by Louise Guy
‘What? You were about to say something else.’
‘Just that I think you need to be a bit careful with Nat too. The way you spoke to her tonight wasn’t very kind, under the circumstances.’
Hannah felt like she’d been slapped. Damien rarely criticised her, he usually had her back. She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Did you happen to notice the way she spoke to me? Deliberately undermining me at every possible chance with Amy?’
He nodded. ‘I did, but I think it was retaliation. She needed comfort and support tonight, not a reminder that she’s been in these circumstances many times before due to her reckless decision-making. She has to live with the consequences, not us.’
Hannah sighed. Damien was saying exactly what Nat herself had said. ‘I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.’ And she hadn’t. When she was stressed Hannah was at her worst. She knew that but found it hard to control. Zane Fox’s reappearance coupled with the anniversary dinner had been a lethal combination. It was no wonder she’d been on edge. On a normal night she’d have a longer fuse with both Amy and Nat, but tonight had been anything but normal. Usually she could tell Damien this, and enjoy his comfort, but with Zane back in the picture it just wasn’t possible. She took a deep breath, realising he was waiting for her to explain.
‘I just worry about her. She’s thirty-three, about to be homeless and unable to hold down a job for more than a few months. It’s not a good position to be in at her age.’
‘No, but again, it’s not our life to live. She’ll move in with Phyllie next week, so that’s one problem sorted already. She does so much volunteer work that I’m sure something will lead from that. She puts everyone else first, babe, and karma has to repay that at some stage.’
Hannah nodded. Karma. Her gut twisted at the word. She had a nasty feeling karma, in the form of Zane Fox, was about to come back to bite her.
Hannah waited until Damien headed upstairs to have a shower before switching her phone back on. Twelve text messages and two missed calls. The last three text messages said the same thing.
Don’t ever hang up on me again. Call me immediately or there will be consequences.
A shiver ran down Hannah’s spine. She wasn’t going to ring him. Instead, she started keying a message into her phone.
What do you want? Our business was finalised twelve years ago.
The response was almost immediate.
Like I said, a development has occurred. Meet me tomorrow at that cafe near your work.
No. I want nothing more to do with you. Don’t contact me again.
Hannah’s fingers trembled as she hit the send button on her phone.
Not your call. Meet me at the cafe at eight a.m. tomorrow. I only need a few minutes of your time. If you’re a no show I’ll pay a visit to Damien instead. I’m not sure if he’d find meeting me devastating or enlightening. See you at eight and don’t be stupid. I have the potential to ruin you.
Hannah stared at the message before turning off her phone and closing her eyes. He was right. One conversation with Damien and he could ruin her completely.
Hannah tossed and turned most of the night, waking in a pool of sweat. Amy had been the focus of her dreams; riding a horse at breakneck speed, bareback and at times standing up. Her mother was on the sidelines cheering her on. It was a relief to wake up, but then the thought of the day ahead, particularly the meeting with Zane Fox, rattled her. She’d elected to wear a grey pencil skirt and jacket with her heeled ankle boots. Today she needed the extra boost a favourite pair of boots would give her. Her hair was secured in a high bun, and she hoped that she exuded a don’t mess with me air. There was only one scenario she could imagine would bring Zane Fox back into their lives and, no, she wasn’t going to allow herself even to think it.
Hannah pulled into her parking space underneath No Risk’s offices and switched off the engine. She got out, took a deep breath and walked swiftly to the lifts. There was nothing to worry about. She said this over and over in her head, trying to convince herself the words were true as she caught the lift to the ground floor and walked out of the building toward Cafe Reiki.
Zane, balding and at least ten kilos heavier since she’d last seen him twelve years ago, was sipping his coffee at a table at the back of the cafe, partially hidden by a large plant. That was good at least; no one was likely to see them together.
He stood and held out his hand when she approached the table. Was he kidding? She was not going to enter into any pleasantries. Her only objective was to get rid of him. She ignored his hand and sat in the seat across from him.
‘Coffee?’ He nodded toward the menu.
‘I’m not interested in anything other than having you confirm you’ll never contact me again. Why am I here and what do you want?’ Hannah was relieved that her voice sounded strong and steady. Luckily he couldn’t see her knees trembling beneath the table.
He raised an eyebrow as if to suggest her rudeness was uncalled for. ‘There’s been an unexpected development.’
She felt her heart rate increase as he took a notepad from his briefcase and laid it on the table. It was open on a page full of writing.
‘I had a phone call from Family Information Networks and Discovery last week. As you may recall, FIND was the agency that helped us find out what happened to Damien’s parents.’
Hannah nodded. She remembered the name.
‘Damien’s biological mother, Janine Markinson, contacted them and was subsequently put in touch with me. She would like to meet her son.’
A cold chill ran through Hannah. ‘Why?’
‘What do you mean why?’
‘I mean, why after all these years does she suddenly want to find Damien, and why did they refer her to you?’
‘She wants to find her son as his biological father died recently and she feels she now has closure with what he did to her. As for why they referred her to me, when we did our investigations years ago to provide Damien with information about his family, we had him sign a document that said he was preventing any future contact from anyone related to his biological family. I was listed on that form as his legal representative.’
Hannah thought back to the original findings. It had been a devastating shock to learn the truth about Damien’s biological parents; that his mother, at seventeen, was the victim of a brutal rape from which Damien resulted. Hannah had made the excruciating decision to keep this information from him. She’d explained to Zane at the time her reasoning for this decision, and for an additional fee he’d agreed to help her. At the last minute he’d increased his fee by five thousand dollars, threatening to tell Damien everything, including Hannah’s request to keep the information from him if she didn’t pay. What had started as an honest business transaction turned sour very quickly.
‘What happened to his father?’ Hannah asked. ‘You said he died. Did you find out how?’
Zane nodded. ‘Of course. I found out everything I thought you’d want to know.’ He consulted his notebook. ‘He was stabbed in a prison riot two months ago. He’s been in and out of prison over the past twelve years for a range of offences. The last one was a hit-and-run involving a three-year-old child.’
Hannah swallowed. A three-year-old. How could anyone live with themselves after doing that? ‘Nothing’s changed,’ she said to Zane, ‘I don’t want Damien learning any of this.’
‘His mother hasn’t done anything wrong,’ Zane said. ‘I did a bit of poking around, and she’s a schoolteacher. She never married and has no other children. From all reports, she’s a good person who suffered terribly as a consequence of what happened to her.’
She certainly had – the poor woman. ‘As I said, it doesn’t change anything. I feel sorry for her, but I can’t even begin to imagine how Damien, or his adoptive mum, would take all of this. Please tell the agency that our position hasn’t changed. That we don’t want any information released.’
Zane’s eyes were on Hannah. He picked up his coffee and sipped
it.
‘What? You have a problem with my decision?’
‘No. To be honest, I don’t care what your decision is. But you’ve put me in a compromising position. I’m the gatekeeper to whether Janine can find information about her son. I’m no longer comfortable having my name all over the documentation that prevents her from gaining any knowledge about Damien.’
Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. ‘If that’s all, let’s have the documents changed. Get my name put on them, or a lawyer’s. I’m sure that’s not a big deal.’
‘You’d have to get Damien to sign them again.’
Hannah smiled. ‘Damien blindly signs anything I put in front of him. That’s not a concern.’
‘So, he trusts you.’
‘Of course he does. He’s my husband.’
‘But he shouldn’t, should he? Not with the lies you’re capable of telling him.’
Fear flooded through Hannah. ‘What is it you’re after, Zane?’
‘Compensation. I will have my name removed from the forms and sign a document saying I’ll never reveal anything about the case. My fee for this is ten thousand dollars.’
Hannah gasped. ‘What? You’ve already been paid, and you’ve signed a confidentiality agreement. I have a copy of it. You’ve had twelve years to blackmail me since then, why now?’
‘The agreement from twelve years ago clearly states I won’t reveal any information that we discovered about Damien’s birth parents. It says nothing about his birth mother making contact twelve years later, requiring me to tell more lies. If you wish me to continue lying for you, I expect compensation. It’s as simple as that.’
‘Blackmail is hardly simple.’
‘It’s not blackmail. You are asking me, again, to do something unethical and this is my fee.’
Hannah stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. Her legs were trembling. She wasn’t going to listen to any more of this.
Zane wrapped his hands around his coffee cup. ‘Like I said in my text – don’t be stupid, Hannah. You’ve got a week to come up with my fee. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll happily tell Damien’s mother what you did twelve years ago. How you covered up her story and lied to your husband. She should at least be warned about her daughter-in-law before she becomes part of her son’s life.’
Hannah turned and walked out of the cafe, bile rising in her throat with every footstep.
Chapter Six
On Friday afternoon, Nat stopped off at the shops on the way to Phyllie’s and bought a bottle of her grandmother’s favourite Brown Brothers Prosecco. It was a relief that Phyllie had such inexpensive tastes when it came to wine. Even in her unemployed state, the twelve-dollar bottle was affordable.
A little after three, she brought her blue Hyundai to a stop on the road outside Phyllie’s adorable white two-storey home with its burgundy roof and trim. She couldn’t remember when she’d last spent time on her own with Phyllie. Obviously, that was going to change if she did move in with her. While she appreciated Phyllie’s offer, the idea of having to move in with her eighty-nine-year-old grandmother because she was such a failure was depressing. She should be buying her own house at this stage and settling down, not running back to family every time she stuffed up.
She sighed. The reality was she had no choice right now. Having somewhere to live would at least take one stress off her and allow her to devote her time to job hunting. As she slipped the bottle of wine into her bag and opened the car door she was greeted by a high-pitched squeal coming from the side of Phyllie’s house. An explosion of expletives followed it.
‘Get the hell out of here, you great bastard,’ Phyllie’s crystal-clear tone rang out.
Nat slammed her door shut and ran down the driveway and around the side of the house. She stopped as she reached the back garden, her hand flying to her mouth. What on earth? Phyllie was standing in front of her flowering camellia hedge with a broom in her hands, swatting it in the direction of a large white goat. Its head was down and short beige horns pointed in her grandmother’s direction.
Phyllie looked up, relief flooding her face as she saw Nat. ‘Thank God you’re here. Turn the hose on this bloody creature, would you? It’s already eaten my sweet alyssum and by the look in its eyes right now I’d say it might eat me if it means getting to my camellias.’
Nat looked about, spying the hose attached to the side of the house. She quickly unravelled it and turned it on. She directed it at the goat, causing Phyllie to squeal. ‘Just the goat, not me, you silly girl.’
The goat spun round as the water hit it and Phyllie shoved the broom at its bottom. ‘Be gone with you,’ she yelled.
Nat had to jump out of the way as the goat came galloping past her and out on to the street. It turned right and disappeared.
Nat turned off the hose, dropped it and ran over to Phyllie. ‘Are you okay?’
Her smile wobbled. ‘Course I am. Bloody Leon and his stupid goat.’
‘Who’s Leon?’
‘Neighbour two doors down. He took it on to help out a sick friend. Stupid beast gets out all the time.’
Nat took the broom and tucked her arm under Phyllie’s. She couldn’t miss the fact that she was trembling, or that her arm was bleeding. ‘You’re hurt.’ The cut on her arm was deep. ‘This is going to need stitching.’
Phyllie tut-tutted. ‘We don’t have time for that. We’ve got poker to learn and, looking at that bottle sticking out of your bag, bubbles to drink.’
‘Not with your arm bleeding like that.’
‘He’s got sharp horns that little bugger. Got me before I could get to the broom. I need to be more vigilant and have my goat protection kit in easier reach.’
Nat led Phyllie into the house via the back door, through the sunroom and kitchen and into the living room, where she deposited her into her favourite high-backed armchair. An eighty-nine-year-old woman shouldn’t need a goat protection kit, whatever that might entail. ‘This has happened before?’
She nodded. ‘A few times. He’s partial to my roses when they’re blooming. I guess I’ll have that to look forward to again in a few months.’
‘Phyllie, I’m pretty sure you aren’t allowed a goat in your garden. Let’s ring the council.’
A look of horror crossed Phyllie’s face. ‘And dob Leon in? Gosh no, he’d never forgive me. I’ll be fine, love. You don’t need to worry about it.’
Blood was now seeping on to her sleeve.
‘I need to take you to the doctor.’
She shook her head.
‘It needs stitching and cleaning up. You’ll probably need a tetanus injection too.’
Phyllie rolled her eyes. ‘You’re beginning to sound like that worrywart of a sister of yours.’ Her lips curled into a smile. ‘Bet she could tell us exactly how many injuries and fatalities there have been from goat-related incidents. You’re not to tell her about this, you hear me. She’s already worried about me falling; add a goat into the equation, and even with you living here she’ll have me shipped out of here immediately.’
Nat nodded. ‘I won’t tell her, but unless you let me take you to the doctor, I’m calling Damien. If he’s in the area, I’m sure he’d drop in and stitch your arm.’
Phyllie thought about this for a moment. ‘There’s probably a confidentiality aspect to his job, so he wouldn’t be allowed to tell Hannah. Okay, call him. Then once we get rid of him, you’ll need to find the wine glasses and the cards. We’ve got some poker to learn.’
Half an hour later Damien knelt in front of Phyllie’s armchair, his paramedic bag by his side, and secured a dressing over the wound he’d just finished stitching. ‘I really think you should go and see your doctor.’
‘Why? You’ve given me a tetanus injection and stitched it. What more could I possibly want?’
‘A complete check-over for a start. You should be monitored at your age.’
Phyllie tutted. ‘Not you too! You sound as bad as that overprotective, ridiculous wife of yours.’
‘She just cares about you, Phyllie.’
Phyllie frowned. ‘You are not to tell her about this visit today, Damien, do you hear me?’
He nodded.
‘And Nat and I have poker training to complete this afternoon, so there’s no way I have time for a doctor’s visit, so let’s just forget about that.’
‘That sounds like an unfair advantage.’ Damien winked at Nat. ‘You’d better not bankrupt me.’
‘Very unlikely,’ Nat said. ‘I don’t have all that much to invest tomorrow night anyway.’
‘You’ll have my hundred-dollar investment,’ Phyllie said. ‘I’ll be trusting Damien to make sure you don’t use any of your own money. Not that you’ll need to. It only takes a couple of hands to build your bank, and you’ll do that easily once I’ve imparted my wisdom.’
Damien sighed. ‘Maybe I’d better stay and have this wisdom rub off on me.’
Phyllie’s eyes narrowed, and she pointed to the chair across from her. ‘Take a seat.’ She turned to Nat. ‘Go and fetch the poor man a drink, would you. He looks exhausted.’
Nat had to admit that Phyllie was right; Damien did look exhausted.
‘Just water thanks, Nat.’
She left the room, still able to hear the conversation clearly from the small kitchen.
‘Are you okay, love?’ Phyllie asked. ‘You seem to have lost all your spark.’
Nat stopped momentarily. Phyllie was right, Damien did seem very flat. He had at dinner the other night too. She wasn’t surprised really, being married to Hannah could hardly be a barrel of laughs, but he’d always seemed upbeat before.
‘Just long hours,’ he answered. ‘Wearing me a bit thin at the moment.’
‘You’re sure that’s all?’
‘I’m sure. Now, I’d better get on. Pam’s waiting for me in the ambulance, and other jobs have probably come in while we’ve been here.’
Nat opened the fridge and poured a glass of cold water from a jug into a glass and took it back to the living room. She handed it to Damien.
