| Episode: 53
“In the Balance” By Darren Rowe Jack’s Residence 26 Spencer Street Jack’s bedroom was dark and silent, a sliver of early morning sunshine shining through a crack in the curtains the only sign that a cold yet sunny winter’s day was dawning outside. Submerged under a mound of twisted sheets and blankets, a disheartened Jack slowly opened his eyes and glanced at the large red numbers staring back at him from his digital alarm clock. 7.16. Refusing to face the day and the reality that he wasn’t Cabot’s son, Jack closed his eyes and retreaded into the safety and security of his dreams. “Jack?” Isabelle whispered softly as she opened the bedroom door and tiptoed across the room to stand at the foot of her brother’s bed. “Jack, are you awake?” There was no reply. When Cabot had phoned her and told her about what had happened the night before, Isabelle knew she had to be there for her brother in his hour of need. The only problem was, instead of breaking down in a wailing heap, Jack had retreated inside himself and refused to let Isabelle or anyone else close enough to help him. With a weary sigh and realising there was little more she could do until Jack summoned up the strength to face the world, Isabelle turned on her heels and quietly marched back out of the room. Hearing the bedroom door click closed behind Isabelle, Jack’s chin quivered and a solitary tear rolled from the corner of his closed eye and down his unshaven cheek before falling onto his pillow. – – – – – – Coming down the ultra modern smoked glass and cherry oak spiral staircase that took pride of place in the middle of Jack’s foyer, Isabelle spotted a familiar foe through the window standing outside on the porch. Opening the front door, Isabelle looked her mother up and down. “Slept rough?” she quipped, commenting on her mother’s unfamiliar outfit of jeans and a plain black round neck T-shirt. The sight of not seeing Diana dressed to the nines in some designer power suit or skirt and blouse combo on a work day was off putting to Isabelle and made her immediately realise that her mother must have spent the night in a ‘modest’ hotel. “Is Jack in?” Diana sighed, ignoring her daughter’s attempts to get a rise out of her. All she wanted was the chance to see Jack and talk things through, explain the situation to him, but Diana already knew that with Isabelle looking after Jack, the chances of seeing him were slim to none. “No.” “Don’t lie to me, Isabelle.” “I’m not lying to you, mother,” Isabelle frowned in reply. Although she was lying, it was only to protect Jack. The last thing he needed was for Diana to go barging upstairs and try to twist things, spreading her poison about even more. “He’s not here. Check for yourself if you don’t believe me.” Diana looked back at Isabelle with pursed lips. She could tell her daughter was lying but Diana didn’t have the energy or the fire in her heart to battle it out with Isabelle yet again. “Well do you know where he is?” Transferring all of her weight to her right hip, Isabelle leaned against the opened oak door and smirked back at her mother, relishing the sudden change of fortune Diana had found herself in. “And why would I tell you?” “Because I’m worried about him, Isabelle.” “Oh you’re worried about him are you?” Isabelle scoffed with a cold-hearted laugh. “Well isn’t that touching?” “Why are you behaving like this?” Diana asked, bewildered that Isabelle was using Jack’s pain and heartache as a way to punish her further. “You were the one that did this.” “Oh of course I was,” Isabelle sarcastically agreed with a roll of her eyes. “I’m the one that forced you to sleep with some guy, get pregnant and then spend the next twenty-six years lying about your son’s paternity. Yeah, thanks for reminding me, mother. I’d forgotten I’d done all that.” Diana closed her eyes and held a hand to her forehead, frustrated at Isabelle’s immature and infuriating reply. “You know that’s not what I meant.” “Look, I’m really busy, so if that’s all you came over for then you might as well turn around and go back to whatever gutter it is you crawled out of this morning, okay?” With her trademark butter wouldn’t melt smile, Isabelle took a step back, waved goodbye to her mother and slammed the front door in Diana’s face. “Isabelle!” Diana shrieked as she smacked an open palmed hand against the thick wooden front door, the vibrations jingling the small golden bells that adorned the elegant Christmas wreath attached to the door. “Isabelle open this door immediately!” The muffled, infectious pop beats of Love Machine by Girls Aloud began throbbing from inside the living room as the volume quickly increased, immediately drowning out Diana’s frantic and manic pleas. “Isabelle!” Diana shrieked again, her voice all but drowned out by the boppy ‘I’m just a love machine’ chorus. – spencer street – The Goodwin Residence 23 Spencer Street Gazing out the kitchen window at the frost covered back garden, Nicole took another long drag from the cigarette that sat comfortably between her right middle and index fingers. Previously disgusted by smoking and those who indulged in the filthy habit, Nicole had taken up smoking while in the psychiatric hospital and now found herself unable to quit. “That’ll kill you, you know?” Chloe commented coldly as she wafted into the kitchen and collected a small glass from one of the cupboards before opening the refrigerator and removing the carton of orange juice. “And good morning to you too,” Nicole replied mordantly as she turned to face Chloe before stubbing her cigarette out in the ashtray sat beside her on the kitchen bench. Pouring herself a glass of orange juice, Chloe ignored her sister’s comment and instead tried to collate a mental list of the million and one things she had to do that day. Leaning against the tiled kitchen counter top, Nicole curled her blonde locks behind her ear and watched Chloe go about her routine in silence. Nicole had been back in town nearly twenty-four hours and so far the only two things Chloe had managed to say to her were ‘you’re back’ and ‘that’ll kill you, you know?’ “Getting ready for work?” Nicole asked, trying to initiate some sort of conversation with her sister. “Yep,” came Chloe’s sharp reply as she opened the refrigerator door once again and returned the carton of orange juice to its regular position beside the milk before slamming the door shut and beginning to drink her juice. Watching Chloe down the small glass of juice, Nicole felt a thick tension settle between the pair. There was something off about Chloe and it wasn’t her new hair colour. “What?” Chloe asked bluntly, feeling Nicole’s eyes upon her. Nicole’s eyes widened as she held her hands up, declaring her innocence. “Nothing.” “Well what are you staring at?” “The claws are sharp this morning, aren’t they?” Nicole teased, somewhat taken aback by Chloe’s sharp replies. Rolling her eyes, Chloe marched across the kitchen and dumped her empty glass in the sink before turning and storming towards the doorway, desperate to flee the tense situation that was building between her and Nicole. “You’ve barely said two words to me since I’ve been back,” Nicole said as she watched Chloe practically sprint for the kitchen door. Seeing the change Chloe had undergone in the past five months broke Nicole’s heart. She knew Chloe had gone through a lot, like they all had, but seeing how Chloe had reacted to the devastating changes and tragedies that had befallen the Goodwin’s in the past year left Nicole with a sick feeling of guilt and heartache. Stopping in the kitchen doorway, Chloe spun around on her heels and stared back at her sister. “And?” she hissed, trying to keep herself calm and avoid saying something to Nicole that she’d later regret. Nicole slowly started to walk across the room towards her sister. “And what’s with the attitude?” she asked, genuinely surprised by the massive attitude Chloe was suddenly and so proudly sporting. Chloe’s eyes narrowed as Nicole’s words rang in her ears. “I don’t have an attitude!” “I don’t have an attitude!” Nicole repeated, mimicking Chloe. “Oh grow up, Nicole!” Chloe barked as she turned and stormed out of the kitchen and into the living room, snatching her new Louis Vuitton handbag from the sofa as she did. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Chloe?” Nicole said, following Chloe into the living room as she watched her sister grab her car keys and purse from the sideboard. “My God, I go away for a few months and you’ve suddenly turned into an uppity bitch?” “How dare you?!” Chloe snarled as she whipped around and glared back at Nicole. The fact that Nicole could breeze back in after causing months of heartache and pain and act as if nothing had changed made Chloe’s blood boil. “Do you have any idea what the past five months have been like for me?” Leaning against the back of the sofa, Nicole folded her arms across her chest and let out a sigh. “How could I?” she replied, preparing herself to hear all about Chloe’s problems but not be asked herself about the months of hell and mental torture she had endured in the psychiatric hospital. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Chloe, I was locked up in a mental asylum…not that you cared to call or visit.” “You abandoned us!” Chloe yelled, furious at Nicole’s laid back attitude and refusal to hear or care about the family’s dramas, tragedies and upheavals over the past five months. “You left your son in a cardboard box in front of a church and just pissed off, leaving me to deal with everything!” “I was sick,” Nicole said, thoughts of leaving Charlie out the front of St Mark’s church in a box in Soho immediately filling her mind and taunting her once more. “Yeah? Well while you were ‘sick’ I was trying to hold everything together while the world literally crumbled around me!” “Oh, poor Chloe,” Nicole replied somewhat cold-heartedly, as she struggled to see how Chloe’s problems were any different to anyone else’s. The entire Goodwin family had been through massive upheavals this past year, not just Chloe, and for her to act as if she were the only one to experience pain, heartache and loss put Nicole’s nose firmly out of joint. “Yes, poor Chloe!” Chloe boomed, deciding for once to stand up and be heard. She was hurting, she hated Nicole for leaving and it was time for her true feelings to be voiced. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to have your family completely destroyed in just a few days?!” Chloe continued, throwing her handbag, keys and purse down on the sofa and tearing across the living room towards an unwavering Nicole. “Huh? Do you? Mum died, David died, Cain was put in prison, Felicity was taken away, Charlie was taken into care, you disappeared off the face of the earth and then just to sweeten the deal, the cherry on top of the sweet cake that is my life, dad’s body washed ashore! So don’t you dare stand there and go ‘oh poor Chloe’, ‘cause I’ve gone through hell these past few months and for you to just come swanning back into town with an attitude as big as your hair and expect us all to put up with it ‘cause your ‘fragile’ is utter bullshit, Nicole! Gran and everyone else might be happy to sit back and let you do what the hell you want, but I’m not! So I’m sorry if my attitude is unpleasant for you, Nicole, but a lot has changed since you went away and the sooner you get used to it, the better we’ll all be!” Stunned by Chloe’s outburst, Nicole remained silent as she watched a teary eyed Chloe collect her belongings from the sofa and quickly race out of the house before she broke down in tears. “A simple good morning would’ve been fine,” Nicole muttered to herself before turning and walking back into the kitchen. – spencer street – The Sinclair Residence 25 Spencer Street Sat at the dining table swirling a spoon around the near full bowl of her uninspiring tropical muesli breakfast, April’s eyes scanned the lavish looking pearl and gold wedding invitation resting on the table before her. Amy Louise Wilkinson and Harry Damien McLeod Invite you to share in the joy Of the beginning of their new life together When they exchange marriage vows on Saturday February 14 2009 April still couldn’t believe that in just over two months Harry and Amy would be married in London. While she relished the chance to be one of Amy’s bridesmaids, the real excitement for April was the fact that Sean and Chelsea would be accompanying her on the trip to the English capital and that she’d finally get to meet Sean’s son, Noah. “Good morning,” April said politely as Chelsea breezed into the kitchen and made a beeline for the coffee machine, completely ignoring April as if she didn’t exist. “Chelsea can we talk for a minute?” “There’s nothing to talk about,” Chelsea replied, filling a travel mug with coffee, before securing the cap. Deciding to abandon her bland and uninspiring muesli, April rose from her seat and carried her bowl over to the kitchen bench. “We can’t leave things the way they are. We need to sort this out.” “There’s nothing to sort out.” “Chelsea,” April sighed, placing her bowl in the sink before looking at Chelsea. “Come on, enough games. Let’s just sit down and talk this through.” Taking a sip of her freshly poured coffee, Chelsea turned and looked back at April, her eyes cold and void of any emotion. “How long is it going to take until you realise that I don’t want to talk about this anymore with you? We both said everything we had to say yesterday.” Realising the only way to get through to Chelsea was to give her a sense of self gratification and victory, April decided it was time to bite the bullet and admit that her way of handling the situation wasn’t the best. “Yesterday,” she began, not wanting to admit defeat for fear of how Chelsea would react, but ultimately realising she had to. “I was out of line.” “You don’t say,” came Chelsea’s smug reply. “Chelsea, please, just…” “No, April,” Chelsea began as she started to walk out of the kitchen, not bothering to turn back and face April as she continued to talk and walk away from her. “What’s done is done and what’s said is said. Now I think it’ll be best if we both stay out of eachother’s way and keep out of eachother’s lives? Okay?” “Chelsea…” “I’m late for uni, April,” Chelsea called back from the living room as she exited the kitchen. “I’ll see you when I get home.” Hearing the door slam shut, April let of a sigh. She didn’t know what to do. All she was trying to do was protect Chelsea and keep her safe, but April knew she couldn’t tell her the truth. Only a handful of people knew the truth about Matthew and the last thing April wanted to do was out her brother and his secret. April felt stuck. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. “Chelsea gone already?” Sean asked as he entered the kitchen and walked over to April, planting a tender kiss on her lips before brewing himself a coffee. “Yeah, she was running late,” April replied, her head a million miles away trying to sort through the mess that was Matt and Chelsea. “Good to see that alarm clock I got her for her birthday’s come in handy,” Sean joked as his recently purchased, top of the line coffee machine finished filling his mug with a steaming fresh brew of coffee. April frowned as she replayed Sean’s last comment in her mind. “You got her an alarm clock for her birthday?” Sean looked back at April and shrugged. “It was a practical present,” he smiled, surprised both Chelsea and April had had the same reaction to what he thought was a useful and appropriate gift. “Yeah,” April replied sarcastically with a broad grin. “I’m sure it was.” Placing his mug of coffee down on the kitchen bench top, Sean slowly walked the few paces to April. “Are you being sarcastic with me, Ms Fairchild?” he asked with a cocked brow and wicked smile as he slipped his hands around April’s waist, their body pressed together. “‘Cause you know the punishment for sarcasm in this house.” April bit down on her bottom lip, pretending to think about Sean’s house rules. “I think I might need a refresher.” Sean smiled at April and kissed her once again as his hands slowly moved over her powder blue silk dressing gown, before pulling the waist tie free and allowing the silk gown to fall from April’s naked body and collect in a heap around her feet. – spencer street – 61 Tower Bridge Road, Somerset Stood on the icy sidewalk out the front of 61 Tower Bridge Road, Adam looked up at the somewhat dilapidated Georgian period townhouse. The dark bricked and rundown building was hardly the picture of wealth and success he was expecting. Loosening the tan coloured scarf around his neck, Adam stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and briskly walked up the few stairs to the black lacquered front door. Ringing the doorbell, Adam looked over his shoulder and scanned the quiet tree lined street one last time to make sure he wasn’t being watched. As an icy breeze, the type of icy breeze that chills you to the bone, blew down the street, the black lacquered front door slowly creaked open. “Hi,” Adam smiled at the well-dressed man stood before him. “I’m Adam.” As the well-dressed, and apparently wealthy, man stepped aside; Adam entered the old townhouse before the door closed shut behind him. – spencer street – Bella’s Coffee House 47 Park Avenue After a somewhat sleepless night tending to Jack, Isabelle stood beside the counter at Bella’s Coffee House waiting for her order, struggling to conceal her weary yawns with her hand from the few customers dotted throughout the establishment. “Still addicted to the brown stuff I see,” Holden said into Isabelle’s ear as he appeared behind his ex-wife. “Go away, Holden,” Isabelle groaned with a roll of her eyes as she turned around to face her ex-husband. Why he felt the need to follow her around town like some lovesick puppy, Isabelle didn’t know, but the more she saw her ex-husband, the greater her disdain for him became…although the new grey pin stripe Hugo Boss suit he was sporting did get her tick of approval. His personality or arrogance may not of have changed since their divorce, but his dress sense certainly had and Isabelle had to give kudos to Holden’s ex-mistress for getting him to change his diabolical fashion choices. “Why don’t you ever say a polite hello like a normal person?” Holden asked, crossing his arms as he flashed Isabelle one of his trademark grins. “Because I’m not normal, Holden,” Isabelle replied, struggling to stop herself from smiling at her ex. “You more than anyone should know that.” “Two espressos to go?” the 20-something barista called out as he scanned the small crowd of people awaiting their orders. “Thank you,” Isabelle smiled at what even she had to admit was a handsome young man. Watching Isabelle collect and pay for her order, Holden suddenly couldn’t remember what he came in for. “Two?” he commented as Isabelle turned to leave the coffee house. “You do know that you should be cutting back on the caffeine in your condition and not super sizing everything?” “They’re not both for me,” Isabelle looked back at Holden, feeling the need to protest her innocence. “Sure,” Holden smiled smugly as he watched Isabelle frown back at him. “They’re not! One’s for Jack.” “And how is little brother?” “What do you mean by that?” Isabelle asked sharply, praying to God that news about Jack’s paternity hadn’t already leaked to the press, or worse, the local gossips. “Nothing,” Holden frowned in reply, taken aback by Isabelle’s sharp and ‘come out swinging’ defence. “I was just asking…” “He’s fine,” Isabelle barked, her momentary lapse into actually liking Holden immediately washed away by the realisation he was most probably fishing for insider information. “Not that it’s any of your business!” “Belle,” Holden called out as Isabelle turned and stormed out the coffee house. “Belle I was only…” As Isabelle stormed outside and disappeared from sight, Holden stood perplexed, unsure what he’d done or said that had made Isabelle storm off in a huff. Turning and looking back at the 20-something barista, Holden cleared his throat, trying to save face and maintain his Mr Cool public image. “Cappuccino, thanks.” Walking across the café and taking a seat at a small window table, Holden removed his blue tartan Vivienne Westwood scarf and placed it down on the table. “I wouldn’t worry about her,” Paige began from the table behind Holden as she closed the latest issue of Vogue the concealed her face and sat it down on the table beside her near empty mug of coffee. “She’s just going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment.” Holden looked back over his shoulder at Paige and forced a smile. He wasn’t sure who this woman was or why she was talking to him, but one thing Holden was sure about was that she was pretty. “I’m Paige,” Paige beamed, holding out a hand. Holden shook Paige’s hand, still unsure about just who exactly he was talking to. “Holden.” “So, Holden,” Paige began, cosying up to the dashing and extremely handsome stranger Isabelle so obviously loved to hate. “Just how do you know Isabelle?” – spencer street – Chloe G Somerset Promenade Entering Chloe’s luxurious new boutique on the Somerset Promenade, Oliver looked around the modern store in wonder. He’d been in the store a million times before, but every time he was here was always blown away about how far Chloe had come in the few months since deciding to open up her own boutique. “Hey you,” Oliver beamed as he walked over to the glass and chrome counter. “Hi,” Chloe smiled, planting a sweet kiss on Oliver’s lips before resuming folding the newly arrived Burberry sweaters. “What are you doing here?” “I just thought I’d stop in on my way to my shift at the Austral.” “On your way?” Chloe frowned back at Oliver. The Austral was on Spencer Street, why Oliver felt the need to trek half way across town to the promenade was beyond Chloe. “You’ve come twenty minutes out of your way.” Oliver shrugged his shoulders. “Well, yeah,” he agreed, “but it’s the scenic route.” Smiling, Chloe shook her head. What she’d done to deserve a man as loving, sweet and devoted as Oliver she didn’t know. “Listen,” Oliver began with all the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning. “I’ve got a proposition for you.” “Two in twenty four hours?” Chloe asked, abandoning her seater folding efforts and turning off the sound system. If she had to hear Santa Claus is Coming to Town one more time, Chloe knew she was going to go completely mental. “How ever is a girl supposed to cope?” she smiled cheekily back at Oliver as she once again resumed her sweater folding duties. Watching Chloe fold the sweaters, Oliver noticed the diamond engagement ring he’d presented Chloe with last night wasn’t on her finger. “I was only joking,” Chloe smiled back at Chloe, unnerved by Oliver’s sudden silence. “Why aren’t you wearing the ring?” “Oh,” Chloe looked down at her hand. She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t wearing it because she didn’t want to wear it. It was a beautiful ring, but Chloe still didn’t know if marrying Oliver was what she really wanted. “I…um…I didn’t want to lose the diamond out of it at work,” Chloe lied, dreading the fact that she was lying to the love of her life. “Oh,” Oliver forced a smile as he looked back into Chloe’s eyes, not fully believing her explanation. “So,” Chloe quickly changed the subject back to Oliver. “What was this proposition?” “I’ve been thinking about us,” Oliver stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and looked at Chloe excitedly. Chloe looked back at Oliver as she picked up the pile of folded sweaters and carried them across the store to a glass shelf beside the other Burberry stock. “This sounds ominous.” Oliver turned and watched Chloe flutter about the boutique, fixing display mannequins and tidying the shelves. “Well, I thought that, you know, seeing as we’re engaged and everything now that, well, maybe you should move in with me.” Chloe stopped in her tracks and looked back at Oliver. The engagement was one thing, but Chloe hadn’t even thought about moving in together and she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it. She loved Oliver to bits, but part of her felt that leaving number 23 would be the final nail in the coffin for her and cement the fact that the Goodwin family as she knew it was gone. “I mean,” Oliver continued, determined to make Chloe see his point of view. He knew she wouldn’t be sold on the idea straight away, but now they were engaged and he was living in number 18 all by himself, he felt it made sense and was the perfect next move for the pair. “I know we agreed to keep the engagement and everything quiet until after Christmas, but I think that if you move in then it’ll make everything a lot less complicated when we tell everyone. So what do you say?” “Ollie…” Chloe sighed, not sure how to say no to Oliver without breaking his heart. Walking over to Chloe, Oliver held her hands in his before curling a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’ve had a tough year, Chloe, and I want to take care of you.” Chloe looked back at Oliver and forced a smile. What more could a girl want in a man? “So?” Oliver smiled at Chloe. “Will you join me in living in sin?” Chloe paused. “Yeah,” she later agreed, feeling as though everything was moving at a million miles an hour and she was still stuck in a time loop from five months ago. “Why not?” Beaming, Oliver pulled Chloe closer and planted a kiss on her lips. “Brilliant,” he whispered as he looked into Chloe’s eyes, their pairs noses softly touching one another’s. “I’ve gotta run or dad’s going to go mental, but I’ll help you move your stuff over tonight?” “Okay,” Chloe smiled in reply as she watched Oliver bound along with all the energy of a kangaroo pumped up to the eyeballs with caffeine. “Love you,” Oliver called back as he opened the doors and disappeared into the million and one shoppers scurrying about the promenade defying the economic downturn and spending up big on Christmas gifts. “Yeah,” Chloe said softly to herself under her breath as she stood alone in her ultra exclusive boutique. “Love you too.” – spencer street – Jack’s Residence 26 Spencer Street Lying curled up in a ball, tightly wrapped in the jumble of sheets and blankets in his bed, Jack stared blankly out at the world through the slight crack in his curtains. While the bright mid-morning light shone on his face, trying its hardest to entice him from his bed to venture out into the big wide world, Jack remained silent, emotionless and broken. As his iPhone began ringing, Jack reluctantly sat up in bed before collecting his phone from his bedside table. Dad calling. Unable to stomach any of Cabot’s excuses or explanations, Jack violently threw his iPhone across the room, sending the electronic device hurtling through the air before it hit the wall on the far side of the room with a loud thud and crashed to the floor. There was immediate silence as Jack’s phone lay strewn in pieces on the floor. Lying back down, Jack looked back out through the gap in the curtains, wishing he could just disappear. – spencer street – The Lawson Residence 19 Spencer Street The large Tudor style Lawson home was silent. A small bouquet of yellow roses with a card that simply read ‘Thinking of you. Georgia and Calvin xx’ sat on the oak coffee table beside two empty coffee mugs. The past twenty-four hours had seen the family suffer through an anxious wait to find out whether eldest son, Mark, had been injured, or worse killed, in a suicide bombing in Afghanistan. While Miles and Laura fought it out with authorities at the local office of the defence department, Hazel sat alone on the sofa, flicking through a thick leather bound photo album of all four of her children. The thought of never seeing Mark again, not to mention losing him at Christmas time, filled Hazel with such dread that she wondered how she’d go on with life. Turning a page of the photo album, Hazel’s eyes settled on a wedding photo of Mark and Laura. Running a finger over the photograph, Hazel’s eyes began to fill with tears. The Lawson’s front door opened and, slamming the photo album shut, Hazel jumped up from the sofa as Laura and Miles returned from their trip to the office of the defence department. “Well?” she asked apprehensively as Laura and Miles silently shuffled into the living room. Laura looked into Hazel’s eyes. “He’s okay,” she said with a warm and relieved smile. “He’s okay.” With a heavy sigh of relief, Hazel stepped forward and threw her arms around Laura, embracing her daughter-in-law in a loving embrace. The sheer relief of knowing that Mark was okay was almost too much for Hazel to deal with. Looking over Laura’s shoulder at Miles, Hazel smiled at her husband. After the months of heartache, doubt and uncertainty about their relationship after learning of Miles’ affair with his secretary, Hazel finally felt ready to move forward and resume living her life with Miles once more. Reaching out, Hazel held Miles’ hand and mouthed ‘I love you’ to him. – spencer street – The Hudson Residence 21 Spencer Street “Okay,” Georgia said, the pearl white cordless phone pressed to her ear, as she shot Calvin a loving smile as he returned home from his shift at The Austral. “Yep, love you too. Okay. Bye.” “Who was that?” Calvin asked, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the sofa before flicking on the television. Returning the cordless phone to its cradle on the sideboard, Georgia let out a soft sigh. “Mum.” “Everything okay?” Calvin asked, his attention firmly focused on the sports report on the television. “Yeah,” Georgia said sheepishly, preparing herself from the fallout of the bomb she was about to drop. “She’s coming for Christmas.” “What?” Calvin’s head whipped around as he looked across the room at Georgia. “Did we invite her?” “Nope.” “Oh,” Calvin said with a raised brow, unsurprised by the news his mother-in-law had invited herself to spend Christmas in Somerset. “Same old Elizabeth I see.” From the doorway of the kitchen, Georgia looked into the living room, shooting her husband an icy glare. “Oh come on,” Calvin joked, rising from the sofa and walking across the living room to join Georgia in the kitchen. “I’m allowed one mother-in-law grumble a year, surely?” “One and that’s it,” Georgia relented. Although she loved her mother with all her heart, on this occasion Georgia had to side with Calvin. Elizabeth coming to stay, this year of all years, wasn’t the best idea. Georgia could already see the two weeks be nothing but picking on Adam, commenting on Sarah’s disappearing act and probing Chloe to see if she was good enough to join the family. “So when’s the dragon arriving?” Calvin asked, picking up a handful of salted peanuts from a small dish on the kitchen counter top before popping them into his mouth. “Wednesday,” Georgia replied, watching for Calvin to breakdown in a fit of girly shrieks and wailing tantrums. “Wednesday,” Calvin repeated, not even realising what Georgia had said. “Wednesday! As in this Wednesday?” The penny finally dropped and Calvin realised he had less than forty-eight hours to prepare for Hurricane Elizabeth. “Yep.” “But that’s…” “Two days away,” Georgia looked back at Calvin and smiled. “Two short days until you’re most favourite person in the entire world comes sauntering through that front door and makes the holidays just that extra bit special.” Calvin scooped another handful of peanuts from the small dish. “Can hardly wait.” “Oh come on,” Georgia said as she walked over and loosely draped her arms around Calvin’s neck before planting a soft kiss on his lips. “It’ll be fun.” “Yeah,” Calvin shrugged, “about as much fun as un-medicated torture.” Georgia looked at Calvin and smiled. She knew that deep down he really did love Elizabeth. “Come on,” Georgia said, patting her hands against Calvin’s chest before collecting a seemingly never-ending piece of paper from the table. “Where are we going?” Calvin asked puzzled as he watched Georgia collect her oversized Guess handbag and hang it from her elbow. “Christmas shopping,” Georgia beamed back, excited about the prospect of spending the next six hours wading through the millions of shoppers packed into the numerous department stores like sardines, each one as frantic as the last to find the perfect Christmas gifts. “And the day just keeps getting better,” Calvin grumbled to himself as he begrudgingly followed Georgia into the living room. – spencer street – Bella’s Coffee House 47 Park Avenue “Hi,” April smiled at a pretty 20-something brunette waitress before resuming scanning the various cakes and slices that sat temptingly in the refrigerated bay marie. “Um…I’ll just have the gateau to go, thanks.” As the young waitress removed April’s rich cake from the bay marie and began to box it up, April spotted Ronan sitting at a table just off to her right. “Hard at it I see,” she smiled politely at her ex-husband as he seemed lost amongst a mound of paperwork. Ronan looked up from his profit and loss statements, tax reports and wage receipts and smiled back at April. “I guess some things never change, hey?” “No, I guess not. Mind if I join you?” “Please.” As April took a seat opposite Ronan, she noticed the walking stick Ronan had become so dependant on since his accident resting against the table. “How have you been?” she asked, remembering the frantic calls from Georgia after she’d accidentally run Ronan over. “Not too bad,” Ronan shrugged. Truth was he’d felt better, but he was alive and almost 100% again, so really, compared to most, he had little to complain about. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a car though.” “Maybe ‘cause you were?” “Oh, so that’s the reason,” Ronan joked. Although the past five months had been a long, painful and arduous road to recovery, he was grateful to have April’s support throughout his long ordeal. “And the physio going well?” “As well as physio with a six foot seven Russian dude can go,” Ronan replied, thoughts of another session with Vladamir sending a shudder down his spine. Arriving home from her half-day at university, Chelsea passed by Bella’s Coffee House and spotted April and Ronan sharing what appeared to be quite an intimate chat. Intrigued, Chelsea slowed to a stop and watched the pair through the window. “What about you?” Ronan asked, taking a sip of his near cold coffee as he tried to move the conversation along. He didn’t mind talking about the accident with April, but now that was all they ever seemed to talk about and it was beginning to wear a little thin. “Yeah, I’m going really well,” April smiled in reply. Although the happiest she’d ever been, April felt that flaunting her new happiness in Ronan’s face after their divorce and his subsequent marriage annulment from Sarah was most probably in bad taste. “Things with Chelsea are a bit off, but nothing I can’t handle.” “Being a princess?” Ronan asked, only too familiar with Chelsea’s princess act. As her employer, the countless number of times he’d heard a ‘I don’t do that’ or a ‘it was an emergency’ was beginning to take its toll. “More like sleeping with Matthew,” April said, looking Ronan in the eyes. “Seriously?” Ronan gasped and leaned forward, drawn in by the salacious gossip. “Oh my God!” “I know!” “And does Sean…?” “Are you kidding me?” April laughed. The mere thought of Sean finding out Chelsea had a boyfriend, let alone it being Matthew was comical to her. “The longer we can prevent that time bomb from going off the better.” “Chelsea and Matt?” Ronan said to himself as he sat back in his chair, letting the scandalous revelation wash over him. “Is that even legal?” April let out a deep breath. “Yeah, they’re both consenting adults, so…” “I don’t know whether I should be horrified or congratulating him,” Ronan admitted. Part of him felt that Matthew, a forty-something professor, should be congratulated for managing to pull a twenty-year old stunner like Chelsea, but then another part of him was horrified at the abuse of power Matthew had obviously exercised. April shot Ronan and icy stare, immediately silencing the part of him that wanted to applaud Matthew. “I’m guessing horrified?” Ronan smiled meekly. “Correct.” April looked over at the young waitress as she placed the boxed up gateau on the counter and rang it up on the till. “Well I’d better leave you to it,” April sighed, tapping the table with her hands before rising from her seat. “It was good chatting to you again, April.” “Yeah, you too,” April smiled at Ronan before kissing him softly on the cheek. Witnessing April and Ronan’s apparent stolen moment, Chelsea turned and stormed off home, furious at what she’d just seen and disgusted in April for claiming there was nothing going on between her and Ronan last night. “Take care, Ronan,” April smiled at her ex-husband one last time before walking over to the counter, paying the waitress for the gateau and walking out of the café. Watching April leave with her boxed up cake, Ronan let out a sigh as he let the best thing that had ever happened to him walk out of his life once again. – spencer street – Jack’s Residence 26 Spencer Street “Belle?” Jack said quietly as he opened his bedroom door and peered out into the silent hallway. “Isabelle, you here?” There was silence. Stepping out into the hallway, Jack looked around before starting his way downstairs. Entering the living room, Jack stopped dead in his tracks as he stared at his reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. The normally shaved, preened and smartly dressed Jack was gone, replaced by a scruffy and unwashed body double. His designer threads were gone, instead replaced by a pair of cotton boxer briefs. Staring at his reflection, Jack didn’t recognise himself. Who was he? He certainly wasn’t a Miller anymore, that much was made clear last night. His eyes beginning to burn with tears, Jack picked up a glass vase from atop the sideboard and hurled it at the mirror. The antique mirror and vase both burst into a million shards of glass that rained down on the floor. With an almost demonic roar, Jack lashed out, ripping portraits from the wall and throwing them around the room, smashing antique lamps, vases and knick knacks on the floor, throwing his plasma television through the window, tearing open the cushions on his sofa and even tearing down the Christmas tree that took pride of place in the corner of the room. Collapsing to the floor in a trembling heap, Jack began to uncontrollably sob, not caring that the broken glass was cutting into his feet, calves and buttocks. Shaking, Jack sobs slowly subsided as he picked up a large, pointy piece of broken mirror. Holding it in his trembling hands, Jack stared at the sharp shard of glass in silence. With a loose grip, Jack softly pressed the sharp piece of mirror against his wrist. He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t want to be a Miller anymore. He didn’t want to be some by-product of one of his mother’s illicit affairs. He simply didn’t want to be anymore. Slowly closing his eyes, Jack’s limp grip intensified as he slowly pressed the shard of mirror harder against his wrist. – spencer street – The Hudson Residence 21 Spencer Street As another day ended and darkness once again descended over Somerset, the Hudson’s front door quietly creaked open as Adam slipped inside. Locking the door behind him, the secretive ex-con looked around the darkened house and soon realised both Georgia and Calvin were out. Swiftly making his way upstairs, Adam entered the bathroom and locked the door. Turning on the light he stood in front of the basin and looked at himself in the mirror. His face was as white as a sheet. Turning on the taps, Adam closed his eyes and splashed his face with water. Looking at his reflection once more, he let out a deep sigh. What had he done? Why? Slowly unzipping his parker, Adam removed the thick garment to reveal a blood soaked T-shirt. |