I’m breathless when I pick up the phone again. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘I’ll keep this short,’ Tor says. ‘Am I on speaker?’
‘No.’
‘I’m pissed off about the press.’
‘I got that impression from Eric.’
‘Stay away from anyone, or anything, with any connection to racing.’
‘In other words, you want me to go back to how I was before you turned up?’
‘I’m sending Nate back to Sydney. He’ll be in touch.’
‘When will you be back?’
Ramsay touches the when? icon.
‘When I’m confident no one’s made a connection between what I’m investigating and you and your family.’
My turn. Ramsay looks up from the board after he’s touched the icons. He wants to talk on my phone. I’m not keen on asking Tor to do me a favour, but Ramsay’s done well to communicate what he wants. I feel like I don’t have a choice.
‘Golden? Are you there?’
‘I’m here. Can you do something? It’s for Ramsay, not me. He doesn’t have verbal communication skills so he’s using a symbol board on my iPad. He wants to talk to you on the phone—he’s just spelled it out. Would you mind? Just for a minute. I’ll put you on speaker. Can you introduce yourself?’
‘Hello, Ramsay. My name is Tor.’
‘Did you hear that, Ramsay? Tor is on the phone. Would you like to spell his name out?’
It takes a while for Ramsay to press the icons while I say the letters. ‘T O R. Great work, Ramsay.’ He grins and presses icons again. Where house?
‘Tor? Ramsay has asked you where you live.’
Silence.
‘Did you hear me, Tor? Where do you live?’
‘I heard.’ There’s another silence. Doesn’t he know where he lives? Finally he answers. ‘My brother and I generally ski in December. We stay for two weeks at my lodge in Norway. So Norway, I suppose.’
‘But where do you live the rest of the year? You once said you have winter coats in New York. Do you mostly live there?’
Another hesitation. ‘I rent an apartment there, and own one in Brussels. I was stationed in Paris for three years. Sometimes I go there.’
‘So you live in Paris too?’
‘My apartment’s in Montmartre. But I lease that one out.’
‘Right …’ I turn to Ramsay. ‘Ramsay, it’s cold in Norway because it’s in the north of Europe. And that’s where Tor thinks he lives because he goes there in December. What do you know about cold countries?’
Ramsay finds icons. Snowball. Mountain.
‘That’s great, Ramsay,’ I say. ‘I love it when you tell me what you’re thinking. You said snowball and mountain. Tor, can you tell Ramsay anything else about countries where it’s cold?’
‘There’s snow on the pine trees in December,’ Tor says. ‘Is that relevant?’
Ramsay presses the icons Christmas and tree.
A gust of wind sends a flurry of bark chips around the stable yard. Pepper snorts and tosses her head. Ramsay jumps up from the bale of straw and runs to the stable door.
‘Tor?’ I say.
‘Yes.’
‘I haven’t talked about Christmas for months, but Ramsay remembered which icons to press. I’m really happy about that.’
‘Golden?’
‘Yes.’
‘In two weeks, I’ll be back in Sydney.’
‘Right.’
‘Keep out of trouble. I mean it.’
CHAPTER
19
Nate calls every few days in the next two weeks, and I inform him I have nothing to report. In his last call, he tells me a meeting has been scheduled for Friday night at Clovelly, and Tor wants me there. Over a month has passed since we kissed under the scribbly bark tree.
The weather is cold and damp, so I’m wearing jeans and a baggy jumper. As I wait for the door to open, I pull the jumper down over my hips.
Mum’s mouth opens in surprise when she sees me. ‘Eric is running late, darling. Didn’t he tell you?’
‘No. Is Ange here?’
‘She’s at a function at Barangaroo.’ We smile stiffly at each other. ‘And I’m on my way out, a committee meeting for the Black and White Ball.’
I try not to sound too relieved. ‘I’ll get my laptop out of my car and catch up with my paperwork until Eric comes home.’
‘Perfect.’
By the time Mum blows farewell kisses in my direction I’m sitting in the old leather armchair across from Eric’s desk with my laptop, my legs curled up to the side. I’ve only written up two assessments when I start to yawn and my vision blurs. I lower the laptop to the floor, put my head on a cushion and close my eyes.
I have the sensation that someone is watching me but I’m too comfortable to open my eyes. When I finally do, I blink. Tor’s eyes are dark grey like his jacket.
‘Hello.’
His mouth lifts at one side. ‘Hello, Golden.’
‘Is Eric home?’ I yawn. ‘Or did you break in?’
‘He arrived at the same time I did, and told me to wait in here.’
When I speak through another yawn, Tor can’t understand what I’m saying and I have to repeat myself.
‘Don’t you get sick of dressing up?’
He squats in front of me. He has a nice mouth. ‘Eric is wearing work attire; he’d expect the same from me. You were fast asleep. Were you up early?’
‘Mmmm.’ The elastic must have fallen off the end of my plait. I clumsily brush hair from my face, twist it and put it over my shoulder. I move my leg in tiny increments to straighten it. ‘Why isn’t Eric here?’
‘He’s making coffee.’
A lock of Tor’s fringe is resting on one eyebrow. ‘Your hair’s got longer.’ I talk through another yawn. ‘When did you get back from Hong Kong?’
He looks at his watch. ‘Only a couple of hours ago. My flight was delayed. I dropped my bags at Bondi and then I came here.’
‘You must be tired too.’
He looks like he’d like to yawn, which makes me yawn all over again.
‘I could have slept on the plane, but I had work to get through. I’m sorry this is so late for you.’
I glance at the clock on Eric’s desk. It’s almost eleven. No wonder I fell asleep.
‘You’re always late. I don’t think spies should be late. I think they should be early to make sure things are safe. You said Eric is making coffee, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but I’m not sure that’ll be enough to wake you.’
I frown. ‘What are you staring at?’
‘You said your eyes were dirty green. There is no such colour.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I asked my brother. He’s a scientist.’
‘You could’ve just googled it. You brother is in the navy, isn’t he? And he’s engaged to Harriet Scott. Does he know where he lives?’
‘He currently lives wherever Harriet happens to be.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘When I described your eye colour, Per said, in a far more complex way, your eyes would be grey with a wide green ring around the iris.’
‘That’s right. They’re a mix like …’ Tor waits patiently while I collect my thoughts. ‘Like Eucalyptus conspicua.’
‘That’s a gum tree?’
‘The Gippsland swamp box. It’s got green mature growth and silver new growth. Maybe that’s why I think of dirty green.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Like a swamp.’
He smiles again. We’re in a strange sort of twilight zone and I don’t think either of us wants to leave it. He shifts from squatting to kneeling, I sit a little straighter. And then my hand, as if I have no control over it, touches the side of his face.
‘Your jaw is smooth,’ I say.
His eyes darken. His voice is gruff. ‘I shaved.’
I touch the hair at his temple. ‘And you washed your hair. It’s still a bit w
et.’
He turns his face into my palm. I feel his breath on my wrist when he speaks. ‘Wait, Golden.’
My wrist tingles. We’re so close I can see the little lines at the outside corners of his eyes. He must be tired, even though he won’t admit to it. I run my fingertip down his cheek.
‘Wait for what?’
‘I have something to say to you and Eric. It will simplify things.’ He puts a hand either side of me on the seat of the chair, presses his stomach against my legs and rests his forehead on mine.
‘What is it?’
‘Later,’ he says. ‘You’re more asleep than awake. I don’t want to fuck things up again.’
I’m weak with lust. He’s not as angry as I thought he’d be about the photo in the paper. I’ve been trying not to think about how I behaved after we kissed, but maybe I should be thinking about it. Maybe I’d feel less humiliated if I could prove that I’m capable of kissing him without having hysterics afterwards? Just one kiss this time. Not two.
I lean forward so my mouth is barely a millimetre from his. ‘I don’t want to wait.’
‘Fuck.’
He’s not touching me with his hands but having his body against my legs and his mouth so close sends a pulsing ache from my thighs to my breasts. I rest one hand against his throat and move the other from his jaw to the back of his head. The hair that sits at his nape is soft and silky. When I run my fingers under the stiff collar of his shirt he exhales in a moan and I capture the sound in my mouth. Our tongues touch.
There’s a dull thump on the door. ‘Open up, Golden, my hands are full.’
Tor mutters against my lips, curses and gets to his feet. He takes my hands and slowly pulls me upright, releasing my fingers when I’m steady. He opens the door.
‘Evening, Golden,’ Eric says as he puts the tray, laden with a coffee plunger and cups and saucers, on his desk. ‘I hope we haven’t kept you up too late. Damn. Forgot the milk. And I think I heard Emily come in. I’ll see if she can rustle up a snack.’
Eric leaves the door open. I’m trying to think up a reason to follow him when Tor walks towards me. I hold up my hand and he stops. The silence stretches. He doesn’t look embarrassed and jumpy like I probably do.
‘I shouldn’t have behaved like …’ I wave my hand in the direction of the armchair. ‘You were right to say no.’
‘I didn’t say no, I said we should wait.’ His words are measured. ‘This is straightforward, Golden. Stop overthinking it.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I want to finish what we started at Randwick.’
According to Angelina, he dates lawyers, actresses and human rights activists. He has relationships with women who know what they’re doing. Women prepared to accept what he’s willing to give them. Angelina’s actress friend said Tor made it clear he wasn’t interested in a commitment, but they had amazing sex. Absolutely amazing. And she was happy with that.
My fingers are linked together; they clench and unclench. I have to get this over with.
‘Last time we saw each other I thought I explained, I thought you understood.’
His words are clipped. ‘Understood what, exactly?’
I meet his eyes. He has his mask in place so it’s not too difficult to say the words.
‘This tension we have between us—it’s not going anywhere. I have no reason to like you. The opposite, in fact. And then there’s the types of relationships you have.’
Mum must be helping Eric. I hear muffled voices and plates clattering in the kitchen.
Tor crosses his arms over his chest. His face is set. ‘Go on.’
‘You see a lot of women, intelligent, confident, beautiful women. Not that that’s surprising. You’re attractive, you’re reportedly good at sex.’
The anger in his tone is unmistakable. ‘Let me understand you. You’re saying you don’t want me because,’ he counts on his fingers, ‘you don’t like me, you don’t do sex, and sex is the only thing I have to offer.’
‘You might have other positive qualities.’
‘Such as?’
The way you say your words. The way you dance. Your gentleness with Ramsay. How smart you are. The way you love your brother. The way you kissed me under the scribbly bark tree.
I swallow. ‘It doesn’t matter what I think.’
I hear Mum and Eric in the hallway. They’ll be here at any moment. Tor is standing close. When I put my hands on his chest and push, his muscles tense but he doesn’t budge a centimetre. And before I can take my hands back he traps them under his. When he dips his head I close my eyes. His voice is low and fierce.
‘It’s been a month, Golden, a whole fucking month. Don’t tell me there’s nothing between us.’
By the time Mum and Eric walk in, Tor is leaning against Eric’s desk with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. But he’s not as relaxed as he’s pretending to be. When he talks to Mum his responses are brief and abrupt, and his gaze keeps sliding to me, standing on the far side of the room near the bookcase.
Mum blows me a kiss as she leaves. ‘Goodnight, darling. Love you.’
My fingers are stiff and awkward when I wave. ‘Night, Mum.’
Immediately the door closes behind her, Eric turns to Tor. ‘Golden’s untimely appearance in The Sun Herald,’ he says. ‘What are the implications?’
Tor’s lips tighten for a moment. ‘So far as we can establish, no one has linked the Saunders to what I’m working on now, or questioned Golden’s connection to me.’
‘In which case,’ I say, ‘why are we here?’
Tor carefully puts his cup and saucer on the tray. His words are precise, deliberate. ‘Your involvement in the investigation, Golden, it’s over.’
‘What?’
‘We’re getting close to the man we want in Hong Kong, and the link between him and your father is clear. You know nothing of your father and his associate’s concerns, but others may believe that you do. I’m unwilling to accept the risks, to you and the investigation, of your continued involvement.’
I was expecting Tor to tell me I’m complicated, but useful. And for Eric to tell me I’m my own worst enemy, so I should do what Tor tells me. If Tor dumps me now I won’t find out what, if anything, my father has done wrong.
‘So you’re taking my list of contacts and dismissing me?’
Tor frowns. ‘The bank account was always our primary focus. We’ve used it to establish a link between our Hong Kong suspect and your father, and many other people of interest. James Saunders was only ever a minor player. He’s not needed anymore.’
‘You can’t do this to me. Not now.’
‘I’ve been considering it for weeks.’
‘But I want to be involved. I want to find out what happened with my father, and Grandpa.’
‘I can do that.’
‘I don’t trust you. How can I? You’ve got a different agenda.’
‘Do you trust Marc Ferguson?’ His voice hardens. ‘He knows your secrets.’
‘I told you. What Marc might know has nothing to do with you, or your investigation.’
Tor turns to Eric. ‘Ferguson is hiding something. Golden is protecting him. Do you have any idea why she’d do that?’
‘No,’ Eric says. ‘Golden, what’s going on?’
‘Nothing!’
Eric sighs and turns back to Tor. ‘Ferguson had a relationship with Angelina, years ago. Golden didn’t approve of it. Neither did I. It’s unusual for us to agree on anything, which is probably why I remember it.’
‘Golden,’ Tor says, ‘would you care to elaborate?’
He’s so much taller than me that all I can do is stand directly in front of him, look up, and glare. ‘No, I don’t care to elaborate. It’s a personal matter.’
Tor is matter-of-fact when he turns to Eric. ‘Golden also had a relationship with Ferguson.’
‘First I’ve heard of it,’ Eric says.
‘He broke up with Golden so he could be with
Angelina,’ Tor says.
‘Shut up! Being with Marc has nothing to do with …’
He wanted confirmation he’d come to the right conclusions about Marc and me, and I’ve just given it to him.
I raise my chin. ‘Are there other details of my personal life you’d like to share with Eric?’
Tor speaks quietly. ‘I needed to know.’
‘Why? When it’s irrelevant to what you think I’m hiding? You’re stirring Eric up, aren’t you? So you can get rid of me without a fuss. Do you want him to threaten to sell my home again? Is that it?’
Tor rubs around the back of his neck. ‘You think I’d do that?’
‘You’ve done it before. Why would anything be different now?’
Eric clears his throat. ‘I make my own decisions,’ he says. ‘You have cooperated, Golden, notwithstanding your recent error of judgement in going to the races. I’ll speak to Angelina, see what she knows about Ferguson. But I have no intention, at present, of selling.’
‘I don’t trust you either.’
Eric stacks the cups and saucers. ‘I’ll ignore that comment.’
‘Of course you will.’
He bangs the milk jug on the tray. ‘In January you were opposed to the investigation. You wanted nothing to do with it. Now you’re in a temper because Tor is releasing you. It makes no sense.’
Something makes me glance at Tor. He’s frowning, but not in anger. He repeats Eric’s statement softly.
‘It makes no sense.’
‘What?’ I say, taking two steps backwards.
‘Your concern for your family’s reputation hasn’t prompted you to be involved in the past. Quite the opposite. Something has happened. Recently. What was it?’
This is something I can tell the truth about. ‘You’re right. Something did happen.’
‘Well?’ Eric says. ‘What was it?’
‘I’ll tell Tor on the way to my car.’
Eric mutters. ‘For goodness sake.’
‘I’ll fill you in tomorrow if it’s anything important,’ Tor says, shaking Eric’s hand.
On the Right Track Page 12
