by Louise Guy
Nat chose to ignore them. She made herself a coffee, grabbed a banana and hurried down the hallway to her bedroom. Not for the first time she was grateful for the lock on her door. She locked it behind her and sat down at her small desk. She powered up her computer, excited that her workday was about to begin.
On Wednesday afternoon, Nat sat back and stared at the screen. She was going to have to start packing her belongings soon, ready to move to Phyllie’s the next day. She’d played poker almost non-stop since returning from Shared on Sunday. Her plans to split her day between volunteering and looking for a new job hadn’t come to fruition. Time had disappeared. She was winning enough to see the potential and know she could make poker work, but she was losing too. In fact, she’d managed to lose some of her winnings from the poker night. She wasn’t too concerned. Like any new job, there was always a training period and that was what she considered this to be. She had to play with her head and follow the strategies Phyllie had taught her, not give in to her gut and go all in, as she’d done many times. Caught up in the excitement and thinking she knew better she’d been furious with herself when on more than one occasion she’d listened to her gut over strategy and lost the hand and the game. What was exciting, though, was she knew deep down she could win. Once she was at Phyllie’s she intended to really commit her time and energy to the game. The potential upside was incredible. If she could make it work, she’d be able to pay off her credit card and her debts to her father, restart her charitable contributions and prove Hannah wrong.
Her credit card was linked to her account, which made it easier to transfer her winnings, and she intended to use them to pay off the small credit card debt she’d accumulated in the last few months. She owed just over five thousand on her fifteen-thousand-dollar limit. She didn’t usually let it blow out like that but there had been a number of expenses she hadn’t allowed for and she had donated a month’s salary to UNICEF after watching a documentary on the Red Zone Hunger Crisis. Part of her knew she should stop giving her money away, but another part told her not to be selfish. There were people who needed her money a lot more than she did. She’d get by and had family to fall back on. She was incredibly lucky.
She turned off her computer and pulled her suitcases from her cupboard. She didn’t have much to pack, just her clothes and the belongings in her room. Surprisingly, Yani had offered to help her move the next morning. He had a small van and assured her they’d be able to fit her bed, chest of drawers, desk and everything else. She was grateful for his offer, even though she was fairly sure he just wanted to make sure she actually moved out. It only took her a couple of hours and she was packed and ready to go. She sat on her bed, excited by the prospect of a new start. While her poker playing was still in the teething stages, she knew it had potential. Potential to replace her income if she was smart. Things were definitely looking up.
Chapter Nine
Hannah’s hand trembled as she reached for the phone on her desk. She’d closed her office door, ensuring complete privacy, before dialling Zane’s number. He picked up after three rings.
‘Zane, it’s Hannah Anderson.’
‘Ah, Hannah.’ The sneer in his voice made her gut churn. ‘Got my money?’
She ignored his question. ‘We should meet. I have what you want, but I need some guarantees from you. Are you available later today?’
‘Sure. I can come to you again.’
‘No!’ The last thing Hannah wanted was anyone seeing her with Zane. ‘I’ll meet you in St Kilda. There’s a small cafe in Grey Street near Acland Street. It’s called Xpresso. Meet me at four.’
She placed the phone in the cradle, her hand still trembling. Was she really going to pay this guy off? She’d met with Lance Etheridge, a lawyer she’d found online, the previous afternoon. She’d decided to keep everything about this transaction separate from her current life. Therefore, she didn’t talk with the lawyer she and Damien had used on occasion over the years. She didn’t want to put anyone in a compromising position where they might feel obliged to tell Damien what was going on.
Lance had drawn up a contract for her to have Zane sign. It stated that once he received the payment from Hannah, he would under no circumstances discuss the nature of the transaction with anyone, nor would he ever try to contact Damien and divulge any of the information regarding his biological family.
Lance had, however, been sceptical. ‘Look, he might sign it, but it doesn’t guarantee anything. You’re dealing with a blackmailer and, once again, I’d like you to reconsider paying him. Blackmail rarely ends at the first demand, and the fact he’s only asking for ten thousand does ring alarm bells.’
‘Only asking for ten thousand? Why do you say it like that?’
Lance shuffled the papers in front of him. ‘In this day and age, ten thousand is loose change. Serious blackmail starts a lot higher. It’s the sort of amount that makes me think he’s testing you. If you can get your hands on that, you can probably get your hands on more.’
Hannah had excused herself during their meeting, only just making it to the ladies’ room in time. With her head hanging over the toilet bowl and her lunch being flushed, tears welled in her eyes. She wasn’t sure she had an option. If she didn’t pay off Zane, he would tell Damien. There was no doubt about it. Lance’s words had rung in her ears. ‘Is what he has hanging over you really that bad? Would you consider telling your husband, so this guy has no power over you at all?’
Hannah immediately shook her head in response, but it was something she did need to consider. What if he was right? What if Zane did come back for more? She’d had over twenty-four hours to think about Lance’s words. She couldn’t see any good outcome at all if she was to confess to Damien. She doubted he’d ever forgive her. By doing what she’d done, she’d taken away his opportunity to meet his father. If she thought of it like that, it seemed like a terrible thing to have done, but then she’d reminded herself of exactly why she’d made her choices – that they were to protect Damien, not hurt him – and she knew she was doing the right thing.
Following her discussion with Lance, she knew she wasn’t going to hand over any money to Zane if her gut told her he’d be back for more.
Zane was sipping a coffee when Hannah entered the small establishment at four o’clock. Most of the tables were filled with a range of people from tourists to businesspeople to an elderly couple sharing a piece of chocolate cake. The classical music playing through the speakers was at odds with the metal tables and chairs, concrete floor and barista with piercings in his nose, lip, eyebrow and ears. But that was St Kilda for you, predictably unpredictable.
‘Can I get you one?’ Zane indicated to his coffee, as if this was a pleasant social catch-up rather than a meeting between a blackmailer and his prey.
She shook her head, did her best to control her trembling legs and sat opposite him. She pulled out the contract Lance had drawn up and pushed it across the table to him.
‘These are my conditions.’
Zane raised an eyebrow before reviewing the contract. He looked up at her when he’d finished. ‘Got a pen?’
‘You understand the conditions then? That this is a one-off and you are never to contact me or Damien again?’
Zane grinned. ‘Smarter than I’d taken you for. Covered everything by the looks of this.’ He waved the contract at her. ‘I’m not here to make your life a misery. I’ll sign this, take my payment and be gone. You can go back to living your happy little life built on dishonesty. I really couldn’t care less.’
The way he’d said everything alarmed Hannah. Had she overlooked something? Her eyes skimmed the contract for the hundredth time. It was straightforward, but if he agreed to the terms then, in theory, this would be the last time she’d have to deal with him.
Zane leaned back in his chair, his gaze trained on her as he sipped his coffee. A shiver ran down Hannah’s spine as she met his eyes. There was something in them that unnerved her. In fact, he unnerved her altoge
ther, but the taunting, mocking stare took it all a step further. She knew she couldn’t trust him, and even though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t hand over the money unless she were sure, she now realised it was a risk she was going to have to take.
She pushed the contract back to him and handed him a pen.
He put down his coffee and signed it. ‘Okay. That part’s done. What about the rest?’
Hannah glanced around the cafe. No one was paying them any attention.
She reached into her bag and took out an envelope. Phyllie had written a cheque for cash on Sunday when she’d visited her. The following day Hannah had cashed it at the bank. She’d been carrying around an envelope containing two hundred fifty-dollar notes ever since.
She held it out to Zane, not letting go when he clasped his hand around it. Their eyes met. ‘I need you to tell me that this is the last time I’ll ever hear from you.’
‘Didn’t I just sign a document that said that?’
‘I want to hear it from you too.’
Zane rolled his eyes. ‘Hannah, I promise this is the last time you’ll ever hear from me.’ He yanked the envelope from her hands. ‘That good enough for you?’
No. But nothing he said ever would be.
Hannah’s gut churned as she watched him flick through the notes. She picked up the contract and stood. ‘It’s all there. Goodbye, Zane.’
He grinned. A grin that suggested he’d won. And she guessed he had. But, if this was what it took to get rid of him once and for all, then she’d won too.
As she navigated the peak-hour traffic home an hour later, Hannah drew to a stop at a red light, conscious of her daughter chattering away but her thoughts were back at the St Kilda cafe. She still found it hard to believe that someone as risk-averse as she was had ever got involved with the private investigator. It was in her nature to protect those she loved. She just hadn’t thought she’d do that at any cost.
‘You’re not listening, Mum.’
She glanced in the rear-vision at her daughter, who’d crossed her arms and was glaring at her.
‘Sorry, hon, what did you say?’
‘I said, it’s time you and Dad listened to me about after-school care. I don’t want to go anymore.’
‘Neither Dad nor I feel comfortable with you being home alone.’
‘No, Dad’s fine with it. It’s you that doesn’t feel comfortable, because you’re too overprotective and plan to smother me the rest of my life.’
Hannah’s head whipped round and she stared at Amy. ‘What do you mean Dad’s fine with it?’
‘Exactly that. He said if it were up to him, he’d say yes, but he knew you’d be too worried about me being safe, so it wasn’t even worth talking to you about.’
Wasn’t even worth talking to me about? But it had been worth telling their eleven-year-old what he thought about it.
She mustered a smile. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll chat to Dad, and we can discuss it again later.’
Amy’s eyes widened. ‘You’ll think about it?’
Hannah nodded, although in all honesty her mind was made up. It was too dangerous to allow Amy to catch the bus and then be on her own in the afternoon. It wasn’t like it was twenty years ago when she and Nat would let themselves in in the afternoon. And they were always together, which made snatching one of them much harder. She was buying herself some time. She didn’t have the energy to live through one of Amy’s epic it’s not fair tantrums if she said no while they were in the car, and she also needed to talk with Damien. How dare he undermine her when it came to their daughter.
After they’d finished dinner Damien sat down on one of the kitchen stools next to Hannah, ready to continue the conversation they’d started as they prepared the meal. The discussion had stopped the moment Amy joined them in the kitchen. ‘I’m sorry, you’re right. Right in that I should never have suggested to Amy that you were overprotective. However, in my opinion you’re not right that she’s too young to get herself home. It would do her good to learn to become more independent, and it’s not like she’s got to change buses on the way home or do anything complicated. It’s a dedicated school bus. We’re the first stop on her way home, and if she caught the bus to school as well, she’d be the last stop before it goes direct to school. I can’t see that it’s a big deal. It would save us paying for after-school care too.’
‘But what if something happens?’
‘Then we’d need to give her an emergency plan. The neighbours would be the first port of call. I’m happy to go and speak with the Moores and the Rutherfords. If they know she’s home alone in the afternoons, I’m sure they’d be happy if she went to them if there was an emergency of any kind. We’ll reinforce exactly when she should ring for help and whether it should be us she rings or the emergency services. And if you’re still serious about getting a dog for her birthday, then we get one that will help protect her. Not some silly little thing but a proper dog.’
Hannah smiled. A proper dog. She wondered what that consisted of compared to any other dog.
‘A smile! Does that mean you think it could be a maybe?’
She sighed. ‘I know I have to cut the apron strings at some stage and let her make her way in the world. Only, I wasn’t expecting it to be at eleven.’
‘She’ll be twelve in just over two weeks and at high school after Christmas. She’s growing up, Han.’
Hannah’s eyes connected with her husband’s. His were soft for a moment then clouded over.
He shook his head and stood. ‘Anyway, I’m going to have a shower.’
She nodded absently, her mind racing as she tried to work out when Damien had distanced himself from her. She had no idea, but she knew she needed to find out.
‘Can we talk after Amy goes to bed tonight?’
Surprise registered on Damien’s face. ‘Everything alright?’
Hannah swallowed. Asking him if they could talk was usually her code for ‘something’s wrong between us, can we work it out?’ And he knew that. The fact he looked so surprised suggested he was unaware anything was wrong. How could that be? Hadn’t he noticed they hadn’t had sex for over a month? She opened her mouth to reply and shut it again. If he hadn’t noticed, there would be a reason for that. He’d become distant, distracted and uninterested in her. She’d never imagined he’d cheat on her but was that what was happening?
‘Hannah? Are you okay? You’ve gone completely white.’
She did her best to force a smile. ‘Let’s talk about it later.’ Right now, she needed to gather her thoughts and think through what it would mean if he had.
Once Amy was in bed reading, and Hannah had had more time to think through what she wanted to say, she picked up the cups of green tea and walked through the French doors out to the backyard patio. The night air was crisp with a chill to it, but Damien had lit the patio heater, and its warmth made the outdoor space inviting. It also gave them complete privacy from Amy’s eavesdropping ears. She placed a cup in front of her husband and sat opposite him.
‘Thanks.’ He placed his hands tentatively around the cup to warm them.
Hannah had rehearsed precisely what she wanted to say but always found asking these types of question nerve-wracking. What if she learned something she didn’t want to know? What if there was a problem between them she was unaware of?
‘Well?’ Damien prompted. ‘What is it?’
‘I . . .’ She hesitated. ‘I wanted to ask if everything’s alright? You’ve been very distant the last few weeks.’
He dropped his gaze, his eyes shifting to the heater.
‘Is it work?’ Hannah hoped it was. Damien’s work did take an emotional toll and now and then she saw signs of him having trouble processing the distressing and sometimes tragic situations he had to deal with.
He closed his eyes and sighed. When he reopened them, he looked directly at her and smiled. ‘No, it’s not work, and I’m sorry.’
He was sorry? Her heart began to thump. There was o
nly one thing she could imagine he would be sorry for. Her worst nightmare was about to unfold in front of her.
He took her hand, but she snatched it back. ‘Why are you sorry? What have you done?’
He frowned. ‘I haven’t done anything.’ His eyes widened, registering what she must be thinking. He reached for her hand again. ‘God, nothing like that. You know I’d never cheat.’ He smiled. ‘Why would I? I love you to bits.’
Hannah felt herself relax. If that wasn’t the problem, what was? She squeezed his hand. ‘No, I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t, it’s just you’ve been so distant with me the last few weeks. Longer probably. We haven’t been, well, together, if you know what I mean, in ages.’
Damien ran a hand through his thick hair. ‘I know, and I’m sorry. There’s something I just can’t get out of my mind at the moment, and it’s affecting everything I do.’
‘What is it?’
Pain flashed in his eyes as he looked at her. ‘It was the anniversary of my biological parents’ deaths a few weeks ago, that’s all. I know it comes around every year, but this year, with me turning forty, I don’t know, something feels missing. Maybe I’m having a mid-life crisis, and this is how it’s going to play out.’
Hannah’s stomach clenched. She’d just paid off Zane Fox that afternoon, and the reason for that payment was what was troubling Damien. Part of her wanted to scream. Would it never leave her alone? ‘I hadn’t realised you thought about them so much. I thought finding out about their deaths had been a type of closure. After all, you don’t know anything about them.’
Damien sighed. ‘I think that’s the problem. I come from these people who would have had family, friends, jobs, interests, and I know nothing about them. I can’t tell Amy anything about my heritage.’
Hannah frowned; she understood what he meant, but he did still have his adoptive parents.
‘Don’t get me wrong, Edward and Trish have been great parents, and I obviously talk to Amy as if their background is mine, but it isn’t.’
