Re-Runners First Life: A Time Travel Suspense Series (6 page)

Chapter 10

1984

Sydney Australia

Dylan stood beside his father in the vegetable garden at the back of the Hunter’s Hill home he grew up in. Leo Jnr had no interest in the flower beds and trimmed shrubbery of the formal garden. He paid gardeners for that. His love was the large vegetable patch which took up the rear of the yard and was discretely hidden behind an expertly trimmed box hedge.

Dylan watched as his father pulled bright red tomatoes from the plant and placed them gently in the basket at his feet. Dylan’s fisted hands were buried deep in the pocket of his leather jacket and his jaw moved from side to side in agitation.

‘Talk to me Dad,’ he spoke again, embarrassed at the pleading tone of his voice.

Leo straightened and looked up at his son. They used to stand eye to eye, but Dylan had surpassed him in height. No matter; his father’s steely glare could still make him feel like a child again. ‘What do you expect me to say son?’ he slowly dusted the soil from his hands.

Phillipa had convinced him that to succeed in his chosen profession, he needed to Anglicize his name. Marchioni must become March. ‘It’s necessary for my future. To succeed in this business, I have to do it. You
know
that,’ he growled.

‘Do I?’ shrugged Leo. ‘You know this will break your
nonno’s
heart.’

Dylan stared at his father. What could he say? It was true, this would crush his grandfather. He loved them, but he loved Phillipa too and she knew much about this world of commerce he was about to enter. She had grown up mixing with the families of the country’s most prominent businessmen and politicians. He trusted her judgment, but it killed him to hurt his family like this. He bowed his head and mumbled, ‘I’ve got to go.’

‘Not before you see your
nonno
. He is expecting you.’ Leo said before turning his back on his eldest son.

Dylan’s jaw clenched as he left the garden and made his way to the back of the house. That had gone as badly as he’d expected it would. His father didn’t need to say any more. He could feel the disappointment radiating from him in waves, but worse was to come. His beloved grandfather was waiting for him.

Dylan momentarily slowed his pace, looked at the house and for a moment considered leaving, but he had to face his
nonno
sometime. It may as well be now.

His grandparents lived in a private wing attached to the main house. His
nonna
, still a beautiful woman at almost seventy years, greeted him at the door. She kissed his cheek before leaving the house to let Dylan face his grandfather alone.

The patriarch of the Marchioni family stood tall and straight facing the open door. Bright sunlight created a halo of light around his thick, white hair. ‘Come Dylan and sit. We ‘ave something to discuss.
Si
?

‘I’d rather stand.’ Dylan muttered. He was waiting for one of his grandfather’s famous speeches; booming and forceful, passionate and demanding. But it never came. Instead he watched his
nonno’s
shoulders slump as he lowered himself slowly into a chair.

In a quiet voice full of sadness he said, ‘You want to change your name? Does it shame you to be a Marchioni? Why Dylan, why would you do such a thing.’

‘No
Nonno.
’ He moved quickly and knelt in front of his grandfather. ‘Of course I’m not ashamed. But it’s the way of the world here. If I want to get to the top of my profession, I need to do this.’

Leo Snr shook his head sadly. ‘I do not understand why this must be so. It isn’t right.’

Dylan began to protest again but the old man lay a hand on his shoulder. ‘You are my eldest grandson and I love you. Do what you feel you must, and we will never speak of this again.’

He rose to his feet and moved to the window, turning his back to Dylan just as Dylan’s father had done.

That small act was like a punch in the gut as Dylan pushed himself up from the floor and walked to the door. He glanced back to see his
nonno’s
straight back turned away from him and he felt sick.
What have I done?

ooooo

‘How did it go?’ Phillipa looked up from the book resting on her lap. Her long legs were crossed as she leaned against the large oak in the grounds of the university. Groups of students were scattered around the grassed common area and more moved along the adjacent pathways, leading to lecture halls and study rooms behind the sandstone columns of the breezeway.

Dylan dropped to the grass beside her. ‘As I expected,’ he answered glumly.

Phillipa reached over and rested her hand on his thigh, ‘It will all be for the best. When your parents see how successful you become, they’ll understand why you needed to do this.’

Dylan looked at her and shook his head, ‘They don’t think the same way you do... we do,’ he corrected. ‘Success to them is family and families together create success.’ He paused and looked at her. ‘You have to admit, it’s worked for them.’

Phillipa moved her hand to his chest. ‘But you will be catapulted to a whole new level. You believe that, don’t you?’ she purred softly, watching him carefully and gauging his mood. As she sensed his hesitation, she changed tactics and pulled back from him. Crossing her arms around her body, she stifled a sob. ‘It’s me you don’t trust.’

‘No Phillipa, no.’ Dylan reached for her and she twisted from his grasp.

‘It’s true. After all we’ve been to each other and everything I’ve shown you and taught you about the world I live in, you still don’t trust me.’ She lowered her head and reached up to wipe away an imaginary tear.

Dylan grasped her by the shoulders and gently lifted her chin, ‘Of course I trust you and believe you. We’re in this together. We have our whole lives ahead of us and you’re right.’

He stood and grabbed her hand. ‘Let’s do it now. We’re going to the Registrar General’s office. Then we’ll introduce Dylan March to the world.’

‘Oh, Dylan.’ Phillipa pulled herself up and threw her arms around his neck, all trace of tears miraculously gone. ‘This is the right decision for us.’ She kissed him and pulled him tight against her body, a sly smile curved her mouth as she rested her head against his shoulder.

Chapter 11

1991

Sydney

The front door of the apartment opened and the tapping of Phillipa’s heels on the travertine tiled floor could be heard from where Dylan sat on the balcony overlooking Sydney Harbor.

He folded the newspaper and placed it carefully on the table, rose and faced the living room as Phillipa struggled in with a mountain of carry bags. She unceremoniously dumped the lot on the large dining room table. ‘Phew.’ She blew a stray blond hair from her face.

‘Where have you been?’ he asked.

She looked up to the sound of Dylan’s voice. ‘Just a bit of shopping with the girls,’ she said, running perfectly manicured hands over a figure hugging silk dress before reaching down to remove her heels.

He looked at the pile of bags, most marked with designer labels. He’d lived with Phillipa long enough to know he was looking at several thousand dollars worth of purchases. He ignored the bags. ‘Did you forget we were going to look at a house today?’

Phillipa’s hand rested on her hip, ‘As a matter of fact, I didn’t forget. I decided I didn’t want to go. I don’t like the area and it’s too far away from my friends. If we can’t have a house on the harbor, somewhere like Rose Bay or Vaucluse, then we may as well stay in Potts Point.

Dylan’s jaw clenched as he reigned in his frustration and said patiently, ‘An apartment is no place to raise children. We need a home and a garden. You know we can’t afford those areas.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ Phillipa rolled her eyes and started gathering her parcels.

‘And if you keep spending money like water, we never will,’ Dylan growled, patience ended.

Phillipa squinted at him and snarled angrily, ‘How do you think it makes me feel to be the poor mouse amongst my friends?’

Dylan made the mistake of laughing, ‘We’re hardly poor’.

Phillipa’s face reddened in rage. ‘How
dare
you,’ she snapped. ‘I used to be the one they looked up to, but now I’m a laughing stock. At university they were so envious. I had money and I had you, the gorgeous Dylan March. Valedictorian, star athlete ... such potential ... and now look at you.’

Dylan’s fists clenched and unclenched. Phillipa had tantrums like this often and he’d heard it all before. The only way to control his rising temper was to walk away. And he did. But Phillipa wasn’t satisfied, ‘And don’t think I will
ever
agree to a baby until I have the home I want ... and a nanny like everyone else.’

He grabbed his car keys and slammed the front door on his way out. The elevator doors slid open to his touch and he entered. As they closed behind him he let out a maddened roar and punched the cubicle wall.
Security will enjoy that,
he thought briefly. So what, they’d seen it all before. The warring March’s had a reputation.

Reaching the underground car park he clicked the remote and his black BMW convertible flashed back at him. He needed a top down drive to let off steam.

Damn her
, he thought.
We have a good life. No, correct that. We have a shit of a life emotionally, but financially we have more than most. Why can’t she ever be happy?

Dylan knew the answer to that. Phillipa wanted what her parents had and the only way she could get that life, was for Dylan to join her father’s firm. He’d fought the idea since university days and he would continue to fight it. He had a very successful business and had taken on two partners in the past year, although he was still the majority owner. The firm was growing in reputation and therefore monetarily. Why couldn’t Phillipa be patient? They could afford a lovely home close to or perhaps right on the harbor, but not in the overpriced, high-flying suburbs she wanted. He was nearly thirty. He wanted them to start a family.

He exited the car park, floored the accelerator and let the wind blow the cobwebs away. He couldn’t see a way out of this. He wouldn’t give up his business. Going to work and visiting his family were the only times he felt calm and happy.

Is this what our lives will always be like?
His fist hit the steering wheel in frustration as he slowed and drove through the Botanical Gardens and followed the road to Mrs Macquarie’s Chair at the tip of Farm Cove. He enjoyed the peace of this beautiful place so close to their apartment and often chose this route for his morning run. But this time it gave him no joy.

Chapter 12