The Maxwell Sisters (39 page)

Loretta was born in Perth, the eldest of four girls. She enjoyed writing from a very early age and was just eleven years old when she had her first short story published in
The West Australian
newspaper.

Having graduated with a degree in Civil Engineering and another in Commerce, she was hired by a major Western Australian engineering company and worked for a number of years on many outback projects. She drew upon her experiences of larrikins, red dust and steel-capped boots for her bestselling novels
The Girl in Steel-Capped Boots, The Girl in the Hard Hat
and
The Girl in the Yellow Vest. The Maxwell Sisters
is her fourth novel. Her new release,
The Grass is Greener
, which is also set in the wineries down Rickety Twigg Road, is available now.

She lives in Perth with her husband and four children.

If you enjoyed
The Maxwell Sisters
, read on for an exclusive extract of Loretta's new novel
The Grass is Greener
.

‘So?' Claudia cupped her hands around her steaming mug. ‘Now that we've finished lunch, tell me how you've
really
been.'

For Bronwyn Eddings, looking into her best friend's kind eyes over a comforting cup of tea was the straw that broke the camel's back. It had been too long since she'd seen a friendly face, and the mask that she'd worked so hard to keep in place began to crack.

‘I hate my life,' she said firmly, her fist thumping on the polished timber tabletop in their favourite Perth cafe.

‘Okay,' Claudia blinked in surprise. ‘I wasn't expecting so extreme an answer, but go on.'

‘I
hate
it,' Bronwyn repeated, glad finally to get what had been going through her mind for months off her chest. ‘I hate all of it. Every single, commercial, materialistic piece of it. I hate my boss …' she ticked off on her fingers, ‘I hate my job. I even hate my apartment. It's cold, empty, lonely and completely unwelcoming.
And
,' she added with a purse of her lips, ‘I hate wearing skirt suits. They're so stiff. I feel like a funeral director in them, and with all the bad news I'm constantly delivering I –'

‘Okay, okay, okay.' Claudia held up a hand to stall the complaints. ‘I get the picture. What's brought this on, Bron? I know it's been a while since I saw you –'

‘Over six months.' Bronwyn drummed impatient fingers on the table.

‘Yes, more than six months since I've been able to drive up to Perth,' Claudia continued calmly. ‘And that is definitely my fault. I've been a bad friend to you. Totally MIA. I'm sorry.'

‘I know you've been having a hard time with your dad and everything.' Bronwyn smiled with understanding. ‘And it's not like I couldn't have driven to you.'

‘Why didn't you say anything in your emails?'

‘Emails are so impersonal.' Bronwyn blew her blonde fringe out of her eyes as she dropped her chin in her palm dejectedly. ‘Besides, I didn't want to send you a ten-page rant. Not that my schedule would give me time to write that. It certainly isn't billable.'

‘Ten pages, huh? Surely things haven't all turned to shit since I last saw you. Has something happened at work to make you feel this way?'

‘You don't understand, Claud. It was shit when you were last here. And the time before that, and the time before that. I just didn't know how to tell you. I didn't want you to think less of me.'

‘Why would I think less of you?'

‘Because I brought this on myself.' Bronwyn slumped in her chair. ‘And I know you. You'd be the first one to point that out.'

‘Okay, I'm really not getting this.' Claudia frowned. ‘What is so terrible about your life? You work for one of the most prestigious law firms in town, your career is exactly on track and you're making more money than you have time to spend.'

Bronwyn bit her lip.
That's exactly what's wrong with it.

At her telling silence, Claudia folded her arms. ‘Bron, you have everything you ever wanted. Hell, you have everything we both ever wanted. The kickarse career, a stake in stuff that really matters …'

‘I'm not passionate about the law the way you are,' Bronwyn tried to explain. ‘I suppose I can get the job done. But I don't like it.'

‘Seriously? You don't feel the power of the justice system coursing through your veins as you right wrongs, save the innocent and put the bad guys away?'

Bronwyn grinned at her best friend. Claudia had always been an environmental crusader, a human rights activist and completely Left politically. At uni, she had been a member of all the community groups. Save the whales. Feed the orphans. Keep the arts centre open! And while you're at it, don't eat meat, don't drink dairy and plant a tree once a year.

Bronwyn laughed. ‘Come back to earth, supergirl. That's not what it's like for me at all.'

Claudia leaned back in her chair thoughtfully. ‘Better than driving from one hotel to another, giving the same boring spiel about why they should have Oak Hills wines in their cellar.'

Bronwyn shook her head. ‘There is nothing boring about Oak Hills or their wine.'

‘There's nothing earth-shattering about it either.' Claudia thought about the business that had supported her family for at least two generations. ‘I'm completely over it.'

‘It's better than my job.'

‘Are you kidding me?' Claudia exclaimed.

Bronwyn winced. ‘Do you know where I was this morning?'

‘Court?'

‘I wish,' Bronwyn sighed. ‘I was at Casuarina Prison, meeting one of my clients.'

Claudia's eyes lit up like a little kid in front of a cupcake. ‘You got to go to a maximum security prison? Damn, girl, how exciting!'

‘Yes, with all those lovely murderers and rapists inside. What an adventure! My client was as terrified as I was. He can't wait to be shifted.' She shuddered as she recalled the sweat beading on Peter Goldman's brow as he had pleaded with her to do something … anything … to get him moved on. She didn't blame him. She'd been awake to every sound in that place as she'd walked through all the checkpoints, even with a massive guard leading the way. What would it be like to be on the other side of those bars? She didn't want to think about it. Peter was a white-collar criminal. She very much doubted he'd be able to hold his own against other, more physically imposing types. However, he had to wait in prison until his sentencing. That was just procedure.

It was times like these that made her hate working as a lawyer even more – moments when she involuntarily caught herself actually feeling sorry for the criminal. Peter Goldman was a con man. He had stolen the life savings of hundreds of honest middle-class families to service his life of luxury – big house on the hill, boat in the bay, a gambling debt the size of Bronwyn's mortgage, and all the happiness fraudulent funds could buy. His only regret was that he'd got caught. He deserved to be punished for this. So why did she feel sympathy for him? Her mother would have a fit if she knew that she'd been affected by his pleas.

What was the first rule of thumb? Professional perspective with your client was paramount – never care personally for them, simply look after their affairs. She was too soft to be a lawyer – she couldn't seem to switch off her emotions when the occasion demanded it. Peter must have sensed that weakness in her when he'd hit her up with that inappropriate proposal.

‘What happened?' Claudia demanded when Bronwyn fell suspiciously silent.

‘Oh, nothing,' she tried to end the subject. ‘It's a long story.'

‘I've got time. Tell me.'

She glanced up at Claudia. There was a little glint of steel in her best friend's sharp blue eyes. Now
that
was the look of a lawyer. It was ruined, of course, by the streaky honey-brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders in gentle waves – nothing a French roll and a bit of dark lippy couldn't fix, though.

She figured Claudia would get it out of her one way or another so she might as well save herself some time. ‘Now that my client is in prison, his wife is divorcing him. She's taking their kids and leaving Perth to go live in Melbourne.'

‘That sounds understandable.'

‘It is, only his dog no longer has a home. His wife is refusing to take the dog with her.'

‘And that's your problem because …?'

‘His wife wants to put it down and he's distraught. He doesn't want that.'

‘So he can call a dog-rescue place. I don't see how this is your drama.'

Bronwyn smiled at Claudia's impartial logic.
Why can't I be like that?
Her best friend was a great lawyer. It was unfortunate she was unable to practice.

‘So what's his next move?' Claudia asked.

‘He's asked me to take the dog.'

‘Take the dog where? To a kennel?'

‘To my home.'

Claudia gasped. ‘He wants you to keep his dog for him?'

‘Just till he gets out.'

‘That could be years!' Claudia's eyes widened. ‘Bronwyn, you didn't say yes?'

‘Well, no, not really.'

‘What do you mean,
not really
? Did you agree to take the dog or not?'

‘You should have seen him, Claud,' Bronwyn moaned. ‘He loves that dog. He says, in this traumatic time, his Elsa is the only thing that has kept him sane. His wife couldn't give a shit. She wants to kill it. An
innocent animal
, Claud! Snuffed out,' she snapped her fingers, ‘just like that. I thought you of all people would get why I empathise.'

‘You do realise that the traumatic time he is talking about is the fact that he got sent to jail. And the chicken you had in your sandwich five minutes ago was also innocent but you ate it anyway.'

Claudia had eaten a grilled vegetable salad, and Bronwyn winced guiltily. ‘Yes, but –'

‘Bronwyn,' Claudia slapped a hand to her head, ‘he's a criminal, not your friend. You can't trust him and you
cannot
take that dog. It's not your responsibility.'

‘Just because he committed fraud doesn't mean he can't have a genuine love for an animal.'

Claudia rolled her eyes. ‘Bron, I'm not questioning his love for the animal but why can't he call the RSPCA? I'm not advocating that this dog just be handed to the wife and put down. If it's as loving and wonderful as he says it is, I'm sure someone will provide it with a good,
permanent
home. This request for you to keep the dog till he gets out is completely inappropriate and it's unprofessional of you to even consider it. Honestly, this reminds me of the time you let that guy who got evicted for not paying his rent sleep on your couch.'

‘He was a nice guy,' Bronwyn protested. ‘Just a little misunderstood.'

‘Bronwyn, he stole all your credit cards.'

‘That was my fault,' Bronwyn quickly jumped to his defence. ‘I left my purse on the kitchen counter. It was just too much of a temptation for him.'

‘So now you're blaming yourself for his thieving?'

‘He was going through a rough patch. He wasn't thinking clearly.'

‘Honestly,' Claudia briefly closed her eyes, ‘sometimes I don't know how you get through your day.'

‘There! You see!' Bronwyn stabbed the table triumphantly as Claudia hit upon the crux of her problem. ‘I'm just not cut out to be a lawyer.'

Claudia pressed her lips together. ‘That's not what I said.'

‘Damn it, girl, I'm not offended.' Bronwyn threw up her hands. ‘You're absolutely right. I'm hopeless.'

‘Bronwyn, you are
not
hopeless.'

‘Well, I'm not good either.'

‘You're an Eddings.'

‘And what a curse that name has been to me since the day I was born,' Bronwyn returned bitterly. With her mother at the bar, her father a judge, one uncle in parliament and the other running one of the most prestigious law firms in town, what chance did she have of ever doing anything else?

‘You don't mean that.'

‘Of course I do. If I hadn't become a lawyer, my parents would have disowned me.'

In hindsight, that might not have been a bad thing.

‘So you're saying you did five years of study and four years of work just to fit in?'

Bronwyn shrugged. ‘I knew this was how you'd react.'

‘Do you blame me?' Claudia's eyes boggled.

‘You don't understand,' Bronwyn protested. ‘My mother is very controlling. You know how ambitious she is. She has all these plans and hopes for me. What was I going to say?'

‘No! Bron, you say
no
!'

It was Bronwyn's turn to get cross. ‘Well, if that isn't the kettle smoking pot, I don't know what is!'

‘You mean the pot calling the kettle black.' Claudia grinned.

‘Whatever.' Bronwyn tossed her head indignantly. ‘I'm not the only one at this table who caved in to family obligation.'

‘Good point,' Claudia conceded, then cunningly changed the subject. ‘But you still haven't answered my question. Did you agree to take his dog or not?'

Bronwyn veiled her eyes. ‘I said I needed a couple of days to think about it.'

‘Bron.'

‘The animal is on death row, Claud. What would you have done?'

‘Any number of things, but not that.'

Bronwyn straightened her shoulders. ‘He said I was the only one he trusted.'

‘That's what worries me,' Claudia's eyes narrowed. ‘Don't take the dog, Bron. Promise me.'

‘Okay, okay.' Bronwyn held up her hands. ‘I won't take the dog. It's not like it would be an easy thing to do anyway. My apartment building doesn't allow pets.' She frowned. ‘Just another reason why I hate it.'

‘I love your place,' Claudia protested. ‘It's small enough to have character but big enough to feel luxurious. It's perfect.'

‘It's numbing.'

‘Numbing?' Claudia choked. ‘Honey, you want to talk numbing? I still live with my parents.'

Bronwyn sighed, watching the traffic outside the window but not actually seeing it. ‘Yeah … in the most magical place on earth.'

Claudia impatiently took another sip of tea. ‘Did you hear me?
With. My. Parents.
'

‘In a gigantic house, on a huge property,' Bronwyn continued. ‘You probably barely even see each other.'

Claudia snorted. ‘I wish. Believe me, all of Yallingup isn't big enough for the three of us, not to mention dear brother Chris as well.'

Yallingup.

Bronwyn felt an immediate pang of both envy and longing as her friend named the place she had, for years, considered her private sanctuary. Not that she'd ever told Claudia that. It would have been too much pressure to put on their relationship, especially in the beginning.