A Little Crushed (23 page)

“I’m sorry, Tom…”

Mr. Black waved Miss Jones away. “It’s all right. I’ll deal with this. Rebecca, sit.”

“I don’t want to sit.” Rebecca waited for the door to close, and then she turned on him. “Where is he?”

Mr. Black took time to put down his pen, as if deliberating what to say almost as if—Rebecca drew in her breath—he’d been expecting her. He leaned back in his chair, his expression guarded. “Mr. Jackson—Max—has gone back to Sydney.”

She grabbed the edge of his desk. “But he can’t have. He wouldn’t leave just like that. Is he coming back?”

“Rebecca, I’m sorry. I understand this is upsetting for you, but Mr. Jackson felt it was for the best. He said it was impossible for him to continue here, knowing how you felt.”

Rebecca caught her breath, his insensitivity a knife through her heart. “He wouldn’t have said that. You sent him away.”

Mr. Black looked uncomfortable. She didn’t care.

“Rebecca, I know this is hard for you to understand now but believe me, this…well, what you are feeling…it will pass. And Max’s contract was due to terminate at the end of the year anyway. It was never meant to be a permanent position.” He paused, as if going in for the kill. “He has gone home to be with his family and Kate, his fiancée.”

“I know who Kate is,” she fired back, itching to pick up his neatly arranged pile of papers and throw them in his face. “Kate is in Peru.” Avoiding her gaze, Mr. Black pretended to search his desk for something.

“Actually, Kate is home in Sydney. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t set a wedding date soon.”

Rebecca stared at the headmaster, wishing she could slap his face for sitting there and so calmly destroying her life. Bitter bile rose up into her mouth, and her stomach went into spasms.

“Rebecca, you shouldn’t really be worrying about this.” Slipping into benevolent mentor role, he softened his tone. “You have been through enough, and it’s time to focus on your education. Exams are not far off, and you need to get your head down. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

“Oh my God, you are such a pompous arse.” Rebecca stared at him, shaking her head, not believing this man could be Mr. Jackson’s friend. Head held high and clinging to her last vestige of dignity, she stepped away from his desk. “Do you want to know what you can do with your education and your precious Oxford? You can stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.” Blinded by tears, she turned and walked from his office straight into Mrs. Black.

“Rebecca, are you all right?”

Anger raging out of control, Rebecca pushed the extended hand of concern off her shoulder. “Do I look as if I’m okay?”

“Ah.” Mrs. Black gave a knowing counselor nod.

Rebecca wondered if she practiced it. If she did, she needed to work at it more.

“I’m so sorry, Rebecca.”

“Of course you’re sorry. Everybody is always so sorry for me.” Rebecca gave her a hard stare. “He told you as well, did he? How nice to know that I made for interesting dinner conversation.”

“Please, let me drive you home. I don’t think you’re in any state for lessons. We need to talk.”

* * * *

They drove to Rebecca’s house in silence, Rebecca staring out of the window, fighting against the churning nausea in her stomach. At least she wasn’t crying. She didn’t want his friends to see her cry.

“Will there be anyone at home?” Mrs. Black parked outside the gate.

“I’ve got my key.” Not looking at her, Rebecca yanked down on the door handle and jumped out of the car.

To her consternation, Mrs. Black followed her up the path, through the door and into the kitchen. She stood and watched, while Rebecca went to the fridge for a bottle of water.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Mrs. Black placed her bag on the worktop and leaned against it, arms folded.

Bottle half way to her lips, Rebecca couldn’t keep in a dry laugh. “Oh my. Ten out of ten on trying to do your job, and thanks for bringing me home, but I’d rather discuss my problems with my dog. He, at least, makes sense. Could you go now? I want to be on my own.”

“Rebecca, I don’t think—”

“I don’t care what you think.” Rebecca threw the bottle across the room. It hit the back wall before splitting and spilling water all over her mother’s colourful array of herbs.

Mrs. Black stood her ground, although for a brief second, Rebecca caught the fear in her eyes.
Probably thinks I’ve lost my mind. Which I have
. She hugged herself against the chill crawling through her body. “I don’t need you to do a counseling number on me. I don’t believe in all that pseudo-psychology rubbish.”

“Not even when Max was dishing it out?”

Rebecca drew in her breath. “I may be mistaken, but for a counselor, wasn’t that a touch below the belt?”

“Rebecca, whether you want to accept it or not, I’m on your side. I’ve come as a friend so, please, let’s just talk.”

Rebecca stared at her, debating whether to whistle for Wally and allow him to indulge in a little ankle gnawing. “Sorry, but there’s nothing to discuss.” Rebecca pulled out a stool and perched at the island, elbows on the surface, chin resting in clenched fists. Suddenly she was too tired to protest. “I suppose you’re going to tell me how stupid and naïve I was, believing…” she swallowed, “he had feelings for me.”

“You’re hurt. It’s understandable but—”

Rebecca cut her off. “You’re doing it. I told you, no analysis twaddle, or you can leave right now.”

Mrs. Black pulled up a stool and perched next to her. “Don’t hate him. He never meant to hurt you.”

“Hate him?” She shook her head. “Oh no. I could never hate him.” With trembling hand, she tugged at the curtain of tangled hair. Suddenly she seemed to want to talk. “How can I hate him when he gave me back my life? I love him. But I am angry with him—very, very angry! I thought he lov—well, at least had feelings for me.” She struggled to compose herself.

The older woman reached over and took her hand.

“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.” Rebecca snatched it away. “And don’t look so worried. I’m not going to cry. I don’t think I can. I want to but— Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, does it? He’s gone. Now that’s the part that hurts most. Why couldn’t he come and tell me himself. Why leave it to Mr. Black. I’m sorry if he’s your husband, but his sensitivity stinks.”

To her surprise, Mrs. Black smiled. “Agreed. Sometimes Tom can be an arse. What did he tell you exactly?”

“Not much.” She slid off her stool. “Would you like some tea, the great British healer of all ills?” Without waiting for answer, she threw the kettle switch and pulled two mugs out of the dishwater.
Bloody Jack.
It was his turn to empty it, and he’d copped out as usual. Strange time to be thinking that, but it helped calm her nerves.

“Your delightful husband seemed to take great joy in telling me how Mr. Ja—Max. Can I call him Max now?” She heaped sugar into the two mugs. “I suppose I can. He said Max has gone home to be with his family and Kate. Now that, I don’t get. He doesn’t love her. Men are weird, don’t you think? Biscuit?”

“Yes, men are weird, and no to the biscuit.” Mrs. Black took the offered tea. “And just for the record, I agree with you. Max doesn’t love Kate, and I doubt very much he will marry her.”

“I think your lovely husband disagrees.” Rebecca hoisted herself up on the worktop.

“Tom is clueless when it comes to affairs of the heart.” She winced. “God, too much sugar. To be fair to Tom, he acted in what he believes to be your best interests. Listen to me, Rebecca, I know you don’t want to hear this, but believe me, it will pass. This is what being an adult all is about…learning to live with disappointment, picking yourself up and getting on with life.”

“Don’t you think I’ve had plenty of practice at that?” Rebecca curbed the urge to throw her tea in the woman’s face.

“Yes, you have. I can’t imagine what you went through, and before you ask, I know you talked to Max, and for the record, he kept all your secrets. But now, just when you’ve caught up with your schoolwork, with exams coming up, you need to focus. Look…” she pressed on, “I’m not saying you’ll forget him but—”

“Oh my God, is this what your mission of mercy is about?” Rebecca laughed. “You think I’m going to throw away my future because of him?”

“All I know is Max would be devastated if you allowed your chance at Oxford to suffer.”

“Nice try, and just goes to show you don’t know Max as well as you think. He knows it was never really
my
dream. He said I must make my own choices and live my dream and not my father’s, nor your husband’s, so please don’t try and use Max as psychological warfare. It’s insulting.”

Mrs. Black smiled. “Yes. That sounds just like the kind of reckless thing Max would say. Okay, serious adult pep talk over. And if you repeat what I am about to tell you to my husband, I shall deny it. Max’s return to Sydney is a little more complicated than Tom made out.”

Jumping down from her perch, Rebecca leaned on the island, gaze fixed on the counselor. “Go on. I won’t blab.”

“Promise this goes no further than this room?”

“Oh, get over the drama.” Rebecca glared. “That’s my job. Just tell me. Tell me Max didn’t want to leave me. Please.”

“That, I cannot say for certain.” She stared into her mug. “All I know is he was confused as to how best deal with the…situation. He told me the last thing he wanted to do was cause you pain.”

“So why did he?” She couldn’t help the bitterness. “Why just take off like that?”

“Because that night, after he took you home, he received a call. His father has suffered a major heart attack, Rebecca. He didn’t go home to be with Kate as Tom suggested, but because, as sole heir to his father’s business, he had no choice. Now do you understand the need for the secrecy? Max called us with an update. His father is still in intensive care, and until he and his lawyers work out where to go from here, there must be no leak to the press. The stability of the company must be protected. If his father does not pull through, Max will have to take up the reins.”

“Oh.” Stunned by this revelation, Rebecca pulled out a stool and straddled it. “Poor Max. He didn’t want this.”

Mrs. Black raised an eyebrow. “So, you
did
talk together.”

“Don’t sound so shocked. Did you think I sat on his sofa and simply stared at him with love-struck eyes? I mean, I did do a lot of that, but we shared our secrets, our hopes and dreams, and being CEO of Jackson Media is not Max’s. Wow.” Hands pressed to her mouth, she breathed in. “I bet Kate is chuffed to bits.”

“I get from your caustic delivery, your opinion of the divine Miss Kate mirrors mine.” Mrs. Black almost spat the name. “She will push Max to take control. I almost wish…”

“Wish what?” Rebecca sat up, curiosity overriding her animosity.

“I wish things didn’t have to be so complicated.” She sighed.

“I second that.” Head bent, Rebecca allowed her thoughts to drift back to the house at the end of the cul-de-sac where she’d felt so alive and happy. “Mrs. Black. I
do
love him. I know you think I am being unrealistic and immature, but you don’t understand how he made me feel. I didn’t have to keep up the pretence of always being so tough and cynical. Max made me feel real, Mrs. Black. He made me feel so good. But, more than anything, he understood me. I can’t believe he didn’t care.”

“No one ever said he didn’t care. I know he did.”

“He said that?” Rebecca searched her face anxiously. “He told you he cared about me?”

Once again, Mrs. Black’s guarded expression dropped into place, as if she feared she’d said too much. Rebecca didn’t care; she had to know. “What did he say, Mrs. Black?”

“I asked him outright,” she bit her lip, “if he had feelings for you and…”

“And?” Rebecca wanted to throttle her.

“He didn’t answer. He
couldn’t
answer. His phone rang, and that was it.”

Rebecca wanted to scream. “I have to know,” she murmured to herself, forgetting Mrs. Black was in the room. “I’ll go crazy not knowing. I should go and find out.” She jumped off the stool and carried her mug to the sink, her mind whirling in a fog of indecision. “Do you think I should go?” She turned back to Mrs. Black who now wore a terrified expression. “I could go to Sydney and ask him. I have money saved. I could leave tomorrow. Who cares about Christmas?”

“Rebecca, stop this. You can’t be serious?”

“Of course I can. I can be anything I want. Gaga said so and —”

“This isn’t funny.” Mrs. Black looked near to tears. “I knew I should have kept quiet. Rebecca, please hear me out. I’m begging you not to do anything silly. Think of your parents. Think of Max. This is not the time to be burdening him with this. He has so much on his plate. At least give him time to get his life back on track. Last thing he needs is a del—”

“Delusional idiot chasing his butt across the oceans? My, my, you changed your tune fast. From what Max told me, I would have thought you’d be delighted for someone to steal him from Kate, even if it can’t be you.”

Mrs. Black’s cheeks burned a blood red. “This isn’t about my wanting to get even with Kate, although, I admit, the thought is damn tempting. I’m thinking about you and about Max. All I’m saying, Rebecca, is that now is not the time for what you perceive to be some big Hollywood romantic gesture. Max wouldn’t thank you for it. So if you want to be grown up about it, then wait. Finish school. It’s only six months out of your life, and then, if you still feel the same, well…go for it, but please, don’t be impulsive.”

Rebecca wanted to hate her for her rational mind. She wanted to tell her to take her caution and stick it, but she supposed she had grown up a lot in the past months. Mrs. Black made sense; too bloody infuriatingly good sense. She thought of Max and an incredible pain wedged in her heart. She missed him so much. The headache was back. Funny how in the past few weeks, it had disappeared as had the dreams. Suddenly, she was tired of talking.

“Could you go now, please? Don’t take it personally, but I really find it hard being in the same room. You’re too close to—”

“I understand.” Mrs. Black stood up, apparently all out of words of wisdom. “Rebecca, you do know you can call on me anytime if you want to talk. But please think over what I’ve said.”