'Col.'
'What's the difference between you and Col?'
'He gave in.'
'That's right. You haven't. That's the strength I'm talking about Ronnie. It's so there. Despite everything you go through, you come back fighting.'
I start to break down. 'But I'm so tired of fighting.'
'I know. But you seem to be making a real breakthrough, Ronnie. I really do wish I could stay to help. Now this is what I want you to do. Remember how I said you can't focus on a topic for one month only, but you can start to improve things?'
'Yes.'
'Well you need to work on your relationship with your parents. This will also help with your inner peace. Now you need to look at how you could do that. Firstly, your father. Is there anything you have in common with him that you could use to work on your relationship? Take a moment. I'll get us a coffee, okay?'
Rebecca comes back. I've tried to think of things I could ask my father about. Maybe setting up my business? Then it comes to me. I almost leap up.
'My finances. He offered to help me with my finances. I have absolutely no idea about money. They've paid for everything my whole life. If I show my father I'm ready to become financially responsible. That will help. Plus it's on my to-do list.'
'That's fantastic Ronnie. That not only builds on your relationship with your father but helps you too. You need to hold yourself responsible for your whole life. If you rely on others to assist you with parts of it, that's when you are going to keep being disappointed. People expect you to look after yourself. You're a grown woman. Now, your mother. How can you work with your mother?'
I take a few minutes again, but I don't come up with anything.
'My mother wants me on the social scene. She wants me accepted by society, but she'll still want me to meet a rich husband.'
'Well you've got to negotiate around that so she knows that's not what you want in your life. What things do you have in common? Your relationship with your mother may never be perfect. You need to make the best of it.'
'She did get excited when I did the charity work, even if it did help vaginas.'
'So what could you do there? Think about your current position with your channel.'
'I could maybe start supporting some charities again. Ask my mother's advice?'
'Sounds fantastic, Ronnie.'
'Wow. Rebecca. I can't thank or pay you enough. Just in these two sessions you have come up with so many useful suggestions.'
She shakes her head. 'No. Actually I haven't Ronnie. I've just asked you to think about things. You've come up with every single thing by yourself.'
I think back. 'Oh my goodness. You are so clever.'
'That's my job.' Rebecca looks close to tears herself.
'I know this is totally against protocol but I don't care.' I jump up and fling my arms around her. 'Thank you so much Rebecca. You saved my life and now you've helped me again. Are you sure there is nothing I can do to help you?'
Rebecca looks at me closely. 'No Ronnie. Just remember what I've said. You're resilient, and you shouldn't let anyone dull your sparkle. Right.' She takes a deep breath. 'I need to get ready for my next appointment.'
I stand up and get my jacket and bag.
'Thank you. For everything.'
She nods. 'Remember what I said. You are a very strong and capable woman. If anything else happens, come back with that fight. Now take care, Ronnie.'
'Yeah you too.'
Rebecca looks sad. I wonder what is going on with her. Do therapists have therapists?
I leave. Proud that Col's behaviour doesn't seem to affect me anymore and looking forward to putting my feet up at home.
All alone, and I’m actually happy to be that way for once.
CHAPTER 8
July 2014
Education
Thursday 3 July 2014
I've finished my dissertation! Four thousand words, accompanied by photographs of both my gardens. That's a wrap. Hopefully soon I'll be a qualified Garden Designer.
Saturday 5 July 2014
I've arranged to see my father. He sounded very surprised but said he and my mother would love to see me and invited me to theirs for the day. The whole day! More shockingly, I agreed.
After a lovely lunch of smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels with an accompanying pea shoot salad, my dad asks me to bring my paperwork to his study. I struggle to carry the box, so my father takes it from my hands.
'Oooph.' His arms bow under the weight, but he tries to pretend he's fine until we're in his study. He empties the contents onto the floor. Papers fly everywhere. 'Goodness me, Ronnie. What is all this?'
'Everything.' I look down at the floor. 'I'm sorry, Daddy. I really have no idea about my finances. I've put everything in there. Bills, my credit and store cards… I've just thrown everything in the box.'
My eyes start to prickle.
'I really need help. I don't know what's paid and what isn't. I need to pay my rent for my new place. Sophie was very kind and said she would wait until I'd been to see you. I want to get her paid first of all. I need to know what I earn myself and what you give me, just the whole lot actually.'
My father looks at the pile.
'Even though my office looks like it's been struck by a tornado, this is music to my ears, Ronnie. Before I spend hours on this, are you serious about getting organised?'
I nod my head so much I'm surprised my father doesn't place me on a car dashboard. 'Absolutely. Plus I need your advice about my channel as I've been approached by lots of companies wanting to be sponsors and I'm unsure what to do.'
'One thing at a time. Let's start with something you can do.'
'Okay. Where do we start?'
'We need to get these into piles. Bills. Statements. Invoices. Receipts. I'll go and get some box files, and a whisky. I think I'm going to need a whisky.'
It takes hours. But by about seven pm there are piles dotted around the room.
'That's enough for today Ronnie. Tomorrow we'll sort through them together. Why don't you stay for dinner and sleep over?'
'Okay.'
After dinner we all retire to the lounge. My father looks worn out. He runs a successful business but I think he was shocked at the fact I had no idea whatsoever about my money. I'm shocked I have no idea. I'm almost twenty-four. Lately I'd just been putting my mail in the box unopened, knowing I was coming to see my father, so one pile came from unopened post. Something I'd not thought about was the cheques from my television appearances and magazine deals.
Perdy comes tottering over and sniffs my toes. Usually I completely ignore him, but this time I give him a tickle under his chin. At first he startles backwards, but I leave my fingers out and eventually he heads warily towards them. I stroke his ears. The next thing I know I have a Pomeranian on my lap, its head snuggling into my neck.
My mother sits looking at me aghast.
'Sorry mum. I should have asked first.'
'No, honey, it's not that. It's just… you never touched the dog before.'
I look at the dog on my lap. 'Yes, well I appear to be changing, Mother. Something alien is happening to me. I think I may be growing up.'
My mother and father exchange glances. My father nods.
'Ronnie, I've just embarked on a new charity venture.'
My back goes up. She's immediately wanting to marry me off, I just know it. 'I haven't changed that much.'
'Well. It's a little animal sanctuary that's struggling. They asked some of my friends and I to help and,' my mother looks uncomfortable. 'Well, the Ladies think it's a little, well, beneath them.'
I sigh and shake my head. 'What a load of snobs.'
'Quite. Well I would like to help them, but I'm unsure how to go about it. What do you think? Maybe… you could help me?'
I swear my mother is holding her breath.
I stroke Perdy on my lap. Obviously being me, after three seconds with a dog, I now want to do all things dog and help save them all. My
inner voice says I should stop to consider things, but fuck it.
'Absolutely.' I shout, making Perdy growl and jump off my lap. 'We can get them new things. Oh the girls could all have pink collars and the boys blue. Or scarves.' I pick Perdy up and dangle him in my face. 'Hey Perdy. I'll get you a scarf. How about a black one, with a Skull and Crossbones? Little Perdy Rocker Dog.' Perdy whimpers and I put him down. 'Can we go visit mum? I'll make a donation myself when I know what money I have.'
I wonder what the Patron Saint of Dogs is and wonder if it's Saint Veronica.
The next day I have to really concentrate on what my father says. I have a notebook and he keeps indicating that I should write things down in it. He has made me a spreadsheet on the computer for my incomings and outgoings, which he has copied to a memory stick for me so that I can transfer it to my own computer. He shows me my Bank Account.
'So when you've put these cheques in, that's what your balance will be.'
I look and see that I can afford about two months rent and that's it.
My father has a pile of paperwork in his hand. 'I'll take care of these Ronnie, so that you can start from this point on.'
'Thank you.' I suddenly find my manicure very interesting.
'Do you know, I think that is the first time you've ever said those words to me, Veronica.'
I put my hand down and look at him. 'I'm so sorry, Daddy.' I fling my arms around him and hug him.
'No Ronnie, I'm sorry. For spending so much time at work that I never taught my own daughter to handle everyday life. I thought everything could be answered with a handful of cash. Then I blamed you for how you turned out.'
I wipe my eye. 'Well we're both to blame. Like you said, let’s start from today.'
He gives me a squeeze. 'Sounds good to me, daughter. I do love you, you know.'
'I love you too, Daddy.'
My father and I talk at length about how much I can make in sponsorship and who to approach. I tell him I've also received several offers of representation and numerous advert deals. He asks me to come over again and he'll help me decide which avenues to pursue.
'You're capable of making these decisions yourself you know. You've just lost your confidence.' He lifts my chin up with his finger.
'I just seem to get everything wrong Daddy.'
'We all make mistakes, Ronnie. It's part of life. I've made many wrong business decisions. I've just had the guts to start again. You have to learn to live with it and move on.'
'Well I've certainly been trying to do that lately.'
'Once you get some of these deals underway, you'll be more financially secure and soon you'll be able to obtain a regular income with your gardening.'
'I'm so nervous. It's so important to me that I pass. I love gardening, Dad.'
'We know. There's no-one more surprised than your mother and I. Our daughter, she of the constant manicure, likes to have her hands in soil now instead of a hot bowl with oil.' He laughs. 'For the time being though, Ronnie, your allowance needs to carry on.'
'No Daddy. I need to be self-sufficient. That's what this weekend has been about.'
'You're going to be in a mess again within a few months if you don't.'
I think about what he's said and sigh. 'Okay Daddy. Let's say you'll pay my allowance until the end of the year. Then I should be okay hopefully. Plus if I have excess, I pay you back.'
'We'll see. In the meantime I have a proposal for you Ronnie. You can say no, but please go away and think about it.'
'What's that?'
'What if I set up your Gardening Business for you when you’re qualified? You'd be in charge of the company of course. I'll just be a Director. If your business takes off and you need more staff, I could handle that side of things for you. I have the experience. It would leave you to concentrate on the growing of the business and doing what you love, the gardening. Believe me, the business side of things gets tedious. After a while, if you want to take the whole thing over, you can do.'
'Will I get to name it?'
'Of course. It'll be yours. It's just a safety net, using my experience of business, with your experience of gardening.'
I shake his hand. 'You have yourself a deal Daddy.'
He smiles. 'I could also handle the finances and make sure your wage is paid directly into your bank account.' I am very aware that my father is making sure I don't fuck this up. For once though I'm grateful of his support, instead of feeling he's interfering.
'This sounds amazing. I will learn though. I'll do a course or something.'
'Err, yes.' My dad starts to pick the skin around his fingernails. A disgusting habit he does when stressed.
I put a hand on his arm. 'I promise I'll pick a course run by a middle aged woman, not a good looking bloke. No more restraining orders.'
He exhales.
As I return to the bungalow I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I feel calm. I feel Zen. I'm getting organised. I might do a bit of yoga and totally bliss out. I can't believe the difference a weekend has made. Knowing what is happening with my finances makes me feel secure. Plus I really feel my relationship with my parents is changing. We are actually seeing each other, not just putting up with each other. Rebecca has helped me so much. I wish she wasn't leaving. Maybe I could get an email address from her and she could counsel me via Skype or something? I scoop the post off the doormat, which Sophie must have popped through earlier. Leaving my bags in the hall, I walk towards the kitchen. I vow to open the mail straight away. This is the way of the new improved Ronnie. No more unopened letters.
I sort out a bill from a couple of invitations. I look around. I need somewhere to put the bill so it can be paid. I remember there's a cork noticeboard that I haven't used yet. I pin it and make a mental note to pay it tomorrow. Returning to the post tucked under my arm, I open another letter containing a cheque and then notice that the last letter is handwritten. It must have been hand delivered to Sophie's. Oooh what could it be? I open it.
Dear Ronnie.
I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I knew when I did it, that I'd made a mistake. I can only say that my circumstances were dire at the time. I was desperate for the money.
As I administered the medicines, something made me take a step back. I'd like to hope it was my conscience, but in all honesty I think it was guilt. Just for a moment, I saw myself as if from above. Standing there, so desperate for money that I'd agreed to overdose someone deliberately. I immediately stopped after the first dose and I called an ambulance. I'm not a killer. Just someone who was caught at a desperate time. You are an amazing person. I am sorry that once again you find yourself betrayed by someone you trusted. It won't always happen, Ronnie. Just keep on doing what you are doing. I had to leave. I can't face prison. I would never survive it.
Rebecca.
My heart is thudding against my chest. I don't know whether or not I'm going to pass out. I hear the door open and Sophie comes in. Tremors start from within my body and I fold my arms around myself tightly, trying to stop them.
'Hi. I saw the light on and thought I'd see how your weekend went. Do you know you'd left your door open?' She rounds the corner. 'Ronnie?'
I can't breathe. Sophie comes rushing over. Takes the letter from my hand and reads it.
'Ronnie? What does this mean? Ronnie?'
I let out an anguished scream.
Sophie clutches me tightly to her chest. She rocks me like I'm an infant, let's me explain in small choked statements, makes me focus and breathe.
'Ronnie. We need to phone the police. Okay?'
I nod.
Sophie calls the police and then rings the main house, telling her housekeeper to send them through as soon as they arrive.
She then sits on the sofa with me and holds my hand until two policemen enter the bungalow. I couldn't even tell you what they had looked like. I was in that much shock.
'We're on alert at the airports, but she has at least a forty-eight hour head star
t on us.' says one of the policemen. 'We will do everything we can, Miss Huntington-Jones.'
I stare into space. No longer Zen. I'm completely numb.
In the days that follows it transpires that when the police initially commenced their investigations, they had found a large amount of money paid to Rebecca's account on a date a few days prior to my 'overdose'. When questioned, she had told the police it was an inheritance left to her by an Aunt. They had been investigating further but the traces hadn't returned before she left. Knowing time was running out, Rebecca had made her escape.
The money came from an offshore account that couldn't be traced.
I doubt we'll ever hear from her again. I feel nothing as the police relay their actions to me. What's the point? If it's not this drama, it'll be something else.
Sophie and my parents never leave my side. They keep asking me to go out for a walk. Like a stroll is going to put my life back together. Sophie and my mother hit it off. It's like they're long lost sisters or something. They never stop talking and the constant noise is making my head feel like it's being attacked by bees. I suppose I'm going to see a lot more of my Mother around here. At least Sophie will be a good influence on her. I reckon she'll show her that she doesn't need the Snob brigade and can handle her wealth with dignity and aplomb. Personally, I'd tell the other women to go fuck themselves, but that's just me. I get up from the lounge and walk into my bedroom, leaving the police with my parents. I climb into bed fully clothed and turn away from the window. I want to be left alone.
Tuesday 15 July 2015
I become almost reclusive. No matter what Rebecca advised in her letter, I feel like I can hardly trust a soul. I even put Nina off from visiting me. The only place I'm happy is in my bungalow. I walk towards the window to look out over the garden. It's a glorious day. Sophie comes walking over with a couple of men I haven't seen before. I hide behind the curtain. I watch as the men unpack a small circular wooden table and two matching chairs. Sophie posts a note through the door and then takes the men back through the house.
The Calendar Game (The Alpha Series Book 2) Page 17
