Chapter 8
“It wasn’t my intention to hurt you,” Erica said with a sigh in her voice. “I had some of my own things that I had to work out too...” She had slid down the front-side of the desk, so that she was now seated awkwardly on the floor in front of Franky’s chair. Her hands were still grasping for something. It occurred to Franky that this was something that Erica must do when trying to decide if she should share something that would put her in a seemingly vulnerable position.
She waited for Erica to continue speaking, but her attention was focused squarely on the floor. Their silence was quickly becoming the loudest thing in the room.
“You could’ve sent a letter or a phone call, or something,” Franky hated the desperation coming from her voice. She looked past Erica to the painting that hung on the back wall. She remembered it from her office before. “And don’t say you couldn’t. If you really wanted to, you would have found a way.”
Erica continued to drum her fingers lightly on the floor. She sounded exhausted when she finally spoke again. “I can assure you that the staff weren’t looking to do me any favors.” While her gaze was no longer cast downwards, she still avoided looking at the woman seated slightly above her.
Did that mean Erica had tried to contact her? She shook her head, dismissing the thought. It was so much easier to hold on to being hurt but, hadn’t she been trying to let go of the past?
“Please believe that it wasn’t just about you,” Erica looked up towards Franky, but was outside her line of sight. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I had to secure another job.” What she couldn’t figure out, was why she continued to explain herself to Franky, or rather why it was so important to earn her forgiveness.
“So I was sidelined to your ambition?” Franky laughed sardonically. “I guess it wasn’t the first time.”
Their eyes finally met. “I never meant for that to happen,” Erica said seriously. She wondered if they were both referring to the same incident, where Franky had taken the fall for drugs that were brought in to the prison by one of Erica’s appointed tutors.
It was then that Franky realized that all she wanted from Erica was an apology. An “I’m sorry”. The senior solicitor had said everything but. They were apologies, maybe, but said in such a way that the onus was never really on the former governor. This thought put Franky back on the attack. She was not at all comfortable with how despondent she had sounded before.
“You know what I think?” she sneered. “I think there’ve been a lot of things in your life you never meant to happen. You do certain things because you think you’re supposed to, not because they’re even what you want.” She nodded at Erica’s hands. She had noticed, even at their meeting in the café weeks ago, that Erica was not wearing the engagement ring that she had so purposely flaunted in the past. “How long did it take for you to break it off?”
This frustrated Erica, her restless hands coiling into tight fists to conceal Franky’s observation of her ringless finger. “I don’t wear it to work,” she said sternly, as if the conversation could possibly end there.
“And why is that?”
Erica stood up suddenly, retreating back behind her desk. “I don’t need to talk about this with you.”
In truth, Erica was an opportunist. She felt that it was not to her advantage while working at the Office of Public Prosecutions for her co-workers to know that she was engaged (if she could really even call it that at this point). She hated sharing any bit of her personal life, so the less they knew the better. This was the one place where she didn’t have to be Mark’s fiancée. She was fine being known around the office solely as an ambitious senior solicitor.
Franky sat up from the chair she was slouched in and approached the desk. She had decided not to follow Erica, instead allowing the blonde to pretend that she had some sort of barrier between them. “No you don’t, but we’re going to be spending a lot of time together if you want this Ferguson case to run smoothly. If we don’t talk about it now, you don’t think we’re gonna talk about it eventually?” She gently touched the leaves of the orchid, apparently the only non-work related object on Erica’s desk.
“What do you want me to say, Franky?” Erica asked crossly. Her blue eyes were focused on the woman taunting her as she made a startling confession. “That I was attracted you? You and I both know what happened in that office. Just because you thought you had it figured out, doesn’t mean I was...” she paused, trying to find her words. “It doesn’t mean I even knew what was happening between us.” Her face flushed a light red, but from frustration rather than embarrassment. She had called Franky into her office to discuss the impending Ferguson trial, not to talk about their past. Granted, it was bound to happen eventually.
When Franky didn’t immediately interrupt as she anticipated, she continued. “There was no way I could contact you. Getting out of Wentworth meant I’d be able to put my own life back on track, and yes, do what I was supposed to be doing,” she spat. “You didn’t need me there. I’m sorry that Ferguson ran the place into utter shit, that’s my one regret with leaving the way I did.”
“While I appreciate your truthfulness,” Franky mocked. “I know that’s not your only regret.” She plucked a pedal off of the orchid, flicking it towards Erica.
Erica may have said more than ever about how she had felt, but they both knew she was still hesitating and omitting information. They had both effectively moved one step forward and two steps back. Erica’s frustrated little speech was simply the result of being able to collect her thoughts quickly enough. Franky, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to see what would happen when Erica was unable to think on her feet, and thus continued jeering, instead of trying to see things from a perspective that was not just her own.
“You are such a little shit,” Erica blurted out with a groan. She had settled back into her chair and had her hands drawn across her face. “Why can’t we talk about you instead?”
Franky let out a delighted laugh. That was probably the most honest reaction Erica had had to her in years.
- - -
“Are you sure you can’t get her to testify?” Theresa DeKoenig asked Erica Davidson later that day. “She’d be great to put on the stand.” They were again seated in Jim McCraig’s temporary office, as he continued to assume the role of Interim Director of Public Prosecutions.
“As of right now, no.” Erica said. She flipped the pages of her legal pad aimlessly, avoiding the gazes of Theresa and Jim.
Jim McCraig gave a knowing smile. “You know, Erica, you’ve gotten all sorts of reluctant witnesses in the box before. What’s stopping you now?” While he sounded amiable and non-chalant, this was his own way of saying that he had decided Franky’s testimony would be an integral part of the case against Joan Ferguson and now it was Erica’s responsibility to get her on the stand.
“She’s been through a lot.” admitted Erica. “I don’t want to make her do anything she doesn’t want to.”
It was Theresa’s turn to let out of a small chuckle. “Are you being serious? Since when do you care so much? Isn’t it usually all about the work for you?” Erica’s reputation clearly preceded her.
This was the second time today she was prompted to answer unwanted questions directed specifically at her character. Erica was already sick of it. When did the way she lead her life suddenly become so interesting?
“I don’t lack empathy, Theresa,” she snapped. “Look, I’ll work on it, but Franky’s stubborn. Don’t expect anything. We should look into additional witnesses beyond the ones we’re already considering.”
“We are and we will.” Jim said, opening up one of the many files related to the imminent Ferguson trial. He looked up at Erica, catching her straight in the eye. “However, I expect you to do whatever you have to do to get her on our side. You’ve done it before and you can do it again. I don’t care who she is.” There was, unusually, no humor in his voice.
Erica shuddered internally. This wasn’t the first time she’d been told that she’d have to do whatever she could with Franky Doyle.
And once again, Erica had her scruples.