards in all directions. His steel-capped boots kicked the railing posts and with clenched fists he punched the house walls. His knuckles bled but still he didn’t stop. He reached for children’s toys in his way and scattered them, flailing his arms until they moved so fast he lost control of them. Until finally, with nothing else within his grasp, hands bleeding and his head raw, Daniel hollered.
Mid-scream his voice cracked and no further sound came out. In final defeat, he collapsed to the ground in a heap.
Chapter Eighteen
“God damn!”
Vivienne thrust her foot harder against the accelerator. Nothing. Not even a tick over of the engine. This car had never broken down, until now.
How long since her last service? She couldn’t recall but a sinking in her stomach meant it’d been longer than she realised. She never did have time for those pesky services! Who could live without their car?
She reached for her fully charged iPhone to ring someone, anyone, to save the day. All would be okay; this was not a bad omen for her reintroduction to Rosebrooke.
One whole month since she’d been here, and yet she had lived a lifetime since then and now, with only six kilometres to the bank cottage and the civilisation of the township, her journey had been delayed.
She’d been a nervous bundle of energy starting out this morning, now this, her anxiety piqued, a pit developing in her tummy.
Rummaging around to find her phone, she extracted it from the car floor where it must have slipped out of her bag when she took those mountain corners too fast.
Not taking much attention, she started searching Google for mechanical repair/tow trucks. The icon at the top spun and spun until three tiny letters stood out.
SOS.
>
Vivienne slammed her hands on the steering wheel and screamed.
No car.
No service.
Frantically, she looked around her. At least the car had chosen to die on a safe leeway, a spot reserved for tourists to park and admire the view. She was grateful the risk of being hit and catapulted off the mountain should be minimal.
Vivienne pushed open the door and leaned against the vehicle. Sucking in deep breaths, she was reminded of why she loved it out here so much; that apple green fresh air, you couldn’t get it anywhere else. She closed her eyes; she was back. The breaths relaxed her and she released the clenched fists she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.
Think, Vivienne, think.
Dressed in her favourite red high heels and work attire meant a long walk for help was out of the question. Of course, her runners were buried in her belongings in the boot. What other option did she have? With her head bent over and buried in the rear of her vehicle, she rummaged around for her sneakers. At the sound of a car door banging, Vivienne started, immediately raising her head to hit against the boot lid.
“Ouch!” She rubbed her scalp with one hand whilst her other had successfully retrieved the shoes.
A rough cough, small and embarrassed came from behind her.
Still rubbing the egg on her head, Vivienne turned. If the presence of one person could cause a rainbow to spread across the sky, for the clouds to clear and glow as if it was shiny and new, this occurred for Vivienne as she faced Daniel.
The world glistened, became fragrant and full.
“Daniel!”
For a split second, a similar sensation crossed through his eyes, his body swaying without his feet moving. Vivienne watched him check himself.
Just as swiftly as angry and grey clouds can blanket a sky and threaten and torment all in its path, a storm erupted in his features, a bolt of lightning cracking his façade, turning it to stone.
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