Billie searched for her cube. The only chair not taken was also the only cubicle without any mess. She stepped over and hooked her messenger bag over the back of the chair, eyeing off the old IBM electric typewriter. The same model she’d used when she’d first started writing. So be it. At least it wasn’t a manual job, so in the scheme of things, life could always be worse. Not that she wanted to push her luck on it. That was thin on the ground right now.
“Actually, no. I get the old house in the country.” Make the best of every situation. That was always her father’s motto and one she might find a good use from the way her day was going. No more private office, shared secretary, budget and kudos. Back to the beginning. How charming. “Yay me.”
Richard laughed, using the stem of his pipe to point in her direction. “That would have to be the cutest accent I’ve heard all week. So, wonder who will get the show then if you got the bloody old house? You’re lower down the totem pole than I thought for a new girl even with your experience.”
Before Billie could get her heckles up, Eric stood and held out his hand. “Ignore him, he’s being a deliberate prick, part of his personality, I’m afraid. Welcome to the team.”
Finally, someone who seemed keen for her to be here. At least that was the impression she got. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Yes, welcome, Billie.” Roger waved without moving from his chair. “If you need anything, yell.”
“Thanks.” Eric didn’t return to his seat but watched her with interest.
“So, I heard about the old place opening up. Whispers of family discord, reclusive old man, should be bait for some juicy titbits I’d say.” He rubbed his hands together. “Could be fun if you’re into dusty old mausoleums.”
“I guess so.” She undid the buttons on her Chanel black-and-white checked coat, slid it off her shoulders, and hung it up on a hook jutting out of the wall to one side of her typewriter. Billie brushed her hands down the front of her black jumper, more to make herself feel better than to make sure she was neat and tidy. It gave her time to settle her mind and ponder how far she’d fallen.
Chapter 3
Sydney 1980
Lucy threw her magazine down on the couch, brushed a piece of imaginary lint from her designer twinset and peered out the window. She hadn’t been able to settle since she’d watched Billie and Alex walk down the front steps. She’d observed as Billie glanced around, her uncertainty quickly covered with a dash of bravado. She always managed to cover up her true feelings. The fall from grace had been put on the back burner but Lucy knew it would be eating at her daughter.
At least until recently. It was terrifying seeing her emotions change from almost catatonic to over exuberant. Her mood swings had eased with time once the correct medication had been found but the spark of discontent still appeared every now and then bringing back memories of the last twelve months Lucy didn’t want to revisit.
Billie put a hand around her son’s shoulders and headed off to the bus stop, a close camaraderie between them that she and her daughter had never shared. A sense of loss enveloped Lucy and she wondered if they’d done the right thing talking Billie into moving back home. Since she’d stepped off the plane, it’d been a rocky ride, some days more traumatic and filled with anger than she’d have liked.
But what choice did they have? Alex deserved better, she knew he did and if it wasn’t them stepping up, who would? Stephen had no family, at least none she knew of. Billie had alienated her friends one after the other. Who in their right mind would want to be party to the self-destruction her daughter brought with her?
Her hands shook and Lucy moved away from the window, and took a shaky breath. She needed a restorative cup of tea to settle her nerves. The sparkle of diamante’s on Billie’s wrist had thrown her for a moment and brought back the argument they’d had when Billie had found the wrist watch, not long after she’d arrived.
The doorbell had echoed through the quiet house and Lucy put down the magazine she was reading and headed to the front door. She wasn’t expecting anybody and hoped it wasn’t a door to door salesman. They were so tiresome.
She peeked out the side window and saw Billie standing there. Lucy opened the door.
“Thanks. Forgot the key.” Her daughter stood with her hand up on the door frame for support, a sheepish grin on her face that brought back far too many memories. Billie’s easy smile faltered as her mother stared at her. But it was the silver band around her wrist that drew Lucy’s eye, sent chills down her spine.
“Where did you get that watch?”
Billie pulled her hand down, tucked a dark curl behind her ear and glanced at her. “I found it in a box with some other old junk. You said nothing in the flat was of any use so I didn’t think you’d mind.” She stood up straight, squaring her shoulders back and brushed past her into the hallway. “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind?” Her tone of voice made it sound as though she already believed the worst and was ready for a battle of words.
Lucy forced a smile to curve her lips. It
