Anybody But Him (9 page)

Nicola rang Lainey's doorbell on Sunday morning. This was the first weekend that Rosie had spent with her father and Lainey had to be hurting.

‘Hi!' she said when the door opened. ‘Any chance of a cuppa?'

Lainey gave her a distracted nod. ‘I'm glad you're here–you can help me with something. Come through to the bedroom.'

Nicola followed her. A suitcase was open on the bed, white frothy fabric billowing out of it. ‘What are you doing?'

‘I decided it was time for a clear-out.'

‘Is that your wedding dress?'

‘What else would it be?'

‘You want to chuck it out? Are you sure?'

‘I see it every time I go into the walk-in robe and it reminds me. And it's not as if I need reminding. It's like a slap in the face every time.'

‘You couldn't cover it up?'

‘I just want it gone.' Lainey turned away as her voice faltered.

‘Okay. Fair enough.' Nicola dropped her handbag on the chair in the corner of the room. ‘What do you want my help with?'

‘I can't get it into the suitcase. I need one pair of hands to hold it in, and another pair to close the lid.'

‘You don't think squashing it like this will spoil it?'

‘Well, if it does, it's just bad luck.'

‘But aren't you going to sell it?'

‘No, I can't be bothered with the fuss. I'd rather donate it to a charity shop.'

With a shrug, Nicola climbed onto the bed and knelt alongside the suitcase, doing her best to hold the mass of white fabric and lace in the case. But while Lainey tugged the zip around one end of the case, the dress spilled out of the other end.

‘Sheesh, there's just too much of it,' Nicola said, sitting back to get her breath. ‘I don't suppose you have a bigger case?'

Lainey dragged the back of her hand across her forehead. ‘No, but I'm sure we can get it into this one.'

‘Okay. Let's give it another go.' She dived into the foamy whiteness again, while Lainey struggled with the zip.

Nicola pushed, Lainey pulled. Finally, it was done. Nicola flopped back onto the bed.

‘Phew. That's better.' Lainey rolled off the bed and lifted the suitcase onto the floor. ‘Now I can literally deal with my baggage,' she said with a shaky laugh.

‘Well, if you don't mind me saying so, I think it will take more than this.'

‘Oh, I know. I'm only joking. This is just the start. I know I have a very long way to go.'

Nicola gave her a thoughtful look. ‘So, you're moving on? Does this mean that you don't want Daniel back any more?'

‘Good grief, no it doesn't. I'd take him back in a heartbeat. But the longer it goes on, the harder it is to believe that he's going to come home.'

‘I know. I'm sorry.' Nicola watched as Lainey gathered up her veil and other bits and pieces of wedding paraphernalia, and crammed them into a plastic bag.

Lainey returned from the walk-in robe with an armful of clothes. ‘I might as well bag up some of these old things too while I'm at it.'

‘Do you need some help to get these to the charity shop?' Nicola gestured at the growing pile of bags.

‘Oh, I'll put them in the shed for now, and take them bit by bit. I don't want to donate the wedding dress here in Redgum Valley, though. I wouldn't want to open the local paper and see a picture of a happy bride wearing
my
dress.'

‘No, I suppose not.'

‘I think I'll call a halt now or I won't have anything left.' Lainey stopped sorting clothes and straightened. ‘How did your date with Hayden go?'

‘Really well.'

Lainey tied the top of a plastic garbage bag. ‘Do you think it could get serious?'

‘Hell no. I'm not looking for anything like that, not after what happened with Greg. I'm not ready to take such a risk again.'

Lainey looked thoughtful. ‘It's a complicated business, isn't it? I've never had to do it.'

‘What, dating?'

Lainey nodded. ‘If Daniel doesn't come back to me, I'll be on my own forever, because there's no way I could face putting myself out there for rejection.'

Nicola sighed. ‘I know what you mean. Hey, we need a night out together soon, and the first one to mention a man will have to buy the drinks for the rest of the evening.'

Lainey smiled. ‘Maybe we could go dancing next Friday? I heard that there'll be a seventies disco band on at The Pelican.'

‘Sounds good. What about Rosie? Will you let her spend the weekend with Daniel again?'

Lainey shook her head. ‘Not so soon. It's been tough here without her. She'll stay with
my mum for the night and help her collect eggs on Saturday morning. She enjoys that, and that way we can still have the weekend together.'

‘You won't stop her seeing her father, though?'

‘No.' Lainey took a deep breath, then gathered a pile of clothes in her arms and shoved them into another plastic bag. ‘I just need time to get used to the idea of his weekends being a regular thing. It's another step towards accepting that he's gone for good.'

Nicola's parents were both sitting on the sofa when she entered their house later that morning.

‘Why are you so glum? What's happened?'

‘It's him.' Her mum tilted her head sideways. ‘He's had a letter.'

‘Ri-ight. What did it say?'

‘A man from the government is coming out and your dad's got to drive the car with him in it.'

‘Ah.' Nicola sat in an armchair facing them. She wasn't altogether surprised by this development, considering her one and only trip in the car with her dad. But although she could accept that it was necessary, she didn't understand how this forced driving test had come about.

‘When is he coming?'

‘The letter said that I had to ring to make an appointment,' her dad said.

‘Have you phoned yet?'

He shook his head. ‘I know what it's like when you ring these government departments, you get put on hold for ages. I don't have time for that.'

Why? Because he was too busy? Doing what?

‘Perhaps you could ring them for me, Nicola love?'

Because she had so much more time to spend on hold? She stifled a sigh. ‘All right. You'd better give me the reference number.'

They both looked at her. Blankly.

‘I'll need a reference number so that they'll know who I'm talking about.'

They looked at each other, then back at her.

‘I need the letter?'

‘
Oh
, the letter. Well, why didn't you say so? Fancy using complicated words like that, to talk about such a simple thing. We haven't got it.'

‘But you said—'

‘He threw it away.' The head tilt again.

Nicola tried her nostril breathing technique, thinking that she didn't know what she'd done to deserve this. ‘Can you remember anything about the letter? Who it was from? Which department?'

‘No,' her dad said.

‘No,' her mum said.

No, she hadn't thought so. She pondered the problem. ‘Who could have reported you?'

‘Reported me? For what?'

‘For your driving.'

‘What's wrong with it?'

Oh, good lord.

‘What about the doctor?'

‘I haven't driven him anywhere.'

‘No, but he might have thought that you needed to take a test on account of your age.'

‘Your dad did go to see Dr Whitworth a few weeks ago,' her mum said. ‘That'll be it.'

‘Okay, I'll make an appointment with him. It's a place to start, anyway.'

Nicola looked up the first of the suppliers in Birchmoor's computer system. She made a note of the address on her pad. No phone number, though. She tapped her pen against her chin. Kate shouldn't really have left that data field blank, but she'd noticed that when Hayden was around, women did tend to get distracted – herself included.

Closing down the supplier record, she opened her browser. She'd look up the company's phone number on the internet. No problem.

But there
was
a problem, because the company wasn't listed on the internet. Not in the White Pages, not anywhere. Funny way to do business, she thought. Wanting to remain small was one thing, but making it impossible for potential customers to get in touch was another entirely.

Travis entered the office. ‘I just saw Corinne in reception. She asked me to find out if you've got a feel for the month's results yet.'

She raised her eyebrows. Corinne must be getting anxious about the company's position. She typed in the third supplier name and her stomach plummeted when the same address appeared on the screen. She frowned up at Travis. ‘How reliable is Kate, in your opinion?'

‘Kate? Completely reliable. I've never known her to make a mistake. Not a single one.'

‘I had a feeling you were going to say that.' She pushed her keyboard away, put her elbows on the desk and rubbed her temples. ‘I think there might be an issue, but I'm not exactly sure what it is yet.'

‘So, do you want the bad news about Hayden's project reports?'

Nicola gestured to him to sit down. ‘Tell me.'

‘Well, his costs have gone up again. Some of them seem to be covered by variations that he's submitted to the customer, but a large percentage of them aren't. Included in those extra costs are purchases from three suppliers – in fact, they make up the bulk of the increase.'

‘I bet I know which suppliers.'

He gave her a questioning look, but she waved him on.

‘I thought I'd go back and investigate a couple of his older projects, and the same is true for them, especially the Pearson project, the one that's in dispute over increased costs.'

‘What about other projects that Hayden hasn't worked on? Are they experiencing the same rate of increase?'

Travis pulled a face. ‘This is where it gets even worse. I've done some digging, and I can't find a single project that has used any of those suppliers. This is just a hunch, but I think maybe he's getting kickbacks from the owners of the companies to use their products.'

‘It's possible.' Nicola chewed her bottom lip, then pulled the keyboard towards her again. ‘Each entry in the computer system has an Australian Business Number. I'll look them up in the ABN registry and see who the owners are.'

Moments later, she dragged her tongue across dry lips. ‘Travis, I think we've stumbled across something serious here.'

‘Yes?'

‘All three companies are registered to Hayden.'

‘Shit!'

‘I agree.' She pulled a face. ‘I don't think we can look any further into this without alerting other employees to the problem, and maybe spooking him, so I'm going to turn this pile of steaming manure over to Corinne. Have you got the figures for the total spent with these fake suppliers?'

Silently, he passed an A4 page to her.

She scanned the spreadsheet and her eyebrows rose. ‘Over a hundred and forty thousand dollars? How can it be so much?'

‘He normally oversees three projects at once, and he's been here for close to four years, so that's more than forty projects he's worked on. Each payment is—'

‘Over a thousand dollars, I know. I've been signing cheques for them.' She could give herself an almighty kick for handing over the company's money without a qualm. No wonder he could afford a flashy car. ‘Corinne's going to be devastated. And I'm pretty sure Hayden only dated me to distract me from asking questions about those suppliers.'

Why was she so gullible when an attractive man was involved?

On Friday, after her night out dancing with Lainey, Nicola arrived home in a taxi and went straight to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. She'd had a reasonable amount to drink. Enough, she knew, to make her feel rough the next morning if she didn't hydrate herself well before going to sleep. That was the thing about being almost thirty – she'd lived through enough hangovers to know what to do about them, but not quite enough to compel her to avoid them entirely.

It had been a good night, and just what she'd needed after her week at work, which had culminated in the police arresting Hayden and escorting him off the premises. She was so ashamed of not seeing through him sooner, but Corinne had been very appreciative that, between them, she and Travis had discovered the fraud at all.

She yawned, exhausted from all the dancing. As she tossed the empty water bottle in the recycling bin, the smell of rotten vegetables assailed her nostrils. She'd intended to empty the garbage bin earlier, but had forgotten. She probably should be composting them or something for Una, but she had no idea about all that; she just wanted to get the smell out of the kitchen.

Sighing, she took the liner out of the bin. It was heavy. As well as the leftover
vegetables, she'd half-filled it earlier with chipped and cracked plates and dishes that she'd found in Una's kitchen cupboards and which she intended to replace with brand-new ones before she left. After tying off the top of the plastic bag, she switched on the exterior light.

Nothing happened.

Great
.

It had worked a few days ago, so why not now? But the wheelie bin was only a matter of metres from the back steps. She couldn't possibly get lost on the way, and this wasn't the city. She was confident that there was no one lurking in the darkness.

She left the back door open and the kitchen light illuminated the concrete square at the top of the steps, but not much more. On the second step, she trod on something wet and squelchy, and her foot skidded forward. With a squeak, she grabbed for the rail, but it was slick with dew, and her hand slid straight down it. Unable to save herself, she descended the steps on her butt, sideways, and the garbage bag that she'd managed to hang on to slammed into her chest. She yelled out in pain as the heavy crockery made contact with her ribs.

She couldn't get up. She couldn't even move. All she could do was concentrate on trying to breathe –which had become a very difficult thing to do, and not at all the natural reflex action it was supposed to be. She was going to be stuck here all night. Maybe longer. She tried, very slowly, to at least manoeuvre herself into a more comfortable position. Something hard jabbed her hip. Her phone! In her jeans pocket where she'd pushed it after calling for the taxi.

Please, please let it still work.

She moved a bit too quickly and cried out with pain, then more carefully, she reached into her pocket. The phone seemed to be fine, but who was she going to call? No good dialling Lainey because she'd had too much to drink to drive over, and in fact, too much to help if she came over in a taxi. Lainey couldn't hold her drink, unlike her, but then, she'd
clearly had much less practice.

Her dad didn't drive in the dark. Good thing too. He was bad enough in broad daylight.

What about … Blair Morrissey? Damn. Why had he come to mind? Because, she told herself, she had his number in her phone, and he lived close by. Because it was the logical call to make, even if she didn't like it.

Sighing, she accepted the inevitable and made the call. Would he even be home on a Friday night? If he was at home, he might not be alone. She'd barely finished the thought when he answered.

‘It's Nicola.' She was shocked at how weak and croaky her voice sounded.

‘
Nicki
? What's wrong? Where are you?'

‘At home.' She bit her lip until it stopped wobbling. ‘I mean, I'm at Una's. I fell down the back steps. I've hurt my ribs.'

‘I'm on my way.' He clicked off before she'd even had a chance to ask him for help.

Only a few minutes later, she heard his car turn into the driveway, gravel crunching beneath its tyres. A door slammed, and in a very short time, he knelt beside her. ‘Which side?'

‘My left.'

‘It's dark out here. Why didn't you put the light on?'

‘I tried. It doesn't work.'

He tutted and reached for one of her red stilettos, still lying where it had landed a metre or so away. ‘And you were wearing these?'

‘It wasn't the fault of my shoes.' She tried to snap at him, but the most she could manage was a breathless whine. ‘I trod on something squelchy.'

‘Well, you'll have to go to hospital. I'll carry you to the car.'

‘No, no, don't. Just help me up. I'll walk there. Really.'

He looked at her dubiously. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Yes.' Oh, God. She didn't know which was more horrifying: the pain, or the thought of him carrying her.

With his assistance, she got to her feet and made her way slowly to the car. He opened the passenger door, and helped her in. The whole manoeuvre took a lot longer than it should have done. Then she told him where her keys were so that he could go back and lock up the house before they set off to the hospital, and as if every breath hurting wasn't bad enough, every bump in the road added to the pain.

It was the early hours of Saturday morning when Nicola left the hospital, walking cautiously and clutching the painkillers that were already working their magic. Redgum Valley hospital was small, and nothing like a metropolitan hospital, but for once Nicola saw the contrast as a point in its favour. When she'd arrived, the emergency department had been empty except for one registered nurse who'd triaged and assessed her, and then phoned the on-call doctor. Within minutes, the young female doctor had arrived, examined and x-rayed her, and prescribed the painkillers she so badly needed.

As she'd suspected, a cracked rib was the diagnosis, and now that the drugs had taken the edge off the pain, she berated herself in silence. For venturing out in the dark. For not taking off her heels. For not emptying the bin before she'd gone to the pub. For filling the bin with hard, rib-cracking crockery.

‘I won't be able to drive to work,' she said, breaking her silence when they reached Blair's car.

Blair had hovered nearby, dashing forward to open doors and generally easing her way. ‘I don't think you'll be able to work anyway, so driving there is a non-issue.'

Keeping her arm close to her chest, she got into the car. By the time she'd found a
comfortable position, Blair was in the driving seat and starting the engine.

‘I'm an idiot.'

He didn't argue with her, she noticed, which would be an improvement on the normal state of play between them except that, perversely, she wanted him to argue with her, or more accurately, to tell her she wasn't an idiot; that it had been an accident, pure and simple. She bit her trembling lip.

‘So, did you have a good time?'

‘Are you crazy? I broke my rib. What could be good about that?'

‘Cracked, not broke. But I meant earlier, in the pub. You looked like you were enjoying yourself, dancing.'

‘You were there? I didn't see you.'

‘I saw you.'

‘Right. Well, yes, it was good fun. Do they that have that sort of band there often?'

‘Only when people with good taste can't talk them out of it.'

‘What were you doing there if you don't like disco?'

‘Did I say I didn't like it?'

She looked away, covering her eyes. ‘You're giving me a headache.'

‘Sorry.'

He parked the car in the driveway and jumped out. She had to wait for him to come around to her door and open it for her. She couldn't open it herself, so she didn't have a choice.

Inside the house, he said, ‘Is there anything you need before I go? A hot drink? An ice pack?'

‘What I'd really like is a shower.'

‘Will you be able to manage?'

‘I imagine so. I usually shower alone.'

‘Well, why don't I hang around? Just in case you need help with anything afterwards?'

‘Thanks, but I'll be fine.'

By the time she'd gathered some clean clothes into a pile and made her way into the bathroom with them under one arm, she knew that
fine
was an overstatement. But it was when she tried to undress that she had to admit that she wasn't going to be able to manage on her own. Nowhere near, in fact. She'd definitely spoken too soon. The painkillers were helping, but not enough to allow her to lift her left arm in the air, or to move it much at all. After her first attempt to remove the skin-tight striped top she'd worn to the pub, she had to blink back tears. This wasn't going to work.

She was relieved to find Blair in the kitchen, reading the local paper.

He looked up, eyes wide. ‘Blimey, that was quick. I knew you weren't like other women, but that—'

He must have realised that she was still in the same clothes because he frowned. ‘What's wrong? I mean, other than the obvious.'

‘I have a problem.' She grimaced, grateful that he hadn't listened to her and left. ‘I need your help, and I wouldn't ask if there was any other option.'

‘Got it. I'm your last resort.'

‘That's not what I meant.' She cleared her throat. ‘I need you to take off my top.' She hesitated. ‘And my bra.'

He lowered the newspaper slowly. ‘Are you kidding me?'

She gave her head a small shake.

He made a noise in his throat. ‘I'm not usually a last resort when it comes to women who want undressing,' he said lightly.

She knew his lousy joke was an attempt to ease the tension, so she smiled and headed
back to the bathroom, hoping he'd follow her. He did.

‘If you lift it up from the bottom, I can pull my right arm out. It's moving my left arm that's the problem.'

He did as she suggested, then helped her to pull her head through the hole, eased the top over her shoulder, and finally slid it carefully down her left arm as if he'd done it a thousand times. Well, she didn't need to take that thought any further.

Blair gasped as he lifted the T-shirt away from her left side, before dropping it on the bathroom floor.

She looked down at the multicoloured bruise over her side and felt a bit queasy. ‘Not a pretty sight, is it?'

The intimacy of him looking at her bare skin, even if it was disgusting purple and blue skin, sent a ripple of heat out from her belly, down her thighs, all the way to her toes. As it slithered beneath the surface of her skin, she shivered.

‘You're cold. This could be shock setting in.'

‘No.'

He lifted his eyes from the bruising, and she knew the exact moment when his gaze caught on her bra because a muscle twitched along his jaw. It wasn't a provocative style she was wearing, but it was lacy, and hid nothing. She was practically topless in front of him, and soon she would be, for real.

‘You'll have to unhook me.' Her voice was deceptively steady. Unlike her heartbeat, which was imitating a heavy metal drum solo.

‘I do have a general understanding of how these things work, but thanks for the tip.' His gaze met hers. ‘Just to double-check, are you sure you wouldn't rather have a shower half-dressed?'

She grimaced. ‘And then what? Go to sleep in a wet bra? No, thanks.'

After a resigned sigh, he stepped around behind her, unhooked the bra without a fumble, slipped the strap over her right shoulder, down her arm, then, reaching around her from behind, he carefully slid it down her left arm and over her hand.

She reached for a towel to hold in front of her, but he beat her to it, draping the towel around her shoulders so that she was decent.

‘Skilfully done. Thank you.'

‘What about the jeans?'

‘I'm sure I can cope with them.'

‘And the taps?'

She nodded.

‘All right, then. I'll be in the kitchen. Call me if you need help with anything else.'

As soon as he closed the door she eased her jeans and underwear down her legs with one hand and stepped out of them, then turned on the taps, thinking as she adjusted the temperature that she should be having a cold shower. But seriously, she didn't think it would make a whole lot of difference. The memory of Blair's fingertips brushing over her skin as he tried not to touch her was not something that could be washed away.