Love or Money (12 page)

‘Sure.' Erin slid out the door, glad to be let off the hook. Jenny had raised four children. She could take charge of the pants situation. Erin returned, nappies in hand, and watched as Jenny did her motherly duty while Dwayne lay quietly on a towel she'd raided from the washroom.

‘Now I want a icecream.' Dry nappies in place, the little boy forgot his trauma.

‘Okay. Let's go.' Suddenly Erin knew she could use an icecream herself. Icecreams in hand, they walked to the park. Erin would play with Dwayne until Hamish returned.

‘I wanna ride the see-saw,' he said, his confidence blossoming again.

‘Fine. You'll have to show me how.'

‘I show you.' He jumped on one end of the ancient wooden plank while Erin took charge of the other. Then he wheeled her around every other piece of playground equipment in turn.

When Erin checked her watch, she found a couple of hours had passed since the two of them had arrived at the playground. The idea that kids could be fun had snuck up on her while she was busy with other things.

‘Can you tell me a story?' Dwayne asked, puffing after an energetic climb through a set of monkey bars. He looked up at her, eyes pleading.

‘Sure. Would you like one about a kangaroo? A magic kangaroo?'

‘Yes.'

‘Okay. This is a story about a magic kangaroo called Katy.'

‘Why is it called Katy?'

‘I don't know. What would you like it to be called?'

‘Dwayne.'

‘But it's a girl kangaroo.'

‘Call it Dwayne.'

‘Okay, then.' A long time later, Erin finished the retelling of all her writings. It was time to head back to Hamish's office. ‘And then Dwayne hopped home to bed and went fast asleep,' she said.

‘Tell me more about Dwayne.'

‘But she's gone to sleep.'

‘Okay.' He fell silent for a moment. ‘Now she's waked up,' he grinned. ‘She wants to hop some more.' He hopped, kangaroo-like, away from the bench where Erin had flopped. Funny, but as she wove stories for the little boy looking up at her wide-eyed, she'd found herself led into a magic cave. Inside that cave, a hundred doors opened, each one beckoning her into a new story. Spending an afternoon with a child wouldn't be all bad for her writing. If ever she suffered from a dose of writer's block in the future, she'd know what to do.

Around five, the pair stepped back to Hamish's office. As he heard their noisy arrival, he opened his office door.

‘Thank you, Erin.' His face was a sad fusion of relief and embarrassment. ‘I don't know how we'd have coped without you. I want to —'

‘Erin told me a story.' The little boy looked up at his father, grinning. ‘About a kangaroo. She magicked herself a lot.'

‘Okay. But it's time for little boys to go home now.'

‘I don't want to go home.'

‘We have to, Dwayne.'

‘No.'

‘Why not?'

‘Don't want to.'

‘Why not?'

‘Mummy might hit me again.'

‘She won't. I promise.' With a look over his shoulder towards Erin, Hamish picked up his son and headed for his car. The little boy realised what was happening and flung out his arms to Erin.

‘I want Erin to come.'

‘No, mate. Erin has to go home.'

‘But I want her to come with me. Tell me more stories.'

‘Another day, Dwayne. We have to go home now.'

As Jenny followed Hamish out of the office and locked up for the night, she slipped a glance in Erin's direction — a glance that hinted at the pain waiting for Hamish and his son as they stepped back into their house. Erin walked to her car bouncing a strange new thought around in her head like a big multi-coloured ball. She actually loved kids.

Hamish drove Dwayne home hoping that Honey would be there, hoping they could work at unscrambling the tortured mess of their relationship. They'd had some golden days as a couple — mother, father, and cute babe in arms. As he pulled up outside her house, Hamish spotted Honey's car parked on the lawn. He scooped his son from the back seat, cradled him in strong arms, and headed inside.

‘That you, darl?' The slurred voice came from Honey's bedroom. He carried Dwayne down the hall, saw his partner lying on the bed in the semi-darkness, wearing only lurid bra and panties.

‘I brought our son back,' he said, lowering Dwayne to the floor. The child clung to him, eyeing his mother nervously. ‘You left Dwayne today.' Hamish choked back the judgemental chill that washed through his brain. ‘Again. You went out drinking. Why?'

‘No worries, Hamey. Dwayney was having his sleep. His afternoon sleep. I just went into town. For a coffee.'

‘Tell it like it is, Honey. You went out drinking. Abandoned our son. Why?'

‘A girl's gotta have a little drink now and again.' She flexed her near-naked body, smiled. For a split second, Hamish felt a part of him seduced by that body, as he had a thousand times before. He batted the feeling away.

‘Neglecting Dwayne like that. It's a criminal offence.'

‘I told you, darl. He was having his sleep.' She giggled. ‘Okay, it wasn't exactly a coffee. I was coming back real soon. Before he woke.'

‘This afternoon, around three, Dwayne was found hysterical, screaming, running around the yard. By a client of mine. She brought him into the office, soothed him, cared for him. I was away on a call.'

‘Sorry Hamey. Sorry Dwayney. Hop into bed, boys. Big, big cuddles.'

‘Honey. This sort of behaviour absolutely has to stop. You're breaking the law. Ripping away our last shreds of respectability as a family in this town.'

‘I don't care about respectability in this bloody town. I don't care about anything in this bloody town.'

‘I know that. I've seen the way you behave. So has everyone else. But what about our son? Don't you care that you hurt him so much? That you could be damaging him? Making him grow up with all kinds of pain?'

‘Come to bed with Honeypie, darl.' She flexed her body again, smiled up at him ‘Don't be cross at me now, darl.'

‘You're too drunk to care. About me, or about Dwayne. About anything.'

‘I love my Dwayney. Heaps. Course I do.' She turned towards her son. ‘Here, Dwayney baby. Come and cuddle Mumsy.' Dwayne looked at her, eyes wide, then gripped his father's trouser leg harder. Hamish lifted his son into his arms.

‘I'm going to make Dwayne's dinner. If you want to join us, fine.' He turned and headed for the door.

‘Wait, Hamey.' Her voice rang with sadness. ‘Come back a minute.'

‘No.' To give in to her would kill the message he desperately wanted to get across.

‘I'm sorry, love,' she sniffed. ‘I've been a naughty girl. Don't be mad at me.'

‘You don't really give me any options, Honey.' Hamish recovered his determination, looked down at her coldly. ‘First it was only once or twice. A tough day with Dwayne. You needed a break. Now you're making a habit of this…this…slipping off to the pub in the afternoons. Where will it end?'

‘Never again, love. Promise.' She smiled up at him. ‘Hey, I had a great idea. Go and order a pizza. Then we'll have a nice lovey dinner together. Pizza and beer. Then go to bed and make hot love. All night.'

‘No.' He let the message sink in. ‘I have to care for Dwayne.'

‘Just put him to bed. Right now. Then come to my bed.' She reacted to his cold expression. ‘You know I love my Dwayney.'

‘He doesn't seem to think so.'

‘He's just kidding.'

‘He says you hit him.'

‘I never did! He was telling a big fat —' Suddenly she screamed, burst into hysterical sobs, and buried her face in the pillow. Hamish headed up the hall, put his son into his high chair, and began to explore the fridge. He closed the kitchen door to muffle the still-desperate sobbing coming from Honey's room. Dwayne had suffered enough pain for one day.

Minutes later, as Hamish opened a forgotten jar of baby vegetables he'd found in a high cupboard, he heard a door slam. As he looked through the window, he saw Honey heading for her car, high heels sinking into the lawn, handbag swinging. She wore a scarlet dress, skin-tight, with a side split running up to her panty line. She fell into the car, started the engine. He put down Dwayne's plate. She was going to drive while very drunk. He should dash outside, stop her.
Too late
. Hamish watched as the spinning wheels dug a muddy track across the lawn, then powered onto the driveway.

Around eight that evening, as Erin cleaned up after dinner, she remembered to check the date for her next meeting with her agent, Stacey Hill. She headed to the bedroom to find her handbag. Bother! The handbag wasn't there. Then she remembered. She'd dropped it on the sofa in Hamish's office when she gave Dwayne a final goodbye hug. It was Friday. She'd need things from that bag over the weekend — credit cards, makeup, her diary. She'd better get it back now, and that would mean calling Hamish at home. Not a good idea, for a lot of reasons, but she had no choice. Hopefully the couple would be relaxing over dinner as Dwayne played on the carpet. She dialled his number.

‘Hamish Bourke,' the voice answered.

‘Terribly sorry to bother you, Hamish,' Erin said, genuinely upset that she had to call out of hours. ‘Erin here. When I dropped Dwayne back at your office this afternoon, I left my handbag on the sofa in your office. I'll need it over the weekend.'

‘Of course you will. I know about women's handbags. Right now, I'm stuck at home babysitting. Honey's having a…night out. With the girls.' Erin saw through his white lie.

‘Could I drop by and borrow the office keys?' she said. ‘I'll have them back to you in ten minutes.'

‘Would you mind? I'd love to collect your bag for you, but Dwayne might wake. Then all hell could break loose. He had a pretty heavy day. As you know.'

‘No problem. See you in ten.' She drove to the house, found the porch light on, and knocked.

‘Hi Erin,' he said as he opened the door. ‘That was quick.' He looked drawn, pale.

‘Yes,' she said. ‘I thought that the sooner I got it over with, the less I'd disturb you.' Her pre-rehearsed speech was all the more appropriate now she'd seen his face.

‘Thanks. That's very considerate of you.' He smiled down at her. She could see he was making a huge effort to look polite and relaxed, and not quite making it. ‘You wouldn't like to come in for a few minutes?'

‘Er…no thanks.' Erin knew without setting foot inside his house that it would look like a battleground. ‘Best be getting out of your way.'

‘Okay, then. The keys.' He held them out to her.

Ten minutes later she was back at his door, keys in hand, handbag safely in her car.

‘Do come in. Please.' There was an edge of desperation in Hamish's voice.

‘Thank you.' Bracing herself for a shock, she stepped inside. The kitchen sink overflowed with dirty dishes. She saw wet streaks on the dining table. In the last few minutes Hamish had given the place a lick and a promise.

‘Let's have a glass of wine together,' he said. Again, she sensed tension below the thin ice of his politeness. ‘Take a seat on the sofa,' he said. ‘I'll find something in the kitchen.'

Erin sat, wondering why she could barely control her uneasiness. Maybe it was the all-enveloping smell of the place — dirty nappies overlain by the stench of garbage, unwashed dishes. Someone could straighten the jumble of chairs pretty quickly, but it would take serious housecleaning to make the place smell sweet again. Hamish would have his work cut out over the weekend.

‘Sorry, but we seem to be out of anything drinkable. I thought I had a case or two of respectable wine tucked away, but… This brandy is all I could find.' He put two shot glasses on the table and filled them. ‘See it as a nightcap.'

‘Thanks,' she said. ‘I should be getting home anyway.'

‘Don't go for a minute. Please.' Desperation still rang in his voice. ‘Well, cheers.' They lifted their glasses and drank. Despite Todd's efforts to educate her palate to the joys of spirits, Erin had never liked them. Wine or the occasional glass of beer on a hot evening was the best she'd achieved to date. She would swallow her drink quickly, then leave. She took a mouthful of brandy, gulped as it burned its way down her throat. Her senses reeled.

‘I — I know you've had a — bad day, Hamish,' she said. ‘It's nice of you to ask me to stay for a drink. But shouldn't you be catching up on your rest? A quiet read for an hour might relax you.'

‘Relax? You're right. It's been a tough day.'

The brandy told her it was okay to let her instincts take over. ‘Is it…Honey?' she said quietly.

‘As if you didn't know.' His voice fell to a whisper.

‘This is a small town,' she said. ‘People talk.'

‘Yes. And I'd guess everything you've heard is true.' Erin suspected they were due for a Hamish silence. She watched him as he bowed his head, put his empty glass on the floor beside his chair.

‘I have to face it,' he said eventually. ‘Honey is — an alcoholic.' He looked up. ‘There. I've said it. For years, I couldn't bring myself to accept the obvious. Her family bloodlines. Her terrible childhood. I was so unbelievably naïve. I thought I could save her from her past. I thought love would find a way.'

‘I understand,' Erin said, feeling her heart flow out to him. Not that she did understand. Her family life, such as it was, had never exposed her to tragedy like that. The man opposite her cried out for understanding.

A childish scream cut across the silence. Hamish sprinted to Dwayne's room. The little boy could be waking from a nightmare. His screams got louder, more terrified. He must be scared out of his mind. What monsters had just crashed into his world?