A Case For Trust (24 page)

‘Bowral, I understand.'

‘
Bowral?
What the hell's in bloody Bowral?'

‘Apart from some beautiful old houses? A lot of gardens, and a lot of retired hobby-gardeners with big ambitions but without the healthy knees or hips to fulfil them. God's waiting room, is Bowral. I suppose there are uglier places.'

‘She's taking her business to Bowral?'

Eleanor shook her head disparagingly. ‘She hasn't got a business, as I think you well know. She's got a job as a gardener with the local council. But it won't take her long to get back on her feet, and she'll soon have more commissions than she can possibly handle, I'm sure. I wrote her a reference.'

‘You did?'

‘Of course. It was the very least I could do. It was all she'd allow me to do. I offered to invest in her company, pay her a retainer. She wouldn't even consider it. Whatever she is, whatever you thought she was, one thing she is
not
is grasping. But she did agree to let Justin put together a lovely portfolio of photos of the garden, so she can build a website when she's ready. I'm quite looking forward to when she's famous, telling everybody I was one of her first clients. Are you leaving so soon, darling?'

Matt paused at the doorway beside her, impatience warring with courtesy. ‘I need to talk to her.'

‘Do you? What about?'

‘I'm not sure it's any of your business, Eleanor.'

The glittering façade dropped and Eleanor rested a trembling hand on his arm. ‘You're my son. And Philippa's my dear friend. Of course it's my business. You know, I told her not to hurt you, never realising for a moment she was the one who was getting hurt.'

‘You
what
? When?'

‘At Justin's gallery party. I saw her face when she heard you were joining us; I've never known someone look so hunted. I thought she was avoiding you because she planned to dump you. She must have known already by then what you'd done, and she never said a word.'

Matt looked away, shamefaced. It was a long time since he'd allowed his mother to dress him down, since he'd given her any excuse to. His inclination was to walk away; to throw her words back in her face. After what she did to his father, Eleanor was the last person he should take relationship advice from. But the truth was, he didn't know what to do next. The news Philippa was leaving had knocked him for six. He'd thought he had time, time to make amends, time to persuade her to give him another chance. So when his mother started speaking again, he listened.

‘Philippa has a lot of class, Matt. I like her very much. So I'll say the same thing to you I said to her: take care. Be sure of what you want before you see her again now, because she's vulnerable and trying to put her life back together. I think perhaps, if you're not serious about her, it would be best if you let her go. I don't know if she could take another betrayal from you.'

He nodded silently, and Eleanor waited, patient, wise, not pushing, not judging, just waiting for him to find his own mind, to know his own heart. Just as she'd always done, through all his growing years. As she'd continued to do, despite the chasm that had opened between them, and which he had steadfastly refused to bridge.

Finally: ‘It's serious. I'm serious. About Philippa. I love her. I want to marry her. But …'

‘But what, Matt?'

He moved away restlessly, to the edge of the verandah and back to her, then flung himself into one of the drovers chairs that lined the verandah. Eleanor followed more sedately. ‘Matt? What's stopping you? What are you afraid of?'

He answered her question with one of his own; less a question, more an entreaty. ‘Won't you please tell me what happened between you and Dad? What made you stop loving him? What did he do wrong to lose your love?'

The anguished gasp, the fervent, head-shaking denial from his mother reminded him bitterly that she'd never answered him before, clearly had no intention of answering him this time, and he sprang out of the chair again, ready to leave. His mother's quiet, proud, defiant voice stopped him in his tracks.

‘I loved your father until the day he died, Matt. I still love him.'

He'd heard that before. It still didn't make sense to him. But this time, he tried to understand. Tentatively: ‘But you loved Uncle Jack more?'

‘No.' The syllable was unequivocal, and when he looked at his mother, she was clear-eyed, calm, dignified. He turned his back on her again, leaning his hands on the railing, and though he pitched his lawyer's voice at the garden, he knew she would hear every furious, long pent-up word.

‘Then
why
? Why did you betray Dad? Don't you see, you and Dad were the exemplars. I looked at my friends, saw them struggling through their parents' nasty, mean-spirited divorces, and thanked god every night that
my
parents' marriage was strong. D'you know, I briefly considered specialising in family law, because I really imagined, I actually believed I knew how a good marriage worked, that I could help the poor sorry sods who didn't have that example. I believed that because of you and Dad. Then I found out it was all a pack of lies. And now I don't know what I believe. I think I love Philippa enough, I even think deep down she loves me enough, or at least I hope she does. But what if I'm wrong? What if we start out loving each other and end up tearing each other apart? What if we end up betraying one another? You say she's vulnerable now; how much more vulnerable will she be, will we both be, later on, when we're older, tireder, busier? How vulnerable will our children be? I look at you, at you and Dad, and think if you couldn't make it, as much as you loved each other, how the hell am I supposed to?'

Matt finally turned around and saw the effect the speech he'd rehearsed so often in his head had had on his mother. She sat trembling, tears running down her papery cheeks, and he swore viciously. ‘I'm sorry. I am. I wish I could talk about this rationally, but I can't. Forgive me. I'll go now.'

‘Matt, wait.' Her voice was steady in spite of the tears. ‘Darling, try and understand. No two loves are the same. No two marriages are the same. And nobody outside a marriage can see what's going on inside it. You can't look at my marriage with your father and say, I'll do this differently or that differently and that way my marriage will last. There are no guarantees in love, Matt. It's a leap of faith. There's no other way. You can stay safe on the edge of the precipice, but you can't love that way. You have to love with all your heart, darling, all your trust, everything you have. You have to risk it all. And if you're lucky, if you're very careful and very lucky, you'll have what your father and I had. It wasn't perfect. But for almost forty years, it was wonderful. Even in the bad times. Even in the ugly times.'

This time, his voice was so low she had to strain to hear it. ‘Was it worth it?'

‘Absolutely. Every moment.'

He stayed silent another moment, then nodded. Leant over his mother's chair and kissed her cheek softly. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

‘Courage, my darling. It will be worth it for you, too. I promise.'

Chapter 16

Pippa stared at the document in front of her. All she had to do was sign it, and it was done. The real estate agent hovered expectantly, rightly pleased with himself that he'd upheld his side of the bargain. He'd negotiated a sale and a very fast settlement that would leave her homeless but would satisfy the bank's conditions. She'd be repaying the last of the bank debt for a couple of years yet, but she wouldn't be bankrupt and she'd be in control of her own destiny again. She could take her ute and her tools and her dreams somewhere else and start again.

So just bloody sign it.

She glanced up momentarily from the paperwork, in time to catch the dappled twilight filtering through the big jacaranda. She'd loved that tree. Loved the bank of golden wattles beneath it. Loved the yard at the back with its grevilleas and callistemons and lemon myrtle. Had poured so much of herself into creating a little sanctuary that was all her own. The buyer who'd visited that morning had loved it too, loved it so much she'd immediately made an offer which the agent had spent the rest of the day haggling upwards. And here he was, with a pretty good contract, really, considering the state of the market.

Still she hesitated.

It wasn't just losing the house and leaving her garden; she knew she had to do that. It was leaving Brisbane, leaving the only place she'd known. Leaving Matt, her heart whispered traitorously.

As if she'd conjured him by wishing, she saw the familiar black Audi pull up outside her gate. The agent saw it too, craning his neck and tutting that he should have removed the ‘for sale' sign already. Then he recognised Matt getting out of the car, and his anxiety ramped up a level, matched by the speed of his patter.

‘Ms Lloyd? The contract? I assure you, I've coaxed our buyer as high as she's likely to go. I don't believe you'll get a better price. And I did tell her I'd finalise the sale tonight.'

Pippa was staring, transfixed, at Matt as he unlatched her front gate, and the agent sighed, sensing the sale slip through his fingers. ‘Of course, I understand. You'll want to talk it over with your … friend.'

Pippa started, as if from a trance. ‘I beg your pardon? No. No, I don't need to talk it over with anyone at all.' And picking up the pen, she signed, initialled and dated as the agent hastily peeled back page after page for her attention. She didn't look up from the document as she heard Matt's foot ascend the top step, but signed the last page, capped the pen and thrust both pen and paperwork at the agent. He grabbed her hand hastily, awkwardly, and shook it before shoving the contract in his folder and beating a hasty retreat.

Matt was still standing at the top of the verandah, one foot on the top step, as if uncertain he should continue.

‘Congratulations,' he said quietly. ‘I guess you sold the house.'

Pippa cleared the knot in her throat a couple of times before she could answer. ‘That's right.'

‘I didn't realise you were serious about selling. Before today, I mean.'

Her voice was stronger this time. ‘It seems the best solution. Under the circumstances.' She didn't invite him up, and didn't move from her own position behind the little wrought-iron table.

‘There's a cooling off period, you know, with the contract. Technically it's for the buyer, if they want to change their mind, but if selling's not what you want to do, if you want to keep the house, I could—'

Pippa was shaking her head vehemently. ‘No. Thank you. I've been through all the options already with your sister. I appreciate you both providing your advice, but this is the right decision for me.'

‘And you're leaving? Leaving Brisbane?'

‘Probably.'

‘For Bowral?'

‘No. Not Bowral. Not now. I
was
going to Bowral, but the rental agency ran a credit check and discovered the bank declined my loan and insurance applications. Bowral's a small place. Turns out the rental agent is married to the council's human resources manager, so … no job in Bowral.'

Matt stared at her, aghast. ‘I'm sorry, Philippa. I can't say how sorry I am. But if you're not going to Bowral, why sell the house? Surely you can stay here, find work in Brisbane?'

He'd taken the three steps to where Pippa was sitting, boxing her in. She pushed back from the table, pressed her fingers against the lacework pattern until she could feel the sharp-edged metal cut impressions in her fingertips. ‘That's not an option. Keeping the house is not an option. I can't afford it. And if I can't find a job soon, staying in Brisbane isn't an option I can afford either.'

The metal feet of the other chair scraped harshly against the verandah floor as he pushed it out to sit beside her. He leaned in earnestly.

‘So sue me.'

‘No.'

‘Philippa,
sue me
. Sue me for damages. Sue me for negligence. Sue me for breach of trust. Because that's what I did. You trusted me with some information in confidence and I breached your trust. Sue me.'

‘No. I've already told Marissa no.'

‘Why not? I deserve it. You know I deserve it.'

His gaze was too close, too intense. Pippa averted her head, looked instead across the neat row of native hedges out onto the street. ‘It wouldn't make any difference. It would take too long. The bank wants its money now.'

‘I won't contest it. You can have your money by the end of the week.'

‘It's more than half a million dollars!'

‘I can afford it. I want you to do this, Philippa.'

He'd grasped her hands as he made his entreaty, and Pippa wrenched them out of his grip as she shook her head. ‘No, it's not right. It was my mistake. It was my mistake lying on the form, and it was my mistake telling you about my family. I should have known better in both instances. I'll take the consequences.'

Matt swore virulently, thrust his chair away and stomped around the verandah so aggressively that for a full fifteen seconds Pippa pressed her body back against the chair and held her breath rather than contribute oxygen to his temper. Abruptly he stopped and spun to look at her. ‘You realise you're letting me off scot-free?'

Pippa met his glare full on. ‘I'm not sacrificing my principles to salve your conscience. If you feel bad about what you've done, find some other way to fix your karma. But I've said over and over, I'm not interested in pursuing legal action.'

‘It wouldn't have to be drawn-out and difficult, although I believe Marissa is more than well equipped to take on your case and win it. Sue me for damages, I'll settle immediately, and I'll advise Consolgard they should reverse their decision on your insurance, that they're putting themselves at risk of countersuits if they don't. It could be sorted out fairly quickly, if you'd just allow Marissa to lodge the relevant—'