‘Blackmail is hardly simple.’
‘It’s not blackmail. You are asking me, again, to do something unethical and this is my fee.’
Hannah stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. Her legs were trembling. She wasn’t going to listen to any more of this.
Zane wrapped his hands around his coffee cup. ‘Like I said in my text – don’t be stupid, Hannah. You’ve got a week to come up with my fee. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll happily tell Damien’s mother what you did twelve years ago. How you covered up her story and lied to your husband. She should at least be warned about her daughter-in-law before she becomes part of her son’s life.’
Hannah turned and walked out of the cafe, bile rising in her throat with every footstep.
Chapter Six
On Friday afternoon, Nat stopped off at the shops on the way to Phyllie’s and bought a bottle of her grandmother’s favourite Brown Brothers Prosecco. It was a relief that Phyllie had such inexpensive tastes when it came to wine. Even in her unemployed state, the twelve-dollar bottle was affordable.
A little after three, she brought her blue Hyundai to a stop on the road outside Phyllie’s adorable white two-storey home with its burgundy roof and trim. She couldn’t remember when she’d last spent time on her own with Phyllie. Obviously, that was going to change if she did move in with her. While she appreciated Phyllie’s offer, the idea of having to move in with her eighty-nine-year-old grandmother because she was such a failure was depressing. She should be buying her own house at this stage and settling down, not running back to family every time she stuffed up.
She sighed. The reality was she had no choice right now. Having somewhere to live would at least take one stress off her and allow her to devote her time to job hunting. As she slipped the bottle of wine into her bag and opened the car door she was greeted by a high-pitched squeal coming from the side of Phyllie’s house. An explosion of expletives followed it.
‘Get the hell out of here, you great bastard,’ Phyllie’s crystal-clear tone rang out.
Nat slammed her door shut and ran down the driveway and around the side of the house. She stopped as she reached the back garden, her hand flying to her mouth. What on earth? Phyllie was standing in front of her flowering camellia hedge with a broom in her hands, swatting it in the direction of a large white goat. Its head was down and short beige horns pointed in her grandmother’s direction.
Phyllie looked up, relief flooding her face as she saw Nat. ‘Thank God you’re here. Turn the hose on this bloody creature, would you? It’s already eaten my sweet alyssum and by the look in its eyes right now I’d say it might eat me if it means getting to my camellias.’
Nat looked about, spying the hose attached to the side of the house. She quickly unravelled it and turned it on. She directed it at the goat, causing Phyllie to squeal. ‘Just the goat, not me, you silly girl.’
The goat spun round as the water hit it and Phyllie shoved the broom at its bottom. ‘Be gone with you,’ she yelled.
Nat had to jump out of the way as the goat came galloping past her and out on to the street. It turned right and disappeared.
Nat turned off the hose, dropped it and ran over to Phyllie. ‘Are you okay?’
Her smile wobbled. ‘Course I am. Bloody Leon and his stupid goat.’
‘Who’s Leon?’
‘Neighbour two doors down. He took it on to help out a sick friend. Stupid beast gets out all the time.’
Nat took the broom and tucked her arm under Phyllie’s. She couldn’t miss the fact that she was trembling, or that her arm was bleeding. ‘You’re hurt.’ The cut on her arm was deep. ‘This is going to need stitching.’
Phyllie tut-tutted. ‘We don’t have time for that. We’ve got poker to learn and, looking at that bottle sticking out of your bag, bubbles to drink.’
‘Not with your arm bleeding like that.’
‘He’s got sharp horns that little bugger. Got me before I could get to the broom. I need to be more vigilant and have my goat protection kit in easier reach.’
Nat led Phyllie into the house via the back door, through the sunroom and kitchen and into the living room, where she deposited her into her favourite high-backed armchair. An eighty-nine-year-old woman shouldn’t need a goat protection kit, whatever that might entail. ‘This has happened before?’
She nodded. ‘A few times. He’s partial to my roses when they’re blooming. I guess I’ll have that to look forward to again in a few months.’
‘Phyllie, I’m pretty sure you aren’t allowed a goat in your garden. Let’s ring the council.’
A look of horror crossed Phyllie’s face. ‘And dob Leon in? Gosh no, he’d never forgive me. I’ll be fine, love. You don’t need to worry about it.’
Blood was now seeping on to her sleeve.
‘I need to take you to the doctor.’
She shook her head.
‘It needs stitching and cleaning up. You’ll probably need a tetanus injection too.’
Phyllie rolled her eyes. ‘You’re beginning to sound like that worrywart of a sister of yours.’ Her lips curled into a smile. ‘Bet she could tell us exactly how many injuries and fatalities there have been from goat-related incidents. You’re not to tell her about this, you hear me. She’s already worried about me falling; add a goat into the equation, and even with you living here she’ll have me shipped out of here immediately.’
Nat nodded. ‘I won’t tell her, but unless you let me take you to the doctor, I’m calling Damien. If he’s in the area, I’m sure he’d drop in and stitch your arm.’
Phyllie thought about this for a moment. ‘There’s probably a confidentiality aspect to his job, so he wouldn’t be allowed to tell Hannah. Okay, call him. Then once we get rid of him, you’ll need to find the wine glasses and the cards. We’ve got some poker to learn.’
Half an hour later Damien knelt in front of Phyllie’s armchair, his paramedic bag by his side, and secured a dressing over the wound he’d just finished stitching. ‘I really think you should go and see your doctor.’
‘Why? You’ve given me a tetanus injection and stitched it. What more could I possibly want?’
‘A complete check-over for a start. You should be monitored at your age.’
Phyllie tutted. ‘Not you too! You sound as bad as that overprotective, ridiculous wife of yours.’
The corners of Nat’s mouth twitched.
‘She just cares about you, Phyllie.’
Phyllie frowned. ‘You are not to tell her about this visit today, Damien, do you hear me?’
He nodded.
‘And Nat and I have poker training to complete this afternoon, so there’s no way I have time for a doctor’s visit, so let’s just forget about that.’
‘That sounds like an unfair advantage.’ Damien winked at Nat. ‘You’d better not bankrupt me.’
‘Very unlikely,’ Nat said. ‘I don’t have all that much to invest tomorrow night anyway.’
‘You’ll have my hundred-dollar investment,’ Phyllie said. ‘I’ll be trusting Damien to make sure you don’t use any of your own money. Not that you’ll need to. It only takes a couple of hands to build your bank, and you’ll do that easily once I’ve imparted my wisdom.’