Cinderella and the Billionaire

by Marion Lennox

  As if she’d found something good?

  That was a dumb thing to think. Or maybe it wasn’t, she conceded. Matt seemed honourable, dependable, caring. After a couple of days she’d never see him again, but it was good to know there were people like him in the world.

  Except...after a couple of days...

  Oh, cut it out. Just because he’d held her in the night... Just because he’d cared... This man was so far out of her orbit he might just as well belong to another species. Thinking about him...as she was thinking...

  Fantasy.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, and she hauled her head back to the here and now. To the sensible.

  ‘Just worrying about Peggy.’

  ‘It’s okay. Even if she hasn’t organised the authorities to come and get us, we’ll use her radio to contact them ourselves.’

  ‘It’s not that.’ She’d forced her mind to move from where her thoughts wanted to be—like centred around the guy at the other end of the boat—to where they should be. To an elderly woman taking her seven-year-old grandson to an island as remote as Garnett. She’d had qualms before. Now, looking at Peggy’s rusty excuse for a boat, they surfaced again. ‘It’s just...’

  ‘I know.’ Once again she knew Matt got her thoughts. ‘Meg, I have no control over this. I’m not family. I have no legal right to interfere. If I have any grave concerns, like the prospect of ill treatment or neglect, then I can contact the authorities, but you can see there’s love between them. We can’t interfere.’

  ‘He’s not going back to Garnett in that boat.’

  ‘No,’ Matt said with the same firmness she was feeling. ‘I’ll bring her to shore and then we all wait. How many muesli bars do we have left?’

  ‘Enough, but we ate the chocolate ones for breakfast. We’re down to bran.’

  ‘Then let’s get this organised fast,’ Matt told her and then he smiled. ‘Hey, Meg, cheer up. Peggy’s the forerunner to rescue. If Peggy hasn’t explained to the authorities that our situation is dire then we’ll have to recontact. I want helicopters, skydivers, paratroopers, whatever it takes, but I’m a man who hasn’t had coffee since yesterday. Things are indeed dire.’

  * * *

  It wasn’t worth fixing the motor back onto the tender, so Matt rowed out. He used the excuse not to take Henry.

  ‘You’ll get in the way of my arms,’ he told him. ‘And I need room to bring your grandma to you.’

  Meg stood at the shore and held Henry’s hand. Henry clutched Teddy and waited.

  Boof stood at Henry’s other side. It was almost as if the big dog thought Henry was in need of protection.

  Maybe he was.

  Not from the little dog on Peggy’s boat, though. The dachshund was greeting Matt with exuberance. Her body language was unmistakeable—finally, something exciting’s happening in my life.

  Just how isolated was Peggy?

  Meg had heard of her—of course she had. Peggy had lived briefly at Rowan Bay before she’d bought the island, but that had been before Meg could remember. Peggy had been on her island for so long now that interest had faded.

  Matt had climbed aboard. They were talking. A lot.

  ‘Why are they taking so long?’ Henry was jiggling at her side.

  ‘I guess your grandma is showing Matt her boat.’

  ‘But I want Grandma to see me.’

  Finally Matt helped Peggy into the tender, handing her the dog. Peggy sat in the bow while Matt rowed, looking ahead at Henry, her eyes misty, her smile beatific.

  Matt, not so much. His body language was...grim.

  As the tender reached the cove Meg waded in and caught it. Peggy, though, was over the side, wading straight to Henry, catching him in her arms, holding him close.

  ‘Oh, Henry.’ Her voice broke on a sob and she buried her face in her grandson’s hair. Henry clung right back.

  And part of Meg relaxed. The biggest question—was Henry going to someone who loved him?—was being answered.

  Matt had climbed out of the tender. He went to the stern. Meg was at the bow, preparing to lift the little craft yet again.

  But Matt’s face...

  ‘What?’ she said. Peggy and Henry were caught up in their hug. The dogs were sniffing each other. Meg and Matt could talk without anyone hearing.

  ‘She doesn’t have a radio.’

  ‘On the boat?’ Was he kidding? Who’d put to sea in Bass Strait without a radio?

  ‘Worse than that,’ Matt said. ‘There’s no radio on Garnett, either. It seems she’s let her batteries run down and forgotten to reorder. She says the shock of her daughter’s death made her forget everything, including that she’d swapped to backup batteries when the initial contact was made. My last contact with her kept dropping out and now I know why.’

  ‘So she has no radio at all?’ Meg stared across at Peggy in incredulity. ‘To be on that island by herself with no way of contact...’ Her mind was racing, not just to their immediate situation but to what lay ahead. ‘Matt, if she can’t be depended on to keep radio contact... To keep a child...’

  ‘There’s no use thinking that now,’ he said roughly, and she knew his concern matched hers, maybe tenfold. ‘But what to do?’ He hesitated. ‘Surely Charlie will try to contact you.’

  ‘I’m surrounded by idiots,’ she said bitterly. Frustration was threating to overwhelm her. She glowered up at him. ‘Which hasn’t been helped by hiring me to stay until you were sure Henry was settled. And offering Charlie that ridiculous amount on a daily basis. He’ll be rubbing his hands with glee when I don’t return. There’s no way he’ll be worrying.’

  ‘You’re blaming me?’

  ‘It was ridiculous money.’

  ‘But that’s why you took the job.’

  She glowered some more. The truth of his statement didn’t help. ‘I need a new roof,’ she muttered.

  ‘And I need security for Henry. So your justification is greater than my justification?’

  ‘All right,’ she threw at him. ‘You’re the hero and I’ve been a dope. Moving on...’

  ‘You’re not a dope. When we get back to Rowan Bay I’ll personally organise you a new roof.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘I’m not kidding.’

  They’d been poised to carry the tender back up the beach. Now they were standing in shallow water, staring at each other from opposite ends of the boat.

  ‘You don’t even know how much a roof costs.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Your offer of money got us into this mess in the first place.’

  ‘My offer of money got Henry reunited with his grandma.’ He motioned to Peggy, who was cradling Henry as if he was the most precious thing. ‘You’re saying that’s a bad thing?’

  ‘But you can’t just buy me a new roof. Why should you?’

  ‘Because I’m wealthy,’ he told her. ‘To be honest, Meg, I’m very wealthy. One roof, no matter how large, couldn’t possibly dent my income. And you’ve been put to enormous inconvenience.’

  ‘It’s not my boat that sank. And I’m still being paid by the day, remember?’

  ‘And those days might now stretch. Realistically, Meg, is there any way you’ll be missed before Monday?’

  ‘Maybe not,’ she conceded. ‘But Monday... I’ll definitely be missed then. Charlie has a charter booked and I’m skippering. He’ll have twelve angry corporates—it’s a team-building fishing trip—demanding their money back. Also, I phoned Maureen, my next-door neighbour, before I left. She’s feeding my chickens but by Monday she’ll be asking questions.’

  ‘So three days.’ He stared across at Meg’s bag. Oat-and-bran muesli bars. Not many.

  He also looked at the water container they’d hauled from the tender. Four people and two dogs.

&nbs
p; There was silence as they hauled the tender up the beach. Meg’s mind was racing and, it seemed, so was Matt’s.

  ‘Mrs Lakey,’ he called and Henry’s grandma released her grandson—just to arm’s length—and turned.

  ‘Call me Peggy,’ she said, and Meg could hear tears in her voice. ‘Thank you for bringing me my grandson. And you put yourself in harm’s way...’

  ‘Our boat burned, Grandma,’ Henry told her, sounding awed, and Peggy tugged him tight again.

  ‘And I didn’t even know. Last night I was terrified. If I hadn’t seen your fires...’

  ‘Peggy, do you have water on your boat?’

  ‘I have a thermos,’ she said, sounding confused. ‘Half-full. It’ll be cold now, though.’

  ‘And that’s all?’

  ‘There’s plenty of water on Garnett.’ She didn’t sound bothered. ‘I guess your friends will send a boat for you soon enough. We should all go home and wait.’

  Meg turned and stared out at Peggy’s tub of a boat. So did Matt.

  ‘It’s a risk,’ Meg said at last. ‘But while this weather holds... I think we should attach the tender behind Peggy’s boat and head to Garnett.’

  ‘It doesn’t even look seaworthy,’ Matt muttered.

  ‘I’ll need to check the engine. And I mean really check. I want a couple of hours in the hull.’

  ‘You know enough about engines to do that?’

  ‘It’s my splinter skill,’ she told him. ‘Holding old engines together with pieces of string. Mostly I win.’

  ‘You didn’t check Bertha.’

  That brought a glower. ‘Charlie assured me she’d been checked. You were in a rush. I was dumb enough to take his word.’

  ‘Meg...’

  ‘What are our choices?’ she asked. ‘Send Henry with Peggy without us? No way. Stay here? In three days we’ll be seriously dehydrated. I’ll check and double-check.’

  ‘My boat’s fine.’ Peggy was listening, starting to look offended.

  ‘She might seem fine,’ Meg retorted, ‘but look what happened to the Titanic. I’m checking.’

  ‘She’s checking,’ Matt said, sounding bemused. ‘There’s a new order on this island. Rule of Meg.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m bossy?’ she demanded.

  ‘I’m not saying you’re bossy,’ he told her. ‘I’m saying you’re awesome.’

  * * *

  Three hours later, filthy beyond belief, a greasy, oil-spattered Meg decreed the boat was as sound as she could make it.

  ‘It hasn’t been serviced for years,’ Meg told Matt as they loaded the dogs into the tender. Peggy and Henry were already aboard Peggy’s boat. ‘Matt, how can Peggy care for a child with this sort of attitude toward basic safety?’

  ‘I’m starting to think she can’t,’ Matt said. ‘But legally I have no choice but to take him to Garnett.’

  ‘And if it turns out he’s not safe?’

  ‘There’s a bridge we cross when we reach it.’

  ‘Not a bridge,’ she said grimly. ‘Just a nasty piece of water known as Bass Strait.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THEY MADE IT and Garnett Island was okay.

  Garnett Island was safe.

  The first few hours were busy: securing the boats, trying—and failing—to figure out a way to get the radio working, checking and using Peggy’s pantry to make scratch meals—tinned spaghetti and sauce, and some herbs Meg found in Peggy’s riot of a garden—chopping wood to get heat into the house, and coming to terms with the fact that Henry wouldn’t be able to stay on the island. Safe or not.

  After dinner Peggy tucked her grandson into his specially prepared bedroom and read him a story. Matt checked after half an hour and found the two of them asleep.

  He left them there, huddled together, and came back to the kitchen to find Meg poking hopelessly at the woodstove.

  ‘There’s a hole in the flue,’ she told him. ‘There’s no way it’ll stay damped down overnight. I also suspect the chimney’s blocked. Every time there’s a gust of wind outside I get a back blast of smoke.’

  ‘Peggy can hardly chop wood anyway. Meg, they can’t stay.’

  She wiped her hands on her truly disgusting jeans. She’d been dirty when he’d first met her, he remembered, just off an early-morning fishing charter. Since then she’d coped with a fire on the boat, taught Henry to fish, slept in her clothes and spent hours tinkering with the engine of Peggy’s ancient boat. She’d had a wash when she got here but making the stove hot enough to heat dinner had undone what little improvement there’d been.

  But she turned from the stove and looked at him thoughtfully, and once again came that almost ridiculous thought... She’s beautiful.

  ‘Want a walk on the beach?’ she asked. She was smart as well as gorgeous, this woman. The message between them didn’t need to be spoken—they needed to talk out of earshot of the two upstairs, and the old ceilings were thin and cracked.

  So they walked down the track to the cove, where the boat was tied at Peggy’s jetty.

  The night was still and warm. The moon was almost full. It was low tide. The wet sand was a shining ribbon. The place looked like paradise.

  ‘We’ve been so lucky,’ Meg said. They’d walked almost in silence until they’d reached the cove. Now, as he helped her down an incline where the sea had washed away steps, there was no need for silence, but still it seemed wrong to break the peace of this place. Meg’s voice was almost a whisper, as if she agreed with him.

  ‘Bass Strait’s one of the wildest pieces of water in the world,’ she told him. ‘This jetty...’ She motioned to the wooden structure where Peggy’s boat was tied. ‘It looks okay from the top but I checked when you were lifting Henry and the dogs off. The wood’s rotting underneath. One big sea could smash it. Matt, the weather we’ve had over the last few days has been extraordinary. I need you to understand that.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’re thinking of all the reasons Peggy can’t stay here and I’m adding another. Or more. The place is ramshackle. Peggy’s supposed to get supplies once a fortnight but there’ll be times when a boat can’t land. If this jetty goes it’ll be impossible. Her shopping list is on the fridge and it’s all over the place. Items written three times. No fresh fruit. Despite having no backup batteries for the radio, she hasn’t written them down. She’s using solar power with battery storage, but even those batteries need replacing. And tonight, fixing dinner...she hardly seems to know what’s in the pantry. I know her daughter’s just died and she’s stressed but this is survival stuff.’

  ‘I get it,’ he said heavily. She was saying nothing he hadn’t already figured.

  ‘I’m so glad you brought him yourself rather than sent him with a paid travel escort. To have dumped him here...it doesn’t bear thinking of.’

  ‘No.’

  She glanced up at him, and then away, as if she didn’t want to watch what was happening on his face. He didn’t want to think about that. This situation was doing his head in.

  ‘I made enquiries,’ he said heavily. ‘Peggy’s not too old to take care of a grandchild. She owns the freehold of this island. She seemed to have regular suppliers. I asked about schooling and she had that nailed, too. School of the Air and occasional trips across to Rowan Bay to integrate with the kids there. She sounded competent, in charge...’

  ‘And desperate to have her grandson,’ Meg finished for him. ‘There’s no doubt she loves him.’

  ‘And he, her. Have you seen that scrapbook? Every single week, a letter. You know, I should have twigged at that. Letters instead of emails. No internet. Intermittent telephone calls via her radio. I didn’t ask enough questions.’

  ‘But you came,’ Meg said gently. ‘You can hardly beat yourself up now.’

  ‘So what the hell do I do?’ It was almost a groan.
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  ‘Contact Social Services?’ Meg was watching him, her expression thoughtful. ‘After all, he’s no business of yours.’

  But it wasn’t a statement. It was a question, and both of them knew it.

  Henry was no business of his.

  Meg was right, he wasn’t. But for so many years...

  ‘He sits in my office.’ The words were almost an explosion, breaking the peace of the night. ‘I remember the first time she brought him into work. He was four and she had a business lunch. “Sit there and don’t bother anyone,” she told him. I heard her as I passed on the way to a meeting. She told her secretary to keep an eye on him, but an hour later I found him sitting exactly where she’d left him, with two picture books and a computer game. He was watching neither, just staring ahead, trying not to cry. Luckily I had an understanding client. We all ended up making paper planes while we talked about the complexities of bitcoin transfer for a property settlement. But Amanda didn’t get back for another hour and that was just the start of it. I almost sacked her, but I realised if she left my company then Henry would be in the same situation somewhere else. To be left like that...’

  He broke off, appalled at the emotion in his voice. He hadn’t realised quite how much he cared until right now.

  Meg didn’t comment. She was letting himself pull himself together, he realised. Giving him the space he needed.

  They walked a bit more along the ribbon of sand. She was a peaceful woman, he decided. She hadn’t jumped in with words of outrage. She hadn’t even commented. And finally, when the next question came it was strangely out of left field.

  ‘So tell me about you.’

  ‘What...?’

  ‘I’m hearing empathy,’ she explained. ‘You and Henry. Am I right?’

  ‘That’s got nothing to do with—’

  ‘How you’re feeling. I think it does. Did you ever get left like that?’

  ‘My parents are wealthy.’

  ‘Yeah, like that answers questions,’ she said dryly. ‘If Amanda was a lawyer in your firm then I imagine she didn’t lack money, either. Money doesn’t prevent loneliness. So, your childhood—’