Love or Money (16 page)

‘Okay.' She took a seat at the table and watched him pour the wine. When he'd finished, he retrieved his glass and raised it.

‘To…repairing a bridge that's taken a little battering,' he said. ‘I really have missed you, Eri.' She took a sip from her glass.

‘I'm not sure about any bridge reconstruction antics,' she said.

In a minute, he'd tell her he'd booked a dinner at Beacon Head, a nearby town that boasted a resort hotel, with a restaurant that would pass his exacting standards. Then, depending on…things, he'd tell her he'd booked a room for afterwards. The last time he'd stayed at the cottage, he'd complained long and loud about the lumpy sofa.

‘Darling,' he beamed. ‘A suggestion. If I may.' He paused, watched her face. She allowed herself a thin smile. ‘If you'd like to come, I've booked us a lovely dinner. A nice hotel at Beacon Head. Only an hour away. And — a surprise afterwards.'

‘Okay. I need a shower first,' she said, voice flat. ‘But let me make one thing clear, Mr Romeo. There won't be any surprise afterwards. I will be sleeping right here in my creaky old bed, and you will be sleeping, no doubt five-star, somewhere else.'

‘Fine. Take your time in the shower, darling. I'll sit out here and enjoy the beautiful evening. You do have a lovely place here.' He topped up his glass and smiled as she headed for the bathroom.

Too many times, she'd dressed the way Todd wanted. Like wearing flat shoes that wouldn't have her towering above him. Todd stood a centimetre short of her height, and he didn't like her heels exaggerating that difference. Half an hour later she stepped onto the veranda wearing a body-hugging dark red number. Her heirloom pearls sparkled against her bare neckline. And she'd selected the highest heels she could find in her wardrobe. She smiled at Todd's gasp as he looked up from his drink.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting,' she said. ‘I'm ready.' She watched him spring out of his chair. She played along as he escorted her to the Porsche.

The dinner was, if nothing else, a pleasant change from the Golden Dragon. White tablecloths, fancy cutlery, and attentive waiters did make a difference, Erin conceded. If only the person opposite was Hamish Bourke.

‘And now for my big news, darling. I've signed up for a fat new consulting contract with Asaka. The fee will really put us in clover.' Erin would hold back for a moment from correcting him for his use of the ‘us' word. ‘We'll be able to set up the penthouse like it was Buckingham Palace,' he continued, now an unstoppable express train. ‘Maybe even do a luxury trip or two. Ever wanted to go to Vegas?'

‘No.'

‘Fine. Somewhere else, then? You name it. There's just one little thing I'll get you to do for me.' Erin sighed.

‘For the thousandth time, Todd. We have split up. Gone our separate ways. Never in a million years will I live in your penthouse, go on trips with you. I'm having dinner with you out of old-fashioned politeness. And because I don't want to upset my mother. She likes you, and you've been sweet to her. I owe you for that. But that's all.' Todd looked away, glass in hand. He stayed silent for a long minute. Then he leaned forward.

‘Fine, darling…er…Ms Spenser. Actually, there's something else we need to discuss.' She frowned, ready to remind him yet again about their split. ‘A business proposition for you — strictly business. I'll pay you a weekly retainer — say ten thousand. For, mmm, let's say the next three months. Okay?'

Erin reeled. The fee was astronomical. With money like that she could — her brain crashed into overdrive. Maybe she could take care of her mother without having to sell the cottage. ‘What are you asking me to do, Todd?' she queried.

‘Just be my contact in this part of the world. Keep an eye on things. Infiltrate.'

‘What on earth do you mean?' Erin suspected the worst. She began to wish she'd slammed the door on Todd the second he'd arrived.

‘Let's take an example,' he continued. ‘The local council will have to process my development application. I submitted it last week. Chartered a plane for the day and brought it down myself. Nothing like meeting face-to-face with important people.' Erin mentally thanked him for not dropping by while he was in the vicinity. ‘I talked it through with the mayor. He said it would go through due process. I figured that meant a string of meetings, little old ladies saying their piece, Greenies jumping up and down, demonstrations — all that hoopla.'

‘And?'

‘So, like I said. Infiltrate, Eri. Go to those meetings. Listen in. People always fall in love with you — fall for your charm. I've seen it play out a hundred times. So I'm asking you. Get close to the real action. Week by week, meeting by meeting, keep me posted. You're my eyes and ears. Get it?' He hacked off a huge slice of his sirloin forestiere and forked it into his mouth. Erin put down her knife, not believing what she'd heard.

‘You want me to…be your spy?'

‘Well, I wouldn't call it that, but…'

She looked into his face, saw his grin widen. ‘But why?'

‘Simple. If anyone starts creating problems, tell me and I'll sort it out with them.'

‘What? You'd resort to —'

‘No, Eri. We'd just sweeten them up a little. With money — always the best sweetener.' A wave of utter disgust welled up in Erin. She remembered Hamish's passion for Landcare. At huge cost to his career, his lifestyle and his relationships, he'd dedicated his life to preserving the beautiful natural environment in their little corner of the planet. Now, sitting opposite her, scoffing down his expensive dinner, was a man — a man she'd once believed she loved — digging into a position on the opposite side of the battleground. A man who was at that moment trying to destroy the very forests that had created this earthly paradise. The hills that ringed the horizon would be shorn, then left scarred and bleeding, if the woodchip project succeeded. Suddenly, with total clarity, she knew which side she was on. She pushed back her chair and stood.

‘I have to leave, Todd.'

‘What are you —'

‘I don't want to spend another second near you. Ever again.' She pushed her chair back.

‘Wait!' The vintage Todd was back. His fists pounded the table, his voice barked his commands. ‘We haven't finished!' His face reddened. Paralysed by the inertia of years, Erin stayed frozen as he talked.

‘Eri. A few weeks ago, I wasted a precious weekend visiting that pile of rotting timber you call your cottage. I told you exactly what to do. Have you organised the bulldozer yet?'

‘No.' She watched him sigh.

‘Eri. I do not like to waste time. Time is money. I thought you understood that by now.'

‘I'm not interested in your —'

‘Shut up and listen!' She saw his long slow intake of breath.

‘One. You will order the bulldozer in as soon as possible. Then you won't need to spend any more time in that God-forsaken hole. Two. You will move to the town of Pembroke while we're working on the project. It'll help you to do your job better. Get closer to the people. Become one of them. Three. After we've put the woodchip project to bed, we'll marry and live happily ever after. In my Pacific Towers penthouse. In case you've forgotten, Eri, I fancy you a bit. Been missing you. So next Friday, eight o'clock at Alfredo's, okay? And this time, don't be late.'

Those words clinched Erin's decision. She picked up her bag and walked briskly out of the restaurant, heart pounding, while he sat at the table, open-mouthed. As she reached the lobby, she expected to shed a tear or two. None came. All she felt was a tightening of her jaw. Her mind was made up.

‘How can I get back to Luna Bay?' she asked the receptionist, shaking inside, but emotions in firm control.

‘Now?'

‘Yes.'

‘But it's…' The receptionist glanced at her watch. ‘Nine-thirty.'

‘I know.'

‘Sorry, madam. There's a bus at ten tomorrow morning. Might I suggest you take a room tonight, and —'

‘I'll hitch.' Erin stalked across the carpeted foyer, along the sweeping drive, and onto the highway, heart thumping. Seconds later, she heard the rumble of a truck. As she watched, its headlights came into view. She stepped onto the road, waving her handbag frantically. A hundred metres away, the driver hit the brakes. She heard the tyres protest, the engine roar as the driver changed down through the gears. As he drew abreast, the truck stopped. She ran round to the driver's side as the window wound down.

‘I have to get to Luna Bay. Urgently. Can you give me a lift?'

‘Luna Bay? At this time of night?' The driver looked down at her. She was glad to see that he was grey, fiftyish, clean shaven, with a neat haircut — hopefully not a serial rapist. ‘Some sort of emergency is it, Miss?'

‘Yes.'

‘Hop in then. We'll be at the Bay in around an hour.'

The driver turned out to be a man of few words. He concentrated on changing gear for most of the trip — all the way up through the gears as he chugged up each hill, then all the way down again as he sailed down the other side. Erin used the silence to think through what she'd done. When Todd had first demeaned her, cut her down to size, laughed at her, she'd recoiled, then told herself he didn't mean it. Over the years, the million little needlings, putdowns, had grown into a mountain. It was a mountain she didn't want to climb. So she wouldn't. Now that she'd made her choice, she felt her heart lift. Todd's rudeness in turning up to Luna Bay unannounced was a final nail in the coffin. She almost smiled at the thought that there wouldn't be a city penthouse in her future. But another question now surfaced. What
would
there be in that future?

She climbed down from the truck when it stopped outside the Luna Bay post office, thanked the silent driver, then switched to the flat shoes she'd slipped into her handbag just in case. It was near midnight when she flopped tiredly, thankfully, into bed.

Erin arrived at the Pembroke Shire hall at ten on the morning of the protest day, prepared for a long day of sandwich-making. Everywhere she looked, people were busy, painting posters, building floats on trucks, carrying armfuls of cardboard signs. Children wearing animal costumes scurried in and out of the action. She walked to the back of the old brick town hall and found a door leading to the kitchen. As she stepped inside she saw Jenny, dressed in a white apron, brandishing a knife.

‘Hi Erin,' Jenny called across the army of women clustered round the long tables. ‘Great to see you. Come on over. Meet Mavis — chief cook and bottlewasher. She'll give you a job.'

‘Mmm,' Mavis, white-haired, ample of figure, and not a day under seventy, looked Erin over. ‘Had a bit of experience at sandwiches, have we, darl?'

‘Well, no. Not since I made my own school lunches. Quite some years ago.'

‘I see. Well then, darl. P'raps you could start cutting up the meat. Go over and see Thelma. There, by the freezer.' Thelma, a carbon copy of Mavis, smiled as Erin reached her.

‘Hullo love,' she beamed. Erin stood expectantly. ‘Cut up a bit of meat now and again, have we?'

‘Um…yes.' Erin didn't need a replay of her rejection by Mavis.

‘Right. Here's a knife, there's the meat. Nice and thin, now. We've gotta make the meat go the distance. And mind your fingers. That knife's pretty sharp.' Erin dragged a leg of ham from the pile in the middle of the long table, set it on the chopping board in front of her, and began to carve. When the team took a tea break at eleven, the women made efforts to welcome the newcomer. Erin saw that she was the youngest by a good twenty years.

‘Got a place in Luna Bay, have we, darl?' an elderly woman asked as they stood in line for the teapot.

‘Yes. I'm Edna Spenser's grandchild. She left me her cottage.'

‘Edna! What a woman! Always there when we needed her. Forty years or more she gave to the shire. Whenever there was a job to be done, Edna was there. A solid Country Women's member since the year dot. So you're going to follow in her footsteps?'

‘Um, well,' Erin said. ‘I'm not sure about what to do with the old place. Not yet.' It wasn't a good time to go public on her plans to sell.

‘Just follow where Edna led, darl. You won't put a foot wrong.'

‘Thanks,' Erin said. ‘I'll see how things work out.'

Two hours later, Erin had sliced every last shoulder of lamb, roast of beef, and leg of ham. She took time out to watch the grey army as each sandwich soldier stuck to her task: buttering mountains of bread, covering each slice with neatly arranged pieces of meat. Down the line, another team artistically spooned on mustard, chutney and pickles. At the end of the assembly line, someone sliced the sandwiches into neat quarters, then piled them onto plates.

‘Hey, look Bob. There's a pretty one. Can't be a day older than thirty.' The whisper caught Erin by surprise as she searched for another job. She turned to see a TV cameraman, and an assistant trailing a microphone behind him. The cameraman caught her eye, smiled.

‘Hi there, miss. We're from Channel 13. Chasing a few action shots for tonight's news. Could you grab a knife or something?' Erin reached for the weapon she'd just put down.

‘Now smile please, miss. Say cheese.' The cameraman laughed. ‘Okay, say sex if you prefer. As long as you give us a second or two of that beautiful smile.' The camera whirred. ‘Now if you could tell us your name, Miss?' The men took notes, then disappeared into the crowd.

Erin watched the afternoon unfold. A team of schoolchildren dressed in furry costumes moved centre stage and presented a play version of the Pete and Patty Platypus story she'd written. Then Hamish took over and let rip with a passionate oration on the evils of clear-felling forests. Half an hour later, he stepped down to noisy applause, ducking a shower of flowers.