Love or Money (8 page)

‘If you could just go along with tonight, darling, you'll make me very happy.'

‘I will, Mum.'

‘Thanks, but you're the one he —' The doorbell rang. Erin walked up the passage, biting her lip.

‘Eri!' With his first word, Todd put his foot in his mouth again.
Why
did he always call her by the name she hated? He flung his arms round her, juggling with two huge bunches of flowers, one in each hand. As he aimed his lips towards hers, she turned her head. He landed a kiss on her cheek, grinned, then followed her down the hall. She took in his shiny shoes, his new grey business suit, his designer haircut: close, bristly.

‘Helen!' Todd stooped to hug Mrs Spenser, kissed her firmly on the lips. ‘A little something for you.' He dropped one bouquet on the sofa, held the other out to the beaming woman sitting on the couch. She flashed a grin at Erin, who stood watching at a safe distance. Then, brushing his fingers over Helen's, he stood, picked up the other bouquet, and handed it to Erin with a mock bow. ‘To the queen of my heart, now and forever.' She took it, then parked it on a sideboard. As he reached to hug her, she slipped out of range.

‘Thanks, Todd,' she nodded, polite, cool, not wanting to give him the inch that could become a mile. ‘Very kind of you.'

‘Well, then, ladies.' Todd took centre stage, facing the two women on the sofa. ‘If we jump into the Porsche now, we can see something rather special before the light fades. Then a table at Chez Alfredo's — in my opinion, Australia's best restaurant. And I must have nothing but Australia's best for you two wonderful women.' He smiled down at them. ‘We do have to be quick. The sun won't wait for us. So could I suggest…' Erin helped her mother to her feet, found her stick, then, easing the frail woman ahead of her, she followed Todd up the hall and out to his car.

Todd drove towards the harbour, coasting down mansion-lined streets until he stopped outside a huge tower of glass and steel. Pacific Towers, Erin recognised with an inward groan.

‘Come on up, ladies. Catch the view from
my
penthouse!' Todd jumped out, opened the door for Helen.

‘
Yours
, Todd?' Helen took the bait.

‘Yep. Made the down payment last week. Moving in any day now. But come on up. Catch the view before the sun sets.' He led them down the path he'd taken Erin along those months before, into the lobby of the glitzy building, swiped a card over the lift control panel, hurried them into the lift.

‘Drum roll!' Todd walked ahead of them into the sun-filled room at the top of the tower and slid the curtains further back. The huge picture window took in a view that made Erin gasp. The Harbour Bridge, the Opera House, the forest of gleaming high-rise buildings lay before them, set against the deep blue of the harbour. Here and there, yachts sailed in from the open sea, their fat sails ballooning in the evening breeze. A cruise ship passed under the Harbour Bridge, heading towards the Pacific.

‘Well, then, Erin. Think you'd like to live here?' She concentrated on the view, pointedly ignoring him. He turned to Helen. ‘And Helen. Would you like to visit? Often, I'd hope. We have a lovely guest suite. With its own facilities. Down that hallway.' He pointed, then headed back to Erin. She stayed on the balcony, gazing down on the scene. His face glowed. He was a little boy who'd just torn the wrapping off a new toy.

‘What do you think, beloved?' He joined her on the balcony, tried to slip an arm round her waist. When she stepped away, he didn't try again. For a long minute, they stood, both silent.

‘Come and see the master bedroom, Eri. I'd like your advice on furnishings.' He darted inside. The little boy in him was having a field day. Helen had hobbled off to inspect the guest suite. Erin stayed on the balcony. However attractive the bedroom, sharing it with Todd would be a negative no view could ever compensate for.

‘Thanks, but I don't want to miss the sunset,' she called from the balcony. The sun sank low, turning from gold to red. The play of colours reflected off the glass-and-steel columns of the city's heart.

‘Darling.' Helen beamed at her daughter from the balcony doorway. ‘You must check out the master bedroom. It's fantastic. Words just…fail me.'

‘Eri.' Todd's voice flagged that he was about to come on heavy.

‘Yes?' She groaned inside as she uttered the word.

‘Us, Eri. I want you back. Now. Forget about that dump down the coast. Your mother says you plan to live there while you organise the makeover.'

‘Yes.'

‘Forget all that. You heard me. I want you back, Eri. Here. In this pad. Understand?'

‘Sorry, Todd.' She'd play her ace. ‘You know about my mother's health. I have to sell Lovers' Lookout now. To pay for her heart transplant.' He looked away. ‘Without that, it's only a matter of time, Todd.'

‘Yes, I know all that. And here's what I'm going to do. Marry me and I'll pay for your mother's op. It's that simple.'

Erin reeled. That worn-out saying ‘between a rock and a hard place' didn't come within a zillion miles of expressing her feelings of utter horror. She'd had six years to decide against life with Todd, made up her mind, and come to love herself for having the guts to run with her decision. Now…

‘Think about it, Eri.' He called down the corridor to the waiting Helen. ‘We mustn't be late for Alfredo's. He'll let our table go if we don't show on time.' Erin followed as he took her mother's arm and walked her to the lift. She could recite word for word the script that would roll out over the next two hours as they sat at Alfredo's top table. She'd heard it all before, way too many times.

Next morning Erin rose early. She'd farewelled her mother the night before, planning to beat the morning traffic on her way back to Luna Bay. She locked the door of her city pad and skipped down to her garage, happy at the thought of escaping the city, and Todd Archer.

She reached the little town around eleven — time for a Sarah's coffee. She parked and walked towards the little café. Seconds later, she spotted Hamish a hundred metres away, walking towards his office, paper cup in hand. As she wondered whether to greet him or to stay at a safe distance, she saw him smile, wave to someone across the street.

Slipping into the shade of the bank's doorway, she watched him. A petite thirtyish woman, grinning as if she'd just won the lottery, sprinted across the street to join him. For a minute, they chatted. Then she took his arm and steered him back across the street. Still managing him like a jockey leading a horse, she led him into the little park beside the town hall. They sat on a bench side by side. Hamish sipped at his coffee while she talked. Erin was too far away to hear the one-sided conversation. All she got was the woman's arm-waving, the way she used any excuse to touch Hamish's shoulder, his hand, his knee. This woman meant business, and sweet country boy Hamish was too dumb to see it.

Erin found herself looking at the woman hard. Who was she? For starters, she wore a dark business suit that screamed expensive. It must have been tailored to fit her tiny blow-away-in-the-wind body. Her shoes — surely the highest heels ever seen in Luna Bay — must also be from downtown Sydney's fashion hub. But it was the woman's arrogance that grated. There was no way she could be Hamish's partner, or even a local. Yet she acted as if she and Hamish had been joined at the hip since birth.

After watching for a few minutes, Erin scolded herself. She'd become downright paranoid about the woman. Why? Hamish had told her he had a partner, that he was off limits. Erin should get on with her morning. There was important shopping to be done: bread, dishwashing liquid, garbage bags, deodorant. As she stepped out from the bank doorway she saw the couple leave the bench, go their separate ways. On a naughty impulse, Erin crossed the street so that the woman would pass her as she headed for the general store. That way, she'd get a better look at her. As they closed on each other, the woman stopped, pulled out a cell phone and began to talk, oblivious. Only as Erin strolled by did the woman's face register — she'd seen that face plastered across the business pages of the Sydney newspapers so many times. The determined little woman was none other than the lovely Anna Kershaw, financial journalist extraordinaire. And, if she could believe him, Hamish's neighbour, but nothing more.

Over the next few days, still wrestling with Todd's ultimatum, Erin fought off an infection of serial jealousy. If it wasn't Anna Kershaw, there was the mystery of Dwayne's mother. To say Hamish had been evasive about her was an understatement. He had a child, took him out on weekends, just like your average father living in your average suburb. Once or twice, Erin had wondered where he lived. A respectable house with the lawns mowed, most likely. There'd be a load of washing on the rotary clothesline, a row of petunias bursting into bloom in the front garden. One day she'd drive by, just for the fun of checking out her guesses.

The Saturday scheduled for Landcare to work on Lovers' Lookout ticked around too fast. Over the last few days, Grandma Spenser's ghost seemed to hover over Erin, urging her to finish the chores that must be done to make the day a success. She could almost hear the old woman tutt-tutting over her plans.

‘I'm sad you have to sell up, dear,' she heard that imaginary voice say. The voice, with its twang from old Australia, would probably haunt Erin for the rest of her life. ‘I understand about your mother. But…isn't there some other way?' Erin tried to switch off the persistent whisper. She'd slave to make the Landcare day a success. Ten years of tradition was at stake. Before Saturday Erin would have to make a mountain of coffee-break munchies, ranging from fruit cake to Anzac biscuits, then make lunch for a dozen hungry people. On Friday evening she put every available cup, saucer, mug and plate on the table in the little bougainvillea-covered summerhouse. She bought five varieties of tea, some respectable coffee, and litres of milk. Later, she raided the freezer for her recent baking efforts and put them out to thaw.

Around nine on Saturday morning the first car pulled up outside the cottage. A middle-aged woman in muddy overalls walked up to the front door dragging a bundle of tools: spade, garden fork, machete, loppers.

‘Hi Erin, I'm Jenny,' she smiled. ‘I work in Hamish's office. Where do I start?' Erin peered at the woman, then recognised her.

As Erin puzzled over the question, another vehicle stopped at the gate — the battered truck she'd come to recognise by now. Hamish stepped out. He stood like an explorer setting forth to conquer the unknown; tall in his dusty Akubra, denim shirt and jeans, and high-laced working boots. He carried a shiny red chainsaw in one hand, a plastic petrol can in the other. Then he smiled. His eyes enfolded her, held her. Since the day they'd first met in his office, she'd retrieved and drooled over her mental photograph of his face a hundred times, often in the small hours. Now it was really him. Her sleepless nights had come up with nothing to compare with the man who walked towards her, tools in hand. In the flesh. Again, she felt the rippling iron of his chest as he carried her up the beach in the merciful dark, pressing her shivering body against his. He was real, in a way no other man in her life had ever been real.

Certainly not Todd Archer. She looked at Hamish again, saw his real body, his real smile. This is him, she heard a small, clear voice saying deep inside her. This is the man you've waited for. Mr Right seemed a silly, girlish expression. She pictured the two of them, walking hand in hand through an imaginary forest, walking to the future. But now, this moment, she must do something, anything, to get back to reality. Another car coasted to a stop outside her gate.

‘Hi, Hamish. Your timing's perfect.' She glanced at the first arrival, who still stood expectantly with her bundle of tools. ‘Jenny wants to know where to start. Can you take charge?'

‘Sure. We'll start Jenny on fireweed duty. You have a serious invasion a hundred metres down the slope from here.' A fortyish couple walked in from the gate carrying another assortment of tools. ‘Great.' Hamish waved to the new arrivals. ‘The Carters are here. Lantana specialists. Gary and Jean, would you like to attack that big lantana jungle over yonder?' He pointed.

‘Sure,' the man smiled. ‘We always work there when we come to Edna's.' He grinned at the confused Erin. ‘Oh, sorry. It's yours now, Erin. Lovely lady, Edna. So much we'd love to tell you about her. Later, over our cuppa.' The couple headed off, obedient slaves to foreman Hamish.

‘I'll take on those fallen trees with my chainsaw,' Hamish said between arrivals, waving an arm in the direction of a small forest. ‘They landed splat on some beautiful regrowth during our last storm. And you'll be able to use the wood this winter.' Erin didn't remind him that she planned to be long gone by winter. ‘There's nothing like a log fire,' he said. ‘You can enjoy a warm house all winter and not use a gram of fossil fuel. Log fires are totally Green, believe it or not.'

As more workers trickled onto the lawn, Hamish sent them off to this or that chore. Erin saw that his team respected him. He was their leader, their friend. He was one of them, but with a passion that set him apart. She remembered snippets of weird conversation from their night at the Golden Dragon. Trees that talked. Forests that felt pain. He was in touch with the space around them, and people knew it and respected it. The frequency of arriving workers slowed. Hamish moved towards Erin.

‘The other night at the beach.' He kept his voice low. ‘I want to apologise. It wasn't me. I had no business doing…' He turned away. ‘I feel bad about it. So — unprofessional.'

‘You lawyers,' Erin heard herself saying. She forced a giggle. ‘Just forget about it. I was the guilty party. I pushed you into it.' His face still wore the apologetic smile. ‘We…er…put it all to bed that night.' she smiled. Why had she made such a dumb choice of words? ‘As far as I'm concerned, it's all done and —'