Chapter 17
AUDREY
‘You have to tell Fraser,’ Rach urges me, waving a tea towel ineffectively at the smoke detector while I retrieve the charred remains of sausage rolls from the oven and drop them on the side of the sink, burning my finger. ‘It’s not fair.’
She means it’s not fair on me: You deserve a sparkling career, Audrey.
Just like Josh. But with ruined food, a burnt finger, and the alarm still blaring, I can’t think about it.
I run the tap and wrench open the kitchen window as Fraser appears, takes the towel from Rach, waves it aggressively from his taller height, and shuts off the noise.
Then he pulls my hand from the stream of water to inspect the burn, frowning.
‘Sorry,’ I say, despairing at the sausage rolls. ‘I’ll run out and get some more from the shops, shall I?’
‘Audrey, there are exactly two children at this party,’ he says, using an oven mitt to pick up the hot tray and dump twenty-four mini sausage rolls into the bin. ‘I really don’t think we need to worry.’
Is he annoyed?
He rubs his forehead in a way that is unlikely to be about burnt party food as Rach makes a graceful exit from the kitchen with a tray of dips.
‘Is everything okay?’ he asks once we’re alone.
This is his daughter’s party. His parents are in the next room. It’s not the time or place to alert him that his brother’s reputation is at risk.
‘Josh’s call upset you,’ he continues. ‘You’re acting weirder than usual about him. He’s avoiding family events. And now I’ve walked in on your conversation with Rach about needing to tell me something? What’s going on?’
I flop onto a chair. I’ll admit it looks bad. Even then, he’s handling it calmly. Classic Fraser. But he’s got it all wrong. ‘I’ve been trying to protect you,’ I explain.
‘From what?’
Fraser’s fierce integrity is never going to let this go. ‘From any potential family fallout about the university case. You were right. My professor didn’t only steal from me. My peers are building a case to lodge an official complaint, and they want me involved in the formal investigation.’
He nods approvingly, and his enthusiasm makes my stomach plunge.
‘Even if Josh could be kept out of it somehow, I don’t know if I could stand the scandal,’ I admit.
‘Something like this would be all over the media. It’s the kind of niche crime producers pounce on for TV dramas.
All those shows about people stealing others’ identities, inventing fake personalities, fake illnesses …
Wouldn’t a lauded professor and composer stealing music from his female students be a true crime hit? ’
The party hums in the background as deep eyes promise all the time in the world for us to work through this. But I just want to bolt from it. Still.
‘How long have you been carrying all of this?’ he asks.
‘A few months?’
He sighs.
‘Rach knew,’ I assure him.
‘And what’s her position on it?’
I don’t look at him. He and Rach are always on the same page and he knows it.
‘I don’t think we need this extra stress,’ I argue. ‘What if they start digging and find out that Joshua knew? What if it comes out that he was bribed to keep it quiet?’
‘Then he’d deserve the fallout.’
He’d really see his brother tumble? ‘Fraser, he’s one of the most respected conductors in the world. I could tear his career to shreds.’
‘The way he shredded yours?’
He is burning with outrage. It should be galvanising …
‘You heard him on the phone with Parker,’ I point out. ‘She idolises him. Why would I risk her relationship with him? And with you? I mean, think about her …’
‘I am thinking about her,’ he answers gruffly.
‘What if someone did this to her one day? What if she wrote a piece and someone pilfered it and made money off it and used the ensuing awards and accolades to fuel the next decade of his own career, leaving hers in the dust? Somehow I don’t think you’d stand idly by and let him do it.
Not if it was Parker. Even if her uncle knew. ’
Just listening to the scenario makes me sick. I would protect her at all costs. I’d ride in on some white horse and fight for her intellectual property and never let some guy wield his power over her. I would never let her compromise her own success …
‘I’d have her back,’ I admit, stomach churning horribly. ‘Of course I would.’
He pulls me into a long hug, leaving me to join dots that reveal a picture I can no longer ignore. And when we look up, Rach is in the doorway, empty tray in hand, eyes misted.
‘It’s cake time,’ she announces, ditching the tray, tightening her perfect ponytail, smoothing her dress.
My best friend has ‘drawn a hard line on romance’.
She’s going to ‘focus entirely on her career’.
But every so often, when we’re watching a romantic comedy or she visits her loved-up grandparents or catches me and Fraser in one of these intimate moments where he is just so there for me in a way that must make her feel so starkly on her own, her expression clouds, and she comes off a little wistful.
Fraser must notice it, too. He rises from the table, takes me by the hand, and scoops Rach in, pushing us into the living room for ‘Happy Birthday’.
He is the one on the white horse. At any hint that one of us needs help, he is there. And I can barely make it through the song without my voice cracking.