Love or Money Read online

  ‘You will. I’m running a workshop here next week.’

  ‘We have a large group coming for the weekend,’ the little man said as he returned Hamish’s credit card. ‘To discuss forest matters. A Japanese company. Perhaps they will also ask you to speak?’

  ‘Mmm. Perhaps they won’t.’ He shook the maitre d’s hand, then headed for the door. As they walked, a string of moving headlights shone through the trees lining the drive. A long white limo coasted to a stop in front of the steps. One by one, a string of dark-suited Japanese businessmen climbed out. Hamish and Erin stood at the entrance, waiting for the congestion to clear.

  ‘Excuse me a second.’ Hamish clicked into business mode. ‘I just remembered. The audio-visuals for my workshop next week. I should check out a couple of things with the conference manager.’ He disappeared.

  Another limo stopped behind the first one. In the dim light, she saw a man, probably their local minder, slip out quickly and open a passenger door. The contingent of businessmen left the limo, and the minder ushered them towards the steps. Then, as he led the group to the entrance, he froze, staring up into Erin’s face, eyes round with disbelief.

  ‘Hello Todd,’ she whispered.

  ‘Eri! What on earth?’ Todd powered up the steps, grabbed her, held her close. ‘My dream come true! All week I’ve been hurting. I just had to see you. I’m spending the weekend here with my clients. Then, the minute our workshop’s over, I’ll —’ Suddenly, taking her by surprise, he smothered her with a passionate kiss — just as Hamish reappeared. She pushed Todd away, shocked, then eyed Hamish. He pointedly ignored her, stepped up to confront the man who still stood with arms round Erin.

  ‘Well, hello Mr Archer,’ Hamish said, his voice sounding like steel cutting steel. ‘I’m Hamish Bourke. The hotel staff just told me you were coming for the weekend. You must excuse me for the moment. But I suspect we’ll meet again. Soon.’

  In the seconds that Todd’s open-mouthed paralysis kept him frozen, Erin dragged Hamish towards his car. Without a word, he opened her door and she slid into her seat. As he spun the car out of its parking spot and onto the drive, she waved a plastic goodbye to the still-transfixed Todd.

  ‘Todd Archer.’ Hamish whispered to himself as his car wound up the drive. Erin saw no point hiding the truth.

  ‘You probably know he’s my ex-boyfriend,’ she said. ‘And I mean ex. I told you he was a dirty fighter. I had absolutely no idea he’d be —’

  ‘Mmm.’ There was a sarcastic tinge to Hamish’s voice. He didn’t believe her. She must elaborate.

  ‘I can’t imagine what on earth he’s doing there,’ she mumbled.

  ‘I can.’ Now Hamish’s voice sounded like a growl from an angry lion. A long silence ticked by.

  ‘Yeah. I have been rather slow.’ His voice grated. ‘As ever. But now I see your game plan. First, you go all dewy-eyed about not wanting to sell your property. This gets the local Landcare people on side with you. Then later, when you, or your loving boyfriend, or most likely the two of you, hatch up some slimy deal to log the forest, the Landcare team will be putty in your hands. Then your show for the Pembroke children, your making sandwiches, acting all sweetness and light to the simple country bumpkins of the Shire. It all fits. Part of an absolutely brilliant grand plan.’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘To think I trusted you.’ Now he spoke with simmering anger. ‘Told you things. Things that guy could use against us. Things that his spy — all dressed up in her country girl disguise — immediately passed on to him, I have no doubt.’

  ‘No!’ Erin’s stomach went into spasm as the truth dawned. Hamish believed that she was a partner in the outrage Todd had masterminded, that she’d been working with Todd behind his back, all through the protest day and beyond. That she’d used Hamish’s trust to spy on the Pembroke community’s plans. How could she tell Hamish about her last dinner with Todd, when she’d hitched home from the restaurant on a truck to escape being recruited into exactly that game plan? And now Todd had kicked off Stage One of his plan.

  ‘That’s simply not true,’ she choked. ‘I could never do anything so —’

  ‘Hmm. Your enthusiasm for spending a little more time on the terrace tonight.’ Hamish’s voice reminded her of ice scraping on ice. ‘You probably wanted him to sneak a look at his future enemy — me. Like a Roman gladiator peeping while his next opponent makes a few practice lunges with his broadsword.’ He lapsed into a cold silence, staring at the road ahead. ‘I hate to think what might have happened if we’d stayed on the terrace for another few minutes. I could have been surrounded by the whole army.’ He paused.

  ‘And by the way, you didn’t have to cuddle up and kiss me tonight. I already liked you. More than liked you. Those cosy little beach walks you engineered. All part of the plot. I see it now. Get the enemy soft and mushy so you can wrap him round your little finger when the battle hots up.’ He let go a long sigh. ‘I trusted you, Erin Spenser. But then I’ve always been naïve around women. As no doubt your research will have told you.’ The silence settled round them like wet concrete.

  ‘I absolutely didn’t know Todd would be there tonight,’ Erin said with all the sincerity she could gather. ‘Todd and I split ages ago. I loathe the man. And I swear to you, I would never, never —’

  ‘Subject closed.’ His voice grated like a rusty metal door closing. ‘Be kind enough to give me a little peace and quiet, Ms Spenser. I need to — think through a few things.’ Thirty minutes later, he dropped her at her gate and drove away without a word.

  Erin gave up trying to sleep as the gold from the sunrise peeped over the top of the ancient blind and lit the ceiling of her cottage bedroom. She might as well do the washing or take a walk or pull weeds or — anything that would distract her from the guilt that had hacked through her mind all night long. She should have told Hamish about Todd earlier. Her cell phone rang. At that time of the morning it could only be Todd.

  ‘Okay Eri. Truth time. What the hell were you doing at Highlands Hall last night? With that man?’ He waited…and waited. ‘Eri. Are you hearing me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Eri. For six years we were an item. I have rights. I still care for you. So would you mind telling me what exactly is going on in your life?’ She stayed silent. ‘I get it,’ he said. ‘You’re having an affair with Hamish Bourke. Number one enemy of the project. Great! You’ve been on with him for months, I suspect.’ He drew breath. ‘Mmm. That explains a lot. Always telling me it’s over between us, your coldness every time I want to show you how much I love you — physically. Then that outrageous TV grab of yours.’ He lapsed into silence. ‘I have a right to know what’s going on,’ he said eventually.

  ‘I — he’s my lawyer. I asked him about selling my property.’

  ‘Oh sure. Over a fancy dinner at Highlands Hall. Notorious dirty weekend venue for the rich and famous. I assume you’d have stayed over with him if I hadn’t spotted you.’

  ‘Todd. I’m going to tell you the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’ She stopped short of adding — so help me God. ‘The man is my lawyer. I wanted his advice about my property. He suggested dinner. We talked, then headed back to the car.’

  ‘Fine, fine. All the lawyers I deal with meet their clients in a respectable office during business hours. So why Highlands Hall? Late on a Friday evening?’

  ‘I…it was about…not legal stuff. To do with selling the property. I have to come to terms with something I feel very badly about.’

  ‘Like making a pile of money?’

  ‘It’s not like that. The locals — they see it as a sellout. Letting the developers in. Trashing my grandmother’s dreams. You know about my mother. Her heart. The transplant she desperately needs. I have to —’

  ‘So you had dinner in a seriously fancy restaurant, with a man built like an oversized Greek statue, to talk about selling your place. Nothing more.’

  ‘Exactly.’ She stopped. She’d told him the truth — well
ninety-nine percent of it anyway. What Todd did with it was his business. After all, they’d broken up months before. Why should she put up with another second of his bullying?

  ‘Know something, Eri?’ Todd sounded weary. ‘I’m prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt. I assume you’d have more sense than to get familiar with a country guy fresh off the turnips. I trust you not to mistake brawn for intelligence. Let me give you a word of advice. From this moment on, you are not to —’

  The head of steam that had been building inside Erin reached red on her pressure gauge. Why should she bother to listen to any more of the sanctimonious, self-centred drivel that he mouthed every second of the time they spent together. She’d put up with it for six years. Enough!

  ‘Thank you, Todd,’ she snapped. ‘And goodbye. For the last time.’ She clicked her phone shut and put on the kettle. She needed a coffee to stop her shakes. In the last twenty four hours, her life had turned into a mangled wreck. She pictured a smashed car lying at the bottom of a ravine, at the end of a trail of bits and pieces of torn metal.

  That wreck was her love bond with Hamish. First, she’d hurt a man she loved. A decent man, with principles she respected. Not that the times she spent with Hamish, or the love for him that she’d admitted to herself, could ever lead to anything. From now on, he’d work at hating her, withdrawing from her life.

  Then Todd. Like a ghost from the past, he’d come back to haunt her. As always, his timing was dead wrong. He’d phoned her the very moment she’d ordered herself to forget him, bury the memories of her time with him in the deepest hole on earth.

  She took her coffee onto the veranda. She’d drink it as she looked out over the sea, count her blessings, begin the painful job of planning her future. Practical Pig tapped her on the shoulder. She could treat herself to five minutes of reminiscing, then hit that laptop.

  Later that morning, as Erin walked to town to buy last-minute groceries, she saw Hamish from a distance. He was heading back to his office from Sarah’s, paper cup in hand. She ventured a wave. She watched as he recognised her. Then he turned away, crossing the road to avoid her.

  Back at the cottage, she threw herself at her computer, polishing the last of the Katy stories that might soon be — dream on, dream on— a movie or a TV series. After a long day where every second had been a struggle, she gave in to her bed’s seductive call, creaking with tiredness as she showered, then collapsing between the sheets. Tomorrow would have to be a better day.

  It was. Inspired by the turn her writing and drawing had taken, she locked herself into the project for a final day, then put the finishing touches to her packing for Los Angeles. That left her three days of peace — time to ground herself, prepare for the most important moment in her career. How should she spend those days? If her mother hadn’t been in hospital, they could have spent precious time together. Then, as if her grandmother’s ghost had whispered to her, she suddenly knew. She would spend a night at Sea Eagle’s Nest.

  Next morning she filled a backpack with a collection of interesting cans: soup, pasta, salmon, anchovies, and other oddities. She bundled her sleeping bag into a roll, packed a bottle of wine, some books and some water. An hour later, she climbed down the ladder, jumped the last half metre, and walked into the cave. She fought to forget the moment Hamish had taken her in his arms and lifted her down from the ladder. As she stepped into the darkness of the cave, she sensed a warm, loving presence — her grandmother’s spirit had come to welcome her.

  Dropping the backpack onto the little table, she set her provisions on the shelves — a way to thank her grandmother’s ever-present smiling ghost. A few minutes later, as she opened the door of a little cupboard, her eye caught a dusty manila folder on a shelf. She opened it. A pile of dog-eared papers, all filled with her grandmother’s scrawly writing, spilled out.

  For Erin, when she turns 21, she read at the top of one faded page. Could it be that the old woman had left the papers there for her granddaughter to read after her death? She read on.

  Today my one and only beautiful grandchild turns twelve. Lately, she has grown; shot up like a bean pole, as the saying goes. I think she is going to be one of those tall willowy beauties you see in the fashion magazines. She must get it from my mother Ellen.

  I love her, and I want her to remember me, remember the special times she gave me during her visits. Each time I collect her from the bus stop at the start of her summer holidays, my heart leaps. We reconnect with the wonderful feelings we shared over her last holiday, and our love grows like the ever-blossoming Peace rose I have in a corner of my garden.

  To that end, I want Erin to inherit my Luna Bay property. It will be a fitting way to perpetuate the memory of my beloved Henry. She knows he died when his ship exploded not far from here. Sometimes I sit back and dream a dream. Erin is sitting right here in the Sea Eagle’s Nest. Two little children play at her feet. She points to the sea and tells them about their great-grandfather Henry Spenser, and his wartime exploits. Henry will hear them from wherever he now resides, and smile. He loved family history, and he will know that the Spenser family’s future all hangs on our Erin.

  Erin couldn’t hold back a sob. She must apologise to her grandmother in some fitting way when she sold the property, as sell it she must. Grandma Spenser would understand that her daughter-in-law Helen’s life was at stake, literally. If she were here now, she’d smile and nod, and tell Erin that she was glad she’d been able to help the fragile, always put-upon Helen.

  Erin’s eye caught another page, headed

  To The Love of My Life, Henry Oswald Spenser

  Dearest Henry,

  Wherever you are now, my only beloved, you will know how our love was so strong that death could not part us. I have made this place a shrine to that love. Indeed, you will remember that we discovered this unlikely cleft in the cliff face as we sailed down the coast in your beautiful yacht, the Sea Eagle. I remember it was a calm day, with the sails barely moving. Then you, binoculars clapped to your eyes, saying ‘Look, Edna. A cave up there. What a view it must have. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to buy that land, explore that cave, spend time together there of an evening, arm in arm, looking out over the glorious Pacific.’

  Ah, those heady first years of our marriage! The sea was always in your blood, dearest Henry. Somehow it is fitting that your bones lie out there, most likely within a day’s sail of this spot. You will know that true to your wish, after your death I sought out this beautiful stretch of coast, and bought the very portion that houses the cave you showed me. It is, in every way, beloved, the place where our two souls will stay forever.

  Erin hesitated. She was here to open her soul to whatever message the universe might choose to send her. Within minutes, she’d had a message from her dead grandmother. She put the papers back into the folder and tucked it into her backpack. As she did, she whispered a message to her grandmother.

  ‘Dearest Grandma, I love this place, as you knew I would. I wish, wish I could keep it, pass it on to children I might have, ask them to treasure it as I did. But, forgive me, Grandma, my mother’s life is important to me too. Please give me your blessing for what I have to do.’

  She laid her sleeping bag on the narrow bed. It looked almost inviting. Then she unfolded a deckchair she’d discovered in the gloom of the cave and parked it outside the entrance. The view of the sea was more than breathtaking. It embraced her very soul. She pulled out a book. Dancing to the Rhythm of Love, it was called — a self-help title from the hundreds her mother had chomped through over her last twenty years. The sick woman had given the book to her daughter last Christmas, hinting that there was a special message in it for her. Inevitably, Erin hadn’t got around to reading it yet. Now would be the perfect time.

  As dusk settled over the sea, its mauve surface morphed into dark blue, violet, then inky darkness. Sipping her wine as she lay back in the deckchair, Erin knew it was right to be in this hallowed space. In perhaps a few days, when the property cha
nged hands, it would be lost to her forever. Finding her grandmother’s letters was a dividend she hadn’t expected. If she hadn’t rescued those dog-eared pages, the rest of her life would have lacked a magical connection with the old woman. Soon, she’d take time to read the rest of them. She imagined showing them to her children, telling them stories about the lovely person they’d never get to meet in this life.

  As she slipped back into the warmth of the cave, Erin cogitated. She’d write down her innermost thoughts — ideas she could scarcely admit to herself. She fished in her backpack for paper and pen, and wrote before inhibitions clouded the ideas now flooding her mind.

  I love Hamish Bourke. I didn’t want to, but I do. I could never have married Todd Archer. Long ago, our paths diverged beyond the point where we could ever be happy together. Too bad about our parents and their small-time wishes for a bunch of happy little grandchildren to swim in their pool or play on their tennis court.

  I doubt Hamish will ever know how I feel for him. I doubt I’ll ever see him again. So be it. I need to put on this paper the truth I’m now privileged to see.

  Hamish is a beautiful spirit. His work, his energy will live on. I only wish I could have been with him as he sets about saving the beauty of this special part of the planet.

  I will survive. I will work at my dreams. And I will never forget Hamish Bourke as long as I live.

  Erin Spenser.

  She folded the paper, tucked it into an envelope, and put it in the cupboard that had held her grandmother’s folder. It reminded her of the times she’d put flowers on the old woman’s grave, an act to honour someone she’d loved. The envelope might lie in the cupboard unread for a century — a millennium even. It was unlikely the property’s new owner would ever find this sacred place. Good.

  Next afternoon, feeling as fresh as if she’d just surfaced from an expensive spa weekend, Erin climbed the rope ladder back to the cottage and reality. After a final phone call to her mother’s hospital, she’d be ready to leave for Sydney on the airport bus that called at the Luna Bay post office at five next evening.