The Lawson Sisters Read online

  Lizzie and their father appear at the top of the stairs. Sam has a big smile on his face as he approaches the fountain.

  ‘What a lovely surprise,’ he says. ‘Thank you, my three beautiful girls.’

  He ruffles the hair on both his daughters’ heads, then embraces his wife in a kiss that takes a little longer than most.

  ‘Ugh!’ Lizzie is old enough to be embarrassed by the show of affection. She looks at the stables, her mind bouncing back, as it always does, to her pony Tasha and where the two of them will venture together the next morning.

  Kayla doesn’t turn away. She thinks it’s terribly romantic to see her parents kissing in the candlelight. Under the stars. In her books, the handsome prince always kisses the princess before they go off to live happily ever after. Kayla believes in happy ever after. One day her prince will appear and she will have a happy ever after too.

  But first, there are presents to be unwrapped.

  Sam reaches for the biggest box.

  ‘That’s mine,’ says Kayla in a high-pitched, excited voice. ‘I picked it myself and even wrapped it myself.’

  Sam smiles and carefully removes the colourful bow before turning his attention to the rather inexpert gift wrapping. The object inside is encased in tissue. He folds that back to reveal the shape of a horse. Made of china and painted a reddish brown, it’s the sort of thing a small girl would choose for herself. The horse’s mane and tail are blowing in an imaginary wind as it stands with its front feet raised in a half-rear.

  ‘It’s beautiful, Kayla,’ Sam says as he holds it high to examine it in the dim light. ‘It even looks a bit like Apollo. See, he has the same white star on his face.’

  Kayla giggles with delight. ‘That’s why I chose him.’

  ‘I think I’ll put him in my office.’ Sam carefully rewraps the gift in its protective tissue. ‘That way I will see it every day as I work.’

  Kayla is glowing with pleasure.

  ‘Open mine now, Dad,’ Lizzie urges.

  Her father is already reaching for the next present. This one has been wrapped by a steadier hand, but has no bow or protective tissue. He opens the wrapping to reveal a framed photograph and holds it up to catch the best light.

  ‘That’s me and Apollo,’ he says. ‘The day I first rode him.’

  ‘I took the photo with Mum’s camera,’ Lizzie says, her voice dripping with pride. ‘You didn’t see me do it.’

  ‘No. I didn’t. It’s a wonderful photograph. Thank you. Thank you both.’ He enfolds his daughters in a hug. ‘These can sit side by side in my office. And every time I look at them, I will think of the two of you. Even after you’ve both grown up and gone away.’

  ‘I’ll never go away from Willowbrook,’ Lizzie whispers in his ear, and his arm tightens around her just a little bit more.

  CHAPTER

  11

  Liz waited until it was almost dark before she returned to the homestead. She was too tired to be angry any more. She just wanted Kayla and that dreadful blonde woman with the ridiculous heels to be gone. She didn’t want to think about money. Or Willowbrook. And she most especially didn’t want to think about weddings. All she wanted was a shower and perhaps a beer. Then she had to face a task she had put off for far too long.

  Approaching the house, she was annoyed to see there were lights in the windows and Kayla’s car in the driveway. Her sister and that woman were still here. Damn them! Her long absence from the house should have given them the answer to their proposal, but obviously neither of them could take a hint. Her feet faltered. She really didn’t want to go back into the house and that was wrong. A person shouldn’t feel reluctant to enter their own home. Now she was going to have to face Kayla and her associate and say no to their faces.

  There was no way she would allow Willowbrook to be turned into a wedding venue. She would not have women prancing around in absurd dresses and high heels. She did not want anything to do with anyone’s wedding. Her life was lonely enough without frilly white frocks and mushy music bringing back the memories she had fought so hard to suppress. She would find a solution that did not re-awaken the past or cheapen her heritage.

  She’d spent a long time leaning on a yard rail watching the colt she’d been riding earlier in the day, and had come up with a plan of her own. She didn’t like the plan—but it might work. Willowbrook Deimos was the image of his sire. The three-year-old was just starting his career as a saddlehorse, but as he’d shown at the creek crossing, he had all the potential in the world. He might make a champion, and if he did she had her new stallion and her new source of income. But that wasn’t going to happen overnight. It takes at least a couple of years to make a champion and to build the kind of reputation a stud horse needs. Until then, she had bills to pay and a loan to service.

  So, much as she hated it, she’d sell some of her brood mares. They would bring a good price and those too closely related to Deimos couldn’t be bred to him anyway. Reducing her breeding stock would reduce her costs. It would also give her time and space to take in horses on agistment. Her other idea was to offer her services as a trainer. She was good, very good. People would pay her to train their horses and maybe she could even train the riders too.

  It wasn’t what she wanted to do, but it might just keep her afloat for long enough to bring Deimos on. And if he proved as great as Apollo, she’d be all right. Willowbrook would be all right.

  It wasn’t a good plan. It wasn’t guaranteed to succeed. But it was the only plan she had. And it was certainly a better idea than letting some stranger who wore too much make-up invade her life and change the home she loved.

  Liz closed the last gate and leaned against it. In the soft gold of twilight, Willowbrook homestead looked lovely, with its wide verandas and elegant railings. The stone glowed, and even the fountain seemed to shine. She could almost imagine the water sparkling in the sun’s last rays. But that fountain hadn’t contained water for years now. The stone was stained. The upper floors of the house were always dark, the curtains drawn. Tilting her head, Liz suddenly saw Willowbrook through the eyes of a stranger. It was shabby, neglected and run down. The horses and the stables had been the sole focus of her attention for so long, the house was falling into decay. She was failing in her promise to her father. But the house could be revived without much money. All it needed was time. She would find that time. She had to.

  If only she wasn’t so deathly tired.

  The first thing she had to do was send Kayla and that Pascale woman back to Sydney.

  Filled with new determination, Liz marched up to the house.

  When she entered the kitchen, Kayla was there alone. She was sitting at the kitchen table, a book open in front of her.

  ‘Do you remember this?’

  Liz knew the old schoolbook in an instant. And the handwriting. ‘That’s Mum’s old recipe book.’

  ‘Yes. The recipe for her chocolate cake is in here. That was the best chocolate cake ever. Remember that year I cooked it for Dad’s birthday? It wasn’t very good, but he ate it anyway.’

  ‘Where has your friend gone?’ Liz was in no mood for reminiscences. That was a world of pain she could well do without.

  ‘I ran her into Scone. She’s waiting there for me to pick her up. But I thought first you and I needed to talk.’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve thought about what she had to say and I’ve decided no. That’s not the path I want to take.’

  ‘I know it’s not. But you really don’t have any option. I’ve seen your bank statements, remember. It’s not your fault, but Willowbrook is in real trouble. This is a way out.’

  ‘It’s not my way out. I can sell some of the breeding stock, take in horses on agistment and do outside training. And I have one of Apollo’s colts out there who is the spitting image of his sire. He can be as good as Apollo. I only need to manage for another year or two, then there’ll be stud fees coming in and I can start to rebuild.’

  ‘You won’t last
a couple of years,’ Kayla said. ‘The bank will foreclose.’

  ‘Then help me. You have that posh job. Surely you can lend me some money?’

  ‘I don’t have the sort of money you need to save this place.’

  ‘Then I’ll just have to work harder.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Liz.’ Kayla stood up. ‘How many hours a day do you work now? And still this place is falling apart around your ears. It’s too much for one person. You’ve run Willowbrook single handed for fifteen years. You’ve done everything Dad could have asked and more. When are you going to let go?’

  ‘Never!’

  ‘Then I can’t help you. If you change your mind, let me know.’ Kayla picked up the recipe book and walked out.

  A few seconds later, Liz heard the sound of a car engine moving away.

  Silence fell on the house.

  She took a cold beer from the fridge, walked through to her office and turned on her computer. As she waited for the aging machine to boot, she drank her beer while staring at a photograph on the desk in front of her. It was an old photograph of a man and a horse, printed from a negative in the pre-digital days. The colour had faded over the years, but in Liz’s mind she saw the photograph as it had been when she placed it in that frame the day before her father’s birthday. She looked up to the ornament pushed to the back of the top shelf of a tall bookcase. She could just make out the brown horse’s head with its flowing mane. She had no idea why she’d kept that childish toy all these years. It was time she cleared out this office and threw away the old rubbish.

  When the computer was ready, Liz went straight to the Willowbrook Stud website. She sat, staring at the image of the horse on her home page. At last she turned to the window. In the darkness, she couldn’t see the place where she had buried Apollo. Nor could she see the dark shape of the hill with the graveyard at the summit. She didn’t need to see it. She would never forget it was there.

  She opened the website for editing, moving the small white arrow to the image of Apollo. After a second’s hesitation, she hit the delete button.

  CHAPTER

  12

  Ten bridesmaids. Who in their right mind has ten bridesmaids? Kayla kept her smile firmly locked in place as she watched the gaggle in the room. Ten maids, the bride, the mother of the bride and a slightly vague, grey-haired woman referred to as Auntie Anne by everyone. Add to that two hair stylists and three make-up artists and a harassed-looking waitress holding a tray of Champagne. The tension was almost physical.

  ‘Where are our canapés?’

  Kayla focussed on the bridesmaid standing in front of her. She searched her mind. Oh yes, one of the bride’s sisters. For the life of her, Kayla couldn’t remember the girl’s name. The four sisters were all blonde, all beautiful and all spoiled by their wealthy parents.

  ‘They will be here in a moment,’ Kayla hastened to assure the girl. ‘In fact, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and check right now.’

  With relief, she slipped out of the door. The first thing she saw was a room service waitress pushing a food trolley.

  ‘There you go.’ Kayla held the door open for the woman to enter the suite. ‘Good luck.’ A chorus of squeals greeted the arrival and Kayla guessed it would be safe for her to take a few minutes to rest her ringing ears.

  She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. There were a million things she should be checking and double-checking, but she needed to stop and take a few deep breaths. Since her visit to Willowbrook three weeks ago, Kayla’s mind hadn’t been as on her job as it usually was. Not that she was making mistakes—she was too good for that—but neither was she enjoying the work. And that was wrong. She loved her job and deep down felt a nagging resentment with Liz for putting Willowbrook and its problems into her head. She didn’t care about Willowbrook any more and she was not her sister’s keeper.

  Why, then, did she lie awake at night, remembering? She shouldn’t be losing sleep remembering the good times. Nor should she be losing sleep trying to remember the day that changed everything—the one day she could not remember at all. She touched her hair to make sure the scar on her face was properly hidden.

  ‘Hey, Kayla. You all right, my sweet?’

  Kayla opened her eyes and pushed herself off the wall. She smiled at the tall man in front of her, one camera hanging from his neck, a second in his hands.

  ‘Hi, Ken. I’m fine thanks. Just a bit tired. This lot have been hard work.’

  ‘Thanks for the warning. Are they ready for me yet?’

  ‘Pretty much. I hope you’re ready for them. They are a bit much.’

  ‘Not for me. Watch them swoon when they see my eyelashes.’

  Ken Leighton was a brilliant photographer, much in demand not just for weddings, but also for high-end fashion shoots for glossy magazines. He’d dealt with his fair share of bridezillas and fashion divas. His rather spectacular good looks helped. As did the fact that he was gay. Women were generally putty in his hands.

  ‘Are you busy?’ Kayla asked casually as she prepared to re-enter the lion’s den.

  ‘As always. At the moment I’m location hunting for a fashion project. I’ve got to go up the bush, and you know how much I hate being more than five minutes from a good latte.’

  Kayla chuckled as she pushed the door to the suite open, but any response she might have made was lost in the excited squeals that greeted Ken’s appearance.

  Ken’s words came back to Kayla as she sat at her desk three days later. She re-read the email in front of her. A couple wanting a small rustic wedding somewhere in the Hunter Valley. This was the second such request they’d had since her visit to her sister. Either would have been perfect to launch Willowbrook as a wedding venue. And then there was Ken’s fashion shoot. It seemed the gods were conspiring against her. Everywhere she looked there were opportunities that would be perfect for Willowbrook, opportunities that would make a significant profit. She could do this, but her damn sister was too stubborn to bend.

  Well, that wasn’t Kayla’s problem any more, was it? She had long ago given up any interest in Willowbrook. If the place was sold, it would pay off all the loans. Then Liz would have to sort out her own life, the way Kayla had sorted out hers.

  ‘Kayla?’

  She looked up. ‘Sorry, Pascale. My mind was wandering. What did you say?’

  ‘Well, my original question had to do with the harp player you were booking for the Bailey-Clark wedding. But forget that. Instead, you could tell me what’s bothering you. You’re not here today.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s just there’s another enquiry here for a rustic rural wedding. I’m starting to believe you’re right. Willowbrook could be saved if my sister wasn’t so stupid.’

  ‘Liz is far from stupid and you know it. What’s really going on?’

  ‘I don’t know. It seems a waste to just let it all go without trying to save it.’

  ‘Kayla. You really don’t want to let the old place go, do you?’

  ‘Liz is the one who won’t let go. I don’t really care.’

  ‘No?’

  Kayla scowled and looked at her screen. Maybe she did care. A bit. When the phone rang, she was glad of the distraction.

  ‘Kayla, I’ve got the proofs for the Chambers wedding. I was passing anyway so thought I’d drop them off.’

  ‘Sure, Ken. I’m here whenever.’

  ‘See you soon.’

  One of the reasons Ken was so popular for society weddings was that he still did physical proof sheets. Better than proofs, really: he produced a folder of the best images from each wedding, and Kayla and Pascale would work with their clients to select the favourites for a glossy printed book. In a digital photographic world, that book was special. And it didn’t come cheap.

  ‘That’s great work as always,’ Kayla told him after she’d looked at the photos. Then she changed the subject. ‘Have you found a location for your rural shoot yet?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Before she could talk h
erself out of it, she reached for her laptop and tapped an address into her browser. ‘Would this work?’ While the page was loading, she turned the laptop towards Ken.

  He frowned as he looked at the screen. ‘My sweet, that’s a horse. I don’t photograph horses. Well, not unless there’s a cowboy involved.’ He waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

  ‘Look behind it.’

  ‘That’s a tree.’

  ‘What?’

  She spun her machine back. He was right. The picture on the Willowbrook website was a bay mare standing in front of a tree. Of course! Apollo was dead. Liz had taken the stallion’s image off her website. For the first time, Kayla felt a contraction in her gut. Willowbrook was changing and the threat to her heritage suddenly became very real.

  ‘Just give me a second.’

  Her fingers flew over the keyboard. People said that once you posted something on the internet, it never went away. Surely the original image would be somewhere?

  ‘Try these.’ Pascale handed Ken her tablet.

  Kayla resisted the urge to look over Ken’s shoulder as he slid image after image across the screen. Instead she watched his face for reaction.

  ‘This isn’t bad,’ he said at last. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Scone.’

  ‘And it’s available?’

  ‘Yes.’ Kayla spoke without hesitation.

  ‘Okay. I’d need to go up and have a look. We are doing both video and stills in this shoot. But if it’s as good as it looks—’

  ‘Oh, it is.’

  ‘Then I’ll suggest it to my client.’

  ‘You haven’t asked how much.’

  ‘I’m not too worried about that. As long as it’s a reasonably standard rate then we won’t have a problem. My client is prepared to pay for the very best. After all, they chose me!’ Ken winked at her.

  Kayla didn’t know whether to be pleased or scared at the prospect of taking Ken to Willowbrook. If he liked the location, she still had to convince Liz to go along with the idea, and she wasn’t entirely sure she could do that.