Licence to Dream (6 page)

‘I’ve brought in some big accounts and I’ve got even bigger ones lined up. We
have
to treat them well. There are a lot of companies who’d be paying me fat bonuses for doing that sort of thing.’

‘You can always quit and go to one of them. Anyway, I already told you: we can’t cope with any more big contracts at the moment.’

‘We can always hire more staff.’

‘There aren’t a lot of experienced people around.’

‘How experienced do you need to be to dig holes in the dirt?’

‘More than you realise, clearly. Maybe you should come and work on a few projects, dig a few holes yourself, find out what goes on.’

Phil glared at him, seemed to be struggling to calm down. ‘OK. I’ll pay my own expenses and claim them back from now on. But I’m not into gardening.’

‘Then why the hell are you working in a landscaping company?’

‘I’m a salesman. I sell whatever the job needs.’

‘Well, see that you pay back the money by the end of the month.’

‘Stop nagging!’ Phil picked up his briefcase and left, slamming the door behind him.

Ben went to sit at his desk, resting his aching head on his hands for a moment. He was working all the hours he could stay awake while Phil was swanning around to restaurants.

He almost hoped the money didn’t get paid back. He’d had more than enough of working with Sandy’s cousin.

* * * *

A few weeks later Meriel’s mother wrote to give her the marriage date.

So you’ll need to book a flight home soon. I can’t possibly get married without both my daughters in attendance, can I? In fact, why don’t you come home for good while you’re at it? Surely you’ve had enough travelling around now?

You could live with your grandmother till you find somewhere of your own. She gets lonely.

The wedding date coincided exactly with the final exams for the year. Meriel wrote to explain that she was taking some art courses and asked if the wedding could be postponed for two weeks.

The reply from her mother was full of exclamation marks and underlining. Everything was booked. They couldn’t possibly change it, had had enough trouble finding somewhere free around that time. Surely a mother’s wedding was more important than an exam in a hobby subject?

But Meriel didn’t give in to the emotional blackmail. She sent a nice present, a piece of antique silver she knew her mother would treasure, and apologised for not being there.

The letters stopped for a few weeks, then resumed again, little changed. The wedding photographs showed that her mother had lost weight and looked happy. Her sister had put on weight and looked – Meriel frowned as she stared at the pictures – Helen looked resigned, as if she wasn’t particularly happy with life.

‘Well, I’m never going to look like that,’ Meriel muttered. Since the episode with Gary, she knew she’d been sharper with people. She hadn’t given men up or anything neurotic like that, but she now kept things light. She wasn’t looking for a permanent relationship at this stage in her life.

From then on, the letters from England hardly varied from one month to the next, always beginning with,
Well, dear
. . . and ending with the wish that Meriel would come to her senses and return home.

* * * *

A few months later the envelope was addressed in thick black ink and carried the news that Meriel’s grandmother had died in her sleep. She felt sad about that, but not nearly as sad as she had when Grandpop passed away.

She phoned her mother, finding her uncharacteristically subdued.

‘I’m going to miss Mum,’ Denise said with a sigh. ‘I enjoyed popping round to her house for a chat. There’ll be no one to pop round and chat to me when I’m old.’

‘Of course there will. Helen lives just down the road.’

Silence, then. ‘She may be moving. Peter’s been offered a job in Yorkshire.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

‘Perhaps Ralph and I will come out and visit you one year.’

‘That’d be lovely.’ But she didn’t think her mother was likely to undertake such a long journey.

‘Ralph and I will be moving soon, too.’

‘Oh?’

‘I inherited everything from Mum. We’re going to sell her house and both ours and buy a detached house with a garden.’

‘That’ll be wonderful. Are you into gardening now?’

‘Ralph’s teaching me. I do like a pretty garden. It sets a house off so nicely. I’ll send you a memento before I dispose of Mum’s things.’

Meriel had a sudden thought. ‘Are Grandpop’s tools still there?’

‘Yes. Mum would never let me get rid of them.’

‘Then that’s what I want. I’ll pay the freight.’

Denise roused instantly out of her lethargy. ‘I can’t believe you want those rusty old things.’

‘I do. Very much. Just pack them up and send me a bill.’

The family wedding and funeral made Meriel realise she had no intention of ever going back to live in England. She’d fallen in love with Western Australia on the very first day and that love had only grown stronger as time passed.

She was going to apply to become an Australian citizen. But she wouldn’t tell her mother about that.

The art course was the main focus of her life now. It was well structured and she was learning all manner of fascinating techniques. Straight A student, too. If only she could do it full-time. She got very tired sometimes of trying to fit everything in.

But what was the use of wishing for the moon? As Grandpop had said, you sometimes had to go the long way round to get to your chosen goal. At least she was well on the way now and there would be no more diversions en route.

By the time Meriel had parked her car and walked through Perth's central business district to her office, the wind had blown her hair into a tangle. She sighed as the lift stopped at several other floors on the way up to the eleventh. It seemed to get slower every day.

Outside the glass doors that led into her firm’s new office suite she hesitated, then turned aside into the ladies' room to fix her hair, wishing yet again that it wasn’t so fine it flew all over the place. She combed the shoulder-length strands slowly, finding the action relaxing. She was feeling rather tense today because this afternoon she’d be taking the final examination of the whole course.

She grimaced at her image. ‘Aren’t you the perfect little executive, Meriel Ingram? Pity your mother can’t see you now.’ Navy suit and cream blouse, just the sort of thing a rising young accountant was expected to wear.

When she went into her office, the feeling of irritation intensified. She couldn’t understand what had got into her today. She knew she’d pass the exam, for heaven’s sake, so it wasn’t nerves. Before she even had time to sit down at the desk, she looked up to see Rosanna.

‘Hi, Meriel!’ Her friend’s smile faded. ‘Hey, you look angry. Is something wrong?’

‘What? Oh, sorry, Rosanna. No, nothing's wrong. I'm just feeling a bit – oh, I don't know, disorientated. It's my final examination this afternoon and I can’t think what I’ll do with myself next year. I'm going to miss going to classes.’

‘Most people are glad to get their studies over with.’

‘Well I am too, in a way. But I’ve enjoyed meeting people and encountering new ideas, even being forced to try new media and methods.’

‘I came to wish you luck.’

‘It's not luck that passes examinations, but hard work.’

‘Hey, don't bite my nose off.’

‘Sorry.’ Oh, dear, she’d sounded just like her mother then. She’d have to watch that.

Rosanna came forward to perch on a corner of the desk and lean over confidentially. ‘You've seemed a bit down for a week or two now. Anything I can do to help?’

‘Thanks but no. I’m sure I’ll feel better once this exam's over.’

But would she? The more Meriel studied, the more boring she found her work as an accountant. The high-rise block seemed like a prison with its stale air, artificial lighting and pinging lifts.

In the evenings she would try to paint or draw, but was often too tired to produce anything worthwhile. Only, you had to earn a living, didn’t you? Stand on your own feet and all that. So what other choice did she have?

And at least the people she worked with were great. That helped a lot. She forced a smile. ‘I’m all right, really I am.’

Rosanna patted her shoulder. ‘When this exam is over you should get out more, meet a few new people. I could fix you up with a date. I have this cousin – he’s been working over in the eastern states, but he’s back in Perth now. I think you’d like him and – ’

‘No, thanks! I’ve got a full and interesting life. It isn’t obligatory to have a man, you know.’

‘It’s nice, though,’ Rosanna’s voice became more gentle and a tender smile crept over her face.

‘Things still going well with Karl?’

‘Mm-hmm. Are they ever! He's great, the kindest guy I’ve ever met.’ She grinned. ‘Even if he isn't a nice Italian boy!’

‘Is your mother still complaining?’

Rosanna shrugged. ‘She's getting used to him, especially since he started bringing her flowers. I told him that’d help.’

‘I'm really glad for you.’

When her friend left Meriel told herself to focus on the bright side. She had just received another commission to do a book cover illustration because the publisher had been very pleased with the first one she’d created for them.

She loved that sort of work. It was a challenge to get the right message across on the cover of a book so as to catch a potential buyer's eye, showing at a glance what genre the story was and yet looking fresh and attractive.

The money she earned by her art had been added to her savings, which were on target to give her a whole year off work in another three years' time.
If
she persevered.
If
she could get a year’s leave without pay and still keep her job, that was. So many ifs!

She turned with a sigh to the papers on her desk. She had better check the figures and documentation for the coming meeting. Goodness, this Ben Elless had inherited a sackful of trouble! His uncle hadn’t kept proper accounts for years and everything was in a real tangle, with pieces of property scattered over several country towns, not to mention a few bundles of shares and several bank accounts with very little in them. Sorting things out had nearly driven her insane at times, but at least this sort of thing was more interesting than straightforward number crunching.

The appointment was for half-past ten. By eleven o’clock the man had still not fronted up. Meriel walked through into reception. ‘I think I’ll get a bit of fresh air, Penny. My client hasn’t turned up and – ’

‘Elless?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘He’s just phoned to say he's been delayed and is on his way here. He wouldn't wait to be put through to you.’

‘Kind of him to let us know!’

Penny grinned at her. ‘Having a bad hair day?’

‘Sort of. I've got my final examination this afternoon.’

‘Oh, sorry. I'd forgotten. Good luck!’

Meriel went back to her office and got out the Elless file again, sitting waiting, unable to settle to anything else.

Ten minutes later Penny rang through. ‘Your client has arrived.’

‘Tell him I can give him exactly half an hour.’ Meriel gathered up her papers and marched out to reception.

Penny beckoned her over and said in a low voice, ‘I've put him in the interview room. He's as mad as fire about something, so watch your step.’ She went to throw open a door at the side, winking at Meriel. ‘Ms Ingram is here now, Mr Elless.’

He was standing by the office window looking out at the traffic several stories below in St George's Terrace. His head was framed against the sunlight, which meant Meriel could only see him as a silhouette, and he was flexing his shoulders as if he was very tired indeed. When Meriel entered, he swung round and stared across at her, eyes narrowing in assessment. ‘Ms Ingram?’

She nodded and walked across to the table, putting her papers down and gesturing to a chair. ‘I'm afraid I can only give you half an hour, Mr Elless. I have another appointment.’

‘Damn!’

She deliberately didn’t look up from the papers, but continued arranging them in front of her.

‘Well, it's my own fault, so I suppose I can't complain. My last meeting ran on for too long. I’ll have to schedule another appointment with you next time I’m in the west. But we can make a start now, surely?’ He came over to the table.

‘Yes, of course.’ For the first time she could see his face clearly and what she saw took her breath away. He was quite simply the most handsome man she had ever met in her whole life, so handsome he seemed unreal. She wanted to reach for a pencil and start sketching. He’d make a wonderful hero on a book cover.

Closer scrutiny revealed no obvious physical flaws. Dark brown wavy hair and bright blue eyes fringed in thick sooty lashes topped more than six feet of lean, muscular manhood. In a small room like this he was overwhelming both to the artist and the woman in her.

Taking a slow, careful breath she picked up her pen and looked at him questioningly, forcing her mind back to his finances. His frown had disappeared and he was staring at her with an approving smile, as if he liked what he saw. She was used to that reaction from male clients and had learned to ignore it.

‘If you’re ready now, Mr Elless, perhaps you’d sit down? This is quite complicated.’

The frown returned as he took his place opposite her. ‘You look too young.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ She put down the pen and prepared to do battle. This had happened before as well and she understood the exact implications of his statement without needing to ask for an explanation.

‘No offence meant, Ms Ingram, but I requested an experienced accountant to handle my uncle's business affairs, not someone just out of university.’

She sat perfectly still for a moment. One did not throw folders of papers at the heads of one's clients, however much they deserved such treatment. ‘I think you'll find that I know my job, Mr Elless.’ She felt quite proud of the calm way she had spoken. ‘Would you like me to summarise the situation with regard to your uncle's estate?’