52 Waratah Avenue

by Lynne Wilding

  ‘I’m retired now, Daniel. I don’t have a say in the running of the company any more. Why should my opinion matter to you if all of you see the benefits of Michaela’s plan?’

  ‘Your opinion will always matter to us,’ Warren put in smoothly, sincerely. ‘You are the company’s founder and, as such, you have our ongoing respect.’

  ‘It’s going to cost considerable money to set it up. We’ll have to borrow.’ Neil put in his five cents’ worth.

  Laura’s glance was withering. The man was so negative; he didn’t want anything to change. If only she hadn’t needed to keep the peace with her brother, she’d have suggested he move on years ago. ‘In business, ninety-five per cent of the time, there is no financial reward without a financial outlay. Michaela’s costings, Neil, do they hold up?’

  Neil pretended to sift through a sheaf of paperwork, shuffling sheets around the table to delay his answer. Laura, retired or not, was as sharp as any of them in the room. Damn it. ‘Well, apart from a few small anomalies, yes. The costs can be substantiated.’ He would have liked to say otherwise but he couldn’t, and it galled him to know that Michaela knew it too.

  Laura glanced at Michaela, almost hearing her sigh of relief. ‘I see. That’s good, Neil. I admit that I’ll be sad to see Silks go. You know the restaurant and the decor holds a special place in my heart — it always will. But the compromise of Silks Coffee Lounge will see some memorabilia retained. I’m pleased about that.’ She paused for a moment, not to be dramatic, but to think of how best to phrase the words. ‘We live in changing times, my holiday has taught me that. In the 1980s life, communications, everything seems to be moving at a faster pace. Though I’m sad about Silks, I believe the company should go forward and the 18 to 28 project will give Ashworths that opportunity. My only proviso, if I could offer one, is that we never forget our original customer base.’

  ‘Then you’re for it?’ Neil asked, his tone tinged with disbelief.

  Laura smiled. Clearly he had thought she would object strenuously. He had probably counted on it. She looked at Michaela, then at Neil. ‘Yes, Neil. Sorry to disappoint you.’

  ‘Umm, no disappointment,’ Neil huffed and puffed, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment. ‘If …’ he swallowed hard, ‘everyone here’s for it then, for the good of the company,’ pause, ‘I am too.’

  ‘Good.’ Daniel rubbed his hands together as if he’d completed a business deal. ‘Neil, start organising a loan with our bank. I’m sure that won’t be a problem. Now,’ he said as he brought the formalities to a close, ‘those platters look very tempting. Let’s eat, shall we?’

  Michaela beamed. The board was happy; her mother had given them her seal of approval. It was almost too good to be true. Should she pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming? For her, getting Laura’s okay was a real coup, but she had to curb her natural impatience because she wanted to dash off and tell someone who was very important to her: Leith. He had become a valuable sounding board for her ideas and they often lay in bed together, after making love, discussing future plans. She would tell him, as soon as she could decently leave the room …

  After lunch had been consumed and everyone except Laura and Daniel had left the boardroom, the two, who were as much friends as business colleagues, sat at the table to chat and enjoy a second cup of coffee together.

  ‘What are your real thoughts about Michaela’s idea?’ Now that they were alone, Daniel ventured the question.

  ‘I’m impressed. I didn’t think she had developed such strong entrepreneurial skills but, with this project, she’s on her way.’

  ‘We were all surprised by her depth of skill and commitment. You know, she offered to fund the proposal by pledging her inheritance against it.’

  Laura smiled, but said nothing. That had been a clever ploy on her daughter’s part. She was sure Michaela knew the board wouldn’t go for such an idea, but it had showed them her commitment to it.

  ‘At our next board meeting, I’m going to suggest that she be offered a directorship,’ Daniel told her.

  ‘Really?’ Laura’s surprise showed. ‘Is that wise? She’s very young.’

  ‘She’s earned it and, frankly, we need people like her on the board. Young people with bright ideas, like Michaela and Jo, and Caroline too when she understands the retail trade better.’

  ‘I’m not sure about Caroline,’ Laura admitted. ‘She mentioned something at breakfast, vaguely though, about being offered a position as understudy to an international conductor. I know she doesn’t want to appear to let me down, but I want my daughter to be happy, to do what she wants to do. If she returns to the arts because she loves it so much, then that’s fine with me.’

  ‘Yes, happiness! I’m just beginning to realise that it’s an important element in one’s life,’ Daniel said, his tone unusually philosophical.

  Laura gave her old friend a sharp look. She had known Daniel since he’d been born, had watched him grow up, grieved with him when he’d lost both parents within months of each other — Gerda and Hans had been her friends too — and she knew about Yolanta, the one love of his life. ‘Care to elaborate on that?’

  His grin was a touch boyish. ‘If I don’t tell you, someone else will. Jo Levy and I have formed an … attachment.’ He looked at her shyly; in this respect the successful businessman was unsure of himself. ‘I love her, Laura. I’d ask her to marry me tomorrow except for …’

  She leant forward in her chair. ‘Except for what?’

  ‘The age difference between us, for one thing and —’ He stopped, thought, hesitated, then went on. ‘Lately something’s troubling her and she won’t talk about it. I thought it might have been the children, or trouble with her ex. I don’t know.’ He shrugged a shoulder, his expression betraying real concern. ‘She seems depressed and … I’ve never seen Jo depressed before, even when her marriage was failing.’

  ‘Has Michaela said anything?’ She chuckled in an attempt to lighten the discussion that had, suddenly, become serious. ‘Those two are as thick as thieves. You know, some people think they’re related.’

  Daniel shook his head. ‘I feel that she’s pushing me away. Closing me out. Maybe I’d hoped for too much. That Jo cared as deeply as

  I do.’

  Laura patted his hand. She was like an honorary aunt to him and hated to see him sad. ‘Poor Daniel. I agree, it’s not like Jo to be depressed. Look, give me a couple of days. Between Michaela and myself, I’m sure we can get to the problem.’ She lifted an eyebrow at him. ‘If there is a problem.’

  ‘Would you?’ His features relaxed. ‘Jo really is very special to me, Laura. If —’

  ‘Don’t worry, Daniel. We’ll get it out of her, one way or another.’ She stood up and looked about for her purse, which was resting on one of the chairs. ‘I must go. Don’t lose heart. If anyone can bring Jo’s problem to the surface, Michaela can. I’ll talk to her tonight.’

  Caroline sat at her desk, idly drumming on the top of it with a pencil. Warren had asked her to go through a sales promotions strategy handbook he had written for the company. She wasn’t sure what her role was in this regard. She hadn’t the expertise to know whether what he’d said was good, bad or even relevant, but if he simply wanted her to check spelling and punctuation, she was happy to … if only she could concentrate.

  There would be no more dates with Warren, she was certain of that, not after the fiasco at the Opera House. A circumspect man, he wouldn’t be inclined to pursue a romance when he knew the other party’s affections were elsewhere engaged. Not that she had any real regrets about not going out with Warren again … If it were Nick? But that wasn’t likely to happen.

  A dark head poked around the open doorway. There was a cough, a masculine clearing of the throat.

  Caroline started. She looked up. ‘Nick.’ A guilty flush rushed into her cheeks. ‘I startled you. Sorry.’

  He would never know … She recovered some aplomb. ‘Come in, sit down. What brings you to this
part of the city?’ He had not visited her here before. She thought he wasn’t particularly comfortable in the Ashworths environment or at number fifty-two, what with his association with Laura. She didn’t think that, even now, after more than ten years, her mother had completely forgiven him for initiating their divorce.

  Nick sat in the chair she’d pointed to. She watched him smile broadly, as if something amused him. Now very tense because he was, suddenly, so close, she asked brusquely, ‘What is it? Have I got biro smudges on the tip of my nose or something?’

  ‘Nothing like that. It’s just that I’m not used to looking across a desk at you. The role of business executive suits you.’

  That was the ideal lead-in for her to mention Teddy Rivkin’s offer, but something stopped her. She definitely wanted to think about it a little more before she made a decision, and already she had let something slip to her mother.

  ‘You’re busy, no doubt,’ he said in his Australianised Californian drawl, ‘so I won’t take too much of your time. I was in the city and wanted to talk to you, so I took a chance and dropped in. I’m off to London on business, to a huge construction equipment fair being held there early in November. I’d like Fern to come with me, if possible.’

  Caroline’s forehead puckered in a small frown. ‘It’s close to the end of the year, Nick. Fern has exams

  ‘I know. She’d be back before exams start, and she can take textbooks with her to study at night. The fair lasts four days. After it I planned to hire a car to do a little touring for about ten days.’ He gave her a quizzical look. ‘What do you think of the idea?’

  Think! She was thinking as soon as he’d said the word London, that he was going there because he wanted to see Geraldine Baxter again. That’s what she thought! Damn. She couldn’t speak for a few moments, her thoughts and emotions having rioted into total confusion. Oh, hell, why did she have to care so much?

  ‘I confess I’m not entirely happy about the idea. This has been a big year for Fern. She’s left Paris, settled here, started at a new school, worked to a different curriculum. It’s important that she do well in her annual exams.’

  ‘I agree, and if she were having problems with her schoolwork I wouldn’t be asking, but she isn’t, is she?’ he commented with an accompanying winning smile.

  ‘No,’ she had to admit, ‘she isn’t. Have you mentioned this to Fern?’

  ‘I wanted to run it by you first.’

  ‘I see. Could I sleep on it and let you know tomorrow?’ She knew she didn’t need to, that she would give the okay, but she wanted some time to think the thing through.

  His expression showed his disappointment, but his smile remained fixed. ‘Sure.’ He stood up and put the chair back in place.

  After Nick had left, wasting no more time on social chitchat, she noted, Caroline went back to what she had been doing before, idly tapping Warren’s words with the pencil. Hell, after her ex’s visit, her concentration was definitely shot. Now all she could think of was Nick and that Geraldine. Oh, God! Nick and Geraldine …

  Chapter Fourteen

  Michaela, Laura and Caroline had a three-way discussion that night during which they regaled each other with stories of Jo’s strange behaviour over the past two weeks. Caroline had tried to use Jo as a sounding board for the offer to join the Australian Philharmonic Orchestra as a trainee conductor, and met with patent disinterest from her longtime friend. Laura, on the pretext of enquiring about her mother, Ruth, had popped into Jo’s office after the boardroom lunch and received virtually the same treatment. Michaela, who wanted to fine-tune certain advertising aspects of the 18 to 28 project, had been told, ‘not now’ and that she’d get back to her later.

  All of the above was uncharacteristic behaviour for Jordana Levy. But there was more. With her modelling background, Jo was as well-groomed as the Beaumont women but, for two weeks now, she had looked as if she didn’t care a fig about her appearance.

  Something was definitely amiss with Jo.

  Deciding they had to find the source of her depression, Michaela had been appointed by way of closeness and friendship to solve the problem. So, with a gleam of purpose in her eyes and determination in her heart, she knocked briefly on Jo’s office door the next morning and marched inside.

  She saw Jo leaning her elbows on the windowsill, staring down at the street below. Her friend didn’t bother to turn towards the door to see who had entered.

  ‘Hi, Jo,’ Michaela began brightly. She got no response. Deciding on shock tactics, she began, ‘Have you heard? Radio station 2UE has just announced that Jordan and Egypt have declared war on Israel. Iraq’s leader, Hussein, is expected to throw his hand in with them. It looks bad.’ As expected, her made-up story brought no reaction. Frustration flittered over Michaela’s features. ‘Jo Levy, are you listening? There’s a rumour … Warren’s disappointed with your advertising skills, and you’re going to get the sack.’ She wasn’t, of course. Michaela was making it up as she went.

  Still no response. Had Jo suddenly gone deaf?

  Grinding her teeth in aggravation, Michaela approached Jo until she stood beside her. ‘What is the matter with you? Tell me, Jo! It can’t be as bad as all that, can it?’

  Only then did Jo appear to notice her friend’s presence. She blinked a couple of times, gave a start. ‘Michaela, I didn’t hear you come in.’ Her gaze flicked to her friend briefly, then to the desk, then down to the street again. ‘I’m kind of busy at the moment …’

  ‘Busy!’ Michaela scoffed. ‘Jo Levy, you’ve been coasting for a week or more, doing bugger all. Everyone at Ashworths knows that. What no-one knows is why. You are going to tell me, you know. I’m not leaving this office until you do.’

  A pervasive silence descended on the room for maybe thirty seconds.

  ‘Oh, shit. Leave me alone, will you?’

  Michaela stepped back a pace. Jo Levy never swore! A muscle in her jaw flexed. Well, it would take more than a few ripe words to make her go away. A frown marred her perfectly smooth forehead as her concern deepened. Internally she battled with granting Jo’s request for privacy against her desire to get to the bottom of what was bothering her. Concern won.

  ‘What is it, Jo? You can tell me, you know. Is it Daniel? Something he said or did, or didn’t do?’ She watched Jo shake her head. ‘The kids then. One of them isn’t well?’ Another negative shake. ‘Then what in God’s name is the matter with you?’

  Jo turned to Michaela. Her lovely features — the Grecian nose, the high cheekbones, the wide slash of a mouth which had made her a sought-after model in her day — were pinched. Unshed tears hovered at the corners of her eyes. ‘Oh, shut up, will you? Just shut up and leave me be.’

  Michaela bit down on her bottom lip to stifle the sharp retort. A ripple of shock that slowly grew in force to a mighty wave passed through her. The Jo who stood before her now was barely recognisable as the Jo she had known for years. Her shoulders drooped, her hair was lacklustre, her overall appearance gave the impression that she didn’t care about herself and wasn’t interested in anything. Certainly not the Jo Levy of old!

  ‘Sorry, I can’t do that. You see,’ Michaela spoke gently, ‘I care about you and, if it takes the rest of the day for you to tell me what’s troubling you, so be it.’ Then, to emphasise her decision, she too settled her elbows on the windowsill and looked into the street below, as if prepared to stay for as long as it took for Jo to start talking.

  Jo threw her a baleful look and then turned away once more to stare vacantly out the window.

  ‘We’re all concerned, love. Daniel is beside himself with worry. Caroline and Mum are worried too. Whatever your problem is, I’m sure we can help.’

  A brief, harsh laugh erupted from Jo. ‘You can’t, you know. No-one can.’

  Michaela didn’t reply to that; she just stood there looking at her, waiting … After all, she could only push her friend so far. Jo was the one who had to decide to unburden herself.

  ‘Oh, all r
ight,’ Jo muttered finally, her tone one of defeat. ‘You won’t go away until you badger it out of me, will you?’ Taking a deep breath, she began in a soft, uncertain voice. ‘I found a … lump in my breast. About two weeks ago.’

  ‘Oh.’ Michaela made sure her surprise didn’t show. Almost casually she asked, ‘What did the doctor say?’

  No answer!

  ‘Jo, what did he say?’

  ‘I haven’t seen a doctor.’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Michaela’s response was spontaneous. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘You know, it’s probably only a cyst or fatty tissue but, Jo, you should have it checked. Have you spoken to your mother?’ She knew that Jo’s mother, Ruth Levy, was a respected pediatrician. She was also a very approachable, warm hearted woman.

  ‘No.’ Jo turned and looked at Michaela. ‘I’m scared to. You see, it’s getting bigger and is a little sore to touch. Oh, I just know that it’s … it’s …’ She couldn’t say the word.

  ‘Cancer. You think it’s cancer?’ Oh, shit! No wonder she was in a state of depression. But … it couldn’t be, surely? Jo was young, not yet forty. Wasn’t that too young for breast cancer? She tried to remember some of the articles she’d read in women’s magazines over the years about breast cancer. It was a disease that usually struck a percentage of women when they were older. She reached forward to stroke her friend’s arm. ‘Jo, love, you have to do something. You can’t stick your head in the sand and pretend the lump doesn’t exist, especially if it’s growing. You know,’ she sought to give comfort, ‘you could be worrying unnecessarily. Maybe it’s just a cyst. Some women get them in their breasts.’

  ‘What if it isn’t?’ Jo ventured the question in a quavery, emotional tone. ‘What if it is, you know … ? What am I going to do, Michaela? The children … who’ll look after them? Oh, it’s too awful to think about.’

  ‘I understand how you must be feeling …’

  Jo rounded on her like a wounded animal. ‘Like bloody hell you do! What do you know about it? I’ve got this … thing … growing inside me and I can’t control it. It if gets into a vital organ, I’m finished. I want to see my kids grow up.’ Her voice broke with emotion. ‘Don’t you dare tell me you know how I feel!’