Ms Pearce was eighty if she was a day. And boy was she “creative.” The fact that she’d sketched Finnegan’s and Bailey’s faces onto full-frontal bodies when I was pretty sure they’d never posed nude for any artists, well, I couldn’t come up with any other summation, at least none that were polite.
I pressed my lips together, hard. If I laughed, she’d only be insulted. In fact, she had great skill—the likenesses were uncanny, the details… um… also very lifelike. I cocked my head to the side. Were the likenesses generous in certain areas? Hmm, I’d probably never know, but I was never going to look at those guys the same way again. How was I not going to laugh every time I saw them?
I lost the fight with my lips and grinned. Wait till they saw the pictures. Would they be creeped out or think it was funny? Should I even tell them? I raised my phone and took photos of the framed pictures on the white studio wall. I could decide later, but I was totally showing Meg. There was no way I could keep this to myself. I briefly wondered who the other poor sods were and whether any of them had actually posed for her. “And can anyone buy these?” I was pretty sure the boys would have something to say about that if they were for sale.
Her eyes widened, and she put a demure hand on her chest, as if she hadn’t been the one to draw those pictures. “Oh, no. Of course not. These are part of my private collection. I do commissions, of course, and I also sell landscapes, but only my closest friends and I enjoy these.” She smiled, a creepy twinkle in her eyes. “I never married, you know. I prefer to have flings. These new apps have made life very interesting. You’d be surprised who swipes right on me.” She winked.
“Ahhhh, okay.” I did not want to be surprised. This was more than enough unsettling information for one day. Had Finnegan and Bailey swiped right? Is that why their likenesses were there? No, stop. Don’t go in that direction; you’ll hurt your brain.
“There was this one man. That one there.” She pointed to one of the paintings. “Ah, the things he could do with his—”
“Um, look at that lovely duck picture! Did you sketch them and then paint them plein-air, or did you take a photo and work on them later? The ducks.” I thought I’d better add that, just in case she decided I was talking about something else.
Ms Pearce giggled but thankfully turned and pointed a liver-spotted finger at the opposite wall, which was covered in colourful depictions of the local countryside in all kinds of weather. “I do sketch in the field, but I also take photos. I like to take my time and get the details just right.”
“Well, they’re beautiful.” I wasn’t joking. I snapped more pictures. “Can you stand in front of that wall, and I’ll get you with the paintings?” I crossed my fingers, hoping she wasn’t about to steer the subject back to the other wall again.
She adjusted her pink beret and whipped a lipstick out of her dress pocket, slathered the bright fuchsia on her lips, and smiled. “I’m ready when you are.” Thank. God. The sooner I could do this, the sooner I could get out of here… and tell Meg what happened. My gaze strayed to naked Finnegan. Stop looking, Avery. Bad girl. Well, it wasn’t really him, but how was I supposed to get that out of my head now? Should I tell the guys? Even if I did, they couldn’t do anything about it, and as far as I knew, Ms Pearce wasn’t breaking any laws. The real question was, could I look at Finnegan and Bailey without laughing?
I held my phone up towards the cheeky old lady. “Say cheese!”
Ms Pearce lived within a ten-minute stroll of the office, and since it was sunny, I walked. On the way back, I passed the tree where I’d first met Patrick, the young man who’d crashed his car and died. I gave a nod to the tree and smiled sadly, but there was no one there. Me convincing his friend Craig that the accident wasn’t his fault and that Patrick didn’t want him to forever punish himself had helped him cross over to where he was supposed to be. Hopefully he was enjoying his new “life.”
As I continued into the quaint village of Manesbury, I could only marvel at how quickly my life had changed from despair to happiness. For the seven hundred and twenty-nine thousandth time, I basked in gratefulness. Coming here was the best decision I’d ever made… and gone through with. I didn’t see myself as a particularly brave person, but that was one thing I could acknowledge I’d done that was worthy of the title. I would remember that for the future—being brave led to good things.
Two salt-of-the-earth-looking men on the wrong side of middle age stood facing each other on the path in front of me. I was going to have to ask them to move aside so I didn’t have to walk on the road. I hated doing that, especially as it seemed they were in the middle of an argument.
It appeared as if the shorter of the two had had enough. He swore and said, “This is all I have to say to you, Graham.” His middle finger flicked up, and he waved it around, the gold watch on his wrist glinting in the sun, then turned and stomped down the street with a hasty stride. At least I wouldn’t have to ask them to step aside—there was room for me to pass now.
Graham called out, “You can’t run from me, you old fool! We’re not done yet.” As I hurried past, he swore… obviously not at me. Well, I didn’t think it was at me. His brown eyes, set in a weathered, deeply wrinkled face, widened slightly before he frowned, turned the other way, and walked off. His limp wasn’t overly pronounced, but it was noticeable. Had the other man kicked him before I showed up, or was that an old injury? I guess I’d never know, which irritated me no end. Being curious—or was that nosy—was great for being a journalist but terrible in everyday life. You didn’t always get an answer to your questions, and I’d wasted many hours before slumber pondering stupid things, the knowing of which wouldn’t change my life in the slightest, except might lead to me getting more sleep.
I’d had a coffee at home this morning, so I bypassed the cafe. Now that I had to run a car, saving was even more important. Who knew when something would need fixing, and petrol wasn’t exactly cheap. I also wanted an emergency contingent in case Mrs Crabby became too much and I had to find somewhere else to live. She’d kept to herself the last few days, but that could be because she was saving her energy for an almighty blow-up. One never could tell.
At work, I let myself in. Bethany and I ignored each other; then I made my way upstairs to my desk. Just another Tuesday morning. The eventful walk here had me forgetting all about those paintings… until I saw Finnegan at his desk. He looked up at me as I came in. “Morning, Lightning.”
My cheeks heated with the image from this morning. He had clothes on, but I still had to bite my bottom lip against the laugh that tried to escape. “M-morning, Vinegar.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”
I turned my back on him to place my things on my desk. Since seeing that naked pic, I couldn’t unsee it. When I saw Finnegan, it was as if I knew I’d seen him naked, and, well, I wasn’t mature enough to deal with that. I really needed to grow up. What was I, twelve? Turning, I cleared my throat and wrangled myself under control. “Ah, nothing. Just thinking about a funny meme my friend sent me just before I walked in.” So he wouldn’t ask me about the meme, I changed the subject. “How was your date last night?” Monday was a weird night for a date, but Finnegan had explained he did it on purpose with all new women, in case he didn’t like them. Having work the next day was a good excuse to leave early, apparently. If anyone asked me out on a weeknight, I was going to say no. It was obviously a sign of a player.
He smiled. “It went well. We bypassed dessert and went back to her place. I got home late.” He tapped his pen on the table. “Might even see her again.”
I sucked in a mock shocked breath. “Do I hear wedding bells?”
He snorted. “Ha ha, very funny.” He put his hand up in a stop motion. “And before you say anything else, yes, I know I hardly ever do second dates. I’m trying to grow as a person.”
I grinned, but then that damned painting popped into my head. I blushed. Oh sheesh. “Ah, is that it?” I hastily sat and took my laptop out of my bag and opened it.
He gave me a weird look. “Yeah, that’s it. You’re acting weird today. You’re not upset that I’m going on a second date, are you?”
My head jerked around, and I stared at him with panicked eyes. “Oh, God, of course not!” I might have been a tad too enthusiastic because his eyes registered rejection. Oops. “Not that there’s anything wrong with you. You know I would never date a work colleague. That’s all.” And I don’t want you knowing I think you’re hot because that’s just asking for trouble. I was patiently waiting for my crush to disappear. If only things like that didn’t take so long.
He smirked, as if he knew better. Damn him. “Just checking.”
Carina flounced in, her long blue hair out and bouncing against her back. “Morning, lovelies. How are ya?”
I smiled. “Great thanks. I love your dress.” She wore a pinafore-style in deep purple. The dress ended just above her knees, and she’d finished the look off with bright-purple Doc Martens. If only I could pull off such a cool look. If I wore something like that, someone would be sure to ask if I’d just come from working at the circus.
She grinned as she sat. “T’anks. I made it. I make most of my clod’es.”
“Oh, wow.” It made total sense, since she loved to cover all the crafty things for the paper. “I’m impressed. I have trouble sewing buttons on. In fact, I have a shirt I haven’t worn for a year because I couldn’t be bothered sewing on the button that fell off.”
She laughed. “Oh, you’re such a dill. I’ll sew it on for you.”
I was not going to be that pathetic. “Ha, no way. I’ll get around to it… one day. I’m sure if Vinegar can go on a second date, I can sew a button on a shirt.” I smirked, knowing she’d give him hell.
Carina spun to face him. “Oh, Finny, you didn’t!”
He gave me a “thanks for nothing” look and waved a dismissive hand. “Well, not yet, but I’m going to. Why’s that such a big deal? She’s nice, and I want to see her again.”
Carina raised a brow. “And when was d’e last time you went on a second date? It was about six mont’s ago, if I remember correctly.”
“Give or take.”
“So, maybe you’re growing up?” She stood, leaned forward, and patted him on the head.
He brushed her hand away. “For Pete’s sake. I’m not a dog.” He gave me the evil eye. “That’s the last time I tell you anything.”
I stared at him, all innocence. “Will you at least invite us to the wedding?”
He ripped a piece of paper from his notebook, scrunched it in a ball, and let fly at me.
I smirked. “Ha, missed by a mile.” His phone rang. “Saved by the bell.”
Finnegan picked his phone up and looked at the screen while Carina giggled and sat back down. Finnegan gave us each one last dirty look before heading for the door and answering his phone on the way out. I sighed. “I guess that’s my cue to get back to work.” I’d decided not to show Carina the photos because, well, I figured it was bad enough that one of us wasn’t ever going to be able to look at him with a straight face again. Plus, if she knew, she might tell him, and he might confront the artist. I still wasn’t sure if she deserved being confronted. Maybe I’d talk about it with Meg later.
“Ha, me too. I have t’ree articles to write. It never ends.” Her smile told me that she was happy to be busy, and to be honest, so was I.
After an hour, I had my article on Ms Pearce done and submitted, minus any mention of nudes. Shortly after I sent it, Mr MacPherson called my mobile. Gah, I hoped I didn’t have to rewrite any of it. I hated thinking I was finished with something, only to have to keep working on it. “Hello, Julian.” And I still wasn’t used to calling my boss by his first name.
“Hello, Winters. Would you mind coming to my office? There’s something we need to discuss.” His tone was more serious than usual.
My pulse thudded in my neck. What had I done? “Ah, yes, of course. Be there in a moment.” He hung up without saying goodbye, which was normal but seemed more sinister after his order for me to come see him. Carina was still working away as I left and didn’t so much as move her gaze from her computer screen. Which suited me just fine because I didn’t need to tell her I was about to get in trouble with the boss.
As I made my way to MacPherson’s office, I replayed all my recent interactions with people in my head. Had one of my interview subjects complained? My forehead scrunched. There was no one who’d seemed upset with me, and I hadn’t written anything mean about anyone. I hadn’t even done a third message from the dead yet. Had Bethany complained about me ignoring her? Which was kind of stupid since she started it.
I stopped at MacPherson’s closed door, took a deep breath, and knocked.
“Come in.”
I pushed the door open, then closed it behind me. No need for anyone else to hear whatever dressing down I was about to get. If only dressing down was dressing gown. I’d much rather he handed me one of those because I was employee of the month and waved me on my way. Being delusional had its uses.
I sat. “So….” I didn’t want to ask what I’d done wrong because what if, by some slim margin, I hadn’t done anything wrong. Then I’d just look guilty, like I expected to be caught for something.
He clasped his hands and rested them on the desk, then, either thinking better of it or not being able to contain his energy, he freed them and grabbed a pen with one hand and tapped it against the other. “I’m not quite sure how to speak to you about this, so I’ll just jump in.”
I blinked. Not the most comforting of starts. Please don’t fire me. Going home now would kill me. I’d been here long enough to know that I loved it here and it was the best thing I’d ever done for myself. Being jobless meant a one-way ticket home. I maybe could’ve stayed for a few weeks and holidayed, but I’d be returning home with less than what I arrived with and would end up back with my parents. Acidic nausea spiked up my throat, and I spied a bin next to MacPherson’s desk. That’s where I’d vomit if circumstances called for it.
MacPherson’s forehead wrinkled. “You look a little green, Winters. Is everything all right? You’re not going to be sick, are you?” He rolled his chair away from his desk until he hit the wall behind him.
“It depends on what you’re going to say. Am I fired?”
“Why do you always think you’re going to get fired?”
“You’re not firing me?”
“No. Well, I wanted to chat to you first and clear something up, but I don’t think I’m going to fire you.”
That was supposed to reassure me? I cleared my throat and swallowed. “What did you want to clear up?” Erin, the young office ghost, appeared in the chair beside me. Her gaze pinged between MacPherson and me before settling on my face. She gave me a reassuring nod and patted my thigh. The coldness seeped through my skin, and I shivered. I gave her the most subtle nod ever—if I wasn’t careful, I’d look like I was two sandwiches short of a picnic, nodding and smiling at a vacant chair.
He brought his hands together on the tabletop again, and his thumbs circled each other in a distracting dance. “I received a phone call this morning… from Australia.”
I jerked my gaze up to his face as my stomach dropped. My mouth dried. Speech function disappeared, left behind by my racing brain.
My parents. It had to be. What had they told him? Why had they called? This couldn’t be happening. Please be wrong, Avery. Maybe it was just my old boss seeing how I was going?
As far as dramatic pauses went, this one was going to kill me. My mouth finally caught up to my head. “So, who was it?”
“Your mother.”
I bit my tongue. You are not going to cry, Avery. You’re an adult. Whatever she told him, you can set the record straight. Play it cool. “Oh, okay.” I took a slow breath. I wasn’t going to let them ruin my new life. Calm and collected was how I was choosing to be. I ignored my racing heart and relaxed my face. What MacPherson didn’t know…. If I appeared flustered, whatever my mother had said might be believable. She was likely trying to paint me as a crazy person, so I had to act as uncrazy as I could.
He stared at me, maybe waiting for me to crack. But I wouldn’t. Never again.
My tone was as casual as a guy in a bar doling out a bad pickup line. “Oh, how… strange. How is she?”
He narrowed his eyes, maybe attempting to discover any cracks in my façade. “She told me about some… issues you had before you came here.” Another pause. I wanted to slap him and tell him to just tell me. Why was he making me draw it out of him?
I sighed. “Can you just tell me, please? I have work I need to get back to.” Maybe a bit of honesty and candidness would work in my favour? “My parents are… difficult people. They didn’t want me to move here. Me making my own decisions doesn’t sit well with them. If my mother rang to criticise me and undermine me to my boss, well, it wouldn’t surprise me. She might have framed it as being worried about me, but that won’t be it. Whatever she told you, does it make sense given how I’ve behaved and conducted myself while I’ve worked here?”
His thumbs stilled, and he folded his arms. “No. You seem rather rational to me.” His brow wrinkled. “Is it true that you spent time in a mental-health facility?”
How was it that a stomach could drop even after you thought it had hit rock bottom? He wouldn’t be able to confirm that information due to patient privacy laws, and how dare my mother tell him. It wasn’t her place. Blazing anger torched the crop of nausea that had taken space in my belly. “No.” I’d taken the hospital paperwork when I’d left. I’d thought about burning it, but I kept it as a reminder to never trust them. Ever. Since my parents had no proof, I was pretty sure my lie would go undetected. “My parents like to sabotage my life. This is one example, and I’d rather not talk about any others.”
“So it’s not true that you’re schizophrenic? You don’t hear voices or see things that aren’t there? You don’t have sudden urges to hit people?” Only sometimes. Now, apparently.
It took everything I had not to scream. Frustration curled my hands into fists, but I forced myself to relax. “No, it’s not. Even if that were true, if it isn’t affecting my work, firing me would be discriminatory. And I also don’t want to indiscriminately hit people.” If I were to ever hit anyone, it would be because they more than earned it. My expression had gone from relaxed to firm. He had to know that I wouldn’t take this easily. I did have to be careful not to get too testy though. He just wanted to know the truth. It wasn’t his fault my mother was a psychopath. Why was it that people always believed the evil person over the good?
“So, you’re not on medication?”
“No, and I don’t see or hear things that aren’t there… not that it’s any of your business.” Yay that I was sticking up for myself. The only problem was, he might see it as me being rude. Maybe he’d fire me after all. Erin patted my leg again, and I held in a shudder. “Look, I’m sorry for being upset, but you can see my position, no? My mother, who I don’t get along with, calls my new boss and says horrible things about me and tries to get me fired. This is not only embarrassing, but it’s also unethical. If my work performance is not up to scratch, or if my behaviour with my colleagues is unacceptable, then you have cause for concern. I don’t appreciate being called in here to be grilled over hearsay and what would otherwise be privileged information.” People with mental illnesses deserved more respect. I’d bet there were plenty of people who were managing their illnesses with no one any the wiser, and that’s how it should be. And where was my support if I did have health challenges? I was good at my job and treated my workmates with respect. That’s all that should matter. I could feel an article coming on.
He cleared his throat. “Your work performance is exemplary, and I’ve had no complaints from anyone. I just wanted to clear this up. I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped the mark. Are we good?” His earnest expression held regret.
I blinked. He could probably see a lawsuit coming, or maybe he was actually a decent person? Whatever, I wasn’t going to make any waves, but I also wasn’t going to let my parents ruin my life. Not. Any. More. I shoved my fear of ending up back in Sydney with them aside. “Yes, we’re good. As long as you don’t accept my mother’s calls. She’s a toxic person who I don’t want in my life. Ask yourself: What kind of a mother calls the other side of the world to get her daughter fired?” A niggle of pride smoothed out the rage. I’d stuck up for myself and made sense. Something I never thought I’d be able to do when it came to my parents.
His cheeks reddened, and he nodded. “Yes, of course. Also, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Kelly or Walsh about this. As you said, this should all be private.” Hmm… if I didn’t know better, I’d say he didn’t want to look bad, but to be honest, this situation made us both look bad in different ways. I didn’t want everyone questioning my sanity, which was what they’d do if this got out.
“Of course, Julian. Consider it forgotten already.”
“Good-oh.”
I gave him a fake smile and stood. “Well, if that’s all, I’ll be going.”
He smiled. “Have a good day.” Wow, right. Sure thing. After that meeting, today was going to be sketchy at best.
Out in the hallway, I contained the urge to slam the door after myself and shut it quietly. Erin looked up at me. “Are you okay? Your mum sounds awful.”
I gave her a sad smile and whispered, “I’m fine, and yes, my mother is next level. Thanks for caring.”
She grinned. “Any time. If you need me, just call out.” She waved and disappeared. What a sweet kid. Her kindness made me feel a bit better, but I couldn’t help dwelling on how horrible my parents were. Why couldn’t they just leave me be? And what were they going to do next? I wasn’t going to call and let them know they’d gotten to me because they’d take glee in it. In fact….
I hurried back to the office. Carina had left, and Finnegan wasn’t back either. Perfect—I wouldn’t have to try hard not to vent or have to explain what MacPherson wanted. I grabbed my phone and pulled up my mum’s number. Block. Then I brought up my dad’s number. Double block. I sucked in a huge breath and sighed it out again. Done.
Did I think ignoring them would work? No, unfortunately. It might even make them more determined to stuff my life up. But if I’d learned anything over the last year, it was that you had to make the most of every day, and today could be the last day I had on this earth. Today, tomorrow, and however many days I had left, I was going to make the most of them. And no one was going to stop me.