Chapter 34
Dixie
If ever I doubted the respect Tyler pulled, it was blown out of the water by the full-crew action he set in place around our trip out. I’d told him I wanted to take a drive with Mila and Kane; he frowned, nodded, and put a plan in place.
A fast car with mirrored rear windows.
Him in the driver’s seat, Convict alongside, and us in the spacious back. Kane grumped at this but obeyed for the sake of keeping his sisters safe.
Then there was the invisible escort. We had two cars tailing us. Three guys on motorbikes providing a guard worthy of a mob princess. I recognised Riordan and the younger Atherton brother sitting astride dirty great bikes. Tyler filled me in with the last guy’s name, Damien. The crew member who’d watched Sullivan die.
Mila stared out of the window at the city as it passed. “It’s been days since I went outside. I love the warehouse, but another day and I’d have turned into a Victorian ghost.”
She gave Tyler quiet instruction on where to take us, then settled in her seat and regarded us both. “The vote for the future of Marchant Haulage is about to go ahead. Dixie, youasked about the consequences of it, so seeing is the best way to understand that.”
We cruised down the road that led to Deadwater Hospital.
My sister began. “Deadwater is the base of operations with MH’s head office overlooking the harbour. This is because it’s the nearest city to our grandparents’ home and central to a business that crossed England and Scotland. What isn’t so well known is how much Austin reinvested into the city.” Mila gestured to the huge hospital complex, people coming and going from the front doors. “We ran bi-annual fundraisers for the hospital. Equipment, machinery, the expensive things that keep people alive. The refurbished cancer unit was last year’s success. But it wasn’t just persuading other companies to donate. Austin supported a number of wards and services direct from MH’s coffers. See that building?”
We followed her gaze to an L-shaped low-rise tower block across the street.
“It’s a short-term-stay apartment block for people visiting the hospital. Parents needing to be close to their kids who might be here for months. Couples who travel a long way for one of them needing treatment. Having somewhere right next door to stay, for free, makes such a difference to so many. It keeps families together and takes so much pressure off awful situations for them.”
She rubbed her chest like her heart hurt. Mine panged in response.
“It will close when MH does. There’s no one who will pick up the substantial annual costs.”
“That’s fucking sad, but it was funded by trafficking,” Kane said low.
“Not true. Austin gave me the responsibility of charity funding as one of my first jobs, and the money was legit.”
Tyler drove on, following her next instruction.
We headed out of the city and to a suburb.
Mila watched a long strip of identical small houses go by. “This housing complex is for adults with dementia. The government pays for their accommodation and care, but MH funds a day centre on the site. There’s staff and entertainment. It’s open to anyone with a diagnosis, so people bring their relatives, or a bus collects them, and there’s some respite every day for families that need it.”
This time, neither of us commented.
The implications were becoming clear.
At the northern edge of the city, we slowed to take in a retirement home for horses and large animals, fields stretching up to a wooded area with the outline of animals in the dusk. Driving back in again, Mila pointed out a playground, in one of the most run-down areas of the city but kitted out with all kinds of cool play equipment.
“There was a grand opening with reporters two summers ago. Even the mayor came. They made a big fuss about investing in all of Deadwater’s citizens, but the money came from Austin doing a deal with a logistics company. It was one of his ways to secure cash. To get other businesses to sweeten the deal in their contracts. Everyone was a winner, yet after the photos were taken, I saw him watching a young family tentatively using the swings designed for wheelchair users. His soft smile melted my heart. He might have put his name to it and enjoyed the attention, but he also cared. Deeply.”
“The playground will live on,” I observed. “It’s built, right? But the rest?”
“It won’t as there’s no money to maintain it. All will shut down once last year’s funding runs out. I spent months searching for alternatives. No one is interested in picking up a legacy with no fanfare. Why would they? Even if it wasn’t tainted by the Marchant name, there’s no energy behind a project that’salready underway. No issue people are fighting for, no tragic stories. It wouldn’t make headlines. At least not positive ones.”
The dementia care, the hospital accommodation. The horses.
My stomach sank at the thought of it all failing.
With a quiet instruction, she directed Tyler on.
He gave me a quick glance in the rearview. I returned it, telling him I was okay. Not scared or worried. Only blue.
Sadness had always lived in the way I thought of my old family connection. Now, a bandage had been ripped off to reveal a wound that never healed.
