Chapter 1 Aftermath
AFTERMATH
PRESENT DAY
The rigid smile slipped from Catherine’s lips as Alice left the building.
The buoyant blonde walked away with a spring in her step and a boxful of office plants tucked under her arm.
Probably for the best; Catherine and Jeremy would only forget to water them anyway, and the new temp, Stephanie, could hardly be relied upon.
More often than not, Stephanie forgot to boil the water before making coffee; adding another task to her meagre to-do list would be futile.
Catherine’s chest ached for Alice; after all, she too had once been wrung out by the same pair of hands. Watching it unfold had been like replaying an old movie. Catherine had known how it would end, but she hadn’t been able to stop it.
She sighed and stepped away from the window.
Her swift response had been a win-win for everyone involved.
She should have been flooded with relief; everything had gone their way when it could so easily have blown up around them.
The reputation of Truscote if he went down, they both would.
She’d invested her entire career in this practice, and she wasn’t prepared to let the bloody Daltons ruin everything she’d worked for.
So Trusty-old-Truscote swooped in to save the day and sweep up their mess.
She glanced at the young woman behind the Reception desk, who sat swiping at her phone screen.
“Stephanie?”
Stephanie’s head whipped up. “Hmm?”
“Let’s finish up early today.”
“What about Doctor Dalton?”
“He won’t be back in for the rest of the day… the rest of the week, actually. He’s taken a few days off. Personal reasons.” Her voice wavered, the euphemism tasting like ash in her mouth. Before Catherine had even finished her sentence, Stephanie was heading out the door.
Catherine detoured through Jephson Gardens before heading home. She squinted in the glorious afternoon sunshine, a surprising turnabout after the menacing dark skies that had threatened rain earlier. She slipped off her jacket and draped it over her satchel.
Tulips and hyacinths lined the paths, sun-dappled by the light filtering through the canopy of new leaves unfurling above.
After a brisk walk around the lake, Catherine bought an oat milk latte from the café and sat, people-watching — a weary-looking mother pushing a pram, an untidy knot of teenagers in school uniform, and a young couple holding hands, swaying into each other as they walked.
None of them paid her the slightest attention; she may as well have been part of the greenery — a shrub, unremarkable and blending into the background.
But that’s how she liked it. Observing, but unobserved.
Her phone pinged in her pocket; she pulled it out and tutted at the name on the screen.
Jeremy. She really should have it out with him properly; unleash the seething resentment that had been bubbling under the surface for years.
But despite being her professional equal and business partner for two decades, an unspoken hierarchy remained between them.
She had proved to be as much a loyal servant of the Daltons as her father — the family’s estate manager of forty years — had been.
Catherine didn’t want the same for herself — the Daltons until death.
At that grim thought, Catherine slipped her phone back into her pocket. She’d come here to cleanse the palate of her mind, not to stew over the deviant bloody Daltons. She sipped her lukewarm coffee, wishing now that it were something a little stronger.
An athletic brunette jogged towards her, a high ponytail bobbing with her stride. She glanced down, flashing a smile as she bounced by. Maybe Catherine wasn’t such a shrub after all. Catherine tilted her head for a better view from which to admire the perky retreating rear of the jogger.
Another ping from her phone and she tensed, before whipping it out and muting the conversation with Jeremy, while skilfully avoiding the content of the messages.
With a snap decision, she texted Penny.
I know it’s a school night, but fancy a drink?
A little company this evening wouldn’t go amiss — less time to pick over her threadbare friendship with Jeremy and less space for Francesca to creep into her thoughts. Francesca wasn’t welcome there, or anywhere near Catherine. Full stop.
Penny:
Sure. Where, and what time?
El Vino’s? We could do dinner as well. I can head there now, if that suits you.
Penny:
Sounds great. Loz is away, so I won’t have to cook for one. Let me dig my way out of these case files, and then I’ll be on my way.
Catherine could always rely on Penny. In fact, she used to rely on her for more than just dinner and drinks. They’d enjoyed a long-term casual arrangement that suited them both, until Penny met Lawrence and fell head-over-sensible-shoes for a man.
Catherine was happy for her friend, but the loss of Penny being something more had left her a little hollow; not in a heart-aching kind of way, more like the small grief you feel after finishing a brilliant book.
And while it was a shame to lose the benefits, she’d lucked out with one of the best friends she could have asked for, even if Penny came as one of a smug-married pair now.
And with Penny being a lawyer, the free legal advice came in handy, particularly with the recent Dalton debacle.
Stop thinking about them. It’s done.
The dull ache in her chest said otherwise.