‘Please?’ Jenny’s voice was reedy. Thin. ‘We can watchThe Princess Bride.’ She reached out her hand, but her bony fingers could only brush against Meg’s arm from where she sat. She dropped her hand again, staring into Meg’s eyes.
Meg sighed. She reached for her laptop and hit send on her story. ‘Yes, I’ll stay for a while.’
The flat was dark when Meg arrived home. She took a tub of honeycomb ice cream from the freezer, which she kept hidden under a packet of peas and something unidentifiable in a Tupperware container, and slumped onto the couch, eating it with a spoon in the semi-darkness.
Then she messaged Pete:Sorry for the delay on my story. Long day with Mum.
She watched, bracing herself for his reaction. Three dots appeared.
Pulsing. Pulsing. Pulsing.
God, how long was his reply?
Then they disappeared.
She took another spoonful of ice cream, then looked back at the phone. Nothing. Oh God, this was bad. She needed Pete. He was keeping her afloat since the redundancy.
Her stomach churned and she put the tub on the coffee table. She rubbed her face. Tomorrow she needed to put in a very good day.
Chapter 2
Isobel Ashworth stood by the window on the thirty-second floor of Ashworth Tower, looking east, where the rising sun shimmered across Sydney Harbour like sequins on a dress. She gasped at the sheer beauty of it and reached for her phone, already conceptualising her Instagram story.Sydney sunrise! Perks of getting to the office early!she typed, then added a filter to make the colours even more spectacular.
She uploaded it quickly, then turned her back to the window. It was time to get organised. The journalist would be here any minute. She glanced around the expansive office and reached for a photo of Spencer, Helen and the girls, which sat beside the monitor on the terrazzo desk. She stashed it in a drawer, then went to reception and retrieved a large vase of lilies, which she placed on the coffee table by the window where the interview would take place. Perfect. She rummaged through her Birkin until she found the card that had been attached to a bouquet Hugh had sent her last week and placed it beside the vase, then she took out her MacBook, Moleskine and a Montblanc pen, arranging them casually on the desk.
She checked her makeup in her phone camera then flicked to her notes app to run through her key messages one last time.
At 6:08 there was a ding from the lift and Geoff Patterson emerged, wearing a suit jacket with chinos and three-day stubble, his grey hair in need of a cut. A step behind him was a younger man with a camera bag over his shoulder.
‘Hello, Geoff,’ she said, extending her hand and beaming her warmest smile.
‘Issy? My God, look at you!’ He pulled her towards him, kissing her cheek, then stood back and studied her. She smiled, feeling mildly uncomfortable. ‘You’ve certainly grown up! Lesley and I were trying to think when we last saw you. Was it at that lunch in the Hunter Valley? What was the occasion? We couldn’t remember.’
‘Mum and Dad’s thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. Gosh, that must be fourteen years ago, at least. I was still at school.’
‘This is Marco,’ Geoff said, gesturing to the photographer.
‘Pleasure to meet you, Isobel,’ Marco said, his accent thick. Spanish, she guessed.
‘You too.’ Issy shook his hand. ‘Come through to my office.
‘Thanks for coming, we really appreciate it,’ she said, as Marco started unpacking camera equipment.
She’d been working on Geoff for six months, pitching various story ideas designed to credentialise her as a serious player in the family business. Journalists were so lazy these days, you almost had to write the article for them! It was ‘the next generation of Australia’s wealthiest families’ which got him over the line. She’d made the story irresistible by arranging for him to meet with Avery Hart, the daughter of a Western Australian mining magnate, and Fraser Fox, whose father had made his fortune in packaging. Who knew there was so much money in cardboard boxes?
She gestured to an armchair. ‘Have a seat.’
Instead, Geoff walked to the window and let out a low whistle. ‘Look at this view.’
‘Stunning,’ she agreed, joining him.
Geoff’s gaze travelled from the horizon over the opulent waterfronts in the exclusive Eastern Suburbs to the high rise of the city centre. ‘You lot must feel like you own this town. How many Ashworth Hotels can you see from here?’
Issy laughed. ‘Four, if you look carefully enough. And six housing developments. In fact, I can even see my apartment.’ She pointed to their most recent project in Point Piper, an architecturally designed, luxury development inspired by the sandstone cliffs of the coastline. ‘Maybe I should get a pair of binoculars to check if Hugh’s out of bed!’
Marco cleared his throat. ‘Okay, I am ready to shoot.’
‘Oh, I thought we would do the interview first?’ Issy said.
