Seaside Manor Bed and Breakfast

by Lilly Mirren

  “That’s fine, I ate in town. I should’ve called to let you know.”

  He waved her off. “No worries. Were you with Cindy?” He stood, stretched both arms over his head with a yawn. “I’m going to get a cup of tea to wake up me. Do you want one?”

  She followed him to the kitchen and sat at the kitchen table. She felt suddenly exhausted, too tired to stand.

  “I’d love a cup, thank you.”

  He busied himself, filling the kettle and putting it on to boil. She watched him with her heart full of love.

  “I wasn’t with Cindy,” she said.

  “Huh? Oh, right… what were you doing then?” He set some biscuits on a plate.

  “I was meeting with Ben.”

  “Ben?”

  “Do you remember the young man who came to our door? I told you he asked for directions to the highway?”

  Rupert stopped what he was doing, fixed his attention on her. “Yes.”

  “That was Ben.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes narrowed. “That’s not like you, Di. What’s going on?”

  She sighed. “He’s my son.”

  Rupert came to the table, sat across from her, eyebrows arched high. “What do you mean, he’s your son?”

  She smiled, exhaustion tinging her words with sadness. “I had him when I was very young. Before you and I started dating. I gave him up for adoption, but he found me. That day, he came to the house — I didn’t know he was coming. It was a surprise… a shock really. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. It was all very surreal for me. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you everything right then, but I didn’t have the strength.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t believe this. You’re telling me you had a baby as a teenager, and never said a word to me about it?”

  She nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I wish I’d told you, but the years passed by and it seemed as though it was almost a dream at times. Did it really happen? When we couldn’t have children, I grieved for so many years over the child I gave up. I thought it would be too cruel to tell you I had a son, but I didn’t know where he was, and I’d given him to strangers to raise. It was almost more than I could bear…” Her throat closed over, she swallowed around it, but it continued to grow until the pain was overwhelming.

  Rupert shook his head. “A son… you had a son… we wanted… I wanted a son so badly. And he was out there…”

  Another nod.

  Tears blurred her vision. Rupert’s eyes filled too. When his cheeks were wet, she thought she couldn’t take anymore.

  “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.” She reached a hand to his cheek to cup it, but he stood and brushed her hand away.

  “We shared everything…I thought we did. I don’t know what to say. That you’d keep something like this from me. Are there are more secrets? Things you haven’t told me?”

  He whirled to face her, his eyes wide.

  She shook her head. “Only this.”

  “Only this. As if it’s not big enough.” He pressed his hands to his face and wiped his cheeks as sobs wracked his body. “It’s not right, not fair. We couldn’t have children…”

  He strode from the room in his awkward, lop-sided gate. He had a bad hip, they’d talked about getting it replaced soon, but his doctor had said he wasn’t strong enough for the surgery. Not yet. Maybe next year if they could get his blood sugar to stabilise.

  The front door slammed, the echo reverberating throughout the house. Diana hurried to the window to watch Rupert shuffle down the front path, then across the street. He stopped beneath a poinsettia tree, pressed both hands to his face again, shook his head. Diana cupped her hands to her mouth, eyes wide as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  He was right. She’d betrayed him by keeping this secret. They’d shared everything, it’d always been that way between them. But not this. This had been hers, and hers alone. It’d kept a small part of her heart out of his reach for all this time. He’d often asked her why he felt as though a part of her would never be his. She’d brushed off his concerns, knowing all the while that it was this part of her — the piece of her heart that Ben had taken with him when he was carried from the hospital by strangers.

  While she watched, Rupert drew a deep breath, let his hands fall to his sides. Then, walked back across the street and up the path. The front door closed behind him, quieter this time.

  When he found her in the kitchen, he held out both hands. “Come on, Di. Let’s have a hug.”

  She ran into his arms, nestled against his chest as the tears fell. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice muffled by his woollen jumper.

  He stroked her hair. “There, there. I understand. It was so long ago, and you were only a child yourself. It’s not your fault. Not entirely, anyway. I’m only disappointed you didn’t think you could share something so important with me.”

  She sniffled against his jumper, her hands creeping around his neck. “I wanted to, but honestly I pushed it out of my mind most of the time. I couldn’t think about it because it was the hardest thing I’d ever been through.”

  “And the father? Who was he? I would’ve known him, I assume…”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “It was Andrew Flannigan.”

  There was silence as Rupert processed her words. His grip on her loosened, and his breathing slowed. “I find that hard to believe…you’ve always disliked the man.”

  “I know, but I was very young at the time, and he was handsome, charismatic — you know how he is.”

  “I suppose it makes sense now. I’ve always been curious about why you hated him so much, he could never do anything right in your eyes. I thought it was only because of how he treated your friend.”

  “It was both — he didn’t know about the baby though. So, at least I can’t lay the blame for what happened entirely at his door.”

  Rupert didn’t respond, just held her. Her tears slowed, and she quietened in his embrace. He’d always had that effect on her. He was the one to quiet her tears, the calm in her storm. Relief coursed through her veins, exhausting her in a moment — he knew. Finally he knew her secret. All those years of keeping it inside had been like a wall between them, now there was nothing there — only love.

  “Have you thought about him much? Ben, I mean.”

  Diana sighed. “All of the time. I couldn’t help wondering of course… where was he? What was he doing? Was he happy?”

  He released her from their embrace, wiped her cheeks with his sleeve. “And did you get answers to any of those questions, my love?”

  She nodded, sniffled again. “Yes, he says his parents were very kind, loving and that he had a happy childhood.”

  “There you go, that’s wonderful. Isn’t it?”

  She nodded, her throat tightening again. “Yes, it is wonderful. But still…”

  “I know,” he agreed, pulling her close again. “If only we’d been able to raise him ourselves.”

  Chapter 20

  Ethan

  The sounds of the office brought back memories. Telephones ringing, hushed voices in conversation, a printer whirring. Ethan shifted in his seat, tension tightening the muscles across his shoulders. He didn’t miss it — he much preferred working at the Manor after a surf in Emerald Cove.

  “You can go in now, Mr Flannigan,” said his solicitor’s assistant.

  He waved, stood, and strode into the office. The musk of polished timber and leather greeted him. He shook hands with Marc Jobs and sat across from him, crossing one long leg over the other.

  “It’s good to see you, mate,” said Ethan. “How long as it been?”

  “At least five years since that dinner party in Toowong,” replied Marc with a grin. “It’s good to see you too.”

  “Thanks for agreeing to help me with this mess. I’m not really sure where to start, or what to do.”

  Marc’s expression turned serious. He clicked a few times with his mouse, eyes on the computer screen. “Yes… let’s see…”
>
  Ethan’s fingers tapped a rhythm on the arms of his chair. He swallowed. “I’ve been told they’re charging me with fraud, but I don’t know what the charges refer to.”

  Marc nodded. “Okay, yes I see. I’ve got the paperwork here. They state the fraud was related to government contracts.”

  “That’s crazy. I don’t know anything about it.”

  “Were you a partner with the firm? From what I understand, they’re charging all of the partners, and the executive.”

  “No, I wasn’t a partner, but I was on the partner track.”

  “I suppose that’s why they haven’t laid charges yet. So, that’s a good sign.”

  “Do you think so?” asked Ethan.

  Marc nodded. “Let’s hope they won’t do it. I’ll ask around, see if I can talk to the prosecuting solicitor and find out what’s going on, then I’ll give you a call. Okay?”

  Ethan inhaled a sharp breath. “Thank you, I’m not sure what I’d do without your help. I’ve tried calling my boss, so many times. I’ve left voicemails… he’s not calling me back. I don’t know what to think…”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that. And it’s best you don’t talk to anyone at the company, clients — no one who could be called on to give evidence. I’m sure your boss has been given the same advice, that’s why he’s not calling you back.”

  Ethan pursed his lips. “Okay, that makes sense. Thanks.”

  “No worries.”

  Marc stood, held out a hand, Ethan stood as well and shook it.

  “Thanks again.”

  “You’ll get through this,” said Marc with a smile. “Don’t worry about it too much — I’m sure the crown prosecutor isn’t after you. If they lay charges, we can talk to them about doing a deal — you tell them what you know, and maybe they’ll drop the charges.”

  Ethan swallowed. “That sounds great, except I don’t know anything.”

  Marc shrugged. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  Rebecca

  The report froze on the computer screen. Black letters, unmoving. Behind her, a phone rang, then the muffled sound of a radio crackled. Rebecca leaned back in her chair with a sigh of exasperation. She clicked the mouse, nothing happened. How was she supposed to submit a report on the shop lifting incident she’d investigated that morning at the Foodstore if her computer wouldn’t even wake up? She shook her head and decided to reboot.

  It was time for the staff meeting anyway, so she’d try submitting it again later.

  She wandered to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea, then she headed for the meeting room. She was the first one there, but slowly the rest of the group filtered in, greeting her as they took their seats.

  Franklin was last. He strode to the head of the long, boardroom table and stood with hands pressed to the timber. His thick dark hair stood up in waves as though he’d run his fingers through it. His dark eyes focused on the team seated around the table, one by one.

  “Good afternoon everyone. As you know, we have a few administrative things to go through, then we’ll zip around the table and give an update on open cases. Sound good?”

  There were nods all around, and the meeting got underway. Rebecca half listened, her thoughts wandering. She’d gotten stronger each day and was able to push herself a little harder at boxing, although sparring was still off limits. She’d managed to run from her unit to class the evening before. Maybe she’d try that again today, see if her core muscles could manage it. Her instructor was pleased with her progress but had warned her to take her time to heal. Patience wasn’t something Rebecca had a lot of when it came to working out. It’d become a driving force in her life, as if building up her strength, stamina, and reflexes could keep her safe somehow, even after the stabbing.

  She knew it didn’t make sense. If the perp had a knife or a gun, it wouldn’t matter how strong she was. But that wasn’t why she was doing it. She needed to be able to fight back, it was all she knew to do. And to fight back, her naturally slight frame meant that she needed to give herself as much of an advantage as she could manage. Strength training, running, boxing — those were the things she could control, the things she could do to make sure no one was able to get the upper hand on her again.

  “… Mair? Come on we haven’t got all day.” Franklin’s voice broke through her reverie and she glanced around to see all eyes fixed on her.

  Rebecca’s cheeks flamed. “Uh… sorry. What did you say?”

  Franklin rolled his eyes, sighed. “Which part did you miss?”

  “Um… all of it. Sorry, I was thinking about something else.”

  “Clearly. Do you think you could manage to pay attention during staff meetings, Mair? We do this for a reason — everyone updates the team on open cases so we can determine if there’s any overlap, or something being missed, maybe a clue that one person has could help resolve a case someone else is managing. Does that make sense to you Proby?”

  Her face grew hotter still. “Yes, sir. Of course. I’m sorry.”

  “Wonderful. Glad to be of service. Now… can you give us an update on the status of your shop lifting report from the Foodstore?”

  “I’m almost finished.”

  His lips pursed. “What’s holding you up, Proby?”

  “Nothing, I’ve got everything I need. I haven’t submitted it yet, that’s all.”

  “Get on with it then. All right everyone, meeting over,” he replied. Under his breath, she could’ve sworn she heard him mutter. “Ian would’ve had it filed and solved by now.”

  Her eyes widened. Had he really said that? She glanced around the room, but no one else seemed to be paying attention. They’d broken off into small groups to chat about weekend plans.

  Rebecca stood slowly, collected her teacup, and carried it back to her desk. She sat and stared at the black computer screen for a few moments before flicking it on. That was the problem between her and Franklin — he was always comparing her with his old partner. Ian, the man who never got anything wrong, according to Franklin.

  Still, he’d never said it out loud before. Not like that.

  She shook her head. She couldn’t be Ian, of course she couldn’t. She was a completely different person. And from what she’d heard on the grapevine, which meant of course via Steph, the station’s receptionist, Franklin and Ian had been best friends since childhood, as well as partners.

  That he missed his friend was understandable. She could forgive him for being irritated that he’d been replaced by a proby officer he didn’t know. But when would he stop comparing her with his dead, best friend? It wasn’t fair. She’d never be able to live up to a memory.

  She gulped down the last of her tea, then strode to the reception desk. Steph glanced up with surprise, and a book about managing strong willed children thudded to the floor. Steph reached for it, set it back on her desk with a smile. She patted an empty chair beside her.

  “You look like you need to talk about something. Take a load off.”

  Rebecca’s nostrils flared as she sat. “That man…”

  “You mean, Franklin?”

  “Yes. Of course.” Rebecca pressed both hands to her face and groaned. “He’s never going to accept that I’m his partner. I thought after the stabbing… well, he softened. It seemed like he was coming around, that maybe he liked me a little bit after all.”

  “He likes you plenty.” Steph patted her arm with one hand. “He’s not great at expressing himself, that’s all.”

  “Do you know what he muttered in the staff meeting, just now?”

  Steph shook her head.

  “He said that Ian would’ve had my shoplifting case solved and filed by now. He said it soft, so that no one else heard him. But I heard him.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “He’s always comparing me. I’m never going to be able to live up to that kind of expectation.”

  Steph sighed. “Did anyone ever tell you what happened?”

  Rebecca hesitated. “No, not really. The ar
ticles I found only said that he was killed on the job.”

  “It was bad… Franklin blamed himself for a long time. They were friends, you know. Hung out together after work, did everything together really. They were more than partners. It’d been that way since they were kids. Franklin said at the time that he’d gotten careless. Nothing much ever happened in Emerald Cove: some shop lifting, the occasional domestic. Other than that, it was a sleepy seaside town, and he let his guard down. I think that’s why he’s so hard on you.”

  Rebecca leaned back in her chair. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “They got a call about a gunshot… a neighbour heard something. Anyway, Franklin and Ian assumed it was probably a car backfiring, or someone setting off fireworks, since no one around here ever heard gunfire. They were laughing and joking about something or other when they got there. Franklin said they weren’t paying attention; he honestly didn’t think they’d even find the source of the noise. But the house the person directed them to across the street was a meth lab. They didn’t know it, no one did. It was relatively new to the area, at least we think so.”

  “Wow,” replied Rebecca. “It must’ve been horrible.”

  “Yeah, well — Ian always took the front door and Franklin went around the back of the house. He said that he heard the front door open, then there was a shot. By the time he got to the front steps, Ian was bleeding out on the lawn. The perp got away and Ian died in Franklin’s arms while they were waiting for the ambulance.”

  Rebecca inhaled a sharp breath. “That’s why he always takes the front door now.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. If you want my opinion, he doesn’t like you in Ian’s place because he’s scared of losing another partner. But maybe I’m wrong, maybe he’s just being a jerk.”

  Rebecca stood to her feet, her thoughts whirling. “No, I think you’re right. I shouldn’t be so sensitive. He lost his best friend and partner… Hey, thanks for telling me. It helps.”

  Steph shrugged. “Yeah, just don’t let him know I said anything. He likes me, and I want to keep it that way.” She winked.