‘These are my friends,’ he began, gesturing to the crowd. ‘We have a sort of club, I guess. Like a book club. But it’s, you know . . .’ His voice trailed off.
‘A knitting club?’ Victoria prompted.
‘A crochet club,’ corrected the young man.
‘Yes,’ Elizabeth said, as if that explained it.
‘Cool,’ Victoria said, and put down her handbag and went to the couch to squish herself between a burly man cradling a tiny pair of booties and a white-haired man working slowly on squares. ‘Can you teach me too?’
‘Sure. Grab that ball of wool over there.’
‘So what’s this all about?’ Elizabeth said. She was trying to sound supportive, but she had dozens of questions and the uneasiness had found its way into her voice. And most of all, there was part of her thinking, See, I didn’t know him at all.
Haruka tilted his head and indicated for her to follow him into the kitchen. He leaned against the black marble bench top, took a deep breath, and then laughed.
‘This is not how I wanted you to find out about this,’ he said. ‘This is at least a ninth-date conversation.’
‘Ninth date?’
‘Maybe tenth.’
She relaxed. She began to tingle again, just being in his presence.
He put his hand on his heart. ‘Hi, my name’s Haruka and I’m addicted to crochet,’ he confessed.
‘Well, at least it’s not scrapbooking,’ she said.
His face straightened. ‘Oh. I was saving that for the twelfth date.’ He reached out and took her hand.
Electricity shot up her arm and she raced to keep up with the charge to her heart.
‘It’s an artist thing,’ he said. ‘Very good for fine motor skills and the right brain, and I often find ways to incorporate it into my designs.’
‘It’s like art therapy for artists,’ she suggested.
‘Exactly.’ His face had relaxed so much she found it difficult not to reach out and take it in her hands and kiss his lips and his nose and his eyelashes. And maybe back to his lips. Maybe to his ears. And down to his chest. And maybe lower . . .
‘Elizabeth?’
‘Huh? Oh. What?’
‘I’m really happy to see you,’ he said, still holding her hand in his and rubbing his thumb over her wrist. ‘I thought when you didn’t show up yesterday . . . And then your mum said . . .’
Elizabeth groaned. ‘My husband. Yes.’ She gazed into his eyes. ‘He showed up unexpectedly and then had the audacity to have a heart attack on my floor. I had to take him to hospital.’ She paused. ‘I’m sure I could have been charged with some sort of offence if I hadn’t. He’s fine now. And I want you to know I made it clear I want nothing more to do with him. It’s over.’
‘So you’re free to see other people.’
‘Not exactly,’ she said.
‘Oh.’ His dark brows drew together.
‘I only have eyes for one person.’ She twisted her foot on the ground in a coquettish manner, inching it towards his leg.
‘Is it me?’ he said, a glint in his eye.
‘What do you think?’ She began to nudge his toe. ‘I tried calling you on the way over,’ she said. ‘I was worried you’d given up on me.’
‘My phone’s been off. Part of the crochet club rules.’ He reached out his toes, covered only by a grey woollen sock, and flexed them against the arch of her foot.
She tugged on his hand, drawing him towards her. ‘So, we’re okay then?’
‘Definitely,’ he said. Then he kissed her.
‘Should we give this thing a go then?’ he said.
‘Crochet?’
‘Us.’
Elizabeth soared out of her body and travelled to the place of princesses, princes, fairies and rainbows. It was a nice, warm, joyous place. She looked around at her sparkly new life, at her castle and her handsome prince, and knew she couldn’t be happier.
She opened her eyes and came back to Haruka in his kitchen.
‘Definitely.’
25
Kate and Leila were now sitting in the back corner of a dark Irish pub in Kensington, a large pint in front of Leila and strong coffee in front of Kate.
She had her mobile phone in her hand and was stabbing at the keys. It was around ten o’clock in the evening in Australia. She dialled Judy’s mobile number, but it rang out twice to voicemail. She phoned again and this time it went straight to voicemail, as though Judy had switched it off.
‘You’re not getting away from me.’ Kate took a large sip of the sweet, creamy coffee then dialled again, this time the home number. Her chest heaved with furious deep breaths. To her shock, the phone picked up on the fourth ring. She opened her mouth to spit venomous words, but caught herself just in time when she realised it was Judy’s husband, Graham, who’d answered. He sounded breathless, as though she’d woken him, and she felt a stab of guilt for a second.
‘Oh, Graham, it’s Kate. Sorry if I woke you but I need to speak to Judy.’
‘Kate,’ he said warmly, as though he had no clue of the war that raged between her and his wife. ‘How lovely to hear from you. I’ll just get Judes.’
There were some muffled noises and shuffling, then the unmistakable sound of Judy’s jewellery-encrusted fingers wrapping around the phone. Kate’s heart hammered in her chest. She could hear Judy mumble something like, ‘Go back to sleep,’ to her husband, close the bedroom door gently and walk down the long hallway. She heard the glass door open and close and Judy step out into the night air, cicadas shrilling in the background.
‘Kate, what is it? It’s late.’
Kate was thrown. Surely Judy knew why she was calling? A wave of doubt rushed over her. Maybe she had nothing to do with this at all.
‘Er, hi.’ She was about to apologise for calling so late and obviously waking Graham. But beside her, Leila set her face and made encouraging ‘go on’ motions with her hands.
‘Judy, we need to talk.’
‘Well, make it snappy.’
Kate braced herself. ‘I know what you did.’
Now it was Judy’s turn to pause. And before she could get another word in, Kate went on, shooting out her words before her nerves got the better of her.
‘I know you hired Quentin Ripp to act as a fake investor. You must know that he’s taken our money. It was a vicious and cruel act of corporate espionage.’
Espionage? Was that what it was? She wasn’t sure of the legal term but, at any rate, it sounded good.
‘What you’ve done is illegal,’ she declared.
Wasn’t it?
‘And I will sue you, Judy, I will sue you for every last dollar you have for ruining The Tea Chest’s reputation, business viability, employee security and my own family’s livelihood. It’s completely unacceptable and I won’t let you bully me anymore.
‘I get why you would do it to me.’ She paused. ‘Actually, no I don’t get it. I never did anything to you but you never gave me a chance. Not from the start. Were you jealous of me? Did you hate me because Simone liked me more than you?’
Beside her, Leila was nodding along and murmuring in chorus like the congregation at a Baptist service.
‘So, okay, you hate me. So you wanted to hurt me. But I can’t for the life of me fathom why on earth you would do it. Why on earth would you sabotage your own company? Why now, right when you want out and need a buyer? Why would you take the money out and create such instability, something we might not be able to come back from? That’s the last thing any buyer would want to see. You might have wanted to get back at me for some imaginary injury I’ve caused you, but I also know you’ve got a good business head on you, so why would you destroy something so valuable?’
Judy tched as though she really would rather not be having this conversation.
‘Explain yourself, Judy. You owe me that at least.’
Kate was shaking now with adrenaline and caffeine. She’d prepared herself for a fight. For a screaming match. She was prep
ared to swear and threaten and even beg if she had to. But she wasn’t prepared for the weariness that emanated from Judy in her next sentence.
‘Graham’s dying,’ she said simply. Her words hung in the space between their continents for a moment while Kate’s brain raced to catch up.
‘What?’ Kate’s mind reeled. It was like she’d been having one conversation but had somehow stumbled accidentally into someone else’s.
‘Cancer. We don’t have much time. That’s why I was so desperate to sell. We want to spend our last months together free of any ties or complications. We want to travel, where we can. The last thing I want to think about is this business. I’m tired, Kate. I don’t want to fight anymore. With anyone. I just want to focus on my husband and then on . . . on the time afterwards. On getting through it. Where to go from there.’
Her voice drifted off.
Kate’s throat tightened. She immediately thought of Mark and her chest lurched somewhere towards the other side of the world where the love of her life was waiting for her, she hoped. Losing Mark was something she allowed herself to contemplate occasionally, but it filled her with such fear and despair that she would push the thoughts away quickly and make sure she greeted him with a smile and a kiss the next time she saw him.
She turned to Leila, who shook her head quizzically and spread her hands, questioning what had suddenly changed in the conversation and brought about such a shift in Kate’s posture.
Judy sniffed, then pulled herself together.
‘I needed out and you weren’t playing the game. I panicked. I wanted to force your hand.’
‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’ Kate said quietly.
‘I don’t need your sympathy,’ Judy bristled.
‘No, of course.’ The tone of the conversation slid back to a familiar footing. ‘But why Quentin? Judy, where is the money? The Tea Chest can’t survive this.’
‘The money is in my bank account. That was part of the deal. I just needed to scare you into action.’
Kate was glad she was sitting down. ‘So, wait—the money is still here? It’s still in The Tea Chest?’ She clutched her heart.
Beside her, Leila bounced up and down and squeezed Kate’s arm.
‘I just need to transfer it back,’ Judy said matter-of-factly, as though it had been as simple as ordering a latte and returning it to the waiter. ‘Despite what you think of me, Kate, I do honour Simone’s legacy.’
She paused. Somewhere in the background of Brisbane, a frog began to croak. It must have been raining, Kate realised.
‘You remind me a lot of her, you know,’ Judy said, her voice the softest Kate had ever heard it. ‘You’ve got that same creative drive and uncanny vision. Something I never had,’ she admitted. ‘I guess that’s why she liked you so much.’
Kate sat silent, unable to think of a single thing to say.
‘Huh.’ Judy sighed as though pulling herself back from long-held memories.
Kate waited a moment, then cleared her throat.
‘Judy, are you saying everything is okay, The Tea Chest is fine and everything is back to normal?’
‘Not quite,’ Judy said, and Kate’s heart plummeted to the floor. ‘There has been a change.’
Kate braced herself.
‘I’ve sold my share in the company,’ Judy said.
Kate almost catapulted off her seat. ‘To who? How?’
‘I can’t go into details,’ Judy said. ‘But the new owner intends to contact you soon to introduce herself and make plans for the future of the business with you.’
A new owner? Someone she didn’t know was coming into the company and had the same number of shares as she did. Someone with new ideas and plans. What if she wanted to change everything about the company? What if they didn’t get along and it was even worse than it had been with Judy?
Leila watched, squeezing her hands together so tightly her fingers were white.
‘So, congratulations,’ Judy said. ‘You won.’
Maybe. She wouldn’t know that for sure until she met the new owner.
‘Well, I guess you did too,’ she replied, before remembering Graham and wishing she could take it back. Life could be so painful. ‘Good luck, Judy,’ she said. ‘I hope you both find some peace together. I’ll be thinking of you.’
And with that, Judy was gone.
Leila sniffed bouquets on the footpath of the flower shop. It was a gorgeous warm day, with a blue sky and puffs of clouds. It was as though all her worries had vanished as she’d walked past the leafy, iron-fenced terrace house, just a stone’s throw from Kensington Gardens. In these surrounds, anything seemed possible and everything seemed easy.
She brought a basket of Peruvian lilies to her nose and inhaled. The gift was an apology to Kate and encouragement for the new path ahead.
She was just about to enter the shop when her phone vibrated in the pocket of her slim jeans. It was Quentin. Her hand froze in indecision. He was calling her. From America. She stepped back from the doorway and put the lilies down.
‘Hello?’
‘Thanks for answering. I wasn’t sure you would.’ At the sound of his voice, her hand began to shake. Part of her, the part that had cried so many tears and was sure she’d never hear from him again, wanted to speak to him. The other part wanted to throw her mobile phone as far away as she could.
‘Please, just listen,’ he said. That suited her. She wasn’t sure what she would say to him anyway.
‘I need to apologise.’
‘I should think so,’ she said, suddenly finding her voice.
‘Leila, none of this is what you think.’
‘Really? You’re not an actor whose name is actually Daniel Jackson? You weren’t hired by Judy Masters to pull off this horrible deception and nearly ruin so many people’s lives?’
Quentin whistled air in through his teeth. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I guess I’m smarter than you think,’ she said, working as much smugness into her voice as she could.
‘Then you know none of it is true. The money is safe. I’m not an investor and I never did anything illegal.’
‘I think that’s debatable.’
‘But, Leila, the reason I wanted to call you is to tell you how sorry I am. I’m sorry you—no, we—got caught up in this mad scheme. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to pull out or tell you the truth.’
‘Then why didn’t you?’
He was silent for a moment. ‘I needed the job, the money, I guess.’
At least he had the decency to be honest.
‘Once I was in it I just couldn’t work out how to get out of it. But I really like you,’ he said. ‘Now that this is over I want us to start again. I really think we could be something good, you and me.’
‘But you’re in America,’ she said, momentarily floored by the possibility.
‘You could come here,’ he said. ‘See California.’ She could hear the smile in his voice. ‘We could see how we are when there are no strings being pulled by someone else.’
‘A few weeks ago, that would have been a tempting offer,’ she said wistfully. ‘But the problem is, you’re just too good an actor.’
‘Just what every actor wants to hear.’
‘I don’t know what’s real anymore.’
‘All those times we went out and I didn’t want to talk business—those were real.’
She remembered the kiss under the bridge, punting down the river.
‘And the paperclips too.’
‘What about the pizza shop?’
‘Ah, okay. The shop’s obviously not one of my investments. I just worked there, making pizzas when I first got to London. You know, the typical out-of-work actor scenario. I became friends with the owners and they agreed to let me use the restaurant as a stage. But I can really make dough. You saw that for yourself.’
‘So why’d you do it? Why make me jump through imaginary hoops? What was the point?’
‘I liked the sound o
f your voice when we first spoke. I wanted to get to know you better so I invited you to the restaurant. You’ve no idea how psyched I was when you turned up. You were even prettier than you’d sounded on the phone. And I knew I could spin a good pizza base. It was my chance to impress you by just being me. The real me.’
Her frosty resolve softened remembering that night. They’d laughed so easily.
And now he was telling her that was the real him. Maybe there was something between them after all.
She raised her eyes to the afternoon sky and considered what he was offering. A whole new adventure. The possibility of love. Here was someone she had genuine chemistry with (well, okay, genuine was debatable, but she had to acknowledge there was genuine potential) and he was asking her to be with him. And it wasn’t like she had any other offers on the table as far as love went.
‘I don’t know yet where I’ll be working,’ she said.
‘We’ll find you a job here.’
‘But I love my job with The Tea Chest. I’d like to try to convince Kate to take me back. She fired me, you know. Because of you.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You should be. But I’m hoping it still might all work out.’
‘Maybe it will,’ he said. ‘It’s the choice between the known and the unknown. I get that.’
She’d forgotten to put decent, honest and reliable on her list of pros and cons about Quentin and that had come back to bite her. She wouldn’t make that same mistake again.
‘The point is, though, I do know you will put your own agenda above doing what’s right. You deceived me. You hurt me. And there’s no coming back from that.’
She said goodbye and finished buying Kate’s flowers.
Elizabeth sat in silence. To her right was Haruka, valiantly attempting conversation. To her left was her mother, then Angus, with her father completing the circle around the kitchen table.
From the looks of the benches—teapots, spilled black tea leaves, kitchen spices—Victoria had been working on her design of a chai blend earlier today before she left for the shop.
This afternoon’s tea session had been her mother’s idea for them all to get to know Haruka, though Elizabeth was still uncertain how they’d all ended up back at her parents’ house.
The Tea Chest Page 27
