Set Me Free (24 page)

Nervous,
Charlotte made her way down the dark street to the taxi rank Gareth promised
was only half a block away.    

Their bonding
session had come to an end when Gareth took a phone call from his irate
partner, and got caught up in an argument. She couldn’t politely stay any
longer. Gareth paused his spat for long enough to assure her there would be
taxis at the end of the street, before switching his attention back to
defending himself against the accusations of a lonely, jealous lover.

Hesitantly,
because she was in an unfamiliar part of town and because walking home alone
had somehow become an issue, Charlotte headed off. Teetering in her heels after
all the wine, she discerned Gareth had failed to mention the dark alleyways
along the way, the perfect hiding place for someone wanting to jump out and mug
her. Or worse.

Walk with
confidence
, she told
herself. If only she wasn’t so wobbly.

She wouldn't think
of the injustice of Cassette getting an escort home.

Tip-toeing, trying
not to draw any attention with the click-clack of her heels, she eventually
spotted the orange nose of a cab. Not far to go now.

A deep gravelly
voice from the alleyway ahead stopped her in her tracks.

Paralysed, she
eventually discerned a second voice, also masculine. After some more
heart-stopping time, it was apparent the two were conversing, and not planning
to jump her at all. She edged closer, hoping to slip past unnoticed until she
heard the phrase ‘Boundary Street development’ and she stilled to listen more
intently.

‘What, you don’t
trust me by now?  Still got to count it?'

Hang on a minute. Charlotte
knew that voice. Who was that?  Her hackles were rising. Whoever it was, it was
not someone she was fond of.

‘Force of habit,
mate.’

‘It’s all there. 500K.
A price I am quite willing to pay for the pleasure of pissing off those bloody
West End commies.'

Oh my God!  It was
Keith Morgan, Craig’s boss.
Who was he talking to?

‘Very good,’ the
unknown man chuckled. ‘Always a pleasure to do business with you, my friend. How
are the wife and kids?’

Stomach clenching,
Charlotte frantically tried to decipher what they were doing. There was
something very unsavoury unfolding in that dark alley.

The men’s voices
grew louder as they wrapped up their conversation and began to move on.

Shaking her
troubled mind clear, Charlotte knew she had to get out of sight. She very
strongly suspected she didn’t want to be starting a ‘fancy running into you
here,’ kind of conversation with Keith Morgan right then. She needed to hide.

The only place to
go was the enormous, slightly unkempt hedge in the garden to her right. Charlotte
dived in, hoping her beautiful dress would survive, just before the men
emerged, shook hands, and headed off in opposite directions. She peered through
the foliage to see Keith Morgan stride away in the direction she’d just come. The
other man crossed over to an Audi on the other side of the road. He looked
around before he climbed in, and Charlotte caught a glimpse of him under the
dull street light. Councillor Wally Carter.

Charlotte was
still too terrified to move. She needed to throw up but couldn’t. After some
time her legs started to cramp, and the twig digging into her back began to
hurt. Confident Keith wouldn't return, she climbed out of the hedge, more
cautious with her frock this time, and then ran blindly to the end of the
street. Miraculously, the cab she’d seen earlier was still there. Thank God
this was not part of the nightclub district, and there wasn’t a queue fifty
people deep.

At home, Charlotte
carefully peeled off her dress and distractedly inspected it for damage while
trying to make sense of what she’d overheard. She was pretty confident she’d
just witnessed the payment of a bribe, that Morgan Carmichael had paid
Councillor Wally Carter to ensure the approval for the development that was
going to demolish her gallery.

She sat on the
edge of her bed and unconsciously toyed with the undamaged gown. With
trepidation, her thoughts turned to Craig. What did he know about this?  If he
hadn’t known about the eviction letter, it was possible, no, probable, that he
didn’t know about this either.

God how she wished
she had someone to talk to. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to call Ben.

Charlotte withdrew
her phone from her clutch. She had a missed call from an unfamiliar number. She
dialled her answering service.

It was Craig. How
did he get her mobile number?  He sounded rushed and regretful. Charlotte’s
stomach contracted, pulling the knots of anxiety tighter.

‘Hi, Charlotte. This
is Craig. Um, look I’m sorry about tonight. For so much of tonight.' He paused
and then took a deep breath. ‘I know you don’t want to see me but…I just…fuck
it. I just want to talk to you. Can I?  Will you call me?’

The message ended
abruptly. Charlotte stared at her phone.

He’d called her.  

And oh God, the
sound of his voice was like balm. Memories of his arms around her, holding her
while she wept, holding her while she slept, surfaced. His hand on the back of
her neck, propping her up. She didn’t need someone to talk to. She needed
Craig.

She tapped his
number with her finger and held the phone to her ear. Too late, she wondered if
she'd wake him.

Apparently not.

‘Charlotte.' There
was relief in his tone. She struggled to hold back the tears.

‘Sorry. It’s
probably too late to call,’ she mumbled.

‘No, it’s not. Are
you okay?’

‘Honestly, no. I’m
not.’

‘Fair enough,’ he
sighed. ‘I don’t know where to begin apologising, Charlotte.’

‘It’s okay. You
already did. And you don’t need to apologise for Cassette. You’re not her
keeper.’

‘Still,’ he said. ‘I’m
sorry my friend tried to ruin your sister’s show.’

Charlotte was too
twisted up inside to appreciate the sentiment.

‘Craig, I need to
ask you something’

‘Sure, what is it?'
Oh God, he sounded hopeful. ‘Hey, just a second.' Charlotte waited while he had
a quick muffled conversation with someone. She was beyond caring who he was
with.

He came back on
the line. ‘Sorry about that. What is it, Charlotte?  You sound worried.’

She got straight
to the point. ‘The development approval for Boundary Street. Was it all above
board?’

He hesitated. Then
said, ‘Get off me, Cassie.'

Charlotte heard
Cassette ask, ‘Who’s on the phone, Craig?’

And suddenly
Cassette was in command of the device. ‘Is that you, Charlotte?  Strange time
for you to be ringing Craig. Is there something going on between you two?’

Charlotte could
hear Craig in the background, demanding the phone back.

‘Give him back the
phone, Cassette,’ Charlotte said.

‘Well, I could,’
she said. A series of clicking sounds followed, and when Cassette spoke again,
her voice was echoey. There was a dull hammering sound in the background.

‘I’m glad you
called, Charlotte,’ Cassette continued.

‘I didn’t call
you
,
Cassette,’ Charlotte reminded her.

‘Oh well, too bad.
Why does Emily hate me so much?’

‘Are you serious?'
Charlotte didn’t want to be drawn in, but how could she ignore a question like
that?

‘Well, obviously
things are awkward now, but she’s never liked me: always giving me those
haughty looks as though I wasn’t good enough to be around her. What did I ever
do to her?’

‘Do you remember
the opening night of the Evans Gallery, Cassette?’

‘What?  What about
it?’

‘You destroyed one
of her paintings. We’d never even met you before then. It wasn’t a good place
to start.’

‘That was an
accident!’

‘Well, you could
have apologised!’

‘So that’s it. That’s
why she won’t ever talk to me.’

‘You kind of get
in people’s faces, Cassette. Most people don’t like that.’

For a moment,
Cassette was silent. When she spoke again, her voice was small. ‘Is that why I
don’t have any friends?’ she asked.

‘Are we really
having this conversation now?  I’m sorry, Cassette, but I need to speak to Craig.’

Cassette exhaled
audibly. ‘Yeah, yeah. Okay. He’s about to knock down the bloody door anyway. Charlotte,
for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I know I took things too far tonight. I know I
fucked up with Geoff. I just want to say I’m sorry.’

Charlotte was stunned.
What happened between her demented exit from the Moorehouse Gallery and now? 
Who was this woman on the other end of the phone?

‘Okay, Cassette. Can
I talk to Craig now, please?’

‘Okay,’ she said,
and there was more clicking, followed by a kerplunk. The phone went dead.

Charlotte stared
at it for a moment. And then, all she could think was Cassette had hijacked
their conversation just after Craig had hesitated. Just after she asked him
about the development approval.

When he didn’t
call back, she tried him again. Fifteen times. His phone rang out at first and
then went straight to his message bank on each subsequent call.

She needed a cup
of tea.

Why had Craig
hesitated?  Why was he now ignoring her calls?  Logic told her his conscience
was not clear, and she should think the worst of him. But experience,
especially with Craig, told her things weren't always what they seem.

Nothing
about Craig was what it seemed to be. Did
he know about the bribe?  If he did, how was he involved?  Charlotte sighed heavily.
She didn’t have the energy left to get mad at him again. She was spent.

And regardless, if
the man was so impossible to understand, or follow, or predict, why the hell
was she so crazy about him?  She knew why. Craig Carmichael was smart,
inspiring, hopeful, humble and entirely charming. He respected her, revered
her, and he wasn’t threatened by her. He made her want to stand up and be
counted. He made her want to shine.

Her previously
fulfilling life suddenly didn’t seem whole; there was something missing. Craig.
She would always come up short without him.

For an
independent, head-strong woman raised by a feminist, this revelation was
hardest to accept. But the magnetism between them overruled all reason and
stripped her of everything but her primal need for him. He hadn’t just shown
her what was possible; he’d given her a glimpse of what was possible with him.

Charlotte stared
into her teacup. It had been yet another shitty night. She forced herself to
think of something good that had come of it, something unrelated to Craig
Carmichael.

Emily had sold out
her show. That was great. Charlotte had found a new friend in Gareth. That was
nice.

Feeling a little
better, she tipped half a cup of cold tea down the kitchen sink. In her
bedroom, she stripped off and crawled in to bed in her underpants. Perhaps she
might actually get some sleep.

No sooner had her
head settled on her pillow than someone started pounding on her front door.
Oh
God, please let it be Craig.

Charlotte grabbed
a dressing gown and raced to the door, double checking everything was concealed
along the way. She ripped the door open, to find Geoff swaying on his feet, his
face grim and threatening.

‘She’s not here,
Geoff,’ Charlotte said and stepped aside to prove it. He searched the apartment,
cursing her as he went. Once satisfied she wasn’t hiding his wife, he stopped
in the middle of the living room and sat down on the coffee table, drooping.

‘I don’t know what
to do, Charlotte,’ he said, changing his tone and appealing to her. ‘Why won’t
she talk to me?’

Charlotte glared
at him unsympathetically. Not only had he dragged her out of bed, he wasn’t
Craig, and he
was
a complete arsehole. ‘I don’t think there's anything
you can do, Geoff. You fucked it up royally. She’s not going to forgive you.’

Geoff looked at
her. He'd left denial behind some time ago, and he knew her words to be true. ‘I
don’t think I can live without her.’

‘You’re going to
have to, Geoff. It’s over.’

He started to sob.
Oh great
, thought Charlotte. Sleep was looking less and less likely. She
offered Geoff tissues, but no other comfort.

Realising none
would be forthcoming, he pulled himself together.

‘Go home, Geoff,’
Charlotte suggested. ‘Sleep off tonight, get up tomorrow and move on with your
life. Just take it one day at a time. Hell, go overseas. That always works for
me.’

He obliged, with
the going home part at least. She hoped he might take the rest of her
suggestions on board. At least then she might not see him for a while, and he
might desist from haunting Emily. She locked the door behind him and went back
to bed.