Perhaps she should
heed her own advice.
No, the idea of
running away from this, from Craig, held no appeal.
Why didn’t he
answer her calls? What did he know? Whatever it was, she wanted to hear it
from him before she did anything.
An idea formed.
If he wouldn’t
take her calls and she had to accost him in his office, then so be it. Morgan
Carmichael was going to get a slightly irritable visitor in the morning.
The resolution
allowed her to finally fall asleep.
Until five minutes
past ten the next morning, five minutes after she should have opened the
gallery. She flew out of bed and threw on one of her favourite wrinkle-free
polyester dresses, hastily applied some make-up and disregarded the grumbling
in her stomach. Ben could feed and caffeinate her.
On her way out of
the door she was halted by an insistent tapping on the French doors. Emily was
out on the balcony, signalling to be let in. She was ruffled, sweaty and looked
like shit. Last night’s kaftan clung to her in the mid-morning heat, her
make-up was smudged, and her hair was unkempt in a homeless kind of way. She
didn’t appear to have had any sleep.
‘What are you
doing out there?’ Charlotte asked, ignoring Emily’s appearance because she didn’t
have time to ask. She paused long enough to open the doors but not long enough
to hear Emily’s answer as she continued on her trajectory. She cast an ‘I’m
late,’ over her shoulder as Emily called after her.
Charlotte raced
past Bean Drinkin’, or would have, if it hadn’t taken an age for Ben to raise
his head and notice her. She signalled for a coffee and toast from the footpath
outside and paused momentarily to wonder what he was so despondent about,
before a customer arrived at the door of the gallery and she stepped up to open
it.
Inside, she
breathed easily, happily showing off the genius of Tyson Heller.
When she was alone
once again, Charlotte slowed down. Her early morning resolution returned to
her, and the great big knot reformed in her stomach.
How was she going
to play this? She could easily march in to Morgan Carmichael without an
appointment, but would Craig be there? What if he was in a meeting or on a
site visit? Should she wait? At least his assistant, Margie, seemed nice. She
might not mind if Charlotte waited for him. But how much time would she waste?
Perhaps if she could figure out Margie’s direct line, she could ask after
Craig’s schedule. Could she do that without alerting Craig?
Ben interrupted
her spinning machinations by delivering her breakfast. Emily arrived hot on his
heels, although he was unaware she was there until he turned his heavy head to
go and almost collided with her. Charlotte watched curiously as they danced
awkwardly around each other. Emily frowned, shook her head and hissed something
at Ben, which made him slump his shoulders even further and trudge miserably
back next door.
Charlotte was
pleased to see Emily. She was bursting to share her plans with someone and Ben
was far too morose to be receptive.
Emily had made
some attempt to tidy her appearance. The streaks of make-up were gone, and her
hair was pulled back afresh. She was wearing one of Charlotte’s dresses. ‘I
need to talk to you,’ she said.
‘Me too,’
Charlotte exclaimed. ‘You won’t believe what else happened last night.’
‘Neither will
you,’ Emily murmured.
Preoccupied,
Charlotte launched in to her tale. ‘As I was…’
‘Charlotte.' Emily’s
deadly tone cut her off. ‘
I
need to talk to
you
.’
‘Okay…’ Charlotte
said and waited, taken aback.
Emily drew in a deep
breath and released it with a heavy sigh.
‘I slept with Ben
last night.'
‘Excuse me?’
Charlotte couldn't have heard correctly. ‘I thought you just said you slept
with Ben last night.’
‘I did.’
Charlotte stared
at her sister in silence.
Emily continued,
looking at her feet. ‘I don’t know how it happened. It just did.’
‘How could you?' Charlotte’s
anger came out of nowhere.
‘What? Are you
jealous, Charlotte?’ Emily was incredulous.
‘Of course I’m not
jealous! But now I know what the hell is wrong with him today. What did you do
to him? What did you say? Fucking hell, Emily, he’s your friend. How could
you do that? God, you didn’t even drink that much last night.’
‘It wasn’t
intentional, Charlotte,’ Emily snapped. ‘Can you please just drop the righteousness
for one second? I know he’s your best friend but fuck you, Charlotte, I am
your sister. I need you to be on my side this time.’
‘This time Emily?
This time? I am always on your fucking side. Whose couch have you been
sleeping on for the last month? Who gave you half the gallery to give you
space to paint? Who went along last night, even though it could have been
total humiliation for me, to be there to support you? I can’t believe how
selfish you're being, Emily. You cast me aside when it suits you, after I gave
everything, my whole fucking life, up for you. And now you’ve gone and used Ben
and cast him aside as well.’
Charlotte wasn’t
sure where her rage was coming from. But after a sleepless night, she was
unleashing on Emily as she had done when they were teenagers still coming to
terms with their father’s death.
Emily fought back,
but feebly. ‘I never asked you to give anything up for me, Charlotte. That was
your choice.’
Ignoring her
point, Charlotte continued, to press her own. ‘I am always on your side, Emily.
But where have you been when I’ve needed you? I know you’ve been through hell,
but it hasn’t been a walk in the park for me. While I've been propping you up,
I found out Andrew is a junkie, I discovered you don’t really give a rat’s
about this gallery, which I am waiting to have knocked down around me, and I’ve
fallen in love with the man who is going to do that. And now I find out you’ve
screwed my best friend and taken away the one person I might have been able to
rely on to get me through this. Fuck
you,
Emily. How about you be on my
side for a change?’
Emily fell silent,
but tears trailed down her cheeks, making Charlotte repent, though she wasn’t
about to back down.
Finally, Emily
spoke. ‘I haven’t taken him away from you, Charlotte. Nothing is going to come
of it.'
‘No, I didn’t
think it would. By the look of him you’ve broken his heart.’
Emily was
completely deflated. The counsel she’d come looking for wasn’t on offer. Charlotte
was too angry.
‘I’m sorry,
Charlotte,’ said Emily, turning to leave.
Charlotte couldn’t
resist one last bite. ‘Have you told Ben that?’
Charlotte gave
Emily time to disappear, then poked her head into Bean Drinkin’. Ben barely
looked up from the espresso machine and shook his head at her, signalling he was
not ready to talk.
Dour, Charlotte
returned to the gallery to find Craig’s nana, waiting for her. Where did she
come from?
‘Hello,
Charlotte,’ she said, her voice all crisp and business-like, matching her white
linen pant-suit and severely secured hair. Nothing at all like the
little-old-lady-lost she’d met at the markets. Today she seemed powerful. Like
someone you didn’t want to mess with. Why was she here?
As Gwen took note
of her flushed cheeks, Charlotte fought to subdue her escalating sense of foreboding.
‘Hello, Gwen,’ she
returned, her apprehension undisguised. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m well thank
you, dear. But as much as I do find you charming, I would rather like to skip
the pleasantries this morning and get straight to the point.’
Direct seemed to
be the flavour of the day.
‘What can I do for
you?’ Charlotte asked nervously.
‘I understand you've
been asking about the Council approval for the development proposed for this
site. Can you tell me why you're concerned?’
Charlotte
hesitated. If the woman before her had been anything like the one she met at
the markets, she might have thought she could trust her. Clearly she couldn’t. This
straight-backed no-nonsense woman was a far cry from the previous incarnation
she’d tangled with. Which meant the woman was very adept at deceiving people to
get what she wanted. Whatever that had been that day at the markets.
Charlotte was also
clearly out of her depth, so she decided to start with a small dosage of the
truth. ‘I am concerned there's bribery involved.’
‘Can you be more
specific? What gave you this impression?’
Charlotte
tentatively drip fed some more truth. ‘I overheard a conversation.’
Nana Gwen’s eyes
narrowed fractionally, and she pressed her lips firmly together. She considered
Charlotte for a moment. ‘Hmm,’ she said eventually. After another thirty
seconds she added, ‘Tell me about your feelings for my grandson.’
It was Charlotte’s
turn to start. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Come now, don’t
be shy. You’re clearly attracted to each other. I just want to know how deeply
that runs.’
Flushing,
Charlotte fumbled for a response. ‘We’ve spent some time together. Despite our
conflict of interest, we get along quite well.’
‘You get along
quite well,’ Gwen repeated. ‘That wasn’t really Craig’s take on it.’
‘What did
he
say?’ As soon as she asked, and watched the knowing smirk form on Gwen’s face,
Charlotte kicked herself for falling in to the well-laid trap. Recovering, she
asked, ‘Why are you even asking me that?’
Gwen changed tact.
‘Do you trust him?’
There was that
question again. Did she? Yes, no, yes, no, yes, no. Where was she up to? A
week ago she would've said no, but now she couldn’t go to the police until
she’d spoken to him and heard his explanation. Why was that? Probably because
deep down she accepted he may know about the bribe, but she didn’t believe he
was involved. He might not have called her back since last night, but he’d
obviously been speaking with his grandmother about her.
Instead of
answering Gwen’s question she asked, ‘Why are you here?’
‘My answer to that
question depends on your answer to mine.’
Charlotte could
have laughed. It was such a Craig thing to say.
‘Yes. I do trust
him,’ she told Gwen, her voice heavy with resignation.
‘And do you
believe in your heart Craig has anything to do with what you might have
overheard?’
Charlotte met
Gwen’s steady gaze. ‘No.’
Gwen softened and
reached out to put her hand momentarily on Charlotte’s cheek. ‘I knew you were
too smart to think otherwise.'
‘In answer to your
question, I’m here to find out what you know and stop you from doing anything
hasty. I imagine you've been entertaining thoughts of reporting what you heard
to the police? But I doubt you've already done so.’
‘I haven’t. I want
to speak to Craig first.'
‘And you will in
good time. But for now, you need to give Craig some time, Charlotte. And you
need to hold off on reporting what you heard. You do know what will happen if
you do go to the police don’t you?’
Charlotte didn’t.
Gwen filled her in.
‘You will fill out a report, and they will tell you they’ll look into it. But
because you have no evidence, and you have a vested interest in the
development, they’ll doubt you. It will go on file, and that will be the end of
it. They won’t do anything, Charlotte.’
‘Then there’s no
harm in me reporting it then, is there?’ Charlotte challenged.
Gwen considered
this, or at least how to respond. ‘Perhaps not. But there will be a file, a
record that might resurface years down the track and you never know what damage
it might do then.’
‘You seem to know
a lot about this kind of thing.’
‘I do.’
‘I need to speak
to Craig.’
‘Yes. He said much
the same to me this morning about you. I advised him to wait too, just as I am
advising you. Charlotte, it is most important you sit tight for now and give
him the time he needs. And trust him, do not doubt him.'
‘That’s quite a
lot to ask of me. I’m really not sure I can trust you, Gwen. You might recall
when I met you at the markets a few weeks ago you were nothing like you are now.
How do I know you're not playing me?’
Gwen laughed
softly. ‘Good point, my dear. I was playing you then. I wanted to see what kind
of woman had my grandson all tied up in knots. I’m not playing you now,
Charlotte. I love Craig dearly and am quite willing to go to any length to look
after his interests. You are his interest, Charlotte, and I am here to look
after you. Craig will be in touch as soon as he can.’
And with that,
Gwen farewelled her and left, confident Charlotte would do as she asked.
Charlotte sat down
behind her desk and put her head in her hands. Life was too damned complicated.
She was grateful for the emptiness of the gallery, but she felt so incredibly
alone. The person she most wanted to speak to was mysteriously unavailable. She’d
just verbally savaged her sister, and her best friend next door was so
miserable he was barely able to make eye contact with her.