Six Australian Heroes. Margaret Way
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Her disgust at the very thought of having his baby had been obvious. Though startled, deep down he’d actually not been displeased by the possibility—another light-bulb moment, if he’d been smart enough to recognise it at the time.
But he recognised it now.
By the time Ryan made it back to his apartment, he’d made a few decisions and got back some of his fighting spirit. Okay, so he probably didn’t have a great chance of ever convincing Laura that he was a changed man. But he wasn’t about to live the rest of his wretched life without giving it his best shot.
Winning a woman like Laura was not unlike winning a soccer match against a top team, he conceded. You couldn’t just barge back into her life, running around like a chook with its head cut off. You had to have a decent strategy. A plan.
By Monday morning Ryan still wasn’t sure what to do. He could hardly just ring Laura up and tell her that he loved her; that wasn’t going to work. He needed more time to think. At the same time he needed to get back to work. Unfortunately, three days out of the office meant he had a lot of calls to return, one of them to Laura’s boss.
‘Ryan Armstrong,’ he said when Greg Harvey came on the line.
‘Ryan, so glad you called. I gather you’ll be needing a new lawyer now that Laura has left us.’
‘What? Laura’s left?’
‘You didn’t know? I thought she would have told you. She resigned late last week. For personal reasons.’
‘What kind of personal reasons?’
‘I guess there’s no reason you shouldn’t know. Her grandmother died. Apparently they were very close.’
Ryan suppressed a groan of dismay.
‘We offered her time off,’ the man rattled on, ‘But she said she needed a complete break. We’re sorry to lose a lawyer of her ability but life does go on, doesn’t it? Look, there’s a young chap who’s just joined us. Brilliant legal brain. What say I send him down to meet you, see what you think? His name’s Cory Sanderland.’
‘Sounds perfect, Greg. But not right now. I have to go out shortly and I won’t be in for the rest of the day. Leave it with me and I’ll give Cory a call later this week.’
‘Fine.’
‘Have to go, Greg,’ he said, and hung up.
But he didn’t leave the office straight away. First he tried ringing Laura’s mobile but it was turned off. After pacing around for a few minutes, he charged out to his PA’s desk.
‘Judith,’ he said. ‘I want you to contact Laura Ferrugia’s PA and find out the phone number of Laura’s best friend. Her name is Alison—that’s all I know, I’m afraid. I know it’s an odd request but just do this for me, will you?’
Judith, who was a sensible woman who liked her job, didn’t argue. ‘Fine.’
Five minutes later, she handed Ryan a piece of paper with a phone number written down on it.
‘She didn’t really want to give it to me,’ she said. ‘You didn’t tell me that Laura no longer worked there. I had to say it was an emergency.’
‘It is an emergency,’ he told her.
‘Care to tell me more?’
‘Not right now.’
‘Just as well I’m not a curious type,’ she said, and went back to her desk.
He called the number straight away, his heartbeat quickening as he waited for someone to answer. At last, a woman’s voice said, ‘Hello?’
‘Is that Alison?’
‘Yes? Who is this?’
‘Ryan Armstrong.’
He heard her sharp intake of breath. ‘What on earth are you doing ringing me?’
‘I just heard about Laura’s grandmother,’ he said swiftly.
‘I’ve been trying to ring Laura but her phone’s switched off. I was hoping you could tell me if her grandmother’s been buried yet. I’d like to go to the funeral.’
‘Laura wouldn’t want you there.’
‘I’d still like to go.’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake, give the girl a break, will you? And just stay away from her. She doesn’t want any more to do with you.’
Ryan decided then and there that if he wanted to win Laura he also had to win her best friend.
‘She doesn’t want anything to do with the man I used to be,’ Ryan said. ‘She might want to have something to do with the man I am today.’
‘And what’s that, pray tell?’
No doubting the cynicism in her voice.
‘A man in love.’
Now he heard an even sharper intake of breath.
‘I love Laura, Alison. And I want to marry her. Now tell me when the funeral is.’
‘Oh Lord, it’s today. In a couple of hours.’
‘And you’re not there with her?’ he threw at her somewhat accusingly.
‘I would have been but my little boy isn’t well. He’s asthmatic, you see, and has a bad bout of hay fever today. I daren’t leave him.’
‘I see. Is it being held at the chapel near the Hunter Valley gardens?’ he asked.
‘Yes. How did you know?’
‘Never mind. I have to go, Alison, if I’m going to make it in time.’
‘Yes, yes. Just go. And Ryan?’
‘Yes?’
‘For what it’s worth, I think Laura loves you too.’
A wild joy flooded Ryan’s heart. ‘What makes you think so?’
‘I’ve thought so from the day after she went to bed with you. Laura only has sex with men she loves. She’s that kind of girl.’
Ryan smiled. That was one of the reasons he loved her.
‘Have to go, Alison.’
‘Hurry, Ryan. Laura needs you.’
Yes, he agreed silently as he grabbed his suit jacket and headed for the door. Just as much as he needed her. They needed each other, two lonely, seriously screwed-up people whom life had hurt but whom life hadn’t totally beaten yet.
Laura sat in the front pew of the chapel, trying not to look at her gran’s coffin, or the masses of yellow roses which covered the lid. Every time she looked at the yellow roses she wanted to cry. They had been Jane’s favourite flower. When Laura had left school and started living in her parents’ house at North Manly, her gran had bought her several yellow rose-bushes to plant in her garden to remind Laura of her.
As if I would ever need reminding, Laura thought as tears threatened once more.
Panic joined her tears, for it was her turn to speak. Uncle Bill and Aunt Cynthia had asked her to give the main eulogy, claiming they were both poor public speakers whereas she was used to it. She’d shied away from doing it at first before accepting that it was the last way she would be able to express her gratitude to Jane for all she’d done for her. She’d written down what she wanted to say, lest she forget it. Now she stared down at the piece of paper on which she’d written the inadequate words, seeing that it was nothing more than a twisted crunched-up mess in her lap. It was impossible to straighten it out.
When Aunt Cynthia nudged her in the ribs, she rose and stumbled up to the podium. Somehow she managed to relate the story of Jane’s early life from memory, dry facts really, about where her grandmother