Lisa Heidke by Lucy (mobi) (book club reads TXT) 📗

takes the whole bottle of wine, the entire quiche, most of the salad and half a loaf of bread.

‘Luce, I know it’s damned hard, and I hate to go on about it, but have you called my lawyer?’

I shake my head.

‘Any lawyer?’

‘No.’

‘A financial planner to get some perspective on your financial estate? Did you change your bank details so Max can’t abscond with your money?’

I stare at her blankly.

‘If it’s really over,’ she says, draining the last of her wine, ‘you need to think about these things. Remember, we’re talking war here.’

That night in bed, I glance over at Max’s side - his pillows, his bedside cabinet, his alarm clock. Inside his cabinet drawers are Father’s Day and birthday cards, all handmade by the children and amassed over the years. I harden my heart. If I’m to make a fresh start, I need to clear out all of his things.

Day 50

Last night I slept peacefully, and when I wake up this morning there isn’t that dreaded twenty seconds where I think everything’s fine, only to realise it isn’t because Max has left me. Today, I wake up feeling that everything really is okay, and that sentiment is still with me one minute, five minutes, even ten minutes later.

Regardless of the renovation and whatever mess Gloria is trying to get me involved in, I don’t have an ominous sense of dread, or a feeling I can’t cope without Max. Because, miracle of miracles, I can cope.

I hear noises coming from downstairs. Building noises and it’s only seven o’clock. Clearly Patch is trying to make a good impression. About time!

Before going downstairs to talk to him, I shower and call the kids. No response. So I go into their rooms and drag them from their beds.

‘Come on, Bella, don’t you want to show your friends your plaits?’ I say as I point her in the direction of her school uniform. (Freshly ironed by me, I might add.)

Sam’s groggy but coherent. We make it to school on time - just.

I have to blink a couple of times when I walk into what will be my new kitchen. Patch has a spiffy haircut, is wearing new navy overalls and is holding a clipboard. I hadn’t expected our embarrassing misunderstanding to have such a dramatic effect.

‘Ms Springer,’ he says, genuine concern in his voice. ‘Welcome home. We were all very worried about you.’

‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘What’s happened? Where have you taken Patch?’

He grins, then checks himself. ‘I have an up-to-date progress report to go through with you when you’re ready.’

Patch - Mr Super Efficient?

A couple of men wearing Levi’s and faded polo shirts stand nearby making notes on their own clipboards. I smile at them benignly. Who are they and why are they in my house?

One of them hands me a thick wad of papers. ‘Ms Springer, isn’t it?’

‘Lucy.’

‘Sure, Lucy. Could you read through this contract and sign your name on every page where I’ve marked an “X”. See, here.’ He points to said X on the front page.

‘What is this?’ I ask. I’m completely confused.

‘The contract.’

‘Contract?’

‘Yeah. We need to start filming as soon as possible, so we need the papers signed, like, yesterday.’

I take the documents from him, murmur ‘Thanks’, and climb the ladder to my room. Am about to hire a contract killer to find and dispose of Gloria when the witch herself appears at the top of the ladder.

‘Gloria!’ I say, waving the sheets in the air like a lunatic.

‘Oh, I see you have the contract.’

‘It appears so. Exactly what’s it a contract for? Or shouldn’t I ask?’

‘No big deal. It’s like we talked about - you know, the new reality TV show, Celebrity Renovation Rescue.’

‘Is this why you phoned me every other day in Bali? You weren’t checking on my welfare, were you? You were just making sure I was tucked away out of sight so you could organise this deal behind my back.’

‘But, darling,’ Gloria trills, ‘how many workmen are here?’

‘Well . . .’ I think for a moment. ‘Eight to ten, give or take.’

‘Have you ever had that many builders on-site? Don’t answer that because I know you haven’t. I’m doing you a favour. You want the house finished. The Celebrity Renovation Rescue team want a guinea pig. And you’ll get your face back on TV. It’s a win-win situation.’

‘But I don’t want my face on TV . . . not for this.’

‘Let’s talk about it rationally. Obviously we can’t go ahead without your permission, but, Lucy, all the guys have signed up.’

‘Even Joel?’

‘Even Creepy Joel.’

‘So you don’t think he’s a crim anymore, as you so politely referred to him?’

‘If he’s prepared to be seen on national TV, I assume he’s not on the run.’

‘National?’

‘Yes, my lovely, national,’ Gloria purrs.

‘Well, it explains the changes in Patch,’ I muse.

‘He’s into it in a big way. You won’t see him disappearing for an afternoon surf, not while there’s a camera crew here.’

I feel myself wavering. ‘I really don’t know . . .’

‘Well, you’ve only got till five o’clock. We have to sign today so we can get the pilot in the can.’

‘Why would they choose my wreck of a house for the pilot?’

‘I’ve pulled a few strings, darling - you know what I’m like.’

‘That’s what worries me.’

‘Think about it. You’ll see I’m right. I have to dash but I’ll be back. You’re looking great, by the way - your skin has a healthy glow and I’m glad to see that the creeping obesity that was threatening to take over your bod has halted.’

‘Enough with the flattery. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to get a big head to match my big arse. I’ll think about it. Do I have to be on camera?’

‘Let’s not get bogged down in specifics, dear. We’ll talk this afternoon. You just rest up and have a great day.’

In a flash, she’s gone. She’s definitely up to no good. But at least she’s stopped talking about Bali.

* * *

I’m going through the mail, mostly bills,