Winds of Change

by Anna Jacobs

  He didn’t mention to the others that she was nearby but watched intently, pleased when she slid the door open and came out to join them, patting her hair self-consciously. He’d expected her to look better after over an hour with a hairstylist he’d called in, but he hadn’t realized what a big difference it would make to cut her hair shorter and give her a feathery fringe. She had elegant bones in her face and neck, but that long hair had swamped them before.

  ‘Regina’s here to say goodbye and your brother’s come to see where you live,’ he called, grinning when Sebastian glared at him for this frankness.

  As Miranda walked slowly across the patio, Lou’s heart ached for her. Every step looked as if it was an effort. This was more than shyness. Something had definitely been done by her brother to cause this reaction when they were together.

  Regina stood up, clapping her hands. ‘Miranda, you look fabulous. Turn round. Oh, yes, beautifully cut. Who did it?’

  ‘Janus sent someone,’ Lou said.

  Sebastian choked. ‘Someone from Janus came to you?’

  ‘Yes. The owner’s an old friend of mine. He’s done her hair well, hasn’t he?’

  ‘You’re going to a lot of trouble with my sister.’

  ‘It’s about time someone did, don’t you think?’ Lou saw Miranda turn scarlet, so changed the subject. ‘Do you like our little place?’

  ‘It’s . . . nice.’

  ‘It’s gorgeous,’ Regina corrected. ‘I’ll be thinking of you living here, when I’m back in rainy old England, Miranda, though they say we’re going to have a great summer this year, so maybe it won’t be too bad. I never did like searing hot days but English summers can be delightful.’

  ‘On the rare occasions when the weather’s fine,’ Sebastian sneered. ‘Give me Australia any time.’

  ‘Oh, the weather’s heated up in the past few years. We get some rather nice summery weather now in England – most years, anyway.’

  After some chit-chat, Sebastian changed the subject abruptly. ‘I’m afraid you must leave renting the flat to the trust, Minnie.’

  Lou looked at her, willing her to respond.

  She bent her head and began to pleat her skirt, hunching her shoulders.

  He took pity on her. Too much change, too quickly. He turned on her brother, furious at the man. ‘You’re a mean sod, Fox!’

  Sebastian gaped at him and made a few incoherent noises as if he couldn’t get any proper words out.

  ‘If you can’t treat your sister more generously,’ Lou went on, ‘I’ll consult some of my friends about what to do to help her. I doubt they’ll approve of your miserly attitude towards her inheritance. Harold Pennington, for one, is going to be very interested in what’s going on. He’s working hard to build up a reputation for philanthropy, not just for himself, but for his business.’

  The senior partner and founder of Sebastian’s legal firm wasn’t that good a friend, but Lou doubted Fox would test that out. From the man’s expression that shaft had hit home.

  ‘Miranda needs help. She’s not good at business,’ Sebastian said curtly.

  ‘She’s not been given the chance to learn. But now she has me and I’m very good at business – and at mentoring people. Don’t worry. I’ll see she rents the flat out advantageously and doesn’t waste the money.’ He waited and when there was no answer, added softly, ‘Or do we need to take that to court as well?’

  Sebastian breathed deeply and Lou decided this was as near agreement as he was likely to get, so changed the subject.

  He could see the amusement in Regina’s eyes and wondered if he’d misjudged her. Maybe she wasn’t entrenched on Sebastian’s side. He hoped not. Her sister would need allies later.

  As the two men stared at one another in a challenging silence, Miranda raised her head, shame flooding through her. Her brother was bristling with hostility; Lou was smiling gently. She’d missed her opportunity to speak for herself, been cowardly – again.

  After a long silence, Sebastian snapped, ‘I don’t see what business this is of yours, Rayne.’

  ‘I’m very fond of Miranda.’

  ‘How long have you known her?’

  Lou smiled warmly across at her. ‘Long enough to become good friends.’

  She smiled back, for a moment forgetting the others. ‘Very good friends.’

  ‘I shall continue to keep a close eye on what you’re doing to my partner,’ Lou went on. ‘She’s upset not only because she’s lost her father but also her inheritance.’

  Sebastian bristled. ‘She has not lost her inheritance!’

  ‘We both know she has.’

  ‘Can I use the bathroom?’ Regina asked brightly.

  Miranda stood up, knowing she was running away, but unable to bear the confrontation for a minute longer. ‘Of course. Let me show you the way.’

  When they were inside the house she stopped to say bitterly, ‘Other people shouldn’t have to fight my battles for me.’

  ‘You’ve always been afraid of Sebastian. I’ve never understood why. He’s not that bad.’

  ‘Not to you. But—’ She broke off, swallowing hard.

  ‘But what?’

  ‘He used to thump me when he was younger, always in places where the bruises didn’t show. I think he enjoys hurting people.’

  Regina gaped at her. ‘Why didn’t you tell Father?’

  ‘I did. He said I should stand up for myself but I could never get the better of Sebastian. He was so much bigger than me physically.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.’

  ‘You were a lot younger and you always had your nose buried in a book. For some reason he left you alone. When I tried to get help from your mother and she had a word with him, my favourite possessions began to vanish, so I soon learned to keep quiet.’

  ‘But that was years ago, when you were a child.’

  ‘He was even worse after your mother left. I read up on abuse on the Internet and its effects last a long time. I still feel physically sick at the mere thought of confronting him.’

  ‘Oh, Miranda, we’ve treated you so badly. I feel so guilty about that.’

  ‘You haven’t.’

  ‘I’ve been neutral at best. I did have a vague idea something was wrong, but I didn’t try to work out what or get involved. I was a selfish little bitch when I was younger.’ She laughed. ‘Still am, I suppose.’

  ‘You had your own life to lead.’

  ‘Well, you’ve got Lou to look after you and he really seems to care for you. I’ll feel better about leaving you in his hands.’

  ‘He can’t look after me for long!’ She couldn’t hold back a sob. ‘He’s got cancer and only has about six months to live. What’ll happen after that?’

  Regina patted her arm, frowning. ‘If you take my advice, you’ll get right away from Sebastian. Why don’t you come and live in England? He’d never leave his precious law practice, so he’s stuck in Australia. And you’ve got dual citizenship, because of your mother, haven’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so. I do keep my English passport up to date and I’ve often wanted to go there, to see where my mother was born, perhaps meet some of her family.’ Miranda looked at her wearily. ‘But do you think anywhere would be far enough from Sebastian? After all, he’ll still control the purse strings.’

  ‘You can always get a job.’

  ‘I’ve no qualifications, no experience of anything but housekeeping, so I doubt I’d get even a sniff of a job during a recession like this.’

  ‘You are such a defeatist, Miranda. There’s always a way if you look for it. And in the meantime you’re better off than most, because you’ve got the trust money to live off. Sebastian won’t let you go too short because it’d look bad for him.’

  Miranda bent her head, then lifted it to say, ‘I am trying to learn to be more assertive.’

  But from the look in Regina’s eyes, her sister didn’t think she was doing very well. Miranda wasn’t proud of herself, either.

&n
bsp; Nikki packed her things, pausing from time to time to stroke something then lay it aside regretfully. There wouldn’t be room for anything extra in such a tiny bedsitter.

  When they arrived, Tim helped her carry up her possessions, then put his arms round her.

  ‘I love you, you know.’

  She did know but wasn’t as sure about her own feelings, so leaned against him, hiding her face. ‘It’s nice being together.’

  He whirled her round, laughing.

  In the morning she had to rush into the tiny bathroom off the landing to be sick. She rested her clammy face in her hands, then raised her eyes to the spotted mirror above the stained sink. She hated it here already. There was simply no privacy. She was sure the sound of her vomiting would have echoed down the stairwell.

  Her brain was foggy and she’d read that it could be an ongoing side effect of pregnancy. She was starting to worry about the exams now. They weren’t taking place for a month or two, but would she be able to do herself justice?

  Had she been wrong to leave home?

  The next day the new cook/housekeeper started work, plus a daily maid, and Jack Bennet joined them as Lou’s manservant. He was in his fifties, experienced at caring for wealthy people in their final months; an intelligent man with cool, assessing eyes.

  ‘We’re ready to go,’ Lou told Miranda.

  She was puzzled. ‘Go where?’

  ‘Anywhere we choose – as long as it’s in Perth. I don’t think I can cope with flights, even the five hours to Singapore. No, I meant ready to enjoy ourselves.’ He looked at the clock. ‘I’ve got a couple of business appointments this morning, though. Jack can take me. There’ll be a lot of hanging round.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘Well, actually, I’ve booked you an appointment with a personal shopper. She’ll be ringing you on the house phone in about half an hour. You need some more modern clothes to match that hairstyle. And we won’t have any arguments. I’m paying.’

  She was silent, trying to take this in. ‘I do feel awful about how I look, but Dad lost touch with modern prices in the last few years and always grumbled if I wanted new clothes. It didn’t seem worth bothering. I didn’t go anywhere, after all, except to the shops or the library.’

  ‘Well, you’ll go places with me. I’m taking you out to dinner tonight at one of my favourite restaurants, and I expect you to wear one of your new outfits.’

  ‘Won’t you be too tired?’

  ‘I’ll take a stimulant, if necessary. Don’t look so disapproving, Miranda. With such a short time left, I don’t want to waste more of it than I have to resting.’ He held her gaze for a moment longer, then his smile returned.

  She felt tears rise in her eyes. ‘How can I ever thank you?’

  ‘Gather up your courage and be the Miranda you should have been. That’ll be thanks enough.’

  ‘It’s too late.’

  ‘It’s never too late to change.’

  The phone rang just then and he picked it up. ‘Rayne here . . . Josh, thanks for returning my call.’ He blew a kiss at Miranda and made a shooing motion with one hand.

  She walked out. He was kind, but sometimes that made her feel like a child who needed looking after. She’d changed but she still wasn’t yet her own person by any means – only, who was she?

  She glanced back at Lou and remembered the depressed man in the park. He wasn’t depressed now. She was doing him good, she knew, and that was one way of paying him back. She squared her shoulders and went to change into her smartest clothes.

  ‘I’m back!’ Regina yawned as she walked round the flat, exhausted by the long flight from Australia. She was surprised to find no sign of her daughter. At seven o’clock in the morning Nikki ought to be here.

  When she pushed open the door of Nikki’s bedroom, she knew immediately that something was different, but it took a moment or two for it to sink in that quite a few of Nikki’s possessions were missing. Her computer, the pile of books, the CDs, the clothes she had to be nagged to hang up.

  She went across and flung open the wardrobe doors, to find it half empty.

  As she turned back she saw the envelope on Nikki’s desk. It had ‘MUM’ scrawled across it. She picked it up, staring at the word, her hand shaking. Nikki hadn’t – she couldn’t have hurt herself . . .

  When she tore it open she found a brief letter.

  Sorry about this, Mum, but I can’t face more arguments. I don’t want to have an abortion and Tim doesn’t want me to, either.

  We’ve found a flat – well, a bedsitter, really – and his parents are helping us with the rent. If you could help, too, that’d be great.

  Don’t worry about school. They know about the baby and are being very supportive. I’m going to study really hard and at least get my A Levels.

  The counsellor said you and I could go and see her together. I think that’d be a good idea.

  I’ve taken my mobile phone. Hope that’s all right. You can always ring me on it.

  Nikki

  Regina surprised herself by bursting into tears of relief. Of course she didn’t really believe her daughter would commit suicide, but just for a moment . . . She began to feel angry and scrubbed away the moisture. All she’d done for that girl! All the hopes she’d had for Nikki’s future, because there was no doubt her daughter was an extremely intelligent girl.

  Could Nikki not at least have faced up to her? Clearly not. She was as bad as her aunt Miranda.

  Then a terrible thought occurred to Regina, so terrible she froze where she stood.

  Was she like her brother Sebastian? Were they both bullies?

  No, of course she wasn’t. She was only trying to help her daughter. Sebastian, on the other hand, was trying to keep hold of their sister’s money. And succeeding. He didn’t give two hoots whether Miranda was happy or not.

  When she’d calmed down a little, Regina rang her daughter’s mobile phone, but only got voicemail.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Nikki, ring me back or better still, come home and discuss things with me. Running away never solves any problems.’

  She ended the call and went to unpack but kept finding herself standing stock-still in the middle of a task, worrying about her daughter.

  In Wiltshire Katie Parrish looked at the letter, wondering who could be writing to her. Shrugging, keeping one eye on the clock, she tore it open and began to skim through it. The words seemed to shimmer in front of her as she tried to take in what they meant.

  She forced herself to breath deeply a few times then read the letter through slowly.

  Dear Ms Parrish

  I believe you’ve been searching for your birth parents for a while now. I’m sorry I didn’t find out about this until recently.

  If you’re still interested, I may have information about your birth father.

  Could you please email me at the above address? If you don’t now wish to pursue matters, I shall not trouble you again.

  Yours faithfully,

  B. Lanigan

  She began to shake as she read it for the third time and had to fumble her way to a chair. She’d given up on her search because she’d not had a single response on the two websites she’d found to post such queries.

  ‘Mum? I have to go to school now. Mum?’

  She jerked upright and stuffed the letter into her handbag. Ned came running into the room, ready to leave, so she grabbed her car keys and led the way out.

  Five minutes later she sat in the car and watched him dash into the playground. He joined the other little boys and she watched them running round, gesticulating wildly, throwing balls, anything but standing still. Groups of mothers were chatting by the gates. She wasn’t as good as Ned at making friends and hesitated to join them. She’d do it soon, but not today.

  She drove home, sighing as she went back into the too-quiet house. Having a husband serving in the armed forces made life difficult. When he was back home, life was wonderful, but he was on a tour of duty in Afghanist
an at the moment and she was back to months of raising Ned on her own. And she wasn’t coping as well as she’d expected to.

  If only her parents were still around, she’d be able to discuss this letter with her father, but he’d died suddenly of cancer three years ago. Her mother had remarried last year and gone to live in Cornwall. She could ring Mum up when she needed advice, and they often chatted – about everything except this.

  Her mother didn’t understand her desire to meet her birth parents and got upset when it was mentioned. Her father had told her to find them, if it meant so much to her. And it did.

  She pulled out the piece of paper and read the brief message again.

  Should she reply to it, go further? Or would she be opening a can of worms that would put barriers between herself and Mum? If she did open the can and didn’t like what she found inside, she might not be able to put the lid on again. Pandora’s Box hadn’t meant much to her when she learned about Greek legends at school, but it did now.

  Like the mythical Pandora, she was a classic case of curiosity leading to something unknown and potentially dangerous. If she hadn’t ferreted through the old papers in the attic when she was a teenager, she’d not have found out she was adopted. Her parents said they’d intended to tell her when she was older, but she suspected her mother wouldn’t have done so unless forced.

  Since then Katie had become consumed with a desire to meet the two people who had created her and to learn about her birth family background.

  She closed her eyes and tried to work out what to do now. Should she reply and risk upsetting Mum still further? After all, her adoptive mother had been good to her and was letting her live in the family home rent-free now that she’d moved to Cornwall with her second husband.

  Should she abandon the quest altogether? Mum thought she’d done that already, but hope had still lingered, even though the searches had been fruitless. She’d not been adopted through any known adoption agency, but privately, so it was much harder to find things out. There simply were no records, well, not that she’d been able to trace. How had her birth parents managed to do this?