| Episode: 52
“Family” By Darren Rowe Somerset Memorial Gardens Somerset “Well,” Oliver smiled at Chloe, a hopeful glint in his eye as he waited for her response to his proposal of marriage. “Could you see yourself being Chloe Hudson?” Chloe looked back at her expectant beau and forced a soft smile. Five months ago marrying Oliver was all she wanted, but she felt different now. There was so much she still had to see, so much to do and so much to achieve that Chloe couldn’t ignore the niggling doubts in the back of her mind. Although she loved Oliver with all her heart, in her head Chloe knew that now wasn’t the right time to be settling down. Chloe felt her smile broaden as she tried to conceal her immense insecurities and doubts. “Yes,” she said softly, an immediate feeling of apprehension settling over her as she heard the word she didn’t want to say slip from her lips. “Of course I’ll marry you.” Oliver let out a joyous laugh before scooping Chloe up in his arms and spinning her around. “I love you,” Oliver beamed as he planted a tender kiss on Chloe’s lips. “I love you.” Chloe looked into her new fiancé’s eyes and could do nothing but continue to smile. She wasn’t sure why she’d said yes, it was just an automatic response and one she was already regretting. Watching Oliver slide the white gold engagement ring onto her finger, Chloe felt her chest tighten as if she were being wrapped in chains. Looking back into Oliver’s eyes, Chloe was speechless. Softly kissing Oliver on the lips, Chloe resigned herself to the fact that she was now set to become Mrs Oliver Hudson even though every fibre of her being was screaming to her that she was making a dreadful mistake. – spencer street – Brock & Isabelle’s Residence 20 Spencer Street Isabelle stood in silence; staring back at her ex-husband as she struggled to process the realisation that Holden was back in Somerset, let alone standing on her doorstep. “What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed abruptly, her cold stare narrowing as painful thoughts of her messy, and not to mention costly, divorce quickly came flooding back. A smug smile broke across Holden’s chiselled face as Isabelle’s sharp greeting rang in his ears. It had been nearly two and a half years since their marriage had been dissolved and it pleased Holden to no end to see that he could still rouse a strong reaction from his ex. “Well that certainly wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for,” he grinned, flashing Isabelle a look at his perfect pearly whites as he folded his arms across his broad chest and looked her up and down. “Well if you were expecting hugs, kisses and smiles you were sorely mistaken,” came Isabelle’s frosty reply as she slipped a hand under Holden’s stubbly, unshaven chin and lifted his head, ensuring her ex-husbands attention remained focused on her face and not her chest. Holden raised an eyebrow at Isabelle’s sharp reply. The fiery woman he’d fallen for nearly a decade ago was still very much alive and kicking. “I’m not completely delusional, Belle,” he smirked in reply, thoroughly enjoying the quick fire banter that had been missing from his life for far too long. “A polite hello wouldn’t have gone a miss though.” “You can’t be serious?” Isabelle snarled through pursed lips, the whole time fighting off the urge to slam the door in her ex-husband’s face. “What are you doing here, Holden?” “Does a man need a reason to see his beautiful wife?” Isabelle rolled her eyes involuntarily as one of Holden’s smarmy lines washed over her. “Beautiful ex-wife,” the stunning blonde corrected with a sigh as she tucked her new Prada clutch under her arm and stepped out into the cool night, pulling the front door closed behind her. “Sorry, my mistake,” Holden watched Isabelle brush past him and start down the small stone path that weaved its way through the front garden to the sidewalk. Following Isabelle, Holden’s eyes scanned his stunning ex one last time. To him she was perfection. Doing her best to ignore the tall, handsome man she’d come to loathe walking behind her, Isabelle looked at her watch. 7.35. “I’m actually incredibly busy, Holden, so if you don’t mind I’d really appreciate it if you just disappeared. Okay?” Holden could do nothing but smile as Isabelle continued to walk away from him, her voice carrying in the wind as her killer new Manolo Blahnik heels clip clopped against the concrete sidewalk. Isabelle wouldn’t even look him in the eye. “I’ve come all this way to see you and…” “Well now that you’ve seen me, you can go,” Isabelle replied sharply, refusing to let herself be sucked in again by Holden’s charm and seemingly heartfelt words. “As fiery as always, I see.” Isabelle rolled her eyes once more as Holden’s lame attempt at a quick-witted response left an all too familiar sour taste in her mouth. “You got my money in the divorce, Holden, not my personality.” “Will you at least hear me out?” Holden asked as he reached out and gently grasped hold of Isabelle’s arm before spinning her around to face him in one slick movement. “What?!” Isabelle asked hardheartedly; her piercing stare firmly locked on Holden as she aggressively pulled her arm free from his grip. “What could you possibly have to say to me that I haven’t already heard a million times before?” For a brief moment Holden paused. Staring back at him was a side to Isabelle he’d never seen before. There was a sadness in her eyes, a sincere sadness of a woman whose heart had been not only broken, but shattered into a million tiny pieces. For the first time in his life, Holden could see how much he’d hurt Isabelle and how much his numerous infidelities had slowly killed her piece by piece. “I’m sorry.” “Oh change the record, Holden,” Isabelle smiled in disbelief as she shook her head. “I’ve heard enough of your empty apologies to last me a lifetime.” “I came back for you, Belle,” Holden announced as Isabelle turned away from him once more and resumed the short walk down Spencer Street towards number 26. “To see if, you know, there’s a chance that maybe…” Isabelle stopped in her tracks and slowly turned back to face Holden. “Are you serious?” she laughed as a cool gentle breeze swept down Spencer Street, licking at Isabelle’s face. Holden took a confident step toward his ex-wife. “Is the pope catholic?” “Don’t!” Isabelle shook her head and waved a hand in front of her face as if trying to deflect Holden’s advances. “Don’t do that with me. Don’t answer a question with a question. I hated it when we were married and I hate it even more now we’re divorced.” A warm smile settled across Holden’s face. He was getting to Isabelle and it just reaffirmed to him that although they were two very different people, he and Isabelle were meant to be together. “And don’t give me that stupid smile!” “You’re cute when you’re agitated,” Holden commented, watching as Isabelle blushed slightly, although reluctant to admit it. “Stop,” Isabelle sighed. It was too much. Seeing Holden again and having him wheel out his trademark lines of flattery was more than she could stomach. “That slickness might work with that space cadet you call an assistant, but it doesn’t work on me. You had your chance with me and you blew it…big time!” Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, Holden suddenly felt uncomfortable as he caught sight of Chloe and Oliver walking down Spencer Street on the opposite side of the road. Although full of bravado in front of Isabelle, Holden’s insecurities about everyone on Spencer Street knowing his business had not subsided and after seeing Chloe’s surprised expression and subsequent whisper into Oliver’s ear, Holden quickly realised that he was still on the outer amongst Spencer Street’s tight knit and cliquey residents. “Rachael’s not a space cadet and she’s not my assistant anymore,” he replied a little less sure of himself as he looked back into Isabelle’s ocean blue eyes. “What?” Isabelle frowned. “Upgraded again, so soon?” “I quit my job, Belle.” Isabelle’s hard expression softened a little as Holden’s announcement rang in her ears. “But you loved that job!” The news that Holden had left his powerful and well-paid job in New York immediately changed Isabelle’s opinion of her ex and made her begin to question whether Holden’s unexpected visit was actually for genuine reasons. “Yeah I did,” Holden nodded in agreement. “But there are some things I love even more.” Isabelle rolled her eyes for the third time in as many minutes. “Seriously, I’m starting to feel ill and I don’t know if it’s from your cheesy lines, your cheap aftershave or a combination of both.” “I’ve moved back to Somerset, Belle,” Holden admitted, choosing to ignore Isabelle’s barbs. “You’ve what?” “I’ve come home…for you.” For the first time in her entire life, Isabelle was speechless. Through her entire marriage to Holden Isabelle had felt that she was nothing more than another of Holden’s possessions, but she was quickly beginning to realise that that was never the case and, in fact, Holden worshiped the ground she walked on. Unsure of what to say, Isabelle turned her back on Holden and slowly started up the garden path that led to Paige’s front door. “You can’t walk away from me, Belle,” Holden called out as he watched Isabelle approach the sleek and stylish townhouse and ring the doorbell. “You may be happy to settle down and play happy families with that testosterone filled twit, but I’m not about to let you go without a fight, Belle.” “Go home, Holden,” Isabelle replied softly as she looked back at her ex-husband, his final words unwittingly playing on her own insecurities about the current state of her relationship with Brock. “Just go home.” The white lacquered front door of Paige’s modern townhouse slowly opened. “Hi,” Isabelle smiled at her close friend, happy to be in the company of a friendly face. “Omigod!” Paige gasped breathless as she caught sight of Holden over Isabelle’s right shoulder. “Who’s that?!” “I don’t know,” Isabelle lied, removing the Prada clutch from under her arm as she faked a smile at Paige. “Just some random freak who came stumbling out of The Austral boozed up to the eyeballs.” Paige stepped aside to let Isabelle enter the house, the whole time her attention unwavering from the drop dead gorgeous stranger standing on the sidewalk, looking back at her. “He’s hot!” Isabelle shot Paige a stern look of disapproval as she stepped inside the warm and inviting townhouse. “What?” Paige shrugged innocently, before stealing one last quick peek at Holden before closing the front door. “So I guess I’ll be seeing you ‘round then?” Holden called out with a smile as he heard the latch of Paige’s front door click. Turning around, Holden looked down Spencer Street and let out a deep sigh. The scene of his many past crimes had not changed in his five year absence and although the claustrophobic feeling of Spencer Street had not changed, Holden realised it was where he belonged. He was home. – spencer street – The Sinclair Residence 25 Spencer Street Stood at the end of her driveway in silence, April locked eyes with Chelsea. Not a word was spoken as the two women stood on opposite sides of the street staring at eachother. Her lips tightly pursed together, April began to piece the puzzle together and was shocked by what she was beginning to realise. Chelsea looked back at April in a stunned silence as her eyes began to quickly fill with tears. She’d been caught and from the look in April’s eyes, Chelsea knew April had realised what was going on. With a soothing exhale of breath, Chelsea pulled the strap of her satchel bag over her shoulder and started the walk of shame across Spencer Street. “What?” Chelsea shrugged defensively as she approached April. “What were you doing over there with Matt?” April asked innocently, trying to keep things between her and Chelsea as light and friendly as possible, as the two walked up the path towards the front door. “I was talking to him,” Chelsea replied bluntly as she leaned against the timber exterior of her father’s Victorian home, examining her recently manicured nails while she waited for April to unlock the front door. “Inside?” April glanced at Chelsea out the corner of her eye, noticing the young beauty was clearly uncomfortable with the current topic of conversation. Chelsea’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked back at her father’s girlfriend. “Yes, April,” came her blunt reply. “Inside. Actually, in the living room, if you really must know every intimate detail of my life.” “So what were you two talking about?” April asked as she opened the front door and entered the large family home. “I really don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Chelsea followed April inside before heading for the living room. April closed the front door before placing her handbag on the hall table and joining Chelsea in the living room. “He’s my brother, Chelsea,” April began, entering the room to find Chelsea rummaging through her satchel on the sofa. “I know what he’s like.” Chelsea looked up at April, her mouth ajar as she feigned astonishment at April’s not so inconspicuous insinuations. “I don’t like what you’re insinuating, April.” Realising she had to tread carefully for fear of alienating Chelsea forever, April joined the stunning brunette on the sofa. “I wasn’t insinuating anything, I was just…” “He’s my lecturer, April,” Chelsea snarled with feigned disgust as she tried her hardest to prove to April that there was noting improper going on between her and Matthew. “And I resent the suggestion that there is something untoward going on between us.” “Chelsea,” April began as she reached out and rested a friendly and reassuring hand on Chelsea’s, a move that was quickly brushed off. “I wasn’t having a go at you. I was just a little surprised, that’s all. I know what Matt’s like and seeing you come out of the house I just…well I just wanted to make sure that things weren’t…you know. I’m sorry I thought it was anything more than it was.” Chelsea’s eyes narrowed as a fierce glare formed. “The fact you could even think I would be that kind of girl hurts, April,” Chelsea hissed in reply. “Matthew is my lecturer. Nothing more, nothing less. So next time, before you go jumping to your own conclusions about something, how about you actually ask some questions first and try to uncover what’s really going on.” “Chelsea, I…” “Just because you’re with my dad now doesn’t mean you’re my mother,” Chelsea snarled bluntly before quickly rising from the sofa. The happy families act her father and April had been so desperate to portray over the past five months was now beginning to wear very thin and Chelsea no longer wanted any part of it. “I already have one of those.” “Chelsea,” April began as she watched Chelsea start to storm out of the living room. “I wasn’t trying to get your back up about anything and I certainly don’t want to argue about something as trivial as this. I’m sorry I thought that.” Chelsea looked back over her shoulder at April. “Well I’m sorry that you thought I’d be that girl,” she growled in reply before marching out of the living room and storming up the stairs. “Chelsea…!” April called out before hearing Chelsea’s bedroom door slam shut. With a weary sigh, April buried her face in her hands. She’d blown it. Her one and only time to win Chelsea over and she’d blown it. A feeling of dread washed over April as her thoughts soon turned to explaining the situation to Sean. Suddenly Chelsea’s cell phone beeped twice in quick succession. April lifted her face from her hands and looked over to see Chelsea’s phone sitting on the glass coffee table. 1 message received. Hesitantly reaching out and picking up Chelsea’s phone, April held the small Nokia in her hand. While she knew what she was doing was wrong, April felt she owed it to Sean to find out what was really going on between Chelsea and Matthew. April flipped open the Nokia and began to read the text message. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Chelsea roared with fury as she re-appeared in the doorway of the living room to find April reading the messages on her cell phone. Slowly turning and looking over her shoulder at Chelsea, April’s stare narrowed. “I think you’re the one who should be answering that question.” Chelsea stood silent, staring into April’s eyes. – spencer street – Jack & Diana’s Residence 26 Spencer Street “Well?” Jack asked, still grinning at his parents as his eyes darted between Diana and Cabot. “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” “Its nothing, darling,” Diana replied almost breathless, startled by the fact that Jack had arrived home and overheard the conversation she and Cabot were having. Looking at Cabot, Diana forced a smile at her estranged husband. “Is it Cab?” she prompted, desperate to make him agree and keep Jack’s true paternity a secret forever. Cabot stared blankly into Diana’s eyes. He was torn. Jack needed to know the truth about who his real father was, but standing there, staring into Diana’s eyes, Cabot could see a desperate and unmistakable look of fear in her eyes. “Dad?” Jack asked as he removed his new season Vivienne Westwood scarf from around his neck and hung it over the coat rack in the corner of the room. Cabot’s silent stare slowly shifted from Diana to Jack. “Okay,” Jack began unbuttoning his thick black woollen coat. “You guys are freaking me out now. What is it? What’s going on?” Opening his mouth, Cabot tried to speak, to formulate a sentence but nothing came out. He wanted to tell Jack the truth that he wasn’t his father, but he couldn’t. He physically couldn’t find the words. – spencer street – Salt Somerset Promenade “Here you are ma’am,” a young waiter smiled at Hazel as he showed her, Nick and Laura to a small four-seat table in the centre of the busy and intimate restaurant. “Thank you,” Hazel smiled politely, removing her coat before hanging it over the bag of her chair. Taking her seat, Hazel securely nestled her handbag between her feet and, picking up one of the leather-bound menus from the table, casually glanced around at the other patrons of the dimly lit Somerset hot spot. “I thought you said your father was meeting us here?” “That’s what he said,” Nick replied, his face buried in the menu as he tried to decide between the chicken, fish or duck. “Miles not sticking to his word? Why I’ve never heard such a thing,” Hazel replied sarcastically as she slipped on her reading glasses and began to peruse the menu. “The duck sounds nice,” Laura commented, trying to lighten the mood and change the topic of conversation, as her eyes caught Nick’s. The pair sharing knowing glances that tonight was going to be anything but a loving family affair. “Its good,” Hazel sighed with a tone of disapproval at Laura’s suggestion, “but the chicken’s better.” Suddenly Hazel’s cell phone began to ring. Removing the small silver slide from her handbag, Hazel soon pursed her lips tightly together. Miles calling. “Here we go,” she sighed, accepting the call and holding the phone to her ear. “Where are you?” A smile broke across Nick’s face as his mother’s not so polite greeting tickled his fancy. “We’re at the restaurant,” Hazel replied, continuing to peruse the menu as she prepared herself to hear Miles’ latest excuse for his tardiness. “Why? Miles, what is it? What’s wrong?” Nick and Laura’s eyes locked on one another’s once more as they both sensed a sudden and dramatic change in Hazel’s mood. Nick looked across the table at Hazel as his mother’s mouth slowly dropped open and the leather-bound menu she’d been reading fell to the table with a loud clap. “Oh God,” Hazel gasped, all breath suddenly escaping from her lungs as a deathly grip tightened around her chest. “Of course. Yeah, we’ll see you there,” Hazel held a trembling hand over her mouth as she struggled to come to terms with the news Miles had just relayed to her. “Okay. Bye.” “Mum?” Nick asked with a mix of curiosity and concern as he watched Hazel calmly collect her handbag from between her feet, remove her reading glasses and return them to their small leather covered holder in her bag, rise from her seat and pull on her coat. “Mum?” Hazel seemed oblivious to all going on around her as she began to button up her tan woollen coat. “Hazel?” Laura asked her mother-in-law, anxious that the phone call from Miles may have had something to do with Mark. Sliding her the strap of handbag over her shoulder, Hazel calmly slid her chair in under the table and looked at Nick and Laura. “Come on, we’re going home.” “What?” Nick frowned, perplexed by the situation as he slowly placed his menu back down on the table. “Why? What’s happened?” “Just come on!” Hazel snapped. Both Nick and Laura quickly rose from their seats and collected their coats as Hazel turned and made a hasty beeline for the exit. “Hazel what is it?” Laura asked as she and Nick struggled to keep up with Hazel as she raced through the restaurant. “What’s wrong?” Stopping in her tracks, Hazel turned and looked back at her young daughter-in-law. Hazel felt a heavy lump settle in her throat as she struggled to process the information she’d just received from Miles. “There’s been an explosion in Afghanistan.” – spencer street – The Sinclair Residence 25 Spencer Street “Well?” April asked, Chelsea’s cell phone still firmly in her grip as she rose from the sofa and stood looking back at the young university student. “Are you going to say anything or just stand there?” Chelsea’s stare quickly switched between April’s eyes and the small black Nokia resting in her palm. A sickening feeling of exposure coursed through her veins as she broke out in a hot, prickly sweat. “What right do you have to read my messages?” “I think it’s just as well I did, don’t you?” “Give me my phone!” Chelsea barked as she stormed toward April, her hand outstretched demanding April hand over the cell phone immediately. Ignoring Chelsea’s demands, April looked down at the small phone and began to read the recently received message out aloud. “Can’t wait ‘til tomorrow. Come over tonight.” “Give me my phone, April!” Chelsea roared, trying unsuccessfully to snatch the phone from April’s grasp. April continued. “We can do it again. Matt. Kiss kiss.” Snapping the phone shut, April tossed the phone to Chelsea and glared at the young woman disapprovingly. “You lied to me.” Stuffing her small black Nokia into the pockets of her jeans, Chelsea ran a hand through her hair as she glared back at April, furious at her blatant invasion of privacy. “What is your problem?!” Chelsea screeched, unsure whether to feel humiliated or furious. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? First it was snooping through that Sarah chicks medical records and now it’s snooping through other people’s phones! You’re sick, April! You need help!” April crossed her arms and looked at Chelsea. She wanted answers and now. “You said nothing was going on.” “And its not!” April rolled her eyes as a smug smirk slinked its way across her face. “Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me!” Chelsea yelled, stunned that April was suddenly treating her like some sort of second-class citizen. What right did she have to treat her this way? There was nothing wrong with what was happening between she and Matthew. They were both consenting adults and for April to stand there in judgement of her caused Chelsea’s blood to boil. April let out a deep sigh as she turned and slowly paced across the living room towards the fireplace. “Let me guess,” she began, Chelsea’s involvement with Matt all too familiar. “He loves you and says you’re the only one for him?” “You don’t know what you’re talking about, April,” Chelsea snarled, snatching her satchel from the sofa and slinging it over her shoulder as she watched April pace about the room like a saint. “You look like a fool!” April spun around and looked back at Chelsea. “You’re not the first; Chelsea and I certainly doubt you’ll be the last.” Chelsea gnawed at the inside of her cheeks, trying desperately to stop herself from saying something she may later come to regret. April looked firmly into Chelsea’s eyes. “How could you do this…with him?” “He’s your brother!” Chelsea replied, surprised that April could have such little respect for Matthew. “Exactly!” Chelsea cautiously stepped closer to April. “So why do you speak about him like he’s something you’ve just scraped off the bottom of your shoe?” “Because that’s what he is, Chelsea,” April replied. Although she loved her brother, April was under no delusions that Matthew was some saint. He wasn’t and Chelsea certainly wasn’t the first student Matthew had ever seduced. “I love him to bits, but he’s a player and seducing his students is ‘his thing’,” she continued. “Why else do you think his marriage broke down?” For a brief moment Chelsea fell silent, stunned to think that she was not the first student Matthew had been with. “Why won’t you believe me when I say there’s nothing going on?” Chelsea asked, determined to continue with her claims of innocence despite the evidence firmly, and rightly, stacked against her. “‘Cause I can see it in your eyes,” April stressed, trying to make Chelsea see that not only was she a terrible liar, but that being with Matthew would bring her nothing but heartbreak. “It’s written all over your face, Chelsea.” Silent, Chelsea lowered her head and looked down at her feet. She couldn’t deny it anymore. What was the point? Both she and April knew the truth and the longer she tried to protest her innocence the worse things were going to get. Realising she’d finally got through to Chelsea, April began to walk back across the room. “What will your father say?” “I’m not a little girl anymore, April,” Chelsea looked back at her father’s girlfriend. “You are to him.” “Whatever!” Chelsea groaned with a roll of her eyes before spinning around and storming out of the living room and into the foyer. “We’re not finished here!” “Yes,” Chelsea yelled in reply, starting up the staircase once again. We are!” “Just tell me why, Chelsea?” April pleaded, racing into the foyer and quickly following Chelsea up the stairs. “Is it to get better grades?” Horrified, Chelsea stopped half way up the staircase and turned back to face April. The mere mention that she was sleeping with Matthew to improve her grades infuriated Chelsea. “How dare you?!” she snapped, insulted by April’s suggestion. “Well why then?” April asked, trying to get a better understanding of why a twenty-year-old university student would want to begin an affair with a forty-something lecturer. “To punish your father? To punish me?” Taking a step down the stairs, Chelsea stopped now only one step higher than April. “As hard as this might be for you to understand, April,” Chelsea hissed, her voice laced with venom. “Not everything is about you. You want to know the truth? Fine! Yes, I am sleeping with Matt and it is fantastic!” April looked into Chelsea’s seemingly hate filled eyes. “But why, Chelsea?” April asked, trying to pinpoint in her mind the exact moment Chelsea turned from a precious teenaged princess to an apparent spiteful, hate filled young woman. “Because I love him.” “Oh please,” April scoffed, turning her back on Chelsea and walking back down the stairs. “What?!” Chelsea asked, following April. “You love him?” “Yes!” April stood in the middle of the foyer and watched as Chelsea walked towards her. “Chelsea, the only person you’re capable of loving is yourself. Everything you do has an ulterior motive behind it that benefits you somehow.” “How dare you!” Chelsea gasped, shocked at April’s semi-outburst. “Do you think I can’t see how you’ve got Sean wrapped around your little finger?” An almost wicked grin slowly broke across Chelsea’s face as she suddenly realised why April was giving her such a hard time about Matthew. “What’s there to smile about?” April asked, taken aback by the almost evil grin planted firmly across Chelsea’s youthful face. “You’re jealous,” came Chelsea’s reply. “What?” April frowned, immediately dismissing Chelsea’s claim. “Hardly.” “You are. You’re jealous that I’ve now got both men in your life wrapped around this little finger,” Chelsea hissed, raising her right pinky finger as she leaned in closer to April. “And you can’t stand it.” “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” April replied, turning and walking back into the living room as Chelsea followed close behind. “No, I get it, April. And really, it’s quite sad. Being jealous of a twenty-year-old?! So sad. But, I guess you could always go running back to Ronan…if you haven’t already.” “I beg your pardon!” April snapped, spinning around and glaring back at Chelsea as she stood smugly in the doorway of the living room. “Oh don’t pull the innocent act with me, April,” Chelsea snarled. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I see what’s going on between you two.” April was floored by Chelsea’s startling claim. Where she’d got such an idea April didn’t know, but she was determined to put a stop to such accusations before they became fodder for the local gossips and ruined her relationship with Sean. “Nothing’s going on between us!” April insisted. “Sure, I believe you,” Chelsea said sarcastically with a disconcerting grin. “He’s just a friend, Chelsea.” “Of course he is.” “He is!” April hated the fact she had to justify her relationship with Ronan to Chelsea. They had been married and although now divorced, April still had non-romantic feelings for Ronan. “Why am I even justifying myself to you? I’m not the one who’s done anything wrong!” “And neither have I,” came Chelsea’s cutting reply. “You’re sleeping with my brother!” April felt herself becoming more and more frustrated. Never in her life had she encountered someone as masterful and merciless as Chelsea – and she’d battled Sarah. “And?” Chelsea rested her hands on her hips and looked back at April with her head cocked slightly to the left. There was something almost satisfying to seeing April squirm. “And you don’t think it’s inappropriate to be sleeping with your lecturer?” “No more inappropriate than you and Ronan.” “I’m home,” Sean cheerfully called out as he opened the front door, two large brown paper bags in his arms and his briefcase dangling precariously from his right index finger. “And I’ve got Chinese.” Chelsea glared coldly at April before turning and smiling sweetly at her father as he kicked the front door closed and stopped beside her in the doorway to the living room. Noticing a thick tension between the two women in his life, Sean looked at Chelsea and then April. “Is everything okay?” “Everything’s fine,” Chelsea beamed at her father, before looking over her shoulder at April. “Isn’t it?” “Yeah,” April lied, forcing a smile as Sean smiled back at her. “Never better.” “Great,” Sean winked at April before continuing down the hall towards the kitchen. “Chess can you come help me with this?” “Sure,” Chelsea called back. Looking at April, Chelsea’s stare narrowed as the two women remained locked in a tense glare, neither one prepared to back down and concede defeat. “Chelsea, now!” came Sean’s muffled call from the kitchen. “Coming!” Watching Chelsea turn and disappear down the hallway as she went to help Sean, April couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just entered into a fierce battle of which there’d be only one victor. – spencer street – Room 264 Golden Meadows Motor Inn The familiar, musty smell of yet another cheap hotel room greeted Hamish as he woke. For five months he and Brock had been sneaking around, spending the secret hour or occasional night in some seedy hotel and Hamish was now sick of it. Stood naked beside the lumpy, uncomfortable double bed, Brock slipped on his boxer shorts as a sliver of white moonlight illuminated the dark hotel room through a slight crack in the curtains. Collecting his crumpled jeans from the tangle of discarded clothes on the floor, Brock looked over at Hamish and smiled. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” Hamish yawned with a shake of his head as he watched Brock pull on his jeans and do up his fly. Brock rubbed a hand over his unshaven chin and perched himself on the edge of the bed. “I don’t believe you.” “It’s nothing really. I’m fine.” “You’re a terrible liar,” Brock smiled as he leaned down and softly kissed Hamish on the lips. “Come on, what is it?” Hamish looked at Brock and hesitated. “It’s just…” Hamish’s voice trailed off as he realised he already knew what Brock’s answer would be. “Do you have to go back? Can’t you stay the night?” Brock let out a sigh as he tenderly ran the tip of his index finger against the back of Hamish’s hand. “We’ve been over this.” “I know,” Hamish sighed. “Then why are we going over this again?” “We’re not. I’m just…” “Just what?” Hamish looked at Brock in silence. “What is it?” Brock asked. He didn’t understand why they were going over this again. Both he and Hamish knew the terms of what they were doing, yet almost every time it was the same. Hamish always wanted more and that was the one thing Brock couldn’t give him. “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Hamish said softly, nervously anticipating Brock’s reaction. Brock’s face hardened as he looked at Hamish and frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked, running a hand through his short dirty blonde hair. Hamish sat up in the bed, his back flush against the headboard as the scratchy white quilt lay loosely draped across his body. “I mean I can’t keep lying to Isabelle. I can’t keep seeing her everyday knowing what I’m doing with you. It’s not right, Brock.” “How many times do we have to go through this, Hamish?” Brock groaned as he rose from the bed and snatched his t-shirt and pale blue Ralph Lauren Polo sweater from the floor. “I know,” Hamish said, watching as Brock pulled his white t-shirt on over his head. “But it’s not fair, Brock…on Isabelle or me.” Brock refused to look at Hamish as he straightened out his white t-shirt before pulling on his pale blue sweater. Hamish continued as he watched Brock dress. “You go back to her and I go back to what? Yet another evening of mispronounced words and pointless anecdotes from Paige?” “You know how this works,” Brock said coldly, his back still turned on Hamish as he sat back down on the edge of the bed and began to put on his socks and shoes. “Yeah, I know.” “And you were fine with it.” “I know,” Hamish reached out to rest a hand on Brock’s shoulder but hesitated before slowly drawing it back. Now wasn’t the time. Brock glanced over his shoulder at Hamish. “Then I don’t get what the problem is.” “I guess I’ve changed my mind.” “Changed your mind?” Brock turned his body and looked back at his secret lover. “Hamish, we’ve got a good thing going here. Why would you want to change that?” “Because I can’t keep doing this to Isabelle,” Hamish said again. He didn’t want to break things off with Brock, but as long as Brock refused to tell Isabelle what had been going on, there was no future for them. “And I’m amazed you’ve been able to keep at it for five months. She’s having your baby, Brock. What’s it going to be like when Junior finds out what’s been going on between Uncle Hamish and daddy?” “That’s not going to happen,” Brock said quietly as his thoughts quickly turned to his heavily pregnant fiancée and unborn child. “How can you be so sure?” “Because I know its not,” Brock snapped, quickly rising from the bed and collecting his wallet and phone from the bedside table before stuffing them into the pockets of his jeans. “Isabelle’s not going to find out about this Hamish…not now, not ever. I’ll call you tomorrow.” “No,” Hamish replied, looking Brock squarely in the eyes. “Don’t bother.” “What?” “I said don’t bother calling me,” Hamish repeated. “It’s over. We’re over.” “What?!” Brock frowned. Hamish ran his tongue over his dry lips and looked back at Brock. “You heard me the first time.” “We’re not over, Hamish,” Brock said sternly as he walked across the small hotel room towards the door. “Not by a long shot.” “Oh yes we are, Brock. We are so over.” Grasping the doorhandle of the hotel room’s door, Brock looked back at Hamish sat in the double bed. “Why would say that?” Hamish cleared his throat. “Because,” he began, “I’m not going to keep lying to Isabelle and unless you tell her what’s going on, then we’re over.” Brock looked back at Hamish. “Then I guess we’re over,” he said softly, disappointed in Hamish and the decision he’d forced him to make. “Yeah,” Hamish agreed, disappointed in the fact that Brock would rather end things than tell Isabelle the truth. “I guess we are.” With a deep breath, Brock turned his back on Hamish, opened the hotel door and left. – spencer street – Jack & Diana’s Residence 26 Spencer Street Jack’s mouth was dry as his heart began to beat faster in his chest. Something was wrong, seriously wrong, and the longer his parents remained silent the worse things got. “Dad?” Jack asked, desperately trying to get his father to tell him what had happened. Cabot looked sympathetically into Jack’s eyes. “I think you’d better take a seat son.” “Don’t you want to unpack or something first, darling?” Diana quickly interrupted, stepping forward and collecting Jack’s carry bag. “What’s happened?” Jack frowned as he watched Diana hurry towards the staircase as if trying to distract Jack from something bigger. “Is it Isabelle? Is everything alright with the baby?” “Isabelle’s fine, Jack,” Cabot reassured his son. “Darling,” Diana interrupted again, sensing that Cabot was about to reveal all to Jack. “I just remembered, Lucy phoned and said something about…” “Mum enough!” Jack roared, immediately silencing his mother. Jack looked into Cabot’s eyes. “What is it, dad? Tell me what’s happened!” Cabot cleared his throat. “There’s something you’ve got know, Jack.” “Cabot, no,” Diana pleaded; dropping Jack’s carry bag and quickly pacing back towards her estranged husband. “Not now. Not like this.” Both Jack and Cabot ignored Diana, their eyes remaining firmly locked on eachother’s. “There’s something we haven’t told you,” Cabot began. Jack remained silent as he looked at his father. Although he didn’t know what was going on, he could already sense that it was something so huge it would change his life forever. Cabot tried to find the inner strength to tell Jack the truth. “It’s…I…” Cabot’s voice trailed off. “I need you to know that I still love, more than anything.” Jack stepped forward. “Dad its okay, I…” “No,” Cabot quickly interrupted, shaking his head. “I…” Cabot turned his head slightly and looked at his estranged wife. Diana’s eyes pleaded with Cabot to remain quiet, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t keep lying to Jack any longer. Cabot looked back at Jack. “That’s not who I am, Jack. That’s not who I am to you.” “What?” Jack frowned, not understanding what his father meant. “I…don’t…what are you talking about?” Cabot took a deep breath and looked directly into Jack’s eyes. “I’m not your dad, Jack. I wish I were, I mean, I am your father, but… I’m not your biological father, Jack. I’m so sorry but I’m not.” Jack stood in a stunned silence, staring back at the man he’d believed his whole life to be his father, his mind spinning as he tried to come to the realisation that he wasn’t Cabot’s son. |