by C. J. Duggan
A crease furrowed Nikki’s forehead. ‘How?’
‘I let Alistair into the house.’
I had wanted her to roll her eyes, say how preposterous it was and agree with me that Ben had to forgive his brother. So when her face grew solemn, I began to worry.
‘You let Alistair into Ben’s house?’
‘Just briefly, he didn’t want me to say that we had met because he wanted to surprise him,’ I added quickly.
Nikki looked furious. ‘I bet he did,’ she bit out.
‘Ben really blames Alistair for Caroline’s death, doesn’t he? I have never seen him so mad.’ I swallowed. ‘Is it also something to do with Holly?’
Nikki straightened the blankets on her bed, as she sighed wearily, her limp, ash-blonde hair highlighting the circles under her eyes. ‘Once upon a time, there was a girl called Holly.’
I sat up straight.
‘Holly was madly in love with Alistair, and he was madly in love with her. Alistair was the youngest and wildest of all the Worthingtons, so finding someone as nice and sensible as Holly was somewhat of a win for our family. No more embarrassing headlines and scandals, because Alistair was under the thumb. Oh, how Mother rejoiced – we all did. We could stop worrying and we did, for a while.’ She looked out the hospital window, thinking back to those days.
‘Then something happened that had you worrying again?’ I was sitting on the edge of my seat, my heart pounding against my ribcage as I waited for what I had already suspected, that Ben had come between Alistair and Holly. It was all so clear to me now, and I felt stupid for not seeing it before. Alistair had returned to mend fences with his brother and Holly but Ben was stuck in the past. I could feel an old anger rising in me.
‘Well, so begins another story,’ said Nikki, sitting back against her pillows. ‘Once upon a time there was a girl called Caroline. She was beautiful, and smart and she loved Ben and he loved her.’
I knew how this story ended, but I let her continue.
‘But sometimes love isn’t enough, and Caroline became distant and cold toward Ben. We worried for them, but thought if anyone could work it out, they could. And then of course the ultimate blessing came. Caroline fell pregnant, she was going to bring a beautiful little Worthington into the world. And she did, born with a mop of black hair and her father’s eyes. Grace was a Worthington through and through. There was such love for her, you could see it in the way Caroline looked at her daughter when she held her in her arms. You would never have suspected, and we didn’t – until that day.’
‘That day? As in the day she died?’
‘The day Holly found the letter from Caroline,’ Nikki said.
I sat so immobile, barely breathing.
‘Holly was on our doorstep, hysterical. Seamus and I couldn’t make sense of what she was saying, she was so upset. I remember Seamus reading over it, the way he glanced at me, like his first instinct was to protect me, but then he turned to Holly to ask her if Ben knew.’
My heart sank. ‘Knew what?’
‘The truth.’
‘She didn’t want to have a baby with Ben?’
Nikki shook her head. ‘She didn’t want to have a baby with Alistair.’
I shook my head, my eyes wide, disbelief flowing through my very being. I had misheard her, of course I had.
‘That can’t be, Grace has Ben’s eyes, she’s his daughter.’
Nikki began to tear up as she shook her head. ‘They’re Worthington eyes, Sarah, but they don’t belong to Ben. Holly found the letter in Alastair’s pocket.’
A stray tear ran down my cheek as the horror and realisation washed over me. ‘Does Ben know?’
‘Holly showed Ben the letter first.’
‘What did it say?’
‘As much as I hated her, it didn’t seem real. Caroline was such a confident, together person, but on the page, her writing was so desperate, so needy. Begging Alistair not to tell anyone about their affair, that she stood to lose everything if people suspected the baby wasn’t Ben’s.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘Grace was born, and although it was certain she wasn’t his, Ben refused a paternity test. He cared for her as if she were his own, loved her despite the truth. How hard it must be to look into her eyes knowing of such a betrayal.’
‘And Alistair?’
‘He promised to stay away, that the affair was over and that he wasn’t ready to be a father.’
‘But it wasn’t over, was it?
Nikki shook her head. ‘The day of the accident, Alistair was driving Caroline back to the Village, but they never made it. Ben had to deal with the loss of what he believed was his daughter, the loss of a wife and the loss of a brother. You can’t imagine how many times a man could be broken, be betrayed by the people who were supposed to love him. It was cruel enough losing Caroline, but to know that it happened while they were still going behind his back, even after all the pain he went through when he found out about Grace. Well, you can imagine.’
I shook my head. ‘What have I done?’ I thought of Ben’s face as he lifted Alistair’s jacket, the look of anger in his eyes knowing that his brother had come into his house, how he’d wanted to protect his daughter. I had jeopardised that. Then I remembered the night Holly was downstairs crying in Ben’s arms, and how he had made her promise not to go back to him.
There were multiple victims in this story. Holly, heart broken by Alistair; Ben betrayed by Caroline, with his brother the ultimate betrayer; and now Ben was destined to live a life that would involve ghosts and secrets so awful there was no wonder he wanted to shut himself away from the world. Well, he wouldn’t shut himself away from me – I wouldn’t let him.
‘Sarah, I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this mess. What must you think of us?’
‘I think there is always a hero and a villain in every story,’ I said. ‘The biggest battle is not knowing who is who.’
Nikki nodded, looking at me with hope. ‘And now you know.’
‘Yes.’
‘So how about you go rescue that hero? I think he could do with a happy ending.’
I didn’t know how to answer that; I stood and gave her a hug. ‘I’ll try,’ I said.
Because it was all I could do.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I knew Nikki wanted me to fight, but every way I tried – phone messages, long-winded emails, and even physically going to Lafayette Street – I found a brick wall and I banged my head against it.
I didn’t get past the entrance of the Lafayette foyer; Ruth’s smug voice called down to me that Mr Worthington was not taking calls. She was getting her revenge, I thought as I slunk away to Dave’s car. Dave’s big brown eyes asked the question in the rear-view mirror.
‘Back to the Village, Dave,’ I said. I had some packing to do.
As we pulled away from the kerb, edging our way into the busy New York City traffic, it finally hit me: I was no longer Grace’s carer. I had lost that right by letting in the one man who had torn the family apart, who had run away from all responsibility, who was as charming and carefree as ever despite the betrayal of his brother, despite the tragic repercussions of his careless actions. He may have had kind eyes and a charming smile, but I would trade those for Ben’s stoicism and harsh, honest eyes in a heartbeat.
I ached at the thought of never seeing him or Grace again. Here was a man taking on a baby who was not his own, working to protect her, to give her everything, even if it went against every natural instinct. Grace was the symbol of Alistair and Caroline’s betrayal yet he loved and cared for her regardless.
Ben Worthington was the best man I had ever known.
I looked out the window, hoping Dave wouldn’t see my tears. ‘Dave, do you mind if we make a little detour?’
‘I have no prior engagements, Miss Williams. Where would you like to go?’
‘I just need to pick up something from the Village.’ I couldn’t believe I was about to say it. ‘Then take me to Penny Wo
rthington’s.’
For the first time since my interview I wasn’t nervous about standing in Penny’s expansive foyer, waiting to be summoned into one of her stark parlours. I clutched a letter of resignation, and draped over my arm was Alistair’s jacket. I couldn’t wait to hand both things to her and leave, never to return.
‘Excuse me, Miss Williams, this way please.’
Frieda was waiting to lead me down the hall in a direction I had never been before. How many rooms for entertaining did one woman need? Our heels clicked on the polished marble floor as we approached a large wooden door. I could see Frieda preparing herself to enter, almost as if she was anxious. It was a rather contagious feeling. Where was she leading me, to a firing squad?
Frieda reached for the handle with an apologetic smile. ‘Mrs Worthington is not at home, but Mr Worthington will see you now.’ She said it quickly before opening the door.
‘Wait – what?’ I protested.
But it was too late, I was waved into the room and the door was closed behind me. I stood with my back to it, my wide eyes roaming the room. It wasn’t white or barren. It was a deep burgundy colour with wood panelling and edged with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a rather strange collection of African-inspired statues and ornaments. A leopard-print sofa that was most definitely not Penny Worthington sat at the back of the room. A fully stocked bar was close to a pool table that was lit with rich gold lighting – the main feature of the room – and the smell of tobacco and whisky lingered.
‘Welcome to my man cave,’ said a voice.
My head swivelled, struggling to determine where it had come from in the dimly lit room. I walked tentatively toward the lounge. The only sign of life was a puff of smoke billowing from a wing chair and a crystal tumbler on the coffee table filled with a shot of whisky. It was then I heard laughter – no, it was more like a dark chuckle – and I thought that maybe I had entered a vampire’s lair, and I was on the menu.
A man in a navy knitted sweater, slacks and slippers sat in the chair, holding a cigar in one hand and an iPad on his lap, with one earbud in, laughing at – I tilted my head – a funny cat video?
He wiped a tear from his eye, trying to gain some composure. ‘That is the best. Now, if I want to share that on my wall, how do I do that?’ he asked, looking over his glasses on the edge of his nose.
‘Um, as in, on Facebook?’
‘Yeah, that’s it. How do I do that?’ he said, lifting the iPad to me.
I blinked against the cigar smoke, looking at the screen and pointing to the share button beneath the video post.
‘Great, thanks,’ he said. I could not be more confused about what was before me. I don’t know what I’d pictured when it came to Nicholas Worthington. He was a handsome man, in a silver-fox way, his eyes the same unmistakable blue-grey as his children’s, more striking perhaps than any of his offspring’s. He took his glasses off to look at me.
‘So how can I help you, Sarah Williams?’
I was surprised he knew my name. I hadn’t thought he would be kept in the know. ‘I just wanted to give this letter to Mrs Worthington,’ I said, holding it out.
He placed his cigar in the ashtray to his side and took the envelope from me with interest. ‘Anything I can help you with?’
I wanted to say, ‘Keep your family in fucking check,’ but resisted. I smiled politely and shook my head. ‘No, it’s all in there,’ I said, turning for the door.
‘You shouldn’t give up on him so easily.’
His words halted me. ‘Sorry?’
‘He’s a good man; stubborn but good.’
‘He says that comes from you.’
The chair creaked as Mr Worthington leant around the side to look at me. ‘Stubborn, yes, but good? Never.’ He winked, and it was then I realised what a wonderful combination Penny and Nicholas Worthington could be. ‘I see you have my young son’s jacket with you, did you want me to hand that over too?’
I looked at the jacket slung over my arm. I’d been so distracted I had all but forgotten I’d wanted to return it.
‘What is it with this jacket? How does everyone know who it belongs to?’ I said, mainly to myself as I looked for an embroidered nametag.
‘I can spot that purple silk lining from a mile away; he says it’s his signature colour, whatever that means.’ Nicholas rolled his eyes, and with that simple gesture, I knew I liked Ben’s dad.
I smiled, before turning to make my exit, ready to leave the jacket on the bar and this mixed-up family behind, when the double doors burst open and in walked —
‘Father, I’m heading to the Hamptons for the weekend, do you thin—’ Alistair stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of me. ‘Sarah? What are you doing here?’ He smiled, charming and carefree, seemingly glad to see me.
My blood boiled as I gathered his jacket, scrunching it into a ball and thrusting into his chest.
His eyes narrowed. ‘What the hell?’ he said, juggling his jacket and brushing out the creases. ‘Careful, Sarah, this is expensive.’
‘I just thought I’d return it seeing as you left it on the floor in my room, but I guess you’re probably used to people cleaning up your mess for you.’
Alistair glanced at me: gone were the charming depths, replaced by what I could only imagine were his true colours. I heard a snort from behind me but I couldn’t be certain if Nicholas was laughing at me or another cat video.
Taking no notice of his father, Alistair shook his head in amazement. ‘I see Ben is set on poisoning you against me. That didn’t take long.’
‘You are something else.’
‘What? How am I always the villain in this story? I’ve lost too, I’ve sacrificed too!’
‘The Hamptons, huh? Sounds like you’re really roughing it.’
That cocky grin creased the corner of his mouth. ‘Come on, Sarah, you have to admit it’s for the best. I can’t have a baby – I’m in the prime of my life. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to soften Ben a bit, the cranky old bastard. I think I’ve done him a favour.’
I don’t know how it happened, or where the urge to hurt him came from but, before I knew it, my fist had connected with his nose. Alistair’s head flung back and I bounced on the balls of my feet, shaking my fist. Shit, that hurt!
Alistair smothered his nose, groaning in agony. ‘Sarah, what the fuck?’
I was just about to tell him exactly what the fuck when uproarious laughter broke out behind me.
Nicholas Worthington stood from his chair and began to clap. ‘Young lady, you have just done what many have wanted to do for years.’
‘Oh, that’s nice.’ Alistair winced, flicking a hanky out of his pocket to block the blood coming from his nose.
‘Five minutes back in New York and you’re already causing trouble again.’ Nicholas’s voice was like thunder, rolling over the room and commanding respect. It had me stepping aside, and it gained Alistair’s attention as he straightened. The full weight of his father’s stare was his problem now, more so than a potential broken nose.
‘Time we reevaluated your travel plans, I think.’
‘But, Father, I —’
‘Oh, I know, you’re in the prime of your life,’ Nicholas said mockingly as he walked over to a desk in front of his library. ‘All the more reason to send you somewhere where you can be a help more than a hindrance.’
Alistair looked dismayed. ‘I’m not leaving New York.’
‘Now, Alistair, I have it on good authority that one of my most trusted and valued friends is setting up a medical practice in Slovenia, and could certainly do with a helping hand while his wife cares for their young children. Seeing as you have such tremendous people skills, I thought you would be a fine help to the cause.’
‘Slovenia?’ Alistair and I said at the same time – Alistair in horror, me in surprise.
I thought about the hardworking, no-nonsense Liebenbergs, and the remote rural setting where Alistair might stand to learn something of value, and smiled broadly
at Nicholas Worthington.
‘You are familiar with Slovenia, Miss Williams?’
‘Oh, you know what they say,’ I said, turning a smug smile to a glowering Alistair. ‘Slovenia is always a good idea.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
I packed my belongings and sat them near the front door. I’d booked driver Dave the day before to ensure I’d make my flight home. I had spent the evening cleaning and prepping the house to leave it exactly how I had found it: soulless, unlived in and unloved. I had almost believed that, in the past weeks, I could feel a shift in the house, a change, but it was not to be. I’d gotten up early with the sole purpose of writing Ben a letter, to thank him for allowing me to be a part of their beautiful little family, but with three days gone and not so much as a word from him, I’d reconsidered, thinking it best to do as he had asked, and leave.
I had one thing left to do. I would never get to say goodbye to Grace, so as much as I knew I would never forget her, I wanted to leave her with something to remember me by.
I stood back, tilting my head to the side to survey the scene before me. In a series of white, wooden A4 frames, I had created the ultimate New York City scene on Grace’s blank bedroom wall. Illustrations in full colour of a girl venturing to Times Square, strolling past Tiffany’s, standing near the fountain of Washington Park, sauntering through a leafy Central Park landscape. A whole array of New York scenes telling of a girl’s love for the city and for the family she had lived with. I could think of no better way to tell Grace my story. Even if Ben tore them down, I wanted him to see them too, to know that regardless of how things ended, in the short time I had been here, I had seen and discovered so many things.
I took one last look and smiled, before switching off the light and closing the door behind me. I went downstairs, lingering in the hall, not wanting to take that final walk through a house I had become attached to, not just because it was beautiful, or because of the warmth I had come to discover in the least likely of places: Grace’s smile; Ben’s arms. This had somehow, without me even realising it, become my home. And now I was leaving it behind.
