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“Dad told me on the night of Kingi’s party, after I confronted him with what you’d told me. I said Kingi was auditing the commune’s finances because it was struggling, and I said I had my suspicions about George. And Dad said there was something I needed to know. That his feud with Blake wasn’t just about Amiria. He said when they were in their first year at uni, one of their courses involved developing a business proposal for a university incubator program.”
“A what?”
“It’s a business development initiative run by a university that helps students turn ideas into real businesses. Because of what happened with his birth parents, Dad had this idea for setting up a retreat for women, and Blake thought it was a great idea and was really excited about the notion of helping others with their business knowledge. The initiative offered seed funding—that means a small amount of money to get started, as well as mentorship and networking opportunities. It was organized as a competition, and winning it would have meant money for their new company, as well as kudos in the business community. Dad said he brought the drive and numbers, while Blake brought the big-picture vision.”
“Kahukura was Spencer’s idea?”
“Yes, but they also both had a friend at uni who’d been abused by her partner, and Blake fully supported the idea.”
She looks dumbfounded. “So what went wrong?”
I take a deep breath. “Blake stole from the project fund to buy materials, and he fudged the results to make the project succeed. He said they were going to win anyway, and he just gave them a little push. Dad was furious when he found out what Blake had done because he wanted to win on merit, not manipulation. He believes in hard work, integrity, and earning everything. Blake said he believed in helping people and fixing broken systems, even if it meant bending the rules. That the end justifies the means. This happened in the same month as your mum choosing your dad over mine.”
She presses a hand over her heart. Hopefully she won’t faint again.
“Blake went on to set up Kahukura when he left university,” I continue. “Dad was angry because he felt Blake took all the credit for it when it was actually his idea. He hated the way Blake made the retreat part of the commune because he felt it turned it into some kind of bohemian safe haven, as if trauma could be cured with incense and group hugs. He was convinced it became a utopian mess that was more about ideals than a place for real recovery. At the time he wanted nothing to do with it. He thought they worked together well and that they could have created something amazing, but Blake ruined it. So he walked away—both from their friendship and from the retreat. He turned his talents to making money from property, but it’s why he embraced the idea of the Midnight Circle so wholeheartedly. He believes in helping those less fortunate than himself, and he’s brought me up to be the same. But he acknowledged that despite not agreeing with many of your father’s actions, he has helped a lot of women.”
It’s a long speech, and I’m a little breathless when I finish. I so want Scarlett to believe me and to understand that Dad doesn’t think Blake is all bad.
She’s trembling now, though. Oh shit…
“I don’t…” She can’t get the words out. “Why…” She gives up and starts crying—great heart-rending sobs that punch me right in the stomach. Her knees give way, and I catch her just before she falls to the floor.
I lift her into my arms, open the door, carry her inside, and push the door shut behind me. I take her into the small living room and over to the sofa, and I turn and sit on it, cradling her on my lap.
She curls up into a ball, and I hold her while she cries, and cries, and cries. I don’t move. I rest my lips on her hair, while outside the sun sinks toward the horizon, and the shadows creep across the grass.
At one point, I hear footsteps outside. I’d texted Kingi quickly before I caught up with Scarlett, suggesting he and George give us some space, so I don’t think it’s him. It turns out to be Ana, already looking concerned, so I assume she’s heard of the kerfuffle at the office. She slips into the house, sees us immediately, and comes over.
“Scarlett,” she whispers, dropping to her knees in front of us. “Honey.” She puts a hand on her back, but Scarlett turns away from her and buries her face in my shirt.
Ana withdraws her hand. “She’s been so strong,” she says. “She’s held us all together with both hands since Mum died. She hasn’t allowed herself to grieve.”
So it’s all pouring out of her in one go.
“What happened?” Ana whispers.
I look at Scarlett, who’s still sobbing. “You’ll have to talk to Scarlett about that.”
“All right.” Ana says. “I’ll make a cup of tea.” It’s the cure-all for everything, and she goes into the kitchen.
The sound of the kettle and the clink of a spoon in the mugs somehow grounds me, and it must do the same to Scarlett, because she gradually relaxes in my arms. She turns her face and rests her cheek on my shoulder, her lips close to my throat, but she doesn’t attempt to move away. I keep my arms tight around her, happy to hold her.
Ana comes back out with two mugs of tea and leaves them on the low table in front of us.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
She smiles, her expression softening as she looks at us both. “I’m going to take a shower.” She bends and kisses Scarlett’s head, then walks out, and soon I hear a door closing.
“How are you doing?” I murmur.
“I’m okay.” Her whisper is so soft I almost miss it.
“You want a sip of tea?”
She clears her throat, then pushes herself up. She wipes her face, gets up, and retrieves some tissues from a box on the table. For a moment I think she’s going to sit in one of the armchairs and put some distance between us. But after she’s blown her nose and wiped her face, she picks up her tea, then comes to sit next to me, turning towardme. She sips the tea, then rests her temple on the back of the sofa and lets out a long sigh. She looks incredibly sad and defeated.
I unbutton my jacket, move forward to slip it off, pick up my tea, then sit back again.