The Chocolatier's Secret (Magnolia Creek, Book 2) (14 page)

She had the good grace to look guilty. ‘There’s nothing about this situation that makes me happy, Mr Bennett, believe me.’

‘So why be so ruthless?’

‘I’m doing what I can to look after my children. We have no money, Mr Bennett. No money to return to Ireland, but when we get there we are to stay with my brother. He can find me work and it’s the start of a new future. Please don’t think I’m a terrible person.’ She twiddled her thumbs anxiously. ‘I want Julia to go to university, get a job, fall in love and have a family with the right person, when the time is right. This isn’t personal.’

‘Like hell it isn’t!’ When Louis’ voice echoed off the walls, tears fell down Penny’s cheeks. ‘And you’d persuade her to get rid of the baby? You think she’ll listen?’

He felt oddly protective over the unborn child. Much as he didn’t want Andrew to be trapped into a marriage so young, and fatherhood before he was ready, he couldn’t bear the thought of destroying a part of their family. But Kathleen left them with no option. She’d ruin them, she’d said as much. Blackmailing, to her, was her way of looking after her own family.

‘Think about what I’ve said,’ Kathleen continued, ‘and we’ll start making plans.’

The following afternoon, Kathleen returned to the Bennetts’ home.

‘You leave us with no choice,’ Louis told her. ‘We’ll go ahead with whatever you suggest.’

Kathleen looked him straight in the eye. ‘Julia and Andrew must know nothing about this. I’ve thought of the best way to do it, and they need to completely break away from each other.’

‘And how do you suggest we do that?’ Louis guffawed. All he cared about now was that Andrew would come out of this relatively unscathed.

Kathleen had thought it all through. She would put the locket Andrew gave Julia for her last birthday into an envelope with a short note, made to look as though it were from Julia, to tell him she’d decided to have an abortion. Julia’s younger sister, Terri, was apparently a whizz at copying other people’s handwriting. She’d been caught forging notes for skipping school and grounded as a result, and given enough incentive, monetary or otherwise, she’d do whatever she was asked. Louis was to give Andrew the letter and say Julia had delivered it.

Kathleen also took a page from an old school exercise book of Andrew’s so Terri could copy his handwriting and pass the note off as authentic. Then, on the same day Louis passed Andrew the letter from Julia, Kathleen would pass Julia a letter from Andrew saying he was too young to be a father, and he was moving away from the area with his family.

‘But we’re not going anywhere,’ Louis argued.

‘It’ll stop her resisting the move to Ireland if she thinks Andrew is leaving. Once I’ve given the letter to Julia I intend to fly immediately. Everything is ready for us. I just need—’

‘The money,’ said Louis, hands clasped firmly together in case he couldn’t help himself and reached out to strangle this woman.

He pulled the chequebook from the wooden dresser at the side of the room. The piece of furniture had been his mother’s, and she’d turn in her grave if she was here to witness what was going down this afternoon, but he couldn’t run the risk of his son being prosecuted. And he wasn’t sure he’d dare to call Kathleen’s bluff either. She seemed as though she’d stop at nothing to get what she wanted, and deep down, Louis longed for his son to have every door open to him, every opportunity, and that included the opportunity for true love.

Louis wrote out a cheque for five hundred pounds, as they’d discussed briefly, signed it and tore it from its stub.

‘I’m sorry it had to come to this,’ said Kathleen. ‘But you must understand, I’m looking after my family.’

Louis walked her to the door and waited for her to step outside. ‘You make me sick to my stomach. You’ve threatened our family, lied to your child and leave me no choice but to lie to my own. Shame on you.’ And he slammed the door so hard, the fresh coat of navy blue paint he’d only put on in the summer cracked all the way past the hinges.

*

Three days later, when Kathleen had waited for the funds to clear in her bank account and had purchased flights for her and her three kids, the plan had been put into action. Louis had wailed inside, cried through his entire body as his son read the letter from Julia, not suspecting for one minute the writing wasn’t hers. Tears had sprung to his eyes when the locket had fallen out to the floor and Andrew grappled to pick up the last remnants of his girlfriend. And then Louis had learned how even fifteen-year-old boys weren’t immune to hugs when the chips were down, and he clasped his son to his chest, holding his shuddering body that spoke of the unfairness of it all.

He’d wondered about Julia, how she was, how she’d coped with being whisked away to Ireland to start a new life, forced to get rid of a baby she wanted to keep, forced to sever contact with the boy she might very well be in love with. But they had to keep their promise. The thought of Kathleen’s blackmail angered Louis no end, but the thought of Andrew getting in trouble with the law was worse. As a parent, the plan had seemed the only way out, and guilt and shame wouldn’t allow him to dwell on whether there might have been another way.

Louis threw himself into work for the next few days. Andrew took to bed, sinking beneath his duvet. He had ridden his bike round to Julia’s place twice, looking in the windows to check it hadn’t all been some terrible dream, and when he found out she’d left the town, he was heartbroken.

After a fortnight of Andrew moping round the house and the effort each day of coaxing him into going to school so his grades didn’t slip, Louis was standing at work making éclairs, chocolate torte and Danish pastries when he realised the family needed to fight back from this. He’d made this decision in the best interests of his son, and now he needed to honour his promise to himself that his son would get the most from life. He’d make this up to him in every way he could. And so that night, at home, Louis told Penny of his plans.

Louis’ brother had emigrated to Australia a long time ago where he’d set up a café business in Adelaide. He’d been back to England three times since and always talked about the lifestyle, trying to persuade Louis to make the move. ‘You won’t believe the sunshine we get,’ he’d said. ‘It’s summer for eight, nine months of the year. No more digging your car out of three-foot snow drifts to get to work.’

‘What do you think?’ he asked Penny after dinner. Andrew was looking better, the colour was back in his cheeks and he seemed to be knuckling down to his schoolwork. ‘Andrew’s exams are in a few months, and if we get everything in place, we can go as soon as they’ve finished, settle him into a secondary school over there.’

‘I don’t know, Louis. It’s a long way away.’

‘But think of the life we’d have. It’d be a fresh start.’ Away from the dismal weather, away from any memories of what they’d done. ‘I think we could all be really happy.’

And when Penny asked whether there was work for him over there, Louis knew she was with him on this. Emigrating to Australia would be the fresh start they all needed. And they could forget all about Kathleen and Julia Mason.

Chapter Nineteen

Molly

At one o’clock in the morning, Melbourne time, Molly’s taxi pulled into the driveway of a small block of apartments. She’d called her parents from the airport to tell them the flight had been fine and she’d heard their relief from thousands of miles away. The rain, as different as the currency she was using, lashed down as she paid the driver. England had fine, drizzly rain, but here in the southern hemisphere the rain fell heavier, thicker.

She wheeled her suitcase to the door of apartment two and fumbled with the keysafe to retrieve the key waiting for her. She let herself in to the apartment and switched on the lights. It was March, and in Melbourne the outside temperature when they’d landed was fourteen degrees, which was quite respectable, but inside this apartment was cold, and Molly was desperate to have a shower and warm up. She put the chain across the front door. She rummaged through her suitcase and found the plug adaptor and her charger, and while she showered and washed away the smell of the plane, she powered up her phone. She wanted to open up Facebook and see if Ben had sent her a message, look at their photo again, but she’d resisted the temptation on the way to South Yarra, not wanting to use up what remaining power the device had left.

She stayed beneath the jets of hot water for ages, longer than she usually did. She washed her hair so it was fresh with the scent of fruit and coconut from the travel-size shampoo and conditioner she’d brought with her, and when she was dry she pulled on her thick cotton pyjamas, plumped up the pillows on the bed against the wall and relaxed into them, her phone now charged enough to log on to social media.

She opened up Facebook, and when she saw Ben’s message, her heart leapt. She read it a few times, hearing about his friend in Singapore – apparently he’d parked at a taxi rank and there were a few people yelling at them as they threw Ben’s luggage into the boot and left the airport – and then he sent her a few photographs of him in a bar with his friend, Seb, with iced beer glasses held aloft. Molly wrote straight back to tell him about the flight she’d managed to do all by herself, she briefly described the apartment to him, told him it was cold and raining and said she had a few days to be a tourist and get her head sorted before she took the next step.

When Ben didn’t reply immediately, as he so often did, Molly realised it was the middle of the night where he was too. She flicked over to the group page and scrolled down to find the post she’d been longing to see ever since they’d parted in Changi Airport. His blue eyes looked out at her from the selfie they’d taken before the first flight and again from the second photo they’d taken after landing in Singapore. She couldn’t help but smile, warm inside at what she’d achieved. It was a long, long road ahead, but she didn’t care. She was on her way.

After she’d checked the corners of the ceiling in the bathroom, bedroom and kitchen area for spiders or cobwebs that could be home to anything large and Australian – Isaac’s fiancée had told her some terrifying facts about redbacks, snakes and other wildlife she hoped she wouldn’t encounter – she climbed into the bed. The sheets weren’t soft like hotel sheets. They were stiff, as though they’d seen the washing machine too many times. But this was a bargain price compared to a hotel, and she’d needed extra money to hire a car and drive to Magnolia Creek, more money to rent a cottage up there rather than drive back to the city and enough money in case of an emergency.

Despite the less than plush bedding and the strangeness of her surroundings, the weight of jet lag weighed Molly down quickly and she fell into a heavy sleep. She dreamed of greenery, the rich shades of Magnolia Creek she’d seen in photographs on the internet. She dreamed of chocolate running down a hill near the cottages she was going to in a few days, she dreamed of Ben standing beside her as they watched a waterfall of chocolate and she heard his voice saying, ‘It’ll all work out, you’ll see’. But she didn’t dream of meeting Andrew Bennett. He may have been the reason she was here in Australia, but somehow there wasn’t enough room in her head for him tonight.

*

Molly woke feeling as though she’d slept for hours. Wide awake at only seven o’clock in the morning, she guessed this was what they called jet lag. She climbed out of bed and looked out of the window. Sun. She smiled. She was here in Australia, and the weather was already helping to lighten the feelings she had stirring inside of her.

When she’d arrived at the apartment after the flight, she couldn’t have imagined ever being hungry again. She felt as though she’d consumed the equivalent food she usually ate in a week. But now, she was ravenous. She quickly showered, piled her hair up in a bun and pulled on some fresh clothes.

Armed with a local map of the area, she navigated her way to Prahran markets where the scent of fruit mixed with the warmth of the outside filled her with joy. Row upon row of brightly coloured vegetables made her wonder whether she’d be able to carry everything she bought back to the apartment. She tasted cheeses on crusty bread, mushrooms served with tomato and apple chutney in tiny paper cups and dipped crackers into a fresh olive-based dip. The tastes exploded on her tongue and fuelled her desire to be here in this exciting new place, eager to find out more.

She texted her mum to make idle conversation when it was daytime in the UK, to assure her there was a sense of normality on the other side of the world, and on the way back to her apartment, she ducked into a bookstore and browsed for a while at travel guides showing Australian cities and amazing places she could visit. A world that was open to her now she was willing to get on a plane.

Back at the apartment, Molly cooked the mushrooms. She baked them under the grill as the stallholder had explained, and then tossed them with the chutney she’d bought from him. At his suggestion she’d bought spinach, and she threw a couple of handfuls into the pan with a little butter and served it with the mushrooms and toast cut up into little triangles.

Molly checked her Facebook again, and sure enough there was a ‘howdy’ message from Ben. She wasn’t sure what made him say ‘howdy’ when he was Australian and nowhere near the USA, but with Ben she was beginning to realise he was someone who often did the unexpected. She’d done nothing of the sort, until now. She’d done everything she was supposed to do. She’d graduated from university, got her first job as a midwife, had every Friday and Saturday night out with her mates, and the most she’d veered away from being conservative was to order takeout on a Tuesday night. She’d even done everything she was supposed to with Julia, and look how that had turned out. Her brother’s wedding had started Molly thinking about making some changes, even if all it meant was getting on a plane, and now, at thirty years old, flying to the other side of the world to meet a total stranger was the first thing she’d ever really done outside the norm.

After chatting with Ben, Molly spent the rest of the day making the most of the new surroundings. She caught the tram to the city, loving the ting of the bell as they approached lights or warned a pedestrian who’d crossed the road dangerously. Ting, ting, ting went the bell – coming through! She loved it. She went up to the top of Eureka SkyDeck and dared to walk out on The Edge, the almost three-hundred-metre glass cube suspended above Melbourne city. Up there she felt invincible, like nothing could go wrong for her now.

She stopped for a hot chocolate at a quaint café in one of Melbourne’s laneways, she checked out the famous domed structure of Flinders Street Station, dodging out of the way of commuters as they raced for their trains. She bought a woollen dress at the big department store in Bourke Street, crossing over a smaller road to go in the other side before realising she’d ended up in a different shop entirely. And when her jet lag caught up with her, she caught the tram back to South Yarra, watching out the window and gazing upon green spaces freshened up by last night’s downpour.

Back at the apartment Molly boiled the kettle and made a cup of tea. She sat at the table and hopped onto Facebook again, ready to chat with Ben. He’d sent her a longer message this time, telling her all about his trip to Sentosa Island and Resort World. He’d sent her a photo of him and Seb on a ride called the Luge, his long legs bunched right up as he tried to fit on the thing. She’d laughed at his story about the most revolting nachos he’d ever tasted with warm, puke-like cheese and a runny salsa. He suggested she check out the impressive Crown Casino during her time in Melbourne, and he asked her how she felt about meeting Andrew Bennett.

Molly: I honestly don’t know how to feel. The euphoria from the flight has kept me going till now, but I’m starting to get nervous about the whole thing.

Ben: You can’t back out now!

Molly: I won’t.

Ben: Good. And the offer still stands. I’ll be back in Melbourne soon, and if you want to meet up, I’m all yours.

Molly: Goodnight, Ben, jet lag has defeated me today.

Ben: I’ll take that as a yes! Goodnight, Molly, sweet dreams. x

She smiled at the ‘x’, and although she didn’t reply with a kiss in return, she did go to bed thinking about him, her tiredness the only reason he didn’t leap into her dreams.

*

Two days later Molly’s jet lag had subsided a little, and with the sun in the sky, she collected a hire car and programmed the satnav with the postcode for Magnolia Creek Holiday Cottages.

This was it. She was really doing this.

Molly enjoyed the freedom on the drive, the space you didn’t get in England crammed up on the motorways, going nowhere, pulling in and out of parked cars on tiny side streets that were the only way to get through some towns. She sipped from her bottle of water at her side and let the satnav do the thinking as the wind blew through the open windows and lifted tendrils of dark hair around the sides of her face.

The countryside was amazing, or was it the bush? She really had no idea in this foreign country, but whatever it was called, it was stunning scenery to drive through. She smiled at unfamiliar signposts and read words out loud: Murrindindi … what a funny word that was. But then, finally a name she knew as the road narrowed and the trees formed a canopy overhead.

A sign in big, swirly writing said: Welcome to Magnolia Creek.

She was here. She was going to meet Andrew Bennett.