The Corrigan legacy (10 page)

She pulled herself together and repeated, 'I'm not going to Texas.' After that she folded her arms and refused to answer any more questions or even talk to Wayne. What was the use? They'd not change their minds.

But neither would she. 

'Go to your room,' her mother said at last. 'And don't switch on that computer of yours. You'll not be allowed to use it again till you see sense.'

Lily blinked hard to try to clear the tears from her eyes at this worst of all possible threats, but of course they noticed and he smiled. She hated him then, which she hadn't done before.

Wayne jumped to his feet. 'I'd better come up and get the computer. I don't think we can trust this young lady an inch, Kerry. She needs firm handling and that's just what she'll get in my house.'

Lily said nothing, walking slowly up the stairs behind them. It had started.

When they'd left her alone in her room, she sat down and pretended to read a book in case they looked in, but actually she was trying to plan what to do next. She didn't allow herself to cry until after she'd gone to bed, and didn't do it for long, because she'd no intention of them seeing her with eyes swollen from crying.

Two days later Maeve listened to the specialist in silence and stared into space for a moment or two, willing herself to stay calm, not to hope for too much. 'You - um - think this new treatment may help?'

'It could prolong your life by a few months, a year even, but I'm afraid it can't cure what ails you, not with that sort of cancer.'

'A few more months of life would be very welcome just now. It'd allow me to set my affairs in better order.' She slapped her hand down on the chair arm. 'I'll do it.'

'The treatment won't be pleasant. One of the side effects is severe nausea - and hair loss is very likely.'

She shrugged. 'I'm not feeling wonderful anyway.'

'Some people find it comforting to know they'll be contributing to research, thus helping others.'

She shrugged again. 'I'm not that altruistic. I'm concerned more about myself at this stage than about others. Please arrange to get things started as quickly as possible. And tell them that if they take me into this programme, I'll make a substantial financial contribution to their research funds.'

'You can get into the programme without doing that. You're exactly the sort of guinea pig they're looking for.'

'I've always paid my way and I don't intend to stop now.'

'I'm sure they'll be grateful for your contribution. I'll make an appointment for you, then, shall I?'

When Maeve went back into the waiting room, Andy stood up and hurried across to her. 'All right?'

'Yes. Let's go out to the car before we talk.' Andy had wanted to come in to see the specialist with her, but she wasn't going to allow that.

He escorted her down to the car, but she noted with wry amusement that he didn't make the mistake of trying to help her. She hated that, however exhausted she was.

When they were both seated he put the keys into the ignition and turned to her without attempting to switch on the engine. 'What did he say?'

She explained.

'Oh, Maeve, that's wonderful!'

She swallowed hard and blinked her eyes, unable to speak calmly in the face of that genuine caring. It'd been a long time since she'd allowed anyone to get so close to her, except for Lena.

'I'll drive you to and fro for treatment.'

She nodded, wondered if it'd be safer emotionally to hire a chauffeur instead, then allowed herself the small luxury of claiming Andy's time and support. After all, the company wasn't going to need him for much longer, as it soon wouldn't belong to her. She should be feeling sad about that, but she wasn't. The company had had its day in the sun and now she was far more concerned about making the most of the time she had left than worrying what Des was doing.

'Thanks, Andy. I'd like that. And after the company's gone, you'll stay on as my personal assistant, won't you?'

'I'll welcome having more time with you. I'll be glad when we've handed Corrigan's over to the new owner. He's coming up on Monday. Will you be there to meet him?'

'No, you do it.'

'OK.' He hesitated. 'Lena and I were talking and we were wondering if I should move into your house - for the time being. To be there for you.'

Maeve considered this, then gave him a wry smile. 'My live-in toy boy, you mean?' 

'More like your live-in adopted nephew, if I may presume?' He lifted one eyebrow, waiting. 

Pleasure filled her, followed by the unusual feeling of love for another human being, something she hadn't experienced for a long time - or in the case of Andy, hadn't allowed herself to admit to feeling. Now - well, she'd damn well do as she pleased for whatever time she had left, even become sentimental. But the most she could admit aloud was, 'Yes. Good idea. Much more convenient. And I'd like a nephew.'

Andy was surprised at how easily she'd agreed, but he kept that to himself. He and Lena had debated for days about how to broach it with Maeve and here she was agreeing without any quibbles whatsoever. He didn't look at her or say anything else, not wanting to push his luck, but he couldn't hold back a smile as he started the car.

Not an easy woman to love, Maeve Corrigan, but worth it. She was more a mother to him than his own had ever been. He didn't want to lose Maeve, still couldn't believe that such a vibrant person would die so young, at not quite sixty.

Outdoors bright sunshine glints off the parked cars and formal flower beds flourish a cheerful salute to summer, perfuming the air. Indoors air whispers quietly through the monochrome offices, served always at a constant temperature, with no perfume.

The following Monday, Andy waited in the main office at Corrigan's for the man who would be in charge of the takeover processes. Raymond Tate was Director of Finance, second in command of DC International, Maeve's brother's company, and the two of them had met several times during the course of the negotiations. Tate was always perfectly civil, but Andy hadn't taken to him. That was how it went. Some people you trusted on sight; others you didn't.

He looked out of the office window to see a large car purr into the executive parking area and roll to a halt. A uniformed chauffeur jumped out and hurried round to open the door for a man whom Andy recognized from photographs in share brochures as Desmond Corrigan. So the big boss had come out of hiding now about buying the company!

The brother and sister weren't much alike. Maeve was slim and restrained, though you couldn't help being aware of the power she wielded so skilfully. This one looked like a farmer dressed up for a day out in London. The suit was expensive, you could see that at a glance, but although Corrigan wasn't overweight, he had a florid complexion and his face looked a bit puffy. Maybe he was a man who spent a lot of time out of doors - or who drank a lot? Probably the latter.

What had brought him here today? Did he want to gloat over his sister? Well, he'd be disappointed.

With a sigh, Andy put away the papers he'd been sorting through, because Maeve's instructions were very clear. Nothing was to be left behind that wasn't absolutely necessary.

The executive secretary knocked on the door then poked her head round it to say, 'Your visitors are here, Mr Blauman.'

'Show them in.' Andy braced himself.

Corrigan strolled in first, looking round with a proprietorial air. 'Nice office.'

Tate made the introductions and the two men shook hands. 'Mr Corrigan is actually the new owner.'

'I know.'

They both stared at him in surprise.

'How?' Corrigan asked.

He avoided the question. 'We've known for a while.'

Corrigan breathed deeply for a moment or two, then looked round. 'Where's my sister?'

'At home.'

Des grinned, the sort of knowing, triumphant smile that made Andy want to punch him in the face. He couldn't remember when he'd taken such a dislike to a person on sight. No, he'd disliked him long before then - because Andy was the one who had found out about the convoluted trickery of this take-over.

'I'd not have thought she was afraid to meet me.'

'Maeve isn't afraid to meet anyone, but she's not well.'

Des smiled. 'Yes, of course.'

Andy didn't say anything because Maeve had strictly forbidden him to mention what was wrong with her. However, half an hour later, when they came back from a quick tour of the works, Corrigan made yet another snide reference to Maeve avoiding him.

'Miss Corrigan is ill,' Andy said curtly. 'I give you my solemn word on that.'

Des stared at him, still with a half-grin on his face. I hope it's something serious.'

Andy closed his eyes for a minute, trying to hide his anger then opened them to see Corrigan looking at him, eyes narrowed. 'That's her business.'

'It is serious!' Des's smile faded. 'Don't bother to deny it, I can see from your face.'

'Can you?'

'You're fond of her, aren't you?'

'Everyone here is fond of Miss Corrigan, who has been an exemplary employer.'

'Well, give her my best wishes for her speedy recovery.' 'Yes. Now, about the handover arrangements . . .' Before they left, Corrigan took Andy aside. 'It'd make things a lot easier if you'd come and work for me. I'm prepared to give you a substantial rise and good fringe benefits.' 'I already have a job, but thank you for the offer.' 'It's still open if you should change your mind.' Andy kept a smile pinned to his face until the door had closed behind them, then sat down in his chair with a low groan of relief. As if he'd ever work for a man like that! Well, only a few more days and he'd be through here. He'd expected to be sorry to leave, but helping Maeve was so much more important that he wished he could walk out this minute. On that thought he got up and went back to checking the master files, keeping some, discarding others, which was a job only he or Maeve could do.

If she was well enough, though, he hoped to bring her here for the farewell party on Friday. Everyone wanted to see her, say goodbye, thank her.

She wasn't the only one who was leaving. Several staff members had taken the offer of early retirement she'd made to them. Corrigan would find some important gaps in the ranks of management and technical skills.

Back at the hotel, Des paced up and down, frowning, not speaking to Tate, who sat quietly studying some figures. 'Has there been any word about my sister being ill?'

'No.'

'Find out about it. Even if you have to hire a whole squad of detectives, I want to know exactly what's wrong with her.'

'Very well.'

The phone rang. Tate picked it up. 'Someone for you, waiting in the lobby. Says his name's Smith.'

'I'll go down to him.' Des shrugged himself into his jacket and left without another word.

In the lobby he went across to the man he'd hired and took him into the coffee lounge. 'Well? Did my dear wife appreciate her present?'

'She intercepted it and had it dumped at the rear of the garden instead, so presumably she had some use for it.'

'I thought I told you I wanted it dumped on the rear patio, as close as possible to the kitchen window.'

'There was a motorbike blocking the way. The delivery man couldn't get round there.'

Des stiffened. 'A motorbike?'

'Yes. A Harley-Davidson. I got a photograph of it. The owner of it was in the house with her. He came to join her at the door. I got a photograph of them both standing there. It was rather early for visitors and he had bare feet and rumpled hair, so my guess is he'd been there all night. And then I took this one.' He passed across the photo of them kissing.

His employer's face turned deep puce. 'Any idea who he is?'

'No. But I have the number of the motorbike, so I'll find out.'

'Do that.' Des held out his hand for the print-outs of the rest of the photos, nodded dismissal and stayed where he was. He ordered a cappuccino and studied the photos again, he pulled out the one showing the kiss. The fellow definitely had bare feet. Dammit, she had been having an affair, for all her fine words! She hadn't had time to meet anyone since she left him - unless it was someone she'd met at the hotel?

Either way, he'd soon find out what was going on.

Kate stared out of the window as a sleek new car pulled into the drive then scowled as Joe got out. What was he doing in Callabine? He lived in Melbourne now, too far away to just pop in and see her. He looked too well for her peace of mind, with those dark good looks and an air of physical fitness and energy. She'd looked like that once, been full of beans from morning to night. She and Joe had been good together, both in bed and as companions - and it still hurt that he'd abandoned her like that.

She went to open the door and stand barring the way in with her arms folded across her body. 'What are you doing here?'

'I had business in the district so I thought I'd stay on a bit longer and call in to see you.'

'Then you've wasted your time. I don't want to see you.'

When she turned to close the door, he stuck out one hand to hold it open. 'Can't we at least be friends, Kate?'

'I don't feel very friendly towards someone who left me when the going got tough.'

He gave her one of his level glances. 'The new job meant a lot to me. I couldn't have done anything to help you and you weren't getting any better. You're looking a bit better now, though you're still pale.'

She shrugged. She was still a long way from her old self. She saw that every time she looked in the mirror, felt it every time that bone-melting tiredness swept through her. 'You made your choice then and I'm making mine now. Go and call on someone else, Joe. I'm busy.'

He didn't budge. 'Why won't you ever speak to me on the phone? I really wanted to keep in touch.'

'Kate Corrigan, you're never turning an old friend away.' Her mother pulled her out of the way and held the door wide. 'Come in, Joe. Have you driven far? Would you like a cup of tea?'

As Kate turned towards her bedroom, her mother grabbed the back of her tee shirt, hissing, 'This is your friend.' Within minutes she had the two of them sitting on the back veranda with a tray of tea and scones.

Kate didn't attempt to argue. Her mother had set views about hospitality - and this was her mother's house. Her parents kept reminding her of that, not so much in words as by their insistence on her doing things their way, as if she were still a child. And in one sense she was, because she couldn't afford to move out on her own, so was dependent on them for the roof over her head.

Joe concentrated on stirring sugar into his tea. 'Tell me how things are going. Really.'

'How do you think? I'm still not well enough to work. If I didn't have my computer and the Internet, I'd go mad. Maybe I've gone mad anyway. My father certainly thinks so.' 

 'Why?'

'Never mind. Tell me about your new job.'

When she realized they'd been sitting chatting for over an hour, she gave him a wry smile. 'We always could talk, couldn't we?'

He nodded. 'You're looking tired now, though.'

'It's been rather a fraught few days.'

'Still don't want to tell me why?'

She shook her head.

He stood up. 'I'm staying overnight in Berrabin. Want to come out for a drive tomorrow?'

She hesitated, very tempted to accept, but annoyed with herself for that. Had she really forgiven him that easily? But the thought of getting away from her parents for a few hours tipped the balance. 'It'd make a nice change to get out of Callabine.'

'Is your car being repaired? It's not outside.'

She shrugged. 'I sold it. Couldn't stay awake to drive very far at first and Mum lets me borrow her car when she isn't using it.' Her father had offered to pay for running her car, but she'd refused out of sheer pride. They'd done enough for her. Besides, she'd got a good price for it and would use the money later to buy a less expensive one, when there was a reason for it. Living here meant she could actually save money from the sickness benefits, which was important to her now.

Joe's glance was sympathetic but thank goodness he didn't comment on her lack of a car. She stood in the doorway waving to him but couldn't face her mother's smug smile, so went to her room and switched on her computer.

Over the evening meal she refused to discuss Joe's visit with them and didn't mention the outing planned for the following day. You had to guard any shred of privacy fiercely in the Corrigan household - even when you were twenty-eight years old.

By seven thirty that evening she was exhausted, as usual, so went to bed with a book. Thank heaven for libraries!

Around ten she woke with the light still on and her book lying on the pillow beside her, its pages bent. She felt desperately thirsty but as she reached the kitchen door, she heard her parents chatting quietly and hesitated. She didn't want another lecture. Or an interrogation about Joe.

Then she heard her father say triumphantly, 'Joe came, didn't he? All it took was one phone call. And if I have to pay to keep him coming, I'll even do that. I'm not having my daughter taking Maeve's leavings, if I can prevent it.'

Sick at heart, Kate turned round and crept back to her room, switching off the light and huddling beneath the sheet. Joe wouldn't have come but for her father's prompting. The humiliation of that left her beyond tears and she lay staring up at the ceiling for a long time. She had worried about alienating her family by accepting Maeve's invitation, but if anything had been needed to help her keep to her decision, this was it.

At six o'clock the following morning she rang up the motel where Joe would be staying, because it was the only one in Berrabin. She was savagely glad she'd woken him up. 'I don't know what my father said or did to get you down here, Joe Carvalli, but you can bloody well go away again. I definitely won't be in if you call.'

'Kate, please—'

She slammed the phone down. When it rang she let her mother answer it.

Her mother came into the bedroom without knocking.

'I accidentally overheard you and Dad talking last night,' Kate threw at her. 'It's humiliating to have you asking someone to come and see me. How did you do it? Play on his guilt and pity? Pay his travel expenses?'

Jean sighed and leaned against the door frame. 'I told your father it wouldn't work. I'm sorry, love.'

'But you still let Dad do it, didn't you? He talks about his sister manipulating people, but he's tarred with the same brush.'

'Kate!'

'Go away and leave me in peace. There's nothing you can say or do now to change my mind. I'm definitely going to England.'

She stayed in bed until her father had left for work, didn't get her breakfast until her mother had gone to the regular weekly meeting of the Country Women's Association. Well, she was never hungry these days.

She hoped this Felton man would ring soon and get her out of here.

The next day at school Lily gave her friend Rosemary a message to email to her father, then asked to see the counsellor, telling her teacher it was an emergency and sobbing that she couldn't bear things any longer. It wasn't hard to cry on demand, she found, because she felt upset all the time at the moment, but even as she wept she was watching herself and trying to do this properly. She'd watched herself like that for as long as she could remember. She studied other people too, trying to work out why they did things.

The counsellor sat Lily down, provided tissues and talked gently to her as she told Mrs Gipson exactly what had happened the previous day.