‘Where is she?’ Issy asked.
Cathy gestured towards the formal lounge.
Heather lay flat on the sofa like a corpse. She didn’t move when they entered. Newspapers covered the coffee table, bold front-page headlines telling of corruption, intimidation, abduction. And death.
‘Mum?’ Issy said softly.
Heather didn’t stir.
‘Is she asleep?’ Felix asked Cathy.
She shook her head.
‘Where’s Dad?’ Issy asked.
Cathy glanced at Heather, who didn’t speak.
‘He went to Sydney to meet with his lawyers,’ Cathy said.
They sat down. Issy reached forThe Times. Oversized black letters dominated the page. ASHWORTH EXECUTIVE HUGH THORBURN DEAD: SPENCERASHWORTH ARRESTED FOLLOWING LIVE-STREAMED ALTERCATION.
By Megan Hunter, it said underneath. She must have written all night, after she left the police station where they’d both been interviewed for hours, along with Georgie and Pete. Issy skimmed the article, then a second one at the bottom of the page. ASHWORTH SHAME: PROPERTYBUSINESSCORRUPTIONEXPOSED.
‘I hope you’re happy, Isobel.’ Heather’s voice was flat, low.
Issy looked up. Her mother’s eyes were still closed, as though she couldn’t bear to face this new world, one where the Ashworths no longer reigned supreme.
Happy? Issy frowned, tears filling her eyes. Hugh was dead. She didn’t know how she felt about that, if she was honest, but she wasn’t happy.
‘You’ve destroyed this family,’ Heather said.
Issy shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t. I’ve set this family free.’
Her mother let out a strange, unhinged laugh. ‘Tell that to Spencer.’
There was a moment of silence, then the doorbell rang.
Heather sat up. ‘Who’s that?’
Chapter 65
Meg wiped raindrops from her face with the sleeve of her shirt as she followed Issy down a long hallway to a formal lounge room where Heather, Felix and the prickly woman from the building site sat on plump sofas.
‘You remember Meg?’ Issy said to her mother.
Instead of the immaculate socialite Meg had met at the gala, dark circles lay under Heather’s puffy eyes and her blonde hair sat up at a strange angle. Her face, bare of makeup, was sallow and lined.
‘This is my brother Felix’—Issy gestured to the man Meg had seen from a distance at the launch—‘and you know Cathy.’
‘Hello,’ Meg said.
Felix nodded, giving her a small smile. Heather glared back at her, the set of her jaw hard, then turned to Issy. ‘What’s she doing here?’
Issy swallowed, visibly nervous. ‘You need to tell us what happened, Mum.’
Heather looked from Issy to Meg, then out the arched window, where the world was distorted by raindrops on the glass.
Meg cleared her throat. ‘Thirty years ago, my mother worked here in this house. Then she left Hartwell abruptly. Left her family, her friends, her whole life. Not long after that, she had a baby. Me. You need to tell me what happened.’
