Love or Money (19 page)

Erin remembered shinnying down the rope ladder to the little cave where her grandmother had created a shrine. Remembered that it had touched a hidden place inside her. ‘Infiltrate my soul? That sounds a bit new age. Spirits wafting through the trees.'

‘I suppose it is,' he said. She smiled at him, glad he hadn't chosen to play with a heavy hand. ‘I read this piece once,' he said. ‘About a native American tribe. They believed that the forest was a spirit. Legend taught them that this spirit flowed through them, gave them life. Then the white man came, cleared the trees, farmed the land, and the spirit disappeared. First one by one, then in larger numbers, the locals began to die. Missionaries came, saw the people wasting away, asked what had happened. They told the missionaries they had no choice — their life force had disappeared. They simply couldn't go on living as hollow shells, bereft of spirit.

‘Cute legend, but —'

‘Look at our society, Erin. Pioneers came to Australia, cleared the forests. Not here, thank goodness. But other places along the coast. Around big cities. The people living near those forests — they stayed married to their chosen partner for a lifetime, raised a bunch of happy children, then grew old and wise. Now it's suburbia, condominiums, shopping centres, parking lots. The little towns that once dotted our countryside are disappearing. Now it's the new house, the new apartment, the new car. The boat, the overseas trip, the fancy ornament on the coffee table, the jewels we keep hidden in the wall safe. Looks like our spirits are wafting away too.'

‘Hamish.' She wanted to be kind to the guy, but wasn't this all too much motherhood and apple pie? ‘Someone cuts down a tree, then they go and buy a new car? Nope, Mr Green. Not that simple.'

‘Here's a suggestion, Erin. Promise me one little thing. Before you sell, spend a night, maybe two, at Sea Eagle's Nest. It's quiet there. Away from the noises of suburbia. Close to the sound of the sea. You might even connect with your grandmother's spirit. And she'll have a lot to tell you.'

‘You're definitely joking.'

‘With a decent sleeping bag, of course,' he said. ‘With food and drink. A few books.'

‘Thanks.' Not for a second could she see herself taking his advice.

‘Okay.' He leaned back in his chair. ‘I've said my piece. If magic happens, it happens, if it doesn't, it doesn't. Now let's get back to reality.'

Over the next hour, the bottle of elegant wine evaporated and their meals disappeared. At the maitre d's whispered suggestion, they flowed back onto the terrace, glasses of dessert wine in hand. Practical Pig slid onto Erin's radar. She worked, paid her rent, exercised, mostly ate sensibly, did her laundry on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Now she'd just listened to a man feeding her a bunch of mysticism packaged in pink fairy floss. And the weirdest thing — she wanted to believe it. Maybe it was the stately trees arching over the terrace where they sat. Maybe it was the wine.

‘Can we take a walk around the garden?' She needed space. The path was lit with soft lighting, paved with tiles.

‘You want to talk to the trees?' he grinned.

‘Of course. Tell them I totally agree with the message they're sending me.'

‘Let's go, then.' He left his empty glass and stepped onto the path. She drained her drink and followed him, enjoying the landscaped array of groomed shrubs. Suddenly she tripped, grabbed him as she stumbled.

‘My heels. I'll park them.' She walked to a seat and pulled off a shoe. He sat beside her on the small bench. Sitting close to him, almost touching his warm body, felt good. It would feel even better if…without stopping to think, she put her lips up to his, kissed him lightly. His return kiss was polite, friendly, nothing more. She drew back and looked up at him.

‘That was good,' he whispered. ‘An aperitif, you could say.' He stood. ‘I should take you home.'

‘Must you? So soon?'

‘All things considered, yes.' They walked back to the restaurant and Hamish paid the bill.

‘Thank you, sir.' The maitre d' beamed. ‘I trust we see you again soon.'

‘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.