Birthright

by Fiona Lowe

  ‘You could do with a new car.’

  ‘Not if it costs me my peace of mind.’

  ‘I worry you’ll break down in the mobile dead zone between here and Valley View. Would you accept a loan from me?’

  ‘Maybe. What are your terms?’

  ‘Interest free and whatever you can afford to repay each week.’

  His love and care circled her. ‘You trying to make me cry again?’

  ‘Nope. Like you, just looking after my own peace of mind. Talking peace of mind, my family are hassling me. They want to meet you and Noah. How do you feel about Sunday lunch sometime soon?’

  The idea was more warmly inviting than terrifying. ‘Just your parents or the full catastrophe of brothers, wives, nieces and nephews?’

  ‘Either way. All of them want to meet you both.’ He laughed. ‘Poor Noah. Izzy is yet another little girl cousin who’ll run rings around him.’

  ‘Your family’s normal, right?’

  ‘What’s normal? No family I know of, that’s for sure. But I can tell you this. I grew up knowing I was loved and on the most part, we try to be respectful. Mum and Dad have turned themselves inside out to be fair to my brothers and me. When I didn’t want to work in the family business, they gave me my share to start my own.’

  ‘That’s very fair.’

  ‘Yeah. And they’re hands-on grandparents. I know you’re super protective of Noah and I get it, but just a heads-up, don’t be surprised if they invite Noah for a sleepover. They do that with Max’s and Henry’s kids all the time.’ A hopeful look entered his eyes, the same one that burned brightly when she said she’d marry him one day. ‘Is the idea of us having a baby down the track something you’d be open to?’

  ‘We’re thirty-four.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So sometime down the track should probably be next year.’ She sat up fast, feeling wildly optimistic. ‘But I better meet your parents first. Would this Sunday be too soon?’

  He beamed. ‘Sunday’s perfect.’

  She leaned in, loving the play of his muscles underneath her and the fact they were hers to explore. She kissed him, seeking his essential flavour and devouring it completely. It simmered in her veins, streaking exhilaration into every part of her and promising wonder, delight and unadulterated joy.

  Panting, she broke the kiss. ‘Stay the night?’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’ve never been more sure of anything.’

  * * *

  After the wake and the few hours spent surrounded by Alex, Gus and Finn pretending her family was intact, Sarah returned to the old cheese factory and its ghosts, feeling more lost and alone than ever. She’d just changed into her comfort clothes—trackie daks, a long-sleeved T and a fleece-lined hoodie—when there was a knock on the door.

  ‘Anita?’ She knew her mouth was slack with surprise.

  Spiky and confrontational, her petite but elegant sister-in-law stepped inside.

  ‘The town’s having a field day with the family. First it was Gus and now they’re saying awful things about Cameron. Did you really have to add to it by having your lover at your mother’s funeral?’

  Furious, Sarah blew open the myth that was Margaret. ‘Mum would have approved. After all, she did exactly the same thing at Dad’s funeral.’

  Anita sat down fast. ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve recently discovered the venerable Margaret, doyen of Mingunyah and professional widow, had a long affair with Robert Horton. It started years before Dad’s death. I have no idea which came first, but piecing together some of her demented ravings, I think my father might have been gay.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Anita breathed out, her eyes momentarily wide. They quickly turned flinty. ‘You’re not lying to me, are you?’

  A grim laugh rumbled out of Sarah. ‘I’m not imaginative enough to make this stuff up.’

  Anita managed a small smile and the conciliatory moment hung briefly between them. Then her mouth stiffened. ‘I want to see the original will.’

  Sarah didn’t hold back. ‘I bet you do. Cameron sent you over to do his dirty work, did he? Scumbag.’

  White faced, Anita read the will and then left without a word. Sarah screamed down the stairs after her that she’d fight the will until her last breath. The exterior door slammed. Feeling shaken and forlorn and embarrassed by her shrewish behaviour, she poured a drink. How had a close friendship become a pile of smouldering ashes?

  Her phone buzzed with a text. Thinking of you. Do you need me?

  Without a second thought, she texted, Yes.

  Ten minutes later she was in Edmund’s apartment above Protea with her back against the wall, her hands frantically tugging off his belt and nothing mattered except blocking out the awful day and the horrible weeks, and having his body driving into hers. Divesting each other of their clothes, the articles fell in a frenzied trail as, mad with lust, they made their way to the bed. When his weight settled over her and his mouth found her breast, she groaned in relief that oblivion was coming.

  What are you doing?

  What I need.

  Shafts of pleasure shot from her breast to her vagina, tingling and tantalising, and she arched towards the promise.

  Seriously, what the hell are you doing?

  The words hooked her, taking hold and settling in. Like a hot north wind blasting over her throbbing and aching body, they shrivelled her libido, sucking it dry and leaving nothing but a hollow shell.

  Swallowing a sob, her fingers dug into Edmund’s scalp and she lifted his head. ‘I’m sorry. This is a mistake.’

  Confused, his lust-filled eyes took a moment to clear before understanding dawned. He rolled off her and tucked her in against him. ‘It’s okay. You buried your mother today. It’s normal to feel confused.’

  Stop being so nice to me. I don’t deserve it.

  She slowly moved his arm away from her belly and turned over to face him, propping herself on an elbow. ‘I mean it’s all been a mistake. Not just the sex right now.’

  He frowned. ‘I do not understand. From the start, the sex has been amazing. Electric. It was never like this with Catriona.’

  She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply as if that would offer her some protection from hurting a good and decent man. ‘It’s been exhilarating.’ It’s overpowered all rational thought. ‘But I think I’ve been using you.’

  ‘Impossible.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘I wanted everything you offered me.’

  She wrapped her hand around his finger and stalled the movement as her insides caved. ‘And that’s how I know that I’ve taken advantage of you. Alex’s rejection left me hurt and bleeding and there you were with open arms and unstinting support. You made me feel loved and cherished and I needed that so much. But I’ve taken far more from you than I’ve given.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes.’ She closed her eyes for a moment, mustering strength. ‘And now it has to stop. I’m sorry.’

  He sat up, his face bleak. ‘What brought this on? Are you telling me that you and Alex are getting back together?’

  ‘No. We haven’t talked about it and I doubt it’s even a possibility. Right now, we’re just trying to sort things out with Gus.’

  ‘Then nothing has changed,’ Edmund said firmly. ‘There’s no need for talk like this.’

  You owe him the truth. ‘I’m sorry, but there is. That afternoon on the mountain, the day Gus was arrested, you said, “When things are settled we’ll tell the children together.” It made me realise you see a future with me.’

  ‘Of course I see a future for us. I have dreamed of it for a long time.’

  ‘It’s too soon, Edmund. I can’t commit to anything when I can’t see past tomorrow.’

  He shrugged. ‘I have waited eighteen years. I can wait a bit longer.’

  Her heart lurched and she tasted salt as tears rolled across her lips. ‘But I don’t want you to wait. You deserve a woman who will worship you the way you worship me.’

&
nbsp; He shook his head. ‘You are just confused with everything that is going on in your life.’

  ‘Oh, Edmund. I wish I could pretend I was confused but I can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t love you the way you deserve to be loved.’

  He flinched and she hated herself.

  Pulling the sheet up around her and covering her now shivering body, she said, ‘I’m really sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.’

  He stiffened and his sea-green eyes roiled in pain. ‘That ship has sailed, Sarah.’

  ‘I know and I’ll always regret it. Your friendship means a lot.’

  ‘But, sadly, I think more to me than to you.’

  To her dying day, she would never forget his hurt and heartbreak or the awkwardness of knowing she needed to leave immediately, but was naked. Retrieving her scattered clothes from the embarrassing trail across the apartment, she dressed in the bathroom before returning to the bedroom. Edmund was up, dressed, and staring out the window. She automatically leaned in to kiss him goodbye.

  He stopped her. ‘I cannot do this, Sarah. Just like you cannot pretend to love me, I cannot pretend that the last two months didn’t happen. It is impossible to return to a friendship I have always yearned would grow to be more. If we are over, then this is goodbye.’

  The unexpected words punched her and she pressed her lips together, forcing herself to stay upright. What planet had she been living on these last weeks that she thought she could have sex with her best friend and still remain friends?

  Somehow, she walked to the door and ran down the stairs to the street. As she stepped into a night dank with rain, she realised that for the first time in her life, she was truly alone.

  * * *

  Anita walked into the house, hearing the familiar sound of the television football commentator and then silence. She’d just put her handbag on the dresser when Cameron appeared in the kitchen. He still wore his black suit pants but his shirt was untucked and his tie askew. Holding a beer in one hand, he looked tired, forlorn and slightly bewildered. Three days earlier, she would have walked straight into his arms and hugged him. But three days earlier, she thought she knew and understood him. Now, she was struggling to make sense of anything—who he was, what he did, what he said. The truth was a chameleon and whenever she got a firm grasp on it, it slinked and slipped away only to resurface changed and equally confusing.

  He smiled at her; a mixture of fondness and relief. ‘Oh, good. You’re back.’

  ‘Yes.’ She kicked off her heels, welcoming the touch of the floor against her aching arches.

  ‘I thought you were just dropping the girls off at Jess’s,’ he said carefully as if he were stepping around a tripwire—one he’d been working hard to avoid for three days. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Out.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you’re home. It’s been a tough day saying goodbye to Mum, and I need a hug from my best girl.’ He reached out to touch her but she ducked around him. ‘Oh, come on, Annie. This is crazy. Remember what we promised each other when we got married? Never let the sun go down on a fight.’

  ‘I’m sure we promised to never lie to each other either, but you’ve conveniently forgotten that.’

  ‘I haven’t lied to you.’

  The tremble started at her toes and quickly reached her knees. ‘That’s not what the town’s saying.’

  ‘I don’t know what else to say or how to explain it to you. If Chris thought the offer was too low he had every opportunity to walk away from it. It shatters me that you’re choosing to believe unsubstantiated gossip instead of me.’ A defeated sigh rumbled out of him.

  It devastated her that he’d riddled her trust with more holes than an archery target. ‘I want to believe you more than anything, but you’re not making it easy. I’ve just spent the last hour with Sarah.’

  Cameron’s mouth predictably hardened and his face flushed. ‘What the hell did you talk to Sarah for?’

  ‘To try to work out why you told me you’d seen Margaret’s old will but you told your sister you hadn’t.’

  ‘Jesus. My sister.’ He slumped into a chair. ‘Look, Sarah misunderstood what I said. Now she’s letting forty-four years of petty jealousies take over and she’s behaving like a bitch. The will clearly says Mill House was coming to me and Ellie wasn’t getting a cent.’

  ‘I’ve read the will, Cameron. It also clearly states Sarah was getting money.’

  ‘And when Mum drafted her new will she changed her mind.’ Cameron’s tone was slow and deliberate, allowing no room for misunderstanding. ‘I told you that after her meeting with Rupert.’

  She remembered but the crows of doubt continued to peck at what was truth and what might be convenient fabrication. ‘But was it Margaret’s decision to cut Sarah out of the will or was it yours?’

  His hands ploughed through his hair. ‘Annie, if I could raise the dead, I’d do it to prove two things. One, to have Chris Parry tell you he was happy with the sale price of Warrnbatt, and two, to have Mum tell you she wanted us to have the money. You know I was her favourite. She knew the money would be more use to us than to Sarah. Surely what’s important here is that Mum’s been considerate enough to leave us comfortable.’

  He opened the fridge and poured her a glass of wine. ‘I know Mum never talked about her childhood but she grew up poor just like you. That’s why she was better at handling money than Dad ever was. She understood being hungry. She understood what it’s like to have far more month left at the end of the money and the fear of the debt collector. All the things you fear too. Is it so terrible that she wanted to lift the burden from your shoulders? I, for one, thanked her, because I know you still worry that one day you’ll wake up and all this—’ He threw out his arm to encompass their lovely home. ‘—will be gone. You’ve worked so hard to change your life and now you never need worry again. This is the universe righting the wrongs of the past.’

  The siren call of security pulled at her with the strength of the tide. She ached to believe him. For life to return to what it had been when her faith in him was implicit and blissfully free of doubt. He was adamant he’d done nothing wrong yet she couldn’t shift the feeling there was something in what the Parrys’ friends were saying. Why else would they be baying for blood?

  When she added the weight of Sarah’s accusations, things got even more complicated. There was no doubt that Cameron was Margaret’s favourite child. Nor was there a big argument for Sarah needing any inheritance money and everyone in the family knew that Princess Ellie created her own bed years ago and now she was lying in it. But the doubts gnawed at the long-held beliefs about Ellie as viciously as a rat’s incisors. Tonight, her younger sister-in-law had taken the girls without questioning why Anita needed a babysitter on the night of her mother-in-law’s funeral. For all that Cameron and Sarah said about Ellie, she worked hard, was raising Noah on her own and, right now, was the only Jamieson behaving fairly and reasonably.

  Her thoughts diverted to Margaret. What sort of mother didn’t forgive her wayward daughter when she finally got her life back on track? How would she react if her girls lost their way as badly as Ellie and committed the same sorts of dangerous acts? The reckless behaviour with no consideration of others? The drugs? The unprotected sex? Without a doubt, she’d be worried sick, but she’d fight for them; try to help them. Had Margaret done that? Family folklore said yes, but if that was the case, why, when Ellie returned to the valley and proved to everyone that she was a functioning member of the community, didn’t Margaret change her will to acknowledge her? And Ellie was the one sibling whose life would change dramatically with a large cash injection, so why was she the only Jamieson calmly accepting the terms of the will? Why wasn’t she slugging it out for her share of the inheritance, if not for her own sake, then for Noah’s?

  The questions joined the constantly moving veracity at the heart of her marriage and Anita craved to hold onto something reliable, solid and static. Thank God she had Cooked By a Friend. Cooking and pl
anning for the business was real—what you saw was what you got. Sarah’s shrewish voice from half an hour earlier rushed back. I don’t care how much it costs, Anita. I’m fighting this. If you think the last few weeks have been ugly, think again.

  And there was so much ugly.

  ‘Cam, I can’t walk down the street without one of Jane Parry’s friends almost spitting at me. When can we meet with her and discuss the financial settlement?’

  ‘Settlement’s in one hundred and fifty days so not before then.’

  ‘Five months!’

  He shrugged and opened his hands as if it to say, What can I do? It’s out of my control.

  ‘Can’t we do something before then? The stress will kill me.’ She gulped wine. ‘And on top of all this nastiness, we’ve got months of a legal battle with Sarah before Mill House is legally ours.’

  ‘Actually, I’ve got some good news on that front.’

  Was this a blessed light in the dark, dark tunnel? ‘Tell me fast.’

  ‘Remember when I said Mum was tweaking tradition to help us out? Well, she signed the title deeds before her first stroke.’

  The implications broke over Anita and her mind struggled to keep up. ‘But if Margaret did that, why on earth have we put up with being locked out of the house?’

  ‘Sarah,’ he said portentously. ‘She was already insane about me having power of attorney instead of her. It was better to keep it on the down low until after Mum died.’

  But Anita wasn’t really listening. Mill House was legally theirs. This was her escape from all the horrible stuff that was playing out around her and would continue to do so for months. When she collected the girls in the morning, she’d explain the situation to Ellie and quickly get back to running cooking classes, high teas, dinners; the possibilities were endless. She thrust her arm in the air in victory.

  ‘Yay! We’re back in business.’

  He gave her an indulgent smile. ‘Actually, Annie, the market’s booming. We should take advantage of it and sell Mill House.’

  Sell it? Her arm fell to her side. ‘But your great-great-great-grandfather built it. It’s been the tradition to hand it down through the generations. Why would you break that?’