Eight Letters

By Susan Horsnell

Caitlin was used to living in abandoned buildings, or derelict houses.

She didn't expect much out of life.

All she wanted was a better life for her brother, and eight letters.

Sam was a successful architect on his way to the top of the industry.

The last thing he needed was a relationship with a woman in charge of her little brother.

And what the hell were the eight letters all about?

Early Review Quotes:

"Honestly, the emotions are so real."

"I loved it, a beautiful Cinderella story."

"I couldn't put it down."

Set in and around Sydney, Australia. Written in Australian English.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lipstick Publishing
• Release date: Oct 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223493624

Susan Horsnell

I’m an Australian author who lives in Queensland when not travelling and I write in a variety of Romantic sub-genres, including Western,  Historical, Gay, Mafia, and Contemporary Romance.  I have published over 60 books and novellas, many of which feature strong, independent heroines and rugged, alpha male heroes. Some of my popular series include the Outback Australia series and The Carter Brothers series. My books are known for their well-researched historical details, vivid descriptions of the Australian landscape and real life experiences. My work has garnered praise from readers and critics alike, and I have been a Finalist in both the Rone Awards and Laramie Awards as well as being a multiple times International Bestselling Author and USA Today Bestselling Author. If you're interested in learning more about my books:  Linktree https://linktr.ee/SusanHorsnell   

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Copyright © 2019 by Susan Horsnell

The right of Susan Horsnell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical or mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

Note to Reader:

This book is purely fictional, a product of the author’s imagination and is written for the reader’s enjoyment. It is not intended to be used for Historical education.

None of the references to architecture, demolition etc are accurate or factual.

The characters and practices are fictional and should be regarded as such.

Some place names are real.

Written in Australian English.

Edited: Redline Editing

Proofread: Leanne Rogers

Published by: Lipstick Publishing

Chapter One

CAITLIN

Caitlin, get your fat arse out here now and take your brother out of my sight before I knock him into next week!

I scrambled from beneath the threadbare blanket, paying no attention when my back screamed in pain, protesting at sleeping on the cold concrete floor.

We were living in an abandoned unit block in Pyrmont, not far from the fish markets and within walking distance to my brother’s school and the supermarket I worked at. It had been almost a year since we’d relocated after being evicted from a run-down house about a kilometre down the road. We’d been in that one for almost six months before the landlord got tired of mum not paying the rent. It was the story of my life. I can’t recall ever being in one place for more than twelve months, so the fact a year was fast approaching in our current home made me nervous. I’d also lost count of the number of schools I’d attended.

Mum was happy, there was no rent to be paid, but I wondered how long it would be before the owners got wind of how many squatters they had freeloading in their building.

The place wasn’t bad compared to most I’d lived in. Three bedrooms, combined living, dining and kitchen, huge bathroom and even a balcony which overlooked Darling Harbour. For some unknown reason, the power, heat and water had all been left on. I didn’t mind, for the first time in years, I showered in hot water and could even take a regular bath which did wonders for my aching back.

Our mother hated paying rent to keep a roof over the bastards’ heads – her words not mine. She preferred to use the money she made from prostituting herself on fancy clothes, shoes and drugs. The little she handed to me each week, as if it were a king’s ransom, was barely enough to buy food to keep us alive. At least she didn’t expect me to feed her.

I made extra money by working at a local supermarket while my ten-year-old brother – Brody, was at school. Being forced to opt out of my own education by the age of fifteen, I was determined my brother would be given every opportunity he needed to make something of himself. If it meant I had to turn to prostitution to get the money we needed to educate him then, so be it.

At twenty-one years old, I should have been dating, enjoying myself, but what man would want a skinny, ugly, poor excuse for a woman like me?

I shook my head to clear the cobwebs from the little sleep I’d managed to get and hurried towards the kitchen where I could hear mum and my brother arguing.

"Muuum, you promised I could go on school camp this year. Mrs Richards said the money has to be paid today or I’ll be stuck at school." Brody stomped his foot in anger.

I stepped closer to my brother’s side, so if mum did snap, I was closer to her and would bear the brunt of the slap. I was used to taking backhanders and punches when Brody crossed mum’s invisible, very thin line of patience. It was better for me to go to work with a bruised face, than for my brother to attend school with bruises and have questions asked.

Co-workers suspected I was the recipient of abuse but didn’t have a clue who the perpetrator was. At my age I guess they thought it was a violent boyfriend. They also assumed I was shy because I never uttered a word about my life when the truth was, I didn’t want anyone knowing the conditions I lived in, or where.

You did promise, mum. It’s not fair that he should be left out while his friends go.

Mum slammed her hands on her hips and glared at my brother. How much?

Brody unfolded a slip of paper and handed it to her. She snatched it away from him and took a moment to read it before laughing. Eighty dollars? For three fucking days? Where the fuck are you going?

It’s at Narrabeen, on the beach. Cody glanced at me, I noted the hope fading in his eyes.

I’m not paying that for you to go and stay in a tent a few suburbs away. I’ll take you myself one day.

Brody’s voice shook as he became even more upset. It wouldn’t be the same. The camp has archery, canoeing, campfire, everything. I can hang out with my friends. Please, mum?

It broke my heart to hear him begging her for something he should have been able to do. He was such a good kid. With her for a mother, he could have run off the rails, but he had a lovely, obedient temperament. He concentrated hard at school and always came top of his class in tests. I was so proud of him.

He was always so excited when he got his test results, never falling below an A-, most of the time scoring an A+. At those times, I’d wait until mum left for ‘work’ and take him to Maccas to celebrate. Mum had no idea I had enough money to give him treats such as a movie, new clothes, or a meal out. She harboured the impression check-out chicks made next to nothing and it worked in my favour that she thought the way she did.

Brody rarely asked for anything and when he’d told me about the camp, I’d set the money aside so he could go. It only meant I didn’t add as much to my savings that week. I’d known she wouldn’t pay it.

I squeezed Brody’s hand. Don’t worry about it, kiddo. The school has special funds for children whose parents can’t afford to pay, I’ll ask Mrs Edwards today if we can access those.

Brody gazed up at me, hope restored to his eyes. Like the fund that pays for my uniforms and books?

Yep, I paid for all those too, but I wasn’t about to let mum know. That’s the one.

He jumped into my arms and kissed my cheek. You’re the bestest sister in the whole, wide world.

You’re the bestest brother in the whole, wide world. I kissed him back, revelling in his hug before he stepped back. I ached for affection, having never had any from my mother. I didn’t have a clue who my father was, nor did she. Probably one of the drug dealers or johns mum associated with.

Brody’s dad had been an addict who’d overdosed two days after he was born. Mum had been out celebrating my brother’s birth with him while I was left to care for the baby. I was eleven years old at the time and used to being left to do for myself. Then, I found myself with a baby to care for as well.

I’d worried myself sick about him while I was at school and had been unable to concentrate on getting good grades. It was a shame because when I put my mind to it, the teachers commented I was highly intelligent. Many a day I ditched school to check Brody was okay.

Thankfully, mum developed a thread of responsibility and when I wasn’t at home, she actually took care of him. When he’d started school, her attitude changed and she left me ‘to deal with him.’

My thoughts returned to the present.

I’m going to bed, it’s been a long night. Mum tottered off in her sky-high heels towards the bedroom she’d claimed as hers.

It had a walk-in robe, ensuite and a bed the last resident had left behind. After she left the room, Brody gazed up at me. Do you really think I’ll be able to go to camp, Caitlin?

I promise you can go. When you get to school you can tell Bryce and Harvey you’re going too.

Yippee! I’ll get ready for school.

He started to run off towards his bedroom and I called after him.

Shower while I make breakfast.

Okay, he shouted back.

Shut the fuck up, some of us have to sleep.

Sorry, mum, love you. Brody responded.

I remained silent.

˜*˜

SAM

Angie, where’s the file on the new unit block in Pyrmont?

On your desk, under your damn nose.

I shuffled through the small pile of files again. Nope, it’s not here.

I smiled when I heard our PA’s squeaky chair slide across the tiled floor. A few moments later, she stomped into my office.

I swear to the good Lord above, I don’t know which of you is more useless – you or Steve.

She moved two files from the top of the pile and jammed her finger on the label of the next one. It read: Opal Units – Pyrmont.

I gazed up at her through lowered eyelids, my I’m innocent look as she referred to it.

Don’t give me that look. Really, when are you and my fiancé going to read the damn labels I stick on your files?

I held up my hands, palms out. In my defence, and Steve’s too, the labels are pretty small.

Angie huffed before stomping from my office, me chuckling at her back. The poor woman, I felt sorry for the fact she had to deal with two clueless architects when it came to office procedures and she’d been doing it for the entire time we’d been in business.

I flipped open the file. This unit development was a real coup for our fledgling construction company. Steve, my best friend since primary school, and I, had been in business for six years. I was an Architectural Engineer with a Masters degree, Steve had a Masters in Architecture. We’d scored a few medium sized developments over the years where we’d come in under budget, but well above safety standards. We didn’t cut corners, no matter what.

So, when Angie noticed the call for tenders to redevelop the Opal unit block, Steve and I decided we had nothing to lose by putting together a proposal.

Never in our wildest dreams had we thought there was a chance of us winning the contract. I knew we weren’t in the same ballpark as other contenders as far as price was concerned. The two largest companies in Sydney could do the job for two thirds of the price we’d quoted. Being a small company, we didn’t have the buying power or the same access to discount materials.

When the current owners – James & Sons had called two days ago to advise we’d scored the job, I was speechless. Steve and Angie insisted it was probably someone playing a joke.

When revised plans, with a few tweaks to Steve’s original design, had been dropped in the previous afternoon, we’d all finally accepted, the offer was real.

Six years of hard slog, taking financial risks, meeting the right people and proving ourselves to be honest and reliable, had finally gotten us our big break.

The new building was fourteen stories’ in height, one hundred and four units with state-of-the-art appliances and fittings, two four-bedroom penthouses, gym, pool, sauna, spa, conference rooms and restaurant. A build to the tune of one hundred and thirty-seven million dollars and we could expect to make damn good money for our company after the costs had been taken care of.

Once the news had been released to the public and we had no further doubts about the contract being ours, we celebrated in style at est. one of the best restaurants in Sydney.

Steve loped into my office and plopped himself in the chair on the other side of my desk.

I still can’t believe we got the big one.

I shrugged. Neither can I, but our drawings were sound with my engineering and your design offered a unique exterior as well as stylish interior. Isaac said it was one of the best designs he’d seen in years and that’s something considering how picky he is.

Isaac was our Chief Engineer and one of the most senior people we had on staff. We needed his expertise for when we had more than one project running at the same time and we’d definitely need his experience on this one.

Despite the fact I was an Engineer, my main talent was in architecture like Steve. Isaac ensured whatever plans the two of us came up with were viable. Sometimes our ideas stretched the laws of physics and Isaac could recommend changes which worked.

We were proud of the team we’d developed in a relatively short time. We had sixty-three employees in total – Engineers, Draftsmen, Design Consultants, Project Managers, Builders, Electricians, Plumbers, tilers and gofers. Angie was personal PA to both Steve and I as well as managing the office