Chapter 24 December 24th
I walked so far yesterday, I had to stop at Boots to pick up some blister plasters.
I wake up on a wince when I move, my muscles aching as I get up and walk to the kitchen, my feet throbbing.
I get a coffee and sit at the table, staring into space, not allowing my mind to wander.
I can hear the wind whistling outside, a snowstorm arriving on time as predicted.
I look down into the swirling black liquid, the thoughts I’m fighting to blank out winning the battle to make it through.
I want to come home.
Home.
It’s not a place. A building, a house.
It’s family.
She’s back.
I want Albi to have a stable home.
And I’m far from stable.
God, you’re poison.
A forceful bang on my door sounds, startling me out of my daydream, and I drag my tired, aching body up to answer. Pulling it open, I recoil when I find Anthony on the other side.
“You cunning bitch,” he hisses, sending me flying back into my apartment with a brutal shove in my chest.
I cry out, shocked more than hurt, and just catch my footing before I fall to my arse. I don’t manage to save my coffee, though, and it spills out of the cup all over my hand, scolding it. “Shit.”
“So you think you’re smart?” he says, his face twisted in anger. “Swooping in and fucking up my plans for your own gain?”
“What the hell are you talking about, Anthony?” I ask, shaking my burning hand, distracted by the pain rather than the raging bull in front of me, looking like he’s about to charge at any moment.
“Dec Ellis!” he roars. “The man you’re fucking and feeding information to.”
I’m so fucking lost. “He didn’t buy the company, Anthony,” I remind him.
“You took great pleasure in sharing that information before you fired me.” I go to the kitchen, no longer able to stand the burn, and shove my hand under the cold tap.
“Get the hell out of my apartment or I’ll call the police.
” Suddenly, my head is yanked back by my hair, snapping my neck sharply, sending shooting pain up into my skull. “Fuck!” I yelp.
“Call them,” he hisses in my face. “I won’t be dumb enough to get caught like Phillip did.”
I wrench myself out of his hold, surely losing a few tufts of hair as I do.
“Get out.” I turn around to face him, grabbing a towel and holding it over my hand as he moves in, intimidating and large.
“You’re nothing but a bully, Anthony. If you’re going to hit me, then fucking do it so I can get on with my day. ”
He raises his hand, but I don’t cower or flinch, likely pissing him off some more.
“Anthony!” Thomas appears in my kitchen, throwing me once again. “What the fucking hell are you doing?”
“She’s fucked it all up!”
“Thomas, I have no idea what you idiot son is talking about.”
“Get out!” Thomas bellows to Anthony, pointing to the door. “Or I’ll call the damn police on you myself.”
With wide eyes, I watch as Thomas’s face reddens, his patience lost. I’ve never seen him like this.
Anthony snarls and backs off, flinging an arm out, sending an empty bottle of wine and the glass crashing across my kitchen before he stalks out. “Fuck you,” he mutters as he goes, and I have no idea whether it’s aimed at me or his dad.
I look at Thomas for some answers, flinching when I hear my front door slam. “What the hell is going on, Thomas?”
“I’m so sorry, Camryn.”
“For that?” I ask, pointing past him, where Anthony just departed. “Don’t be. I’ve dealt with bigger fears than your son’s temper.” I get my hand back under the tap. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“The deal went south,” he murmurs, sounding exhausted.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I couldn’t give two fucks about that.
“It went south because Dec Ellis intercepted the buyers.”
I still where I stand, staring at the blank wall behind the sink. “Intercepted? I’m guessing by that you mean he enlightened the other buyers of the information his forensic accountant found so they pulled the plug.”
“You guessed correctly.”
Ruthless. “Thomas, you’re a smart man.” I flip off the tap and face him. “You must have known you’d be found out if you manipulated asset values and accounts.”
“It wasn’t me,” he breathes.
“Anthony.”
He nods. “You should know, he met with Phillip West the night you were attacked.”
“What?”
“Anthony wanted you out of the way while we saw the deal through. I love my son, Camryn, but he’s greedy and unscrupulous, and he needs to answer for his actions.”
I wrap the towel around my burning hand. Thomas looks utterly exhausted. “I appreciate you being honest with me.”
Another nod, this time reluctant. “I want out, Camryn. I’ve sold to Dec Ellis.”
I laugh under my breath. So Dec won. He busted those balls.
“I’ll stay on for a year on a consultancy basis, but then I’m exiting. I want you to stay with me.”
Am I hearing him right? He wants me to work for Dec Ellis?
“I can’t do that, Thomas.” I drop the towel on the counter and dip, starting to collect the broken glass.
“I’m sorry.” I truly am, but only for Thomas.
Why didn’t Dec tell me about this yesterday?
I stall that silent question. A ridiculous question.
He’s got more important things on his mind, and it isn’t me.
“If you don’t mind, I have somewhere I need to be. ” I rise.
“Oh, right. Of course. Have a lovely Christmas, Camryn.” Thomas comes at me, and his arms open up. Is he moving in for a hug?
“I don’t think so, Thomas,” I say, backing up, dropping the few pieces of glass I’ve collected into the sink.
“Come on, no hard feelings.” He gives me grabbing hands as I lean back, ignoring my reluctance, and pulls me in for a squishy hug. “I appreciated everything you did, even if my son and wife made it impossible for you.”
I succumb to his strength and let him hug it out. “How is Barbara?” I ask, wondering where she sits amid this mess. Were my instincts correct?
“I don’t know.”
I lean back, breaking free of his arms. “She left you?”
His head tilts. “You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“And you didn’t say?”
I laugh under my breath. “No, Thomas, I didn’t say. They hated me enough, without me getting involved in family affairs.”
He huffs out a laugh. “That’s fair, I suppose.”
Fair? Nothing about any of this is fair. “I’m sorry,” I say, feeling bad for the guy. “I hope you work it out.”
“Funny,” he says, seeming to drift into thought. “I don’t.” He holds me by the tops of my arms. “If you need that reference, just shout.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, a little thrown. “Merry Christmas, Thomas.”
He laughs under his breath and leaves, closing the door behind him, and I lean against the counter, looking at the mess of glass across the kitchen.
Somehow, I muster the energy to clean it up, trying not to let the bombshell of Dec’s hostile takeover of TF Shipping take up too much thinking space.
I haven’t the capacity and, frankly, the loss of my job feels like such a minor blip in my life right now. Because I’ve lost Dec. I’ve lost Albi.
I’ve lost hope.
I look down at my hand as I flex it, wincing at my red skin. I have no first aid supplies. Nothing to cover it. “Fuck,” I whisper, reaching for my head and rubbing my sore scalp.
I can’t stay here. I grab my keys and head out, hearing Mr. Percival calling me as I go, but I can’t face him.
“Camryn!” The sound of his walking frame thumping the ground mixes with his calls, and I stop at the door, squeezing my eyes closed. He’ll take a tumble, and I’d never forgive myself. I have enough guilt to handle.
I face him and muster everything I have to smile. “Mr. Percival.”
“You in a rush?”
“Last-minute shopping.”
“Christ, Camryn, it’s Christmas Eve. You should be relaxing and looking forward to the big day.”
I haven’t got one person to buy for. Sad. And come to think of it, neither has Mr. Percival, not that I know of. He hasn’t mentioned anyone. I still don’t know who all that food is feeding.
“Will you give this to the little fella?” He holds out a model plane. A Spitfire. “He was so fascinated, and it was a joy to tell my stories to someone who was actually interested.”
I swallow and take the small plane. “Sure.”
“Everything okay, Camryn?”
I look at the old man, feeling the backs of my eyes stinging. He’s been a royal pain in my arse . . . and totally wonderful. I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat, and step into him, dropping a kiss on his cheek, hoping he hears my gratitude through that.
“Oh my, did I miss the mistletoe?” He looks up at the ceiling. “You’ll make old men blush if you go around knocking kisses on their cheeks like that, dear.”
I strain a smile, squeezing his arm, and head out, walking with no direction, slipping the Spitfire into my bag.
My walk leads me to the care home, but when I see my brother in Mum’s room, I hold back, not wanting to bump into him or answer his questions.
Hear him tell me I look terrible. I get myself a coffee from the vending machine in the reception and go to the family room, sitting down and waiting.
It won’t be for long. He never stays for long.
As predicted, he passes the room five minutes later, walking with pace.
Because he has somewhere to be—a family to get home to for Christmas.
Dragging myself up, I go to Mum’s room and sit with her in the dim light, curtains drawn, as she sleeps.
Two hours pass. She doesn’t wake up, even though I wish she would and could be my person to talk to.
I wouldn’t want to tell her that the happiness she saw in me has gone.
I’d just like to hear her voice, even if she’s rambling about nurses stealing her money.
I’d possibly tell her about Mr. Percival and how many stories he loves to tell to those who’ll listen.
But instead, I listen to the wind echoing outside and the various nurses going back and forth between the rooms, checking on their patients. It’s never completely silent. Unlike my mum.