Chapter 4 Aurora
Aurora
‘Was it an accident?’
I scoff, grabbing another couple of crisps. ‘No! He stopped midway to let it out.’
Dove throws her head back with a cackle, the red wine in her glass sloshing about and narrowly missing spilling out over her cream velvet couch.
‘Oh, babe.’ She sighs, wiping at her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s . . .’
‘I know, really sexy, huh?’ I can’t help but smile at the way her eyes light up as I regale her with the sex-fart story, which was too much to share at the fancy place she took me for dinner last time we met.
I don’t see her happy often enough.
I swallow a mouthful of cheese and onion crisps, then take a sip of my own wine, savouring the taste of something that hasn’t come from the discount section in Tesco for a change.
I sink into her sofa with a sigh.
‘It was refreshing with Charlie in the beginning. He doesn’t know about Dad, so I got to just be me. It was an escape, and it was nice spending time with someone who didn’t look at me differently. Like they’re trying to figure out if I’m about to steal their bank details.’
Dove takes my hand in hers, squeezing it.
‘And now . . .’ I wrinkle my nose. ‘Now it’s farting during sex and no orgasms.’
‘And that’s only three months in. Imagine what it’ll be like in another three,’ Dove says.
I turn my head towards her, and she gives me an apologetic look.
‘It’s fine. You’re right. I should break up with him, shouldn’t I?’
‘That’s your call. But you need to ask yourself what you really want and what will make you happy.’
‘Getting my father out of prison,’ I tell her, earning my hand another reassuring squeeze. ‘Having him there to see me live out my dream – my mother’s dream. Together.’
She searches my eyes. ‘Can I do anything?’
I shake my head, grateful for her offer.
She’s been offering her help ever since I told her about my plan to look at my father’s case notes.
I don’t know what I’m looking for. Something.
Anything that will help prove he’s innocent.
But Dove has her hands full with all the insurance clients she’s taken on.
Her role in the business requires her to travel a lot to meet with them.
‘Actually, you could pray?’ I suggest.
She laughs. ‘You need my brothers for that. I could flap my arms around for you instead or pick you an olive branch?’
I snort, and we fall into an easy silence.
Dove always jokes about her name being a bird, while her three brothers were all given angelic names, thanks to her mother – a spiritual woman with a love of all things ‘woo-woo’.
Dove told me her mother is the polar opposite of her father, a man who would be more likely to bulldoze a sacred place of worship if he thought it would make him money.
But regardless, they’ve been happily married for decades.
And now her father’s retired, they’re off on spiritual retreats around the world half of the time, leaving their four children to run the family business, with Rafael at the helm as CEO.
Dove doesn’t know what I overheard Rafael saying about my father that day.
I haven’t told a soul. I don’t know what’s stopped me.
A mixture of anger and embarrassment, I think.
Because I know a lot of people agree with him.
Not Dove; she’s been my rock through it all.
But she’d rip Rafael a new arsehole if I told her, and as fun as that might be to watch, he’s still her family.
And she needs her family. We all need our support network.
My throat grows scratchy as I picture the anchor of my support network sitting in a cell right now. Alone.
‘I did discover something in the case notes,’ I tell her, eager to share the tiny scrap of information I’ve uncovered, reading through documents long after midnight last night.
‘And?’ Her eyes widen in anticipation.
‘Apparently, as well as an electronically sealed file I haven’t been able to access, there was a copy of an email draft from a woman who worked at the firm with my father.
She . . .’ I swallow the lump in my throat, hating what I’m about to say.
‘She accused him of sexual harassment. She was going to report him to HR.’
‘What?’ Dove’s disbelief is so genuine that I want to throw my arms around her.
‘I know, right? There’s no way—’
‘Your father is the sweetest man. He helped when I was ill,’ she says.
‘I know.’
My chest swells as I think about Dove calling scared and in tears one night after she had passed out.
The emergency helpline told her to go to A&E immediately.
My father and I went with her. She was scared and in a lot of pain.
It ended up being appendicitis. She recovered but it could have been a lot worse.
‘You think the company made it up to try to smear his character?’ she asks.
I shrug. ‘I don’t know. It was never sent, and she doesn’t work there any more. I can’t find a trace of her. But . . . maybe. She’s definitely lying.’
Dove’s phone chimes. She checks it and rolls her eyes.
‘Yes, I bloody called them,’ she mutters, tapping out a reply to the text message.
‘Sorry,’ she says to me. ‘It’s Rafe. He’s micromanaging again.
They’re my clients, not his. Yet he can’t seem to stop himself from checking in.
’ She shakes her head, but her face softens.
‘If he wasn’t such a rake, only dating women once or twice before moving on, then he might actually have something other than work to occupy his mind at ten o’clock on a Friday evening. ’
‘He still sends them all the same bouquet of red roses you told me about. I overheard him talking to AJ,’ I add, cringing.
Dove scoffs. ‘Figures. He’s thirty-nine and never been in a serious relationship. Plenty of women, none that he’s ever brought home to meet our parents. He’s not going to change now.’ She pauses. ‘You know he’s friends with Dominic Ainsworth?’
‘Is he?’ I grimace at the name of one of the board members at my father’s old company. I’m not sure my father had much to do with members of the board. But any name connected with that company sends a shiver down my spine.
‘Maybe Dominic knows about this woman?’ Dove suggests.
‘You think he might be able to help me?’ My chest lifts as hope surges through it like electricity. I’ve been trying for months and barely got anywhere.
‘It’s worth a try. I can ask Rafe to ask Dominic for you?’
The thought of Rafael being involved makes the red wine churn in my gut.
No way that arsehole would help us.
‘No, thank you. I can do it.’
‘Okay,’ she replies easily, unaware of how deeply etched into my bones my hatred towards her brother is.
I drum my fingers around my wine glass, my mind racing at a million miles per hour.
I detest Rafael Fairfax.
But if there’s a sliver of possibility that he could get me access to information that could help my father, then . . . But that would mean actually talking to him. And I don’t mean the odd insult and scathing look I like to toss his way.
I’d have to be – I shudder – civil.
My father’s voice fills my head. ‘You catch more flies with honey.’ That’s what he used to say before life knocked him down with the force of a sledgehammer to the temple.
‘It is worth a try,’ I agree, already running scenarios in my head of how I can get what I need from Rafael with as little interaction as possible. Maybe I can even hide who the information is for . . .
Dove lifts the wine bottle and motions to my glass. I smile gratefully as she decants a generous top-up.
I’m going to need it if I have to think up ways to approach Rafael Fairfax. Especially after I called him a dick, then insinuated that he has a small one.
I take a large gulp of wine, determination running through my bloodstream alongside the alcohol heating it.
I’ve never been afraid of a challenge. And I’m already doing some questionable things in order to find out whatever I can to help my father.
I’m not about to stop now.