Issy pumped the pedals. This was exactly what she needed after the disastrous meeting with her father. Her quads burned as his words reverberated in her head.Moved from one role to another the minute things got hard. Was that true? Was he right? She did get bored quickly, that part was true, but she wasn’t shy of a challenge, was she? She just hadn’t had to deal with very many. Besides, wasn’t itgoodto have a broad knowledge of the business?
‘Let’s give it everything you’ve got!’ Abby implored, as the image of Spencer’s smug face flashed in Issy’s mind. Was he behind this? Had he been in her father’s ear? She’d been half-expecting him to dob on her about the interview and have it pulled before it could even be published. If only he had! For once, he would have been doing her a favour.
‘Feel that burn, Joy Squad!’
Issy responded with a surge of power. Sweat dripped off her forehead as her name—Dizzy_Issy—moved into third place on the leader board. She stood up on the pedals so she could push even harder. Her heart rate hit one seventy. Her mind flicked back to the conversation and she prickled with fury. A construction project! What was her father thinking? She didn’t know the first thing about project management. Or construction sites. And Hartwell, of all places! She’d barely spent a week in the place since she’d been packed off to boarding school at twelve. What on earth would she do there?
‘Come on, squad! You can go harder than that!’ Abby preached. ‘Success is a state of mind!’
Issy’s singlet was drenched in sweat. A tsunami of rage rose up in her as she moved into second place. It was a test. He’d set her up! Blindsided her! God. Her father was a genius. He knew she wanted that COO role. He’d tricked her. If she said no, she would never get another role in the family business. She would basically be handing it all over to her brothers. Spencer, in particular; Felix was too busy with fringe investments to care.
She knew this feeling. It was the sense of being trapped. It reminded her of playing chess with her father as a child. Other dads went easy on their kids, letting them win now and then. Building their self-esteem. Not Malcolm Ashworth, though. Not even once.
‘We’re nearly there! Thirty seconds to go!’
Crap. She was still in second place. Her heart pounded as she chased Spin_King69. Her heart rate hit one ninety. Sweat droplets fell on the screen where Abby bounced on the pedals with endless energy. She had her hands in the air, standing up at full height on her bike.
‘Ten seconds!’ Abby shrieked. ‘Give it everything you have left!’ She was nearly climaxing with excitement. It was always around this point in the workout that Issy started to hate her.
She passed Spin_King69 to claim first place.
‘Woo hoo! We are DONE!’
Issy slumped forward over the handlebars, gasping for air, as the realisation dawned, crystal clear in her mind.
She had no choice.
She was going back to Hartwell.
Checkmate.
Chapter 9
Meg waited until after five to return home, when the day was starting to cool down.
She dumped her bag, ran a bath and went into the kitchen to pour a glass of wine; her standard Sunday evening ritual. She’d been doing it since she was in high school—without the wine back then, obviously. When she was looking at rentals, she’d put ‘bathtub’ on her list of non-negotiables and every Sunday night she thanked herself for it.
She tipped in some shampoo, which she’d been using since she’d finished the lavender bubble bath Jenny had given her a few Christmases ago. She figured it was all just soap. The stream of water hit the amber liquid, transforming it into frothy bubbles.
She positioned the wine on the ledge beside the bath, along with her phone, undressed and gingerly dipped a toe in. Just right. She eased herself in and lay back against the end of the tub, exhaling loudly, closing her eyes, letting the tension seep out of her body. Bliss.
Beep beep.
She sighed, wishing she’d put her phone on silent, and looked at the screen. It was from Facebook:Your request to joinSave Hartwellhas been approved.
Hartwell again. She scanned the posts, then she tapped on the list of members. There were two hundred and seven. The admin was Chris Baxter. Brave man, Meg thought, to take on the Ashworths. His profile picture was a long shot of a middle-aged woman standing between two pre-teen girls. Their faces were in shadow, but she could tell they were smiling.
Her phone rang. Pete.
She sighed and swiped to answer. ‘Hi, Pete.’
‘Hunter! Have you got a minute?’ He sounded breathless, as though he was walking up a hill.
Meg raised her left hand out of the water and studied her wrinkled fingers. ‘Yeah, I guess.’
‘Have you spoken to Deb?’
‘Not since yesterday.’
