The Quilt Page 18

  Jess stood with her face upturned.

  “What do you think, girl?”

  Without hesitating she walked away from the Cottage and back towards the Shearers Quarters.

  Sean was at the kitchen table reading the paper. He looked up and scanned Pauls face.

  “There is a document on the sideboard that needs your signature. It gives authorisation for the purchasers accountants to uplift the financial records.”

  Sean pushed a pen over the table.

  “They have asked if it would be possible to meet with me tomorrow and have a look over the property. It doesn’t seem necessary for us both to be here. Perhaps you would like to go into town and pick up the gates we ordered? By the middle of the afternoon we should know if they are really interested and if there are any conditions attached to the sale.”

  Paul signed the document and left without saying a word.

  “You didn’t even ask what he had decided to do!”

  “There was no need to ask, Jean. He made his decision years ago. Today was just a chance for Paul to remind himself why.”

  “You don’t even seem disappointed. I really think this is happening too quickly.”

  “Of course, I am disappointed, but for myself, not for Paul.”

  Debbie was sitting at the reception desk clicking her pen with her right hand and chewing at the nails on her left. She looked up from the appointment book, and standing a head above the faceless crowd was Paul Clarke. He was walking briskly down the pavement and made no effort to glance at the surgery doors.

  It took Debbie a few minutes to organize someone to step into the reception area and to catch up to the fast retreating back.

  “Paul.”

  He turned and smiled. His startling blue eyes were emphasized by the short sleeved shirt and tight, faded blue jeans he was wearing.

  “Debbie. How are you?”

  It took her a moment to pull herself together.

  “Tell me it isn’t true.”

  “I really don’t know what you are talking about. What isn’t true?”

  “That Twin Pines is being sold.”

  There was a small hesitation and Debbie felt her stomach contract and her eyes prickle with moisture.

  “Would you like a coffee?”

  Paul pulled out a chair for her and ordered for them both.

  “The rumour mill seems to be working efficiently. How on earth did you hear that someone is looking at Twin Pines?”

  “A patient saw Amanda Quinn turning into your property this morning. That woman doesn’t go anywhere unless there is the possibility of a commission. I thought the Clarke family were a permanent part of this community.”

  “There is nothing definite. Someone is looking at the farm as we speak. If it did sell both Sean and Jean are looking at retirement and there isn’t anything here for me.”

  Debbie flinched.

  Paul reached over and gently took her hand.

  “I’m sorry. You will find someone special and they will be incredibly lucky to have you.”

  Debbie pulled her hand away.

  “I had found somebody special but they weren’t looking to find me. I’ve got to get back to work.”

  She got up abruptly and made an effort to smile.

  “No doubt the beating drums will let me know if you leave.”

  Paul sat and watched Debbie walk away.

  How many more people were going to be hurt by the decisions he made?

  Paul inhaled. The Agreement for Sale and Purchase fell to the table.

  “Is that what the farm is worth?”

  “Their offer is very generous. They had to take into consideration that Twin Pines was not actually for sale.”

  Amanda Quinn smiled but there was no warmth in her pale grey eyes. She was thin and angular with a business like mannerism.

  “It is conditional on a small amount of finance being left in.”

  She pointed an elegant finger to the clause titled terms and conditions.

  “And, of course, it is subject to various searches and disclosures from your accountants. I believe the books have already been uplifted?”

  “The purchasers want to buy the property as a going concern. Is there anything you do not want included?”

  Sean looked up from the agreement and took off his glasses.

  “The plant, vehicles and equipment are all standard for a farm of this size. Blake suggested we obtain an independent valuation of the stock. The only other consideration is the working dogs. The purchasers have expressed an interest in retaining them.”

  He glanced at Paul.

  “They wouldn’t be any use to you unless you were going to purchase another farm.”

  The land agent smiled and turned her attention to Paul.

  “I would be happy to show you the properties I currently have listed.”

  “No, thank you. I would hardly be selling a property like Twin Pines to purchase another farm.”

  Sean picked up the irritation in his son’s voice.

  “We will discuss that tonight and another suggestion that does not affect the agreement.”

  “I assume you are prepared to sign as it is tonight?”

  Sean stiffened.

  “If you leave us a copy the family will discuss it. You can call back tomorrow morning and witness our signatures unless...”

  Amanda interrupted. Her voice had taking on a demanding tone.

  “The offer is very generous. I would like to put an under contract sticker over the next door sign on my way out. It would be a pleasure to ring Dorothy and let her know that her property has sold.”

  Amanda glanced at Jean. Their eyes met briefly before Jean looked down and began to fiddle nervously with the edge of a handkerchief. Amanda sensed she had little to do with the decision.

  Perhaps she could persuade Sean to commit.

  “The purchasers do have another property in mind. I am sure you would be disappointed if they reconsidered their offer on Twin Pines and the Kean’s farm.”

  “Ms Quinn.”

  Jean, Sean and Amanda turned towards Paul. His voice had dropped to a low, even tone and his blue eyes seemed to have become hard slits of gun metal grey.

  “My father has indicated we will sign tomorrow morning, assuming we are all in agreement. This farm represents four generations of our family’s life and we will not be pressured, by the likes of you, into a hurried decision. If you want to put your under contract sticker on the Kean’s for sale sign, please feel welcome. Otherwise, may I suggest you put the sticker up your…”

  “Paul!!”

  Jean yelled, snapping up like a puppet jerked by a string.

  The real estate agent reluctantly left without obtaining a signature on the agreement.

  “I spent most of the day with the Shaw’s. They are a very nice and very knowledgeable couple, Paul. I think you will be more than happy for them to take over the dogs, but I do understand you want to meet them before deciding.”

  “I want to make sure the dogs will be well cared for. I won’t let Jess go to another home. She will stay with me.”

  “Jess would be of no use to the Shaw’s at her age.”

  “Was there something else we needed to discuss?”

  “Blake has asked if you would consider staying on as a manager for both properties. He would discuss a respectable wage and offer the Kean’s house as part of the package.”

  “I can’t think of anything less appealing than managing the property you have just sold.”

  “I thought that would be how you felt. He asked if you would, at least, consider staying on for say a month. You’re familiar with both farms and it would give him a chance to settle in and organize staff.”

  “I would be more than happy to do that. It would also mean the dogs can be settled and into a routine before I leave.”

  “I am sure the purchase price is realistic but we have lost touch with land values. I think we should get an unbiased professional opinion befor
e signing the agreement.”

  “I was thinking the same. John Rendell owes me a few favours, I’ll give him a call and see what he advises.”

  Sean returned a few minutes later.

  “John said he would call in first thing tomorrow morning. To do an official written valuation would take a few days. But he said he could at least give us an opinion and it would be pretty accurate. He did the valuation on Kean’s farm prior to it being placed on the market and that would be a guideline.”

  As promised, John pulled into the driveway at six thirty the following morning. He was a good-humoured man with a ruddy complexion and generous middle-aged spread.

  “I never thought I would see the day the Clarkes considered selling Twin Pines.”

  He shook Paul’s hand vigorously.

  “Sean, you wouldn’t be thinking of retiring would you?”

  He wrapped his enormous arms around Jean and hugged her tightly before walking into the kitchen without waiting for an invitation. He spread his considerable bulk into one of the chairs.

  “You understand, I am just giving my opinion. It is not official valuation.”

  “Yes, of course. You explained that yesterday. Unfortunately, time is not on our side. The purchasers want to secure an agreement today. There is another property on Highway 3 they are considering if the Twin Pines and Kean farm option is not available.”

  John picked up the title, rates and read through the Agreement for Sale and Purchase.

  “I put a little thought into it last night. The Kean property is obviously a good comparison. It is a larger acreage but the contour is not as desirable as Twin Pines and the land and buildings next door need attention. I ran you off a list of some of the recent rural sales in the area.”

  He passed out three photocopied sheets.

  “Twin Pines stands in a class of its own if you consider both production and infrastructure. I do think that is reflected in the price offered. You will need to get an independent valuation on plant and equipment and, of course, stock. I am happy to send out a colleague if you want me to.”

  John heaved himself to his feet.

  “If you took it to auction or placed the property on the open market you would be lucky to get the amount you are being offered. It’s a good offer. But is it a good move for you, my friend? Don’t be rushed into making a decision until you have had the time to it consider carefully.”

  Jean held the pen over the first large x on the agreement. Her hand was visibly shaking.

  “Paul, Sean are you both sure this is what you want?”

  “No one likes change Jean.”

  She drew a deep breath signed and initialled where indicated and abruptly left the room.

  “Don’t worry, once she has found a suitable home unit and had a little more time to adjust Jean will be fine.”

  “Would you like to have a look at that unit I spoke to you about earlier? I could organize it for tomorrow. It won’t hang around on the market long and I think it would suit you perfectly.”

  Amanda was extending the pen to Paul as she spoke.

  “What unit?”

  “It’s a brick and tile two bedroom unit in a block of four. They have just been completed and two have already sold unconditionally. It is the rear one so there is good security for when your parents are away. I am surprized it was not the first to sell, being removed from the road. It backs right on to the golf course so there is no hemmed in feeling.”

  She waved her arm expressively towards the pool.

  “There is a good sized garage and a communal garden,” she added.

  Paul passed the pen to Sean.

  “It sounds ideal. I am sure Jean would enjoy looking at what is available.”

  “I’ll ring later this evening to organize a suitable time. There are several units for sale to give you a chance to compare.”

  Amanda gathered up the paperwork before turning to Paul.

  “I will be putting a sold sign in front of the Keane’s farm later today. Would you object if I also positioned one in front of Twin Pines?”

  Paul met her eyes steadily.

  “Yes, I bloody would object.”

  Sean made a cup of sweet tea and took it up to the bedroom. Jean was sitting on a small chair positioned near the window.

  “It has happened too quickly. Paul has no idea what he wants to do.”

  “Paul knows what he doesn’t want to do and that is a good start. He will find his way and our situation is really no different. We had already decided to move to a smaller home and travel.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders.

  “None of us like change.”

  “You think he has done the right thing don’t you?”

  “Yes, I think he has done the right thing for himself. But he certainly hasn’t taken the easy option and I am proud of him for that. Maybe, for Paul, the family history is better written than lived.”

  SECTION 4

  Chapter 18

  “Reality”

  It was early evening by the time Joanne’s taxi pulled up outside the villa. A light, humid breeze rustled through the leaves in the front garden. The curtain was pulled slightly to one side and Sandy’s face appeared pressed against the glass. A few seconds later the front door opened and both Critter and Sandy erupted through the opening.

  “You look like hell.”

  Sandy’s eyes scanned Joanne’s ring finger as she spoke.

  “So what was she like? The woman you caught him with.”

  “Naked, and how did you know?”

  “It’s just what men like Stephen do.”

  “Why didn’t you talk to me if you thought this would happen?”

  Joanne had turned her back to Sandy and was staring at the small trailer boat parked on the road.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “My boat, and I didn’t talk to you because you wouldn’t have listened.”

  They made their way into the house and Sandy poured two glasses of wine, handing one to Joanne.

  “So when are you due back at work?”

  “I am currently unemployed. This has not been one of my best days.”

  Joanne sipped at the wine. An unfamiliar tension seemed to have seeped into the room.

  “Joanne, I really don’t want to talk about the lump right now. I haven’t spoken to you for weeks and you have had life changes that are far more interesting than my health.”

  Sandy had obviously also felt uncomfortable.

  “You told me you have cancer. How can you expect me to ignore that for the evening?”

  Sandy was chewing on her bottom lip.

  “I’ve seen a couple of doctors about the lump and I have another appointment on Thursday.”

  “Have they actually told you that it is a malignant cancer? What tests have you had?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s just a small lump.”

  “Did anyone go to the previous appointments with you?”

  “No.”

  Joanne frowned.

  “You obviously are not going to discuss this tonight. Sandy, you will not be going to the next appointment by yourself.”

  By nine thirty, the adrenalin, conversation and wine had drained from Joanne’s body. She was curled up on the couch with Critter nestled snuggly at her feet.

  She woke as his unfamiliar weight shifted on her legs. The weight groaned and circled before readjusting its body and resuming a rhythmic snoring. Lights from the passing vehicles probed into the room harshly illuminating the walls and casting ghostly shadows across the surfaces.

  Joanne stretched her cramped legs and reached across to the coffee table feeling blindly around the surface until she located her phone. Four thirty. Her arm fell across her eyes in an effort to shut out the headlights and orientate herself.

  The turmoil of the previous twenty four hours had turned solid ground into jelly beneath her feet. Would she be considered high risk by prospective employers? After all, she had terminated her employme
nt, for what would appear to be, no good reason and with unacceptably short notice. Without pressing charges she would not be able to give a believable explanation, and, if she was to press charges, it could result in her losing all credibility. There certainly would be no opportunity to return to the firm in Nelson.

  Her fingers ran around the ridge left by her engagement ring. There was a numb, cold feeling that sat stone-like in the pit of her stomach. How could she have been that stupid? She pulled the musty blanket up under her chin. The smell made her nose wrinkle in disgust.

  Why had Sandy been so reluctant to discuss the lump she had located in her breast? As soon as it was mentioned, the conversation had become stilted and her face rigid and closed. She sniffed again at the mouldy rug Sandy had put over her the previous evening. As soon as there was a certain diagnosis made, and Sandy had recovered, she would look for an alternative place to stay. Joanne’s eyes followed the chaos around the room. Stacks of newspapers and empty pizza boxes littered the floor, a pile of dirty clothes sat in the corner, unwashed dishes and pans spewed from the sink and onto the benches and dust coated every surface.

  She picked up the phone again. Five thirty. Weak light had turned the room into a depressing grey. Joanne prodded the small dog with her toe until Critter reluctantly relocated to the floor where he sat looking at her with resentful eyes.

  Joanne opened the fridge and sniffed hopefully at the milk. It was sour and poured down the sink in watery lumps. She looked at her phone. Six fifteen.

  Tears pricked behind her eyes. They threatened to overflow and send an unstoppable flood of emotion down her cheeks. Joanne’s legs buckled and she slid down the grimy front of a kitchen cupboard muffling her sobs with a dirt-covered tea towel.

  It was lunch time before Sandy emerged from her room. She stretched like a contented cat. The dishwasher rumbled as it battled with the third load of plates, the washing machine was finishing the last load of filthy linen and clean laundry fluttered in the light, summer breeze. The floors were vacuumed and moped and the surfaces dusted and polished. Joanne had walked to the supermarket and purchased fresh produce, a coffee percolator and good quality coffee.