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I change to Taylor Swift’s The Best Day, and James and I sing to Leia, while the blackbird joins in from the jacaranda tree.
Chapter Eighteen
James
I spend the next couple of hours in my office. The first person I call is my father.
“It’s me,” I say when he answers the phone, even though I know my name will have appeared on his screen.
“Your watch broken?” is his curt greeting. I glance at my computer—it’s nine thirty, which means it’s seven a.m. in Adelaide.
I stiffen at his tone. “I’m aware what time it is. I thought you were always up by six.”
He’s a driven man with a fixed routine, and he’s usually at the office by seven. If he were any other person, I’d have assumed he would’ve had a few days off following Maddie’s death, but he worked through his ex-wife’s death and his own parents’ passing, so I’d expected him to be in as normal.
But he says, “I had trouble sleeping, and I missed the alarm.” He sighs.
Bitterness rises inside me like stomach acid. I want to say Why are you so upset? Or It’s a bit late to pretend to care! But I bite down on the words. I’m not going to let him provoke me. I refuse to lower to his level.
“I wondered whether you’ve decided if you’re going to come to the funeral,” I say. “I haven’t heard from the coroner yet, so I don’t know when they’ll release her body, but I’m going to start making arrangements.”
“I’m coming, and so is Arabella.”
My heart sinks. Part of me had hoped he wouldn’t be up to it.
I lean an elbow on the desk and rest my head on my hand. Maddie, I think sourly, how could you leave me to cope with him alone? At least when she was here it felt as if I had someone on my side.
I don’t want him at the funeral. And I certainly don’t want to see Arabella. It’s going to be a hard enough day as it is without them being present. But I can’t stop Maddie’s father from attending. It’s just another part of the event I’m going to have to get through.
“I’ll let you know when it’s all arranged, then. Gotta go. Bye.” I hang up, toss my phone on the table, and lean back with a curse.
There’s a gentle knock at the door, and I turn the chair to look over, annoyed at being interrupted. It’s Aroha, holding a mug of coffee. The intercom receiver is clipped to the belt of her cut-down jeans, so I’m guessing Leia is asleep in her seat.
“Sorry to disturb you,” she says. She looks nervous. She obviously overheard the last bit of the conversation. “I thought you might like a drink.”
My irritation fades at both the sight of her and the smell of the coffee. “I would. Thank you.”
She comes into the room and places it on the desk. I pick it up and sip it, welcoming the slide of the hot liquid down inside me, thawing out the coldness that a conversation with my father always leaves behind.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Yeah. I was just talking to my father.”
“Ah. What’s his name?”
“Vincent. He’s bringing my stepmother, Arabella, to the funeral.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” I let my head fall back. I’m tired, and my head’s hurting again. The light’s too bright, and even the most distant sounds—a lawnmower, a plane overhead, the washing machine in the laundry room—hurt my ears.
She rests her butt on the edge of the desk, inches from my hand. I have to fight not to move so I’m touching her.
“I met Sue and Nick,” she continues. “It’s funny to think of you having staff. It makes me feel as if I’m in Downton Abbey.”
“This place is too big for one person to look after on their own.”
“Yes, I can see that. Are you going to hold the wake here?”
