Winds of Change

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘Tell her it’s really urgent,’ she repeated.

  As she put the phone down the doorbell rang again and she hesitated. She had a bad feeling about the presence of the police with the social worker. She didn’t know what rights they had and might just be imagining she was in danger, but wasn’t going to risk letting them in.

  Without stopping to think it through, she grabbed her handbag and fled, leaving the house by rear doors that led out on to the riverside patio, hesitating for a moment near the swimming pool, then taking the path to the servants’ quarters, to which she had a key.

  She fumbled in her handbag, dropping the bunch of keys, and anxiously looked over her shoulder as she picked them up. She didn’t dare go out on to the road and knew her car would be easy to follow, so waited in the housekeeper’s flat, out of sight.

  She saw them walking round the house, but though the patio door was open, they didn’t go inside. It seemed a very long time until she heard their car drive away. She peered out of the window, which overlooked the road and was dismayed to see that they stopped the car about a hundred metres away, no doubt waiting for her to emerge.

  All the old fears came back in a cascade of terror, the dread of being helpless and locked up again foremost. She took out her mobile and rang Sally’s rooms once more, explaining that she’d had to go out, so could be reached only on this mobile.

  Then she settled down to wait, making herself a cup of coffee from the neatly arranged supplies in the cupboard. She wasn’t hungry. She was just . . . terrified. Surely it couldn’t happen to her again? Not in this day and age.

  It had taken her years to work out that her father had pulled strings to have her locked away and, when she’d confronted him, he’d been unrepentant. She’d so nearly left him then; would have done so but for the minor stroke he’d had while they quarrelled. By the time he came out of hospital, a shadow of his former self, pathetically grateful that she was still there, she’d known she was trapped.

  People might say the mental health system was foolproof now, but she didn’t trust it. No system was foolproof. Sebastian was just as powerful as her father had been, and knew all the ins and outs of the law.

  Three hours passed, by which time she was so anxious she couldn’t keep still. She paced the floor, taking care not to be seen from the window, made another coffee and waited . . . When her mobile rang, her heart felt as if it was stuttering and she dropped her phone as she tried to answer. She scrabbled for it, pressing the button and saying, ‘Yes?’

  ‘Miranda? Is that you?’

  ‘Sally! Oh, thank goodness!’ She burst into tears.

  ‘Calm down and tell me what’s wrong.’

  She explained.

  ‘Oh, my dear! I’m so sorry this has happened. Look, I’ll come and get you myself. Tell me exactly where you are hiding.’

  It was twenty minutes until a car drew up and Sally got out. It seemed more like two hours. Miranda ran down the stairs and opened the door, not daring to step outside yet.

  ‘This has really upset you,’ Sally said gently.

  She could only nod.

  ‘Come on. We’ll go back to my rooms. You’ll be safe there.’

  As the two women walked outside, however, a car crept forward slowly and parked across the gates.

  ‘This is outrageous!’ Sally said. ‘Get into my car and leave this to me. I’m going to lock you in, so that no one can pester you. Are you all right with that?’

  Miranda nodded and slid quickly into the front passenger seat of the car. She watched Sally turn to face the same two people who had come to the door. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could tell that Sally was furiously angry.

  It took longer than she’d expected for the conversation to end and, at one stage, Sally pulled out her mobile and rang someone.

  When she eventually got into the car, she said, ‘I need you to hold yourself together now, Miranda. We’ll only get through this if you keep your cool.’

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘We need to go straight to the surgery of a psychiatrist I know. I’m afraid the only way they’ll let this drop is if some medical expert certifies that you’re all right. It seems your dear brother has been on to your family doctor, who’s prepared to swear that you’ve been mildly depressed for years and that your father’s death followed by Lou’s has thrown you over the edge.’

  ‘I’ll never speak to Sebastian again.’

  ‘I’ll have trouble being polite to him myself.’

  A sudden thought occurred to her. ‘What doctor is that?’

  ‘Dr Grant.’

  ‘But he was my father’s doctor, not mine!’

  Sally stared at her. ‘Say that again!’

  ‘Father’s former doctor was my doctor until they put me inside. After I came out he insisted I had to keep taking antidepressants, so after a while I went to a woman doctor and she helped me come off them. Father was absolutely furious. It was one of the few times I stood up to him. I’m still her client officially, but I’m rarely ill, so I haven’t seen her for a couple of years.

  ‘When father’s doctor retired, he found Dr Grant, another chauvinist who talked down to women. I’ve met him when he’s been visiting Father, but I’ve never been his patient, so how he could know whether I was depressed, I can’t understand.’

  ‘It should be quite easy to prove that you’re not his patient, then.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And will your doctor back you up that you’re no longer clinically depressed?’

  ‘Yes. She’s nice.’

  ‘Leave it to me. Just tell my friend the truth. He may be a psychiatrist, but he’s very easy to talk to and not at all a chauvinist.’

  Two hours later, Miranda thanked Sally. ‘I’m off the hook for the moment but I’m worried about what Sebastian will try next. He can be very . . . tenacious when he wants something and for some reason he wants to control me.’

  ‘The money, I should think. You are still going to challenge the trust, aren’t you? I’m becoming increasingly eager to win that case.’

  And Miranda found herself doing something she hadn’t expected – smiling. ‘Go for it.’

  ‘It’ll probably take years, so I think you should go to England immediately,’ Sally said thoughtfully. ‘Do you have a current passport?’

  ‘Yes. A British one, actually. Father was very insistent that I maintain my right to British nationality, even though I’ve always lived in Australia.’

  ‘He was right.’

  ‘But I can’t just take off. There’s too much to do here. It’ll take me weeks.’

  ‘We’ll fix that. Have you enough money to go now?’

  ‘Yes.’ She explained about the auction. ‘I’m sure they’ll give me some of the money straight away.’

  ‘Then if you take my advice you’ll vanish. Make a list of everything that needs doing and I’ll pass it on to my nephew. He’s a law student and desperate for money. He’s as sharp as they come, and I’ll vouch for his honesty.’ She frowned. ‘You’d better stay at my place tonight, I think. No use giving them the slightest opportunity to play any more dirty tricks.’

  ‘I can’t impose on you like that.’

  ‘Think of it as avoiding making future trouble for me. I’m going to book you on the first available flight and see you on to the plane myself. We’ll call at your house on our way home to my place and you can pack.’

  The first flight with a seat free was at eleven o’clock that night.

  ‘I can’t be ready by then!’ Miranda gasped.

  ‘Yes, you can. I’ll help you.’

  ‘I’m bound to forget things.’

  ‘They do have shops in England, you know!’

  The first time Miranda stopped for breath after that was when she sank down on her aeroplane seat, closed her eyes and leaned back.

  She opened them to find her neighbour smiling at her.

  ‘Bit of a rush, was it?’

  ‘Ye
s. Last minute decision. I only decided to come this afternoon.’

  He blinked. ‘Now, that’s what I call impulsive. Unless . . . I’m sorry, it’s not for a bereavement, is it?’

  ‘No. It’s for a new start away from my interfering family.’

  The admiration in his eyes surprised her. She wasn’t used to that. He was a year or two younger than she was, she guessed, but she didn’t care about that. It was, she realized, the first time she’d attracted a man’s attention, if only to flirt, since she’d moved in with her father all those years ago.

  But it wouldn’t be the last!

  She smiled at him and he smiled back. She’d lost a good half of her life, but she was going to make the rest of it count.

  When she got back from the airport, Sally checked the time differences and rang Miranda’s sister. She’d been given the number in case she needed to contact her client urgently, but she wasn’t going to wait for that.

  ‘Hello? Regina Fox?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I hope I didn’t wake you, but I’m calling from Australia. I’m your sister’s lawyer.’

  ‘Is Miranda all right?’

  ‘Yes. But your brother’s been rather a nuisance, so she’s on her way to England as we speak.’

  ‘Miranda is!’

  ‘I hope you’ll keep this information to yourself.’ Sally quickly brought Regina up to date on what had been happening. ‘I thought it might be nice if you could meet her at the airport. She’s not been to England before and it can be a bit confusing at first. Though I’m sure she’ll cope.’

  ‘Right. I’ll be there. Give me her time of arrival and flight number.’

  ‘You won’t tell your brother?’

  ‘No. I wasn’t comfortable with him myself. Can’t think what’s got into him that he has to boss everyone around. Have you any idea what Miranda intends to do here?’

  ‘I don’t think she knows yet. But I’m sure she’ll enjoy a little holiday before she settles in.’

  When Regina put the phone down she frowned and wandered into the kitchen to finish off her breakfast. She was delighted that Miranda had kicked over the traces. She wasn’t sure about having her to stay for long, because Nikki might need to come home again and there were only two bedrooms, but they could deal with that if it happened.

  What the hell had got into Sebastian? How did Dorothy put up with him? She wouldn’t.

  She smiled as she got ready to leave for work. She wished she could see his face when he found out that his meek and mild sister had rebelled and come to England.

  Thirteen

  Miranda was exhausted by the time the plane landed in England and the twenty-hour journey felt more like twenty days. But at least she was small enough to find the seat reasonably comfortable and had even managed to sleep for a few hours, unlike her much taller neighbour. He had started the journey smiling and chatting, but had finished it in grim-faced endurance.

  She’d had time to think things through on the journey; well, a little. She knew what would happen if she contacted her sister. Regina would take over – from the best of motives, but still, she’d take over. Fearful as she was about sorting things out in England, it seemed to Miranda that she had to do it herself, or she’d be letting Lou down.

  She collected her luggage and showed her passport, not quite sure what to expect. The passport said she was a British citizen but she didn’t feel like one. To her surprise, the customs officer started chatting to her.

  ‘Not used this passport yet.’

  ‘No. I’ve lived in Australia for most of my life.’

  ‘Here for a holiday, then, or coming back to stay?’

  ‘I thought I’d try living here. I’ve got a sister and niece here. I’ve been caring for my father, but he died a few months ago.’

  ‘Well, I hope you have a nice stay – however long it is.’ With a smile he closed the passport, handed it back and sent her on her way.

  As she wheeled her luggage out of the restricted area she felt her stomach churning. She was here, land of her forefathers, but it felt alien. She walked forward out of the arrival area and stopped to look round. She saw an automatic teller machine and went across to that to get some British money, using her credit card. She felt a lot better after that.

  A sign saying ‘Taxis’ caught her eye, so she turned in that direction. Only where was she to go in her taxi?

  She’d left in such a hurry that she’d not even gone on line and booked a hotel. Oh, how she wished for ten minutes with her computer! She was carrying it, but would have to find a way to get on line here. As she passed a car rental stand, she stopped. Should she hire a car instead of taking a taxi? That’d give her some independence, at least.

  What would Lou have advised?

  But the voice in her head remained silent and people were pushing past her, knocking her luggage trolley, making her step instinctively sideways.

  She should have spent more time during the flight working out exactly what to do when she arrived instead of chatting then sleeping, and only having approximate ideas about her future actions.

  In the end she moved towards one of the car rental desks, joining a line of people seeking vehicles. When she arrived, she asked for a small automatic car and took out her Australian driving licence and passport for identification.

  It wasn’t cheap, but at least she had wheels. She had to wait again for the courtesy bus to take a group of hirers out to where they would pick up their vehicles. Beside her a man in a business suit was talking earnestly on his mobile phone, not seeming to care who heard what he was saying. She’d have to get herself a mobile that worked here. She pulled out her little notebook and started a list. Mobile phone. Buy car. Find somewhere to live.

  There! She felt as if she was making a start already. That felt good.

  Warned by Sally, Regina set off in good time for the airport. But there was an accident on the M4 motorway which held her up for over an hour, then the traffic on the M25 was even slower than usual.

  She parked and made a dash for the arrivals area, but to her dismay the plane had landed nearly an hour ago. She couldn’t believe she’d missed her sister.

  Where had Miranda gone? What was she doing now? Someone was bound to take advantage of her.

  Feeling guilty that she hadn’t set off earlier, Regina turned and made her way back to her car. She could only hope her sister would contact her. Surely she would?

  Nikki saw Tim waiting for her at morning break and sighed. She just wanted to sit in peace and drink some orange juice now that her stomach was starting to settle down.

  ‘Hi, there.’ He planted a kiss on her cheek.

  ‘Don’t do that here!’ she hissed. ‘I’ve told you.’

  ‘I can’t help it when you look so pretty.’

  ‘Well, I don’t feel pretty.’

  ‘I missed you last night.’

  ‘I was tired. When Mum suggested I stay over, it seemed a good idea. Did you . . . um, sleep well?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. You know me. But I missed having someone to chat to this morning.’

  She looked at her watch. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  ‘I’ll wait for you after school.’

  ‘No. I’ve got some studying to do. I’ll work in the library and come back later. Can you fix something for tea?’

  She watched him walk away, saw the admiring glances other girls gave him. He was a hot guy. Only . . . she was no longer a hot chick. She’d changed, was still changing. If only her mother would help her financially, she’d move to a place of her own, even if she had to live in the tiniest flat ever built.

  The trouble was, Tim would be hurt and he didn’t deserve that. He was too nice for his own good, much too nice for her.

  Katie found another email from her mother’s representative waiting for her when she got back from the hospital. Ned was so much better, he was fretting to be let out, which made her feel good. The email took the edge off that.

  She read it, wonder
ing why her mother didn’t make contact in person.

  Hi, Katie

  Your mother’s asked me to tell you that she’s delighted you’re willing to meet her. She’s coming to England and will be in touch personally when she gets there. She has your email address.

  Cheers

  Jeff Halliday

  ‘Oh, no!’ She closed her eyes for a moment. She hadn’t said she wanted to meet her mother, just make contact, surely? She had enough on her plate at the moment, what with Ned and Brody, and Mum kicking up a fuss that she was contacting her birth parents at all, not to mention her part-time job, without which she’d go mad from loneliness.

  And Darren hadn’t emailed her for days. That happened sometimes when he was on a mission. She always worried more at those times. You kept hearing on the TV news that another British soldier had been killed in Afghanistan, and you wondered if it was your husband. Only the newsreader’s words, ‘The family has been informed’, kept her sane. And even so, she found tears welling in her eyes as she thought how upset those poor families would be.

  How would she face it if anything happened to Darren? He said it wouldn’t, and she didn’t contradict his cheerful optimism, because if ever a man loved his job, he did. She’d been glad to move out of army quarters, though, away from other people’s worries.

  They showed pictures on the TV news of the bodies being brought back – repatriated, they called it. She hadn’t realized she’d be living close to the place they brought them when she moved to Wootton Bassett, and she always checked that no coffins were due to be driven through the town before she went shopping.

  It was good that such a small town was showing such a good example to the rest of the country about respecting the soldiers who’d lost their lives, but she avoided the repatriations. It’d kill her to be involved in that slow procession along the main street, because it’d be Darren she’d be imagining in the coffins beneath those flags.