Tomorrow's Path Read online

  She looked round. They were the only people left in the bar. A tired-looking man was clearing the other tables, but he smiled and told them to stay as long as they wanted.

  ‘I think I’ll have a cognac.’ Jivan gave their order, tipped the waiter generously, then leaned back in his chair. ‘Tell me about yourself, Jessica.’ He frowned. ‘I still keep thinking I know that name.’

  Her heart missed a beat. ‘There’s nothing much to tell. I’ve led a very ordinary life.’

  ‘There must be something special, for you to write prize-winning books.’

  ‘Not really. At one stage my parents emigrated, so I was born in Western Australia, but when I was seven, we came back to live in Lancashire. It was a very big shock to me and I felt out of place in England.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why you understand what it’s like to be an alien.’

  ‘Perhaps. It’s not that my family aren’t loving – well, not my brother, but the rest of them. It’s just that I’ve never felt totally at home in England, especially during the winters.’

  ‘Why haven’t you gone back to live in Australia, then?’

  ‘My mother had breast cancer. I couldn’t leave. But she’s recovering now and the prognosis is good, so I’m starting to make plans.’ She could feel herself flushing. ‘I don’t usually tell people that.’

  ‘I’m honoured. Go on.’

  ‘My father owns two newsagents’ shops and off-licences, but my brother runs things now. When my mother was ill, Dad wanted to spend more time with her. I went to the local high school and although I did well in my studies, I was hopeless at sport. You can’t get a much more uninteresting background than that.’

  ‘How did you come by that vivid imagination, then?’

  ‘My mother says I was born fanciful and she still worries that she failed to train me out of it.’

  He chuckled. ‘Do you still live near your family?’

  ‘Quite close, in Leeds. Sometimes I think I’m too close to them. Who knows where the company will transfer me to next, though? What about you and your family? Are you close.’

  ‘Not really. I moved away from home a long time ago, and I’m about to move to some isolated place and get on with writing my next book. I don’t know where I’m going yet.’

  He looked tense and distant as he said that, so she spoke hurriedly, not wanting him to withdraw from her. ‘If the company doesn’t transfer me soon, I shall have to move away from the north. I can’t write as often as I’d like when my family live nearby. They’re always expecting me to go and see them, or else they hold big parties for all the relatives, or they turn up to visit me without warning at weekends, just when I’m settled at my computer. And I have dozens of cousins who like to go for a drive and drop in to see me.’

  He chuckled, his expression softening again. ‘That’s not so terrible.’ He began fiddling with his brandy glass. ‘You came to London on your own tonight. No man in your life?’

  ‘No. I don’t have time.’

  ‘I thought most women wanted to find a husband and settle down.’ There was an acid undertone to that statement.

  ‘Not me. Oh, I’d like to find a husband – I’m not that different – but I don’t want to settle down. And I don’t have a maternal bone in my body. I can’t even imagine having a child.’

  ‘One day, Cinderella, you’ll find your Prince Charming, and then you’ll want it all. But be very careful. Don’t ever rush into marriage; try living together first. We writers are strange animals and we don’t take easily to being harnessed.’

  She eyed him sideways. ‘Running an agony column now? Lovelorn writers, bring your problems to Uncle Jivan!’

  He laughed. ‘No. Just offering you the benefit of my own experience. If you want to write, Jessica, then focus on that till you’re established. Anna says you have considerable potential.’

  ‘Did she really?’

  He chuckled. ‘Would Uncle Jivan lie to you?’

  The coffee arrived and he changed the subject firmly to a discussion about computers.

  Half an hour later, the conversation died a natural death when they both started yawning at the same time.

  As they separated to go to their rooms, Jessica thought: this is a turning point in my life. I wonder where this new path will lead me.

  All she knew at the moment was that she didn’t intend to waste this opportunity. And if she got what she wanted, tomorrow’s path would be very different from today’s.

  Five

  Before Jivan could put his plans to move away from England into operation, Louisa began to pop up at his public functions or sit at the next table in a restaurant. This time she didn’t do anything to disrupt the events, but her mere presence was enough to spoil his enjoyment.

  The other petty harassment escalated, however. He once again found himself subscribed to magazines he detested, was billed for holidays he was supposed to have booked but hadn’t, and found himself dealing with all sorts of minor irritations.

  Then there was a major disturbance when people he was slightly acquainted with began turning up at his flat one evening for a party he was supposed to have invited them to. There were no caterers this time, no preparations, just the embarrassment of explaining to these people that it was some sort of sick practical joke.

  He had no doubt who had organised it. What the hell would she do next?

  He stopped trying to write and put his luxury flat on the market. More money than he’d expected was pouring in from things like foreign sales of his novels or audio rights, and he made arrangements to rent a house in Australia, remembering how vividly Jessica Lord had described it. If he didn’t enjoy life there he could always move again.

  He made the various arrangements through his new agent. Anna had recommended Emil Halford, who was very experienced in the publishing industry and was, she said, utterly trustworthy. Even the landlord of his new house didn’t know who Emil’s ‘cousin’ John Simpkins really was.

  Jivan chose an isolated house in the Blue Mountains inland from Sydney, with stunning views and no close neighbours. He took care to go to Australia by a roundabout route, leaving the airport in Singapore. He even changed hire cars twice once he got to Australia, to prevent anyone from following him.

  If that was paranoid, too bad. He was desperate to get away from Louisa and finish his current story.

  It was quite a large house, but they’d needed to find a big place in order to get total privacy and good security systems.

  Thank goodness for the Internet because he could stay in contact with his agent and publisher online.

  He now had no idea what Louisa was doing and wondered vaguely whether he should pay someone to keep an eye on her for him, then dismissed the idea. She wouldn’t be able to find him now, he was sure, and would eventually grow tired of hunting, so that was an end to it.

  Maybe the book he was writing was influencing his plans, but he decided to live in a different Australian state each year and use different airlines and plane routes whenever he had to go back to the UK, to make it even harder for anyone to follow him. Actually, it would be interesting to get to know the different parts of this huge country. He was looking forward to that.

  But after a few weeks the loneliness began to get him down. He didn’t speak to anyone from one day to the next, except the lady who cleaned the house for him. She had been employed by the owner for a while to look after it and she understood that the people who lived here wanted peace and privacy.

  He wondered if she recognised him. She didn’t seem to but she did tell him a little about herself and the small town nearby when she saw that he really wanted to chat.

  Each week she shouted her usual, ‘Goodbye, sir!’ as she left and then the silence came back.

  He hadn’t realised how very alone he’d feel, how depressing it would become.

  Damn Louisa for doing this to him!

  When Jessica got back to Leeds, her colleagues at work were excited about her winning the first
prize, her manager less so.

  ‘I suppose this means you’ll be resigning?’ he asked sourly.

  ‘Goodness, no. I couldn’t afford to.’

  ‘But you’ll want to write from now on, won’t you?’

  ‘It’s hard to earn a living writing.’

  ‘Yes, so I’ve heard.’

  ‘Anyway, I’ve been writing all the time I’ve been with you and you’ve never complained about my work.’

  The frown vanished. ‘So it’s just a hobby, then?’

  She didn’t contradict him but it wasn’t ‘just’ anything, let alone a hobby; it was her passion. If she’d been able to earn a living, even a modest one, she’d have quit this job in a flash. She wasn’t going to tell him that, of course.

  ‘That’s good, because I was going to ask you whether you’d like to transfer to New York. It was mentioned to you before, apparently, and you didn’t like the idea.’

  ‘To be truthful, no. And I still don’t.’ What’s more, she’d resign and find another job if they insisted on sending her there.

  He studied her thoughtfully. ‘You do need broader international experience, though. If you’re not interested in New York, I was told to ask you about Australia. We’re opening a new branch there, as you may know.’ He raised one eyebrow, waiting for a comment.

  She stared at him as this sank in. ‘Wow! I’m definitely interested in that. Whereabouts in Australia? Doing what exactly?’

  ‘It’s in Perth, Western Australia. We already have branches in the eastern states, in Sydney and Melbourne. You’d be helping the manager set the new branch up from scratch, then acting as team leader – which would mean more money. As it’ll be a smallish branch, you’d also have to do anything and everything necessary.’

  ‘I’d really like that, James. I was born in Western Australia and I’ve still got Australian citizenship as well as British. I’ve always wanted to go back there to see if it’s as good as I remember.’

  He nodded, looking smug and pleased with himself. ‘We did notice that Aussie element in your personal records, but New York would have been a better experience to add to your CV. Anyway, it’ll save us a lot of trouble with the Australian immigration people if you take the job down under.’

  He studied her face. ‘You know what, that’s the happiest I’ve seen you look all year.’

  ‘It’s solved a dilemma for me. I didn’t want to hurt my parents, and as I told you my mother is recovering from cancer. She’s a lot better now, thank goodness. If I’ve been transferred to Australia, they won’t like it, but they won’t feel I’m trying to get away from the family.’

  She knew her parents would urge her to get another job and stay in England. Only she wasn’t going to.

  ‘How soon can you leave?’

  ‘How soon do you want me there?’

  ‘Within the month.’

  ‘That’s fine by me.’

  ‘Good. I shall miss you, though. You’re a very reliable worker.’

  What he meant was she didn’t leapfrog from one company to another like some of the guys did, just got on with her job.

  Jessica found it hard to get to sleep that night. What an incredible year! She’d had her first book accepted for publication, and now another ambition was about to be achieved.

  Was she doing the right thing? How could you know for sure? Well, you couldn’t. But she had to try or she’d always wonder.

  It had been just over twenty-one years since she’d been brought back to England. How unhappy she’d been!

  She hoped Australia would live up to her memories. This was such big step to take.

  Jessica packed up her flat quickly, and luckily, the guy replacing her at the Leeds branch was coming up from London and was happy to take it over.

  Though she was thrilled to be going, she was absolutely dreading telling her parents. She decided it’d be best to do that in person once she’d packed up. She’d ask her father to sell her car, because she’d be going back to the London office for a couple of weeks for some further briefing and training, and she didn’t enjoy driving in London. She’d be flying straight to Australia from there.

  She went home on the Friday evening of that week. After the first flurry of greetings and hugs, she sat down with her parents over a cup of tea and made her announcement.

  ‘You’re going where?’ Her mother’s mouth fell open in shock. ‘Richard, did you hear that?’

  Her father looked at her grimly. ‘Why are you doing this to us, Jessica?’

  ‘I’m not doing it to you. I’ve been transferred. I’ll be helping to open a new branch out there.’

  Her mother burst into tears.

  ‘I forbid it!’ shouted her father, banging his fist on the table and turning an unhealthy shade of red. ‘Do you want to break your mother’s heart?’

  ‘It’s my job,’ Jessica repeated. ‘I couldn’t have stayed where I was. They’re insisting on me broadening my experience. It was either go to New York or to Australia and I chose Australia.’

  ‘Why? New York is closer.’

  ‘I’ve always wanted to go back for a holiday, you know I have. I should have done an overseas stint earlier, but they let me wait till you were all right, Mum.’

  ‘But it’s so far away!’ her mother sobbed. ‘You’ll be all on your own there and you won’t like it. That’s why we came back to England, you know it is, because we wanted to be near our families. You wait. You’ll be so lonely and you won’t have a husband to comfort you, as I did.’

  She tried to be patient with them. ‘I don’t have any choice.’

  ‘Get another job, then,’ her father said.

  ‘They’re a decent company to work for. I’d rather stay with them.’

  There was a pause, then, ‘You promise you’re not emigrating.’

  ‘I’m being transferred, Dad. Look, I’m hoping you’ll have room to store my things. There are some bits and pieces I don’t want to get rid of. Does that sound like emigrating?’

  Her parents let the matter drop then, but from the glances they exchanged, she knew they would try again to persuade her not to go to Australia.

  Fortunately, that evening, Peter and Kerry came round and announced that they were expecting a baby. Maureen’s attention was diverted from Jessica; she had been longing to be a grandmother.

  From then on her mum was radiant, boasting to customers and friends alike about the coming event. She came home from the shopping centre on the Saturday afternoon with what seemed like the entire stock of the local wool shop, with which to knit some little garments.

  Jessica left them on the Sunday morning with relief that she had got it over with. Thank goodness for Peter’s baby.

  Jessica thought she’d said goodbye to her family, but her parents turned up unexpectedly at the hotel where she was staying in London so that they could be with her for her last evening.

  She was exhausted by some intensive training in a package of new software developments and the briefings about what the company wanted in the new branch. She’d planned to wash her hair and get an early night, but had to go out for a meal with them instead.

  Her mother wept several times during the course of the evening, which made Jessica feel terrible.

  When they got back, she said firmly, ‘My flight leaves at six in the morning. Please don’t get up to see me off. I’ll have to leave for the airport at three thirty and anyway, I don’t want to get on the plane with a tear-stained face.’

  ‘I agree. I think your mother has had enough stress,’ her father said. ‘We’ll say goodbye to her now, Maureen.’

  Jessica saw that his eyes were suspiciously bright, too, and gave them both another hug.

  Her childhood memories were of a flight that went on for ever, so she wasn’t looking forward to spending about twenty hours in transit. But in fact the air time passed quickly because she slept for a large part of it.

  And then the plane was preparing to land and people were gathering their belongings a
nd peering out of the cabin windows to catch glimpses of the city below.

  Her spirits lifted. The first stage of her odyssey was nearly over.

  On the way from Perth airport into the city, Jessica stared out of the windows of the taxi in delight. One thing was just as she’d remembered: clear, bright sunlight and cloudless blue skies. But there were more tall buildings in the city centre now and the traffic seemed far busier.

  The company had found her some temporary serviced accommodation in a block of flats. It was twelve storeys high and very noisy, with people coming in and out at all times of the day or night, presumably on temporary visits to Western Australia’s capital.

  The flat was supplied with tea and coffee-making facilities, a packet of two plain biscuits and nothing else, but the information sheet in the folder said there was a café, a small shop and some automatic dispensers of various foodstuffs on the ground floor. She dumped her luggage and went down, venturing outside and standing on the pavement in the sunshine, revelling in it.

  She didn’t want to go indoors again, but forced herself to be practical and bought some food from the shop before going back to unpack her things.

  When the phone rang, she jumped in shock.

  ‘Paul Harrop here.’

  Her new boss. ‘Oh, hi!’

  ‘Just checking that you got here OK. How’s the flat?’

  ‘It’s fine to start me off.’

  ‘We’ve leased a car for you. When you come into the office tomorrow, I’ll sort out all the paperwork. See you then.’

  She found out later that this was typical of Paul’s thoughtless attitude. Hadn’t it occurred to him that she needed a day or two to settle in before she started work? He was more interested in computing than in looking after his staff.

  She’d have liked a few days to recover from the flight and the inevitable jetlag. She also needed to find herself somewhere quieter to live. As the nearby lift pinged again, she grimaced. She was already finding that sharp sound very irritating.

  She didn’t sleep well, because people were constantly on the move, their voices echoing down the corridor. And when the lifts weren’t pinging, they were whining their way up and down the building.