CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED-FOUR

SPENCER POV

“Morning, Mr Douglas.”

 A sea of the same old Monday morning greetings. I smile my usual smile, ask after people’s weekends, and their kids, and their Saturday nights at the karaoke. I make my way through to my office with my usual take-out coffee and check my emails just like any other regular work morning. But it’s different this morning. I feel so different this morning.

West stares out at me from the same old picture from the corner of my desk, grinning in the arms of her mother as they stare up at the camera. Stare at me. I touch the frame, a regular ritual, only this time my heart doesn’t pang in quite the same way.

It's loneliness. Or more specifically the lack of it.

      A beautiful sense of relief washes over me as I discard my regular work routine and call my secretary through.

Ria looks great this morning. A new blouse is well iron, I think. She smiles and scribbles down notes without even a hint of surprise as I instruct her to call in a cleaning team to Violet property. I tell her they need to be able to handle hazardous waste, and complete a thorough job from top to bottom. Decorators, I tell her. We’ll need decorators when they’re done.

      Neutral colours. Maybe some fresh curtains to match. Yes, curtains to match.

      New flooring, too. The place will need new flooring.

      And a locksmith, to be safe.

 I know I’m still lying to myself. Still maintaining the illusion that I’ll ever want to see Violet move back into that place. It’s a pretence that irks me, even the thought, but the girl needs to know she’s in good hands, strong hands, hands that can save her from any of life’s unfortunate situations.

And there’s her mother to think about. If you can call the woman a mother in anything other than the biological context.

Anything else? Ria asks, and her smile catches my eye as her pen hovers so eagerly above her notepad. I notice the simple little pendant around her neck, sparking in the light. I notice the perfect pastel pink of her new blouse and the subtlety of her makeup.

 “Yes,” I say. “I’d like you to choose me some jewellery. As a gift for someone. Something tasteful.” I pause. “Something you’d like, Ria. Something really special. I trust your judgement.”

      The compliment lights up her eyes.

“Sure thing, Mr Douglas,” she says. “Do you have a budget in mind?”

 I shake my head. “Something you’d choose for yourself, Ria. The budget is secondary.”

She nods, dithers on the spot a little. I can tell she’s plucking up the courage to pry, and I don’t give her any cues, just stare at her with a professional smile on my face.

      “Is she, um…” she finally begins.

      “Is she..?”

      “A friend?” she asks. “A relative?”

      “Both,” I tell her. “She’s someone special.”

      She nods. “How old?” she asks, then checks herself. “So I know what style to go for, I mean.”

      “Eighteen. Just.”

She looks at me as I say just, and I know she’s wondering.

      She doesn’t ask any more questions, but I can say with certainty that my extra-curricular business will be the talk of the photocopier this morning.

      That would usually bother me, but not today.

      There isn’t one single thing that will bother me today.

      I call up my office calendar and mark myself as unavailable from four p.m. from this afternoon.

      Sweet little Violet needs to get home safely from college.

      And after all, it’s a universal truth. A truth that everyone who is lucky enough to know it is blessed by.

      A truth that I’m blessed with for the first time in years.

      Family comes first.

      In the meantime it’s business as usual.

      I ask Ria to bring in my nine a.m. client.       

•

•

•

VIOLET POV

Spencer calls me at lunch. It feels so strange to hear him on the phone. His voice is warm and deep, but there’s a curtness to it. Work Spencer.

 I imagine him there, trying to treat the patient. Touching them, solid handshakes and rich clients. I wonder if he has a secretary. I wonder if he has a big team of people hanging onto every word he says. He is the boss after all. Or one of them, at least.

 Spencer seems like a boss. He’d make a good boss.

      Just like he’d make a good daddy.

      And a good lover.

      I get those crazy flutters again, butterflies in my tummy as I tell him I’m having a nice day, and my sandwiches were lovely. Ham and cheese. Posh ham, really thick cut. Not the watery stuff I buy for myself. I told him my classes went well. That I’ve been working hard.

      He sounds so pleased, and it makes me smile. When I hang up I’m grinning so hard I barely notice Maggie Connor gawping at me.

      “New phone,” she says, like it isn’t obvious. “Quite a gift.”

      “I’m just borrowing it,” I tell her, and that’s how I see it, too.

She doesn’t say anything, just gives me that look. That grossed-out look. But I don’t care.

 I met Spencer in the carpark at half past four, just where he left me. I see people staring at his Mercedes and it makes me feel strange, to be cared for by someone who wears a tailored suit, drives an expensive car and buys thick-sliced ham.

      I’ve never had money before. Mum never even had a car. Not that it mattered.

      I doubt she’d have driven me anywhere if she had.

 Spencer tells me he’s had a good day at the office. Many patients, he says, just like an average Monday. I wish I knew what an average Monday was like for him. I wish I knew everything about him, but the questions in my head all sound stupid, and I really don’t want to sound stupid.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, and there’s that kind smile on his face again. He’s interested. I know he’s really interested, and that feels nice.

      I shrug. “I was just wondering… about you…”

      He laughs, and it’s a lovely sound. “What are you wondering?”

      “I dunno, just stuff.” His smile makes me smile. “I just… don’t know anything…”

“About me?” He stops at traffic lights and his hand reaches over to squeeze mine. “You’ll get to know everything, Violet. Just give it time.”

      Everything. I like that thought.

      “Ask me a question,” he says. “Whatever you like.”

      So I do. I just asked him.

      “Won’t West mind me sleeping in her room?”

      “No,” he says. “She won’t.”

      I look at him, but he’s staring ahead. The lights turn green and he drives on.

      “Will you tell her about me? That I’m staying, I mean.”

      “No,” he says, and his smile is all gone.

 I wish I’d never asked. I should’ve picked another question, something about the office or his house or his car. I stare out the window, and the route is already becoming familiar. The roads get quieter and there’s the big tree I know means we’re five minutes from home.

      “I’ll tell you about, West,” he says. “If that’s what you want.”

 Maggie Connor’s stupid paranoid speculations make me nervous, and I’m not so sure I do want to hear about West.

 I feel his eyes on me for a moment. “Maybe talking about, West will help you understand the ground rules.”

      “It will?”

      He tips his head. “Maybe.”

 I don’t say anything until he pulls through the gates and takes us up the driveway. I grab my college bag from the backseat, and he grabs his briefcase, and we’re home again. Home.

      He puts the kettle on and pours me a glass of juice, and I wonder if I’ve ever told him I don’t like hot drinks all that much. He seems to know.

      I sit at the table and watch him make his tea, just waiting. His eyes are so serious.

 “Ground rules,” he says, and I get a strange tickle between my legs.

      He sits opposite me and I watch his hands around his mug. They’re so big. So strong.

      “What are they?” I ask. “The rules, I mean.”

 “I want to know you’re safe, Violet, always. I’ll need you to check in often. I don’t want you taking rides in people’s cars, I don’t want you heading anywhere you don’t know. Accidents happen that way,” he says. “When people are careless.”

  “Careless,” I repeat. “I don’t take rides in many cars, Spencer.” I smile. “I don’t have that many people that offer.”