A Heart This Big

by Cheyenne Blue

  They were still warm. Leigh’s mouth watered, and she took a bite. “These are so good.”

  “My favourite,” Grizz said around a mouthful.

  Leigh studied her. “Are you limping? Again?”

  Grizz shuffled in her chair. “It’s nothing. Not much anyway.”

  Leigh took another bite of muffin. “Spill. Was this from last night’s activities?”

  Grizz sighed. “Bryan and I went to the indoor climbing wall at Parramatta. Just don’t tell me a forty-nine-year-old woman shouldn’t be scaling cliffs. My creaky hips aren’t that bad, and I thought I’d be okay.”

  “Is it bad? Do you need some time off?”

  Grizz swallowed a huge mouthful of muffin. “No, I’m fine. It’s just a broken toe.” She glared at the muffin as if it were responsible for her injuries. “And I’ve twisted my lower back. I have no idea how that happened.”

  Leigh smothered a smile. Grizz might be the best paralegal in Sydney, but she was also the most accident-prone. And she refused to succumb to her age. “Let me know when you’re going to the chiropractor.”

  “This afternoon at three.”

  “No problem. Take as long as you need.”

  Grizz could have all the time off she needed. She’d make the time up—and more—as she always did.

  Leigh waited until the muffin was gone before getting down to business. “Liability response is due on the Tran file today. Please draft a denial. Also, can you call Peter Nolan again and ask for the employment records? Be stern.”

  Grizz nodded. “My speciality.”

  Leigh flashed a grin. “That’s why you’re the one calling him.”

  Grizz picked up her coffee. “Remember Nina Pellegrini from two days ago?”

  Leigh nodded. Nina Pellegrini was not the sort of woman Leigh would forget in a hurry. She had beautiful hair, shiny and lustrous like polished mahogany, pulled back from her face in a ponytail. And then there were the clothes—an odd mix of dated styles. Nina was intriguing; she wasn’t just a corporate drone in a suit.

  “She appeared in reception and asked to see you,” Grizz said. “I’ve talked with her. She still doesn’t have the money for fees, but she wants to persuade you to take her on pro bono.”

  Nina’s intense figure flashed into Leigh’s mind: her huge, dark eyes, her naivety that things would work out without money. She wasn’t the usual sort of client, and it wasn’t the usual sort of case. But to take her on for free?

  “I told her that your pro bono work was limited,” Grizz continued, “and that her case was problematic for us in that it involved a child. The public can get emotional when children are hurt.”

  “You’re right. Thanks.”

  “She smiled, very sweetly, very politely, and said she realised that, but she still wanted a chance to talk to you.” Grizz sipped her coffee. “I said again you wouldn’t take her on, but she settled back in the reception chair, took out a book, and said she wouldn’t leave until she’d had a chance to persuade you.”

  Leigh raised her eyebrows. “She could be in for a long wait.”

  “I said that. But she’s not causing any problems. Chantelle on reception says she’s perfectly polite, and her only other request has been for a glass of water.” Grizz hesitated. “I read your notes. There’s something not quite right about that claim against her, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “The mother delayed bringing a claim, and in the meantime, the child had been around at the farm with carrots for the pony. That’s odd but not that unusual.”

  “Maybe.” Grizz’s rather plain face was thoughtful. “Anyway, at Nina’s request, I said I’d tell you she was here. Which I’ve now done.”

  “Please tell her again that I’m not able to see her.”

  “Will do, boss.” Grizz stood and gathered the empty cups. “I’ll get back to the grindstone.” She left, closing the door behind her.

  Leigh worked steadily with no distractions for an hour until her neck ached from hunching. She kicked off her high heels and padded on stockinged feet over to the window.

  Twenty storeys below, Sydney buzzed like a termite mound. Traffic, crowds, planes overhead—people going about their day. She glanced over to where she had a tiny glimpse of the harbour, sparkling blue in the sunshine. A ferry chugged past, and a flotilla of small yachts tacked hither and thither, their bright sails standing out like jewels on the water.

  Who had the day off on a Wednesday to go sailing? There were so many boats out there; they couldn’t all be sailed by retirees or the superrich. She sometimes sailed on a friend’s yacht but only on weekends when he couldn’t get enough of his regular crew—and Leigh didn’t enjoy it enough to make the bigger commitment.

  With a final glance at the world outside, Leigh returned to work.

  Around one thirty, the hunger pangs in her stomach upped the level to a roar. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Maybe Grizz hadn’t gone out for lunch yet and could pick something up for Leigh on her way back. Grizz’s phone clicked over to voicemail; she must have already left on her break.

  Leigh stood and picked up her bag. She’d nip out and pick up a salad to eat at her desk. She smoothed down her skirt with her palm and headed for the lift.

  As she entered reception, a woman there put down her book and surged to her feet.

  Nina Pellegrini. How could Leigh have been so absent-minded as to forget she might still be there?

  “Ms Willoughby.” Nina stood directly in front of her so that Leigh was forced to come to a stop or brush past her. “I understand from your paralegal that you don’t feel you can help me, but I only ask for ten minutes of your time.”

  “I’m sorry, I only have a few minutes to grab lunch before my next appointment.” It was a lie, but Nina wouldn’t know that.

  “Then let me buy you lunch. Ten minutes, Ms Willoughby—Leigh—that’s all. Then if you still can’t help me, I’ll leave you alone.”

  Nina’s face was pinched, and her eyes had an overlay of worry. Dark circles under her eyes stood out even against her tanned face. “Please,” she said again.

  Leigh looked at Nina. The woman was obviously on edge. Her fingers clasped her bag so tightly her knuckles were white. One tiny part of Leigh’s mind softened. Nina was a woman, a mother, and, from the look of her, a battler. Nina was the sort of person Leigh had thought she’d be helping when she became a lawyer. A genuine person having a hard time with the law through misfortune. But somewhere along the way, Leigh had been sucked into the world of insurance law, helping major corporations pay out as little as possible to injured people.

  Leigh tightened her lips. They were not alone in reception. There were clients there, real clients, and although they appeared absorbed in magazines, Leigh would bet her BMW they were avidly listening. It would look bad if she dismissed Nina. “Walk with me. It’s a five-minute walk to the café. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  Once they were on the street, Leigh turned to Nina. “Talk.” She started walking.

  “I still don’t have the money to pay you,” Nina said. “Let’s get that out of the way first. But I would like you to take me on anyway. Pro bono. I can’t do it without you. I researched you. Saw an article about you in a business magazine. You are, quite simply, the best there is.”

  Leigh shrugged. “Grizz already told you the reasons why I won’t take you on.”

  “My grandparents bought Banksia Farm seventy years ago when they were just married. They had a dream of self-sufficiency. But as Sydney expanded, it became harder for them. Things cost more, and that’s when they decided to run Banksia Farm as a place for city kids to enjoy a rural lifestyle. Do you know there are kids in Sydney who think that milk is manufactured in cartons? They have no idea it comes from a cow. They’ve never seen a cow.” Nina drew a breath.

  “I’m not sure what this has
to do with me.” Leigh quickened her pace.

  “This is what the farm’s about, Leigh. Being around animals teaches kids things they can’t learn in a classroom. They learn to be kind to small, helpless things. They learn responsibility, to think for themselves, and they learn a work ethic.”

  They parted around a group of businessmen, each with a mobile phone held to his ear.

  “Kids need the farm. And special needs kids and those from families who are just getting by need it more than most. A group of kids who have Down syndrome comes once a fortnight, and they take it in turns to ride. I don’t charge them. Sometimes, nurses from the university hospital bring terminally ill kids. Most of those kids soon go into hospice care. The community needs Banksia Farm.”

  “What you do is admirable.” It was. A community for kids—which must make it harder for Nina to stomach that one of the kids she’d helped was likely to bring about the closure of the farm. A pang shot through Leigh’s belly that wasn’t entirely due to hunger. She slowed in front of a café. “This is where I get lunch.”

  “I’ll get it for you.” Nina’s mouth set in a determined line. She pushed past Leigh and up to the counter. “What will you have?”

  There were two stools at the bench by the window. Nina perched on one and clasped her glass of water. She hadn’t ordered anything to eat.

  “If Billy wins his claim, I will have to sell Banksia Farm to pay him. There is no way around that. I won’t have any problem selling—indeed, there’s a very persistent developer who’s made me a couple of offers already. Banksia Farm is no longer in the bush; it’s surrounded by housing estates, and blocks that size are almost impossible to come by in the greater Sydney area. They could put a high-density development there or even a shopping centre.”

  “You’d do well, I’m sure. A block that size, you’d make enough to pay Billy and buy a house in the same area.” Leigh picked at her salad.

  “You still don’t get it.” Nina’s hair had worked loose from her tight ponytail. Strands hung around her face. “This isn’t about money. It’s about keeping the farm going for the kids who need it. Like Billy. Yes, I know he’s the cause of the problem right now, but Billy is exactly the sort of kid who needs to come to Banksia Farm. He comes out of himself when he’s there. He loves the place.”

  Nina leant forward and touched Leigh’s hand, stilling it. Her touch was light, but there was an intensity to it, a burning desire for something. Nina’s touch screamed of a passion for life, for helping people, for doing the right thing. She was everything Leigh had been once, before she gained the office on the twentieth floor with harbour glimpses and partner on her business card.

  “Please, Ms Willoughby—Leigh. Please help me. Not for me but for the kids who need Banksia Farm.”

  Leigh studied Nina’s hand where it lay on her own.

  Nina must have sensed the gaze, and she removed her hand. “Billy was hurt, but I don’t think it was my fault. And this is going to sound mean, but I don’t think he’s as badly hurt as the claim makes out. A broken arm and a concussion? That shouldn’t change his life. But you read that claim form; it makes Billy out to be incapacitated for life. Why should so many other kids suffer for that?”

  Leigh ate her salad. Nina’s words twined around her mind. Defending the claim should be straightforward. Sure, Nina would almost certainly have to pay out something, but it shouldn’t be much. Maybe one of the junior lawyers in the firm would take it on pro bono.

  She looked over at Nina. Her head was bowed, and her fingers pleated the material of her skirt. It was a vivid pink, similar to the one she had worn for her appointment two days ago, but this one was older, shabbier. They weren’t the sort of clothes one wore to meet with a top lawyer.

  “Look, you really don’t need me for this.” Leigh put her fork down. “It’s straightforward. What I’ll do is put you in touch with Sarah Jackson, one of the other lawyers in my firm; she should be able to help you pro bono.”

  “No. Sarah’s probably a fine lawyer, but I want you. It’s that important.”

  Irritation flared. All clients thought their claim was important enough to warrant a top lawyer, but the reality was that few claims merited her attention. But there was something about Nina that tugged her, reminded her of something long neglected in her own life. Nina’s eyes, wide and pleading, were like a doe’s eyes. Soft, brown, about to be trampled on.

  “Come and see the farm for yourself. You can just turn up; it’s that sort of place. Then you’ll see why I can’t lose it, why the community needs it.”

  Leigh pushed away the remains of her salad. “I’ll think about it. That’s the best I can do. And in fairness to you, I’ll let you know by early next week so you’ll have time to find someone else if I can’t help you.” Part of her wondered why she was even making this concession. She’d think about it, yes, but she already knew what the answer was. She should tell Nina no and be done with it. Nina would get by. And even if she didn’t, well, it wasn’t her concern.

  “Thank you.” Nina’s hands untwisted in her lap. “I hope you come out and see what we’re doing. You can meet Mr Petey.”

  “Your husband?”

  A swift grin darted across Nina’s face and was equally swiftly hidden. “No. Mr Petey’s the pony Billy was riding. I don’t have a husband. Or a wife for that matter.”

  Oh. Now that was news. Leigh tamped down the question on her lips, one about wives. Nina wasn’t a client, not yet, maybe not ever, but that didn’t mean she was going to ask questions that would lead to shared knowledge, maybe something in common. A community in common. She stood and offered a small smile. “I’ll get back to you. Thank you for lunch.”

  Nina rose. “You’re welcome. I look forward to hearing from you.”

  Leigh strode away, focussing on the street. If she glanced back, would she see Nina looking after her? Why did that even matter?

  “I’ve done some research.” Grizz stood in front of Leigh’s desk with a sheaf of papers. They looked like printouts from the internet.

  “Oh? Are you going parasailing this weekend or waterskiing?”

  “Neither. At least not until my toe has healed. Bryan wants to go camping anyway.”

  “A nice sedate caravan park by the beach?” There was no way Grizz would stay somewhere like that, and her husband was the same. Their idea of camping was a bivouac halfway up a mountain.

  “Pft.” Grizz scowled. “There’ll be plenty of time for that when I’m old. No, I’ve been researching Banksia Farm.” She placed the papers on the desk, sat, and crossed one ankle over her thigh. “It’s fairly well known—indeed, I’d already heard of it. There’s a waiting list to join their Barn Kids program, and there are several newspaper articles singing its praises. However, its business structure leaves a lot to be desired. It’s not a limited company, which leaves Nina wide-open.”

  Leigh pulled the papers over. “What sort of idiot doesn’t register a company to protect her assets?”

  “An uninformed person?” Grizz shrugged. “Seems to me she’d have a shot at operating as a registered charity.”

  “I told her I’d think about taking her on pro bono.” Leigh looked up.

  Grizz nodded as if she had expected as much. “Your diary is free tomorrow afternoon if you want to drive out there and take a look.”

  “How many clients did you have to move to free that up?”

  “Only two. You could do with more pro bono, y’know.” A smile softened Grizz’s face under the helmet of grey hair.

  “And you want it to be Nina?”

  “She seems like a deserving case.”

  “Grizz, you soft-hearted old sook.” Leigh tried to suppress her grin.

  “Don’t tell Bryan. He thinks I’m a hard-bitten old cow, and I like it that way.”

  “I know your gooey side, but my lips are sealed.”

 
“So you’ll go out to the farm tomorrow?”

  “No. I appreciate you freeing up my diary, but I don’t have the time for pointless jaunts. I’ll use the time to prepare for the Mason trial.”

  “You’re throwing Nina to the wolves?”

  “She’s really got to you.” Leigh sighed. “Call Sarah. See if you can sweet-talk her into taking it.”

  “No worries.” Grizz rose and limped out of the office.

  Her phone rang sometime later. Leigh glanced at it in irritation. The screen flashed James, the senior partner. That was a call she had to take.

  “What’s this I hear about you shirking pro bono?” His voice boomed out. “Sarah called me. Some little case you tried to shift to her. Sarah already has half-a-dozen pro bono matters, and she’s under the pump for a big commercial trial. How many pro bonos have you got?”

  Leigh wracked her brain. “Two, maybe three.”

  “Not enough. We’re a big firm. We have obligations. Make time, Leigh. If the case is a total crock, that’s different, but otherwise, get it done. Or do what everyone else does and hand it off to your paralegal.” The line went dead.

  Leigh compressed her lips. James’s manner was as abrasive as road gravel, but he always got his points across. Sighing, she flicked to her calendar. She was still free the next afternoon. She’d go out to Banksia Farm and at least take a look.

  Chapter 4

  Nina sat at her kitchen table, pad and pen in front of her. What should she do with Leigh? Was it best to let her see Banksia Farm exactly as it was: messy, dusty, full of stray children and animals? Or should she try and round up some volunteers for a last-minute tidy-up and arrange for the kids from Dare to Be Different to come a week early? If anyone could tug at Leigh’s heartstrings, it would have to be those kids, all of whom had Down syndrome.

  But she had less than twenty-four hours. Really, what could she do in that time? No, Leigh would have to take Banksia as she found it—however that may be.

  Nina put the kettle on, stepping over the ginger kitten playing on the floor, tumbling over and over as he tried to fight his way out of a paper bag. The kitten, another of Phoebe’s strays, had come home with her last night, and Nina hadn’t the heart to turn the animal away. Besides, Phoe had been difficult lately. She’d treated Billy as a kid brother, and she’d been quiet since the accident. If a kitten could make things better, then Nina wouldn’t object.