Love or Money Page 9

  Minutes later, Erin hugged her mother and helped her into Todd’s Porsche. As the car disappeared towards the highway, she threw her hands in the air and shouted — a happy squeal of relief.

  Over the next few days, Erin ordered herself to get organised. She pushed aside Todd’s soulless advice to bulldoze the cottage and garden. Sure, she’d sell the place soon, but the ghost of her grandmother still walked beside her every time she visited the garden. Bulldozing it was unthinkable. She’d press on with her plans to restore it, knowing she’d never manage to recover its original perfection.

  After a couple of mornings, Erin found she actually liked gardening. She enjoyed each minute she spent pulling the weeds strangling the flowering plants. As she worked, she basked in the background music of birdsong, and the perfume of the lavender bushes bordering the garden. She bought bulbs that would create a show when spring livened up the soil — daffodils, jonquils, freesias, tulips — knowing she’d never see their glory. This odd, suddenly blossoming urge to garden came from her grandmother’s genes. She wouldn’t fight it.

  She planted a border of bright yellow and blue pansies round a circular patch in the middle of what had once been a lawn. Soon she must buy a mower and retrieve that lawn. Her grandmother had played tag with her there, chasing her round and round the flower bed until the two of them fell into a giggling heap. Sometimes the old woman would serve an afternoon snack in the garden — homemade chocolate brownies, still warm from the wood-fired oven. Erin could almost smell them as she weeded. Often, they’d eat them as they sat on a swinging seat under the big shady flame tree in a corner of the yard. Now, that seat hung forlornly by one rope. She must buy some new rope and fix it.

  Erin eased into the therapy of working outdoors in the fresh mornings, then hitting the computer in the afternoons. It helped that she took time out for a wakeup coffee and lunch at Sarah’s. The forget-about-Hamish plan seemed to be working at last. One bright day, with the sea so blue it almost hurt her eyes, she logged a whole afternoon at her computer without thinking of him once.

  A few evenings later, on a whim, she checked out the dog-eared phone directory for Hamish’s home address. To her surprise, it was there. He hadn’t bothered to organise an unlisted number, like most professional people did these days. She thought about driving there. It would be good therapy — help to clear up some of the mysteries she’d wrapped round him. If she peeled away those layers, she’d see just another human being underneath, complete with off-days and his fair share of human failings.

  What kind of life did he live with his weird partner, Honey? She probably wouldn’t bother to keep a garden — her zero contribution to the Landcare day had hinted at that. Seeing Hamish’s house might lay bare the boring suburban side of the man and perhaps cure Erin of the puppy-love attack she must get over soon.

  After lunch the next day, she found herself driving to his street, knowing Hamish would be buried in his office. She spotted his house, cruised by slowly. The modest little place of newly painted green weatherboard was clean and tidy and sported a freshly mowed lawn, and a rotary clothesline twirling a load of laundry in the back garden. It told her nothing she didn’t know already. Hamish was an organised guy who kept his place tidy. She turned at the end of the dead-end street and headed back.

  As she drove slowly past the house for a second look, her eye caught a movement. A little boy, crying, alone, ran towards the gate, wrestled with the catch. It was Dwayne. She stopped. The child spotted the car and waved, crying loud enough for her to hear him through her car’s closed windows. He needed help. She parked and ran to him. He looked up and choked back his crying.

  ‘Erin!’ he sobbed. She smiled down at him, amazed again that he remembered her name. ‘Mummy’s gone away.’ He dissolved into tears again. His red eyes, his tear-stained face, told her he’d been crying for a while.

  ‘Erin’s come to help you,’ she said. What had triggered that weird impulse? Raised an only child by a single mother, she knew zilch about caring for toddlers. Dwayne’s tears stopped. She opened the gate and scooped him off the ground, held him close. He sniffed, coughed, fighting to control his tears. Then she caught the smell, the soggy feeling in the palm of her hand as she supported his bottom. His pants needed urgent attention.

  ‘We’ll go inside and get you some clean pants,’ she smiled, not having the faintest idea how to go about such a chore. She walked to the front door, still carrying him. It was locked. She tried the back door, found it locked too. How could this have happened? He watched her as she tried the doorknob.

  ‘The door went bang,’ he said. ‘I ran outside, then it went bang.’ Perhaps while he’d been alone in the house, he’d found he could turn the door knob. Then, as he’d cracked the secret of opening it and escaped outside, maybe the wind had blown it shut. He’d have been scared, alone, desperate. Erin knocked hard on the door, praying that Honey would be inside — reading, perhaps taking a nap, unaware that Dwayne had learned to open the door by himself. No one answered. She walked to the front door, knocked again. The house stood silent. There was no one there. Panic welled inside her. She looked across to the neighbours’ houses — left, right, then across the street. There must be a kindly soul somewhere who knew the little boy, knew the basics of caring for him. Might even have babysat him occasionally. The circle of houses smiled back at her, silent, benign. She had no option but to take Dwayne with her.

  ‘Erin’s going to take you for a lovely ride,’ she beamed, feeling sick inside.

  She spread her beach towel on the back seat, sat him on it, threaded a seatbelt round him. ‘Would you like an icecream?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, sniffing back tears again. ‘A pink one. With chocolate.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ she said. She drove carefully to Hamish’s office, then unpacked Dwayne. ‘We’ll say hello to Daddy, then get you an icecream,’ she tried. He smiled, eased himself into her arms as she slid him onto the footpath.

  ‘Oh no! Not again.’ Jenny Receptionist frowned as she took in the scene. ‘That woman. It happened last week. One of the neighbours brought the poor little mite in. About this time of the afternoon, it was. Seems Honey had gone off to the pub while he had his afternoon nap. Then she got totally out of it.’ She rubbed the toddler’s messy hair as he stood beside her, looking up into her eyes. ‘It’s disgusting. There ought to be a law. It’s a good thing Hamish is out this afternoon. Gone over to Pembroke to see the Council people. Some Greenie thing or other. Told me to expect him back around five.’

  ‘I think Dwayne’s pants need changing,’ Erin said.

  ‘They do.’ Jenny’s quick glance identified her as an expert. ‘Poor little guy. He’s toilet-trained, but like any of us, he can lose it in a crisis. Could you pop over to the store and grab a pack of disposable nappies?’

  ‘Sure.’ Erin slid out the door, glad to be let off the hook. Jenny had raised four children. She could take charge of the pants situation. Erin returned, nappies in hand, and watched as Jenny did her motherly duty while Dwayne lay quietly on a towel she’d raided from the washroom.

  ‘Now I want a icecream.’ Dry nappies in place, the little boy forgot his trauma.

  ‘Okay. Let’s go.’ Suddenly Erin knew she could use an icecream herself. Icecreams in hand, they walked to the park. Erin would play with Dwayne until Hamish returned.

  ‘I wanna ride the see-saw,’ he said, his confidence blossoming again.

  ‘Fine. You’ll have to show me how.’

  ‘I show you.’ He jumped on one end of the ancient wooden plank while Erin took charge of the other. Then he wheeled her around every other piece of playground equipment in turn.

  When Erin checked her watch, she found a couple of hours had passed since the two of them had arrived at the playground. The idea that kids could be fun had snuck up on her while she was busy with other things.

  ‘Can you tell me a story?’ Dwayne asked, puffing after an energetic climb through a set of monkey bars. He looked up
at her, eyes pleading.

  ‘Sure. Would you like one about a kangaroo? A magic kangaroo?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay. This is a story about a magic kangaroo called Katy.’

  ‘Why is it called Katy?’

  ‘I don’t know. What would you like it to be called?’

  ‘Dwayne.’

  ‘But it’s a girl kangaroo.’

  ‘Call it Dwayne.’

  ‘Okay, then.’ A long time later, Erin finished the retelling of all her writings. It was time to head back to Hamish’s office. ‘And then Dwayne hopped home to bed and went fast asleep,’ she said.

  ‘Tell me more about Dwayne.’

  ‘But she’s gone to sleep.’

  ‘Okay.’ He fell silent for a moment. ‘Now she’s waked up,’ he grinned. ‘She wants to hop some more.’ He hopped, kangaroo-like, away from the bench where Erin had flopped. Funny, but as she wove stories for the little boy looking up at her wide-eyed, she’d found herself led into a magic cave. Inside that cave, a hundred doors opened, each one beckoning her into a new story. Spending an afternoon with a child wouldn’t be all bad for her writing. If ever she suffered from a dose of writer’s block in the future, she’d know what to do.

  Around five, the pair stepped back to Hamish’s office. As he heard their noisy arrival, he opened his office door.

  ‘Thank you, Erin.’ His face was a sad fusion of relief and embarrassment. ‘I don’t know how we’d have coped without you. I want to —’

  ‘Erin told me a story.’ The little boy looked up at his father, grinning. ‘About a kangaroo. She magicked herself a lot.’

  ‘Okay. But it’s time for little boys to go home now.’

  ‘I don’t want to go home.’

  ‘We have to, Dwayne.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Don’t want to.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Mummy might hit me again.’

  ‘She won’t. I promise.’ With a look over his shoulder towards Erin, Hamish picked up his son and headed for his car. The little boy realised what was happening and flung out his arms to Erin.

  ‘I want Erin to come.’

  ‘No, mate. Erin has to go home.’

  ‘But I want her to come with me. Tell me more stories.’

  ‘Another day, Dwayne. We have to go home now.’

  As Jenny followed Hamish out of the office and locked up for the night, she slipped a glance in Erin’s direction — a glance that hinted at the pain waiting for Hamish and his son as they stepped back into their house. Erin walked to her car bouncing a strange new thought around in her head like a big multi-coloured ball. She actually loved kids.

  Chapter 7

  Hamish drove Dwayne home hoping that Honey would be there, hoping they could work at unscrambling the tortured mess of their relationship. They’d had some golden days as a couple — mother, father, and cute babe in arms. As he pulled up outside her house, Hamish spotted Honey’s car parked on the lawn. He scooped his son from the back seat, cradled him in strong arms, and headed inside.

  ‘That you, darl?’ The slurred voice came from Honey’s bedroom. He carried Dwayne down the hall, saw his partner lying on the bed in the semi-darkness, wearing only lurid bra and panties.

  ‘I brought our son back,’ he said, lowering Dwayne to the floor. The child clung to him, eyeing his mother nervously. ‘You left Dwayne today.’ Hamish choked back the judgemental chill that washed through his brain. ‘Again. You went out drinking. Why?’

  ‘No worries, Hamey. Dwayney was having his sleep. His afternoon sleep. I just went into town. For a coffee.’

  ‘Tell it like it is, Honey. You went out drinking. Abandoned our son. Why?’

  ‘A girl’s gotta have a little drink now and again.’ She flexed her near-naked body, smiled. For a split second, Hamish felt a part of him seduced by that body, as he had a thousand times before. He batted the feeling away.

  ‘Neglecting Dwayne like that. It’s a criminal offence.’

  ‘I told you, darl. He was having his sleep.’ She giggled. ‘Okay, it wasn’t exactly a coffee. I was coming back real soon. Before he woke.’

  ‘This afternoon, around three, Dwayne was found hysterical, screaming, running around the yard. By a client of mine. She brought him into the office, soothed him, cared for him. I was away on a call.’

  ‘Sorry Hamey. Sorry Dwayney. Hop into bed, boys. Big, big cuddles.’

  ‘Honey. This sort of behaviour absolutely has to stop. You’re breaking the law. Ripping away our last shreds of respectability as a family in this town.’

  ‘I don’t care about respectability in this bloody town. I don’t care about anything in this bloody town.’

  ‘I know that. I’ve seen the way you behave. So has everyone else. But what about our son? Don’t you care that you hurt him so much? That you could be damaging him? Making him grow up with all kinds of pain?’

  ‘Come to bed with Honeypie, darl.’ She flexed her body again, smiled up at him ‘Don’t be cross at me now, darl.’

  ‘You’re too drunk to care. About me, or about Dwayne. About anything.’

  ‘I love my Dwayney. Heaps. Course I do.’ She turned towards her son. ‘Here, Dwayney baby. Come and cuddle Mumsy.’ Dwayne looked at her, eyes wide, then gripped his father’s trouser leg harder. Hamish lifted his son into his arms.

  ‘I’m going to make Dwayne’s dinner. If you want to join us, fine.’ He turned and headed for the door.

  ‘Wait, Hamey.’ Her voice rang with sadness. ‘Come back a minute.’

  ‘No.’ To give in to her would kill the message he desperately wanted to get across.

  ‘I’m sorry, love,’ she sniffed. ‘I’ve been a naughty girl. Don’t be mad at me.’

  ‘You don’t really give me any options, Honey.’ Hamish recovered his determination, looked down at her coldly. ‘First it was only once or twice. A tough day with Dwayne. You needed a break. Now you’re making a habit of this…this…slipping off to the pub in the afternoons. Where will it end?’

  ‘Never again, love. Promise.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Hey, I had a great idea. Go and order a pizza. Then we’ll have a nice lovey dinner together. Pizza and beer. Then go to bed and make hot love. All night.’

  ‘No.’ He let the message sink in. ‘I have to care for Dwayne.’

  ‘Just put him to bed. Right now. Then come to my bed.’ She reacted to his cold expression. ‘You know I love my Dwayney.’

  ‘He doesn’t seem to think so.’

  ‘He’s just kidding.’

  ‘He says you hit him.’

  ‘I never did! He was telling a big fat —’ Suddenly she screamed, burst into hysterical sobs, and buried her face in the pillow. Hamish headed up the hall, put his son into his high chair, and began to explore the fridge. He closed the kitchen door to muffle the still-desperate sobbing coming from Honey’s room. Dwayne had suffered enough pain for one day.

  Minutes later, as Hamish opened a forgotten jar of baby vegetables he’d found in a high cupboard, he heard a door slam. As he looked through the window, he saw Honey heading for her car, high heels sinking into the lawn, handbag swinging. She wore a scarlet dress, skin-tight, with a side split running up to her panty line. She fell into the car, started the engine. He put down Dwayne’s plate. She was going to drive while very drunk. He should dash outside, stop her. Too late. Hamish watched as the spinning wheels dug a muddy track across the lawn, then powered onto the driveway.

  Around eight that evening, as Erin cleaned up after dinner, she remembered to check the date for her next meeting with her agent, Stacey Hill. She headed to the bedroom to find her handbag. Bother! The handbag wasn’t there. Then she remembered. She’d dropped it on the sofa in Hamish’s office when she gave Dwayne a final goodbye hug. It was Friday. She’d need things from that bag over the weekend — credit cards, makeup, her diary. She’d better get it back now, and that would mean calling Hamish at home. Not a good id
ea, for a lot of reasons, but she had no choice. Hopefully the couple would be relaxing over dinner as Dwayne played on the carpet. She dialled his number.

  ‘Hamish Bourke,’ the voice answered.

  ‘Terribly sorry to bother you, Hamish,’ Erin said, genuinely upset that she had to call out of hours. ‘Erin here. When I dropped Dwayne back at your office this afternoon, I left my handbag on the sofa in your office. I’ll need it over the weekend.’

  ‘Of course you will. I know about women’s handbags. Right now, I’m stuck at home babysitting. Honey’s having a…night out. With the girls.’ Erin saw through his white lie.

  ‘Could I drop by and borrow the office keys?’ she said. ‘I’ll have them back to you in ten minutes.’

  ‘Would you mind? I’d love to collect your bag for you, but Dwayne might wake. Then all hell could break loose. He had a pretty heavy day. As you know.’

  ‘No problem. See you in ten.’ She drove to the house, found the porch light on, and knocked.

  ‘Hi Erin,’ he said as he opened the door. ‘That was quick.’ He looked drawn, pale.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I thought that the sooner I got it over with, the less I’d disturb you.’ Her pre-rehearsed speech was all the more appropriate now she’d seen his face.

  ‘Thanks. That’s very considerate of you.’ He smiled down at her. She could see he was making a huge effort to look polite and relaxed, and not quite making it. ‘You wouldn’t like to come in for a few minutes?’

  ‘Er…no thanks.’ Erin knew without setting foot inside his house that it would look like a battleground. ‘Best be getting out of your way.’

  ‘Okay, then. The keys.’ He held them out to her.

  Ten minutes later she was back at his door, keys in hand, handbag safely in her car.

  ‘Do come in. Please.’ There was an edge of desperation in Hamish’s voice.

  ‘Thank you.’ Bracing herself for a shock, she stepped inside. The kitchen sink overflowed with dirty dishes. She saw wet streaks on the dining table. In the last few minutes Hamish had given the place a lick and a promise.