High Potential Read online

  Ber Carroll was born in Blarney, County Cork, and moved to Australia in 1995. She worked as a finance director in the information technology industry until the release of her first novel, Executive Affair. Her second book, Just Business, was published in Ireland and Germany and is soon to be released in Australia. Ber lives in Sydney’s Northern Beaches with her husband and two children. Occasionally, in search of inspiration, she dons a business suit and briefcase and returns to the world of finance.

  Also by Ber Carroll

  Executive Affair

  Just Business

  Ber Carroll

  high potential

  First published 2008 in Macmillan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited 1 Market Street, Sydney

  Copyright © Ber Carroll 2008

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  Carroll, Ber, 1971-

  High potential/Ber Carroll

  ISBN 978 1 4050 3876 8

  A823.4

  This story is entirely fictional and no character described in this book is based upon or bears any resemblance to any real person, whether living or deceased, and any similarity is purely coincidental.

  Typeset in 12.5/14 pt Granjon Roman by Post Pre-press Group

  Printed by McPherson’s Printing Group

  Papers used by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests. The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.

  These electronic editions published in 2008 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd 1 Market Street, Sydney 2000

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  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, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.

  High Potential

  Ber Carroll

  Adobe eReader format 978-1-74198-228-2

  Microsoft Reader format 978-1-74198-287-9

  Mobipocket format 978-1-74198-346-3

  Online format 978-1-74198-405-7

  Epub format 978-1-74262-371-9

  Macmillan Digital Australia

  www.macmillandigital.com.au

  Visit www.panmacmillan.com.au to read more about all our books and to buy both print and ebooks online. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events.

  For Nellie

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to the whole team at Pan Macmillan, especially Cate Paterson and Julia Stiles. I’m delighted to have found a home with you.

  Thanks to Brian Cook, my literary agent plus much more.

  Thanks to Paula Campbell, Gaye Shortland, Anna Kassulke, Karen Penning and Amanda Longmore for your perceptive comments and wise recommendations.

  For matters of law, medicine, geography, technology and history, a special thanks to Siobhan Lyndon, Anita Kanetkar, Harry Carroll, John Downey, Rowena Tunks, Carol Long (Associate Producer of TV show RPA), Eric Carroll, Dee Woodward, Denis O’Mahony, Luke Wegener, Mark Worley, Martina Crowley, Sister Sarto and June Goulding (author of The Light in the Window).

  Rob, your critical eye and unwavering support is evidenced in every page of this book.

  Finally, a heartfelt thank you to my family, friends and all those who have read Executive Affair and Just Business. I hope you enjoy this one!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Katie Horgan rummaged through her bag, looking for her wallet.

  The taxi driver drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and glanced curiously at the modest redbrick house that was his passenger’s destination. Music and laughter floated from the rear of the house through the open windows of the cab.

  ‘Sounds like a good party going on in there,’ he drawled.

  ‘It’s my mum’s birthday.’ Katie found her wallet and extracted a crinkled twenty-dollar note. ‘Keep the change.’

  She swung the door open and stepped out into the late-afternoon sun.

  ‘The Irish sure know how to have fun,’ the driver grinned through the window.

  She was about to ask how he knew their nationality when she registered the telltale traditional music.

  She laughed. ‘It’s a good thing all the neighbours are at the party and aren’t likely to complain about the noise.’

  ‘Actually, it wasn’t the music. It was you – those blue eyes had to be Irish.’ He winked at her. ‘Enjoy your party.’

  Katie walked up the short drive to the house. The door was unlocked and she let herself in. The hall ended in a sunny kitchen, an oversized window spilling in light, brightening everything and lending an illusion of newness. Food cluttered the counter top and the rustic oak table in varied states of preparation, and three of her mother’s friends jostled for space as they prepared to feed the hordes. They greeted her with family-like familiarity.

  ‘Katie, you look tired. Working too hard, I suppose.’

  ‘Katie, you’re late. Your mother’s out on the deck.’

  ‘Here, Katie, can you carry this salad out with you?’

  Katie hugged and kissed them all, and took the bowl outside where the party was in full swing. Frankie and Rose Horgan were the centre of attention as they waltzed around the deck to ‘Sweet Sixteen’.

  ‘Katie,’ Frankie called out when he saw his daughter come through the French doors, ‘did you know your mother was just sweet sixteen when I first met her?’

  ‘Yes, I did know, Dad.’

  Katie shared a smile with her brother, Stephen. Frankie had told them a hundred times, if not more.

  ‘And she’s as beautiful today as she was back then,’ was his next predictable line.

  Rose shook her head in affectionate exasperation. ‘And you talk as much rubbish today as you did back then!’

  She didn’t look the sixty years she was celebrating, her hair more blonde than grey and her figure trim. Even her voice sounded girlish with its soft Irish lilt.

  They finished the dance to a round of applause and Frankie went back to his post at the barbecue. His rough builder’s hands were clumsy as they manoeuvred the tongs around the meat. H
e was still a novice at the art of barbecuing, despite the fact that he had lived in Australia for forty-three years.

  ‘I’m an Irishman, not an Aussie,’ he would say in self-defence when the guests teased him about the blackened meat.

  But for now, at least, the guests were enjoying a glass of wine and not paying too much attention to the warning signs of carnage on the barbecue grill. The last rays of sun warmed their skin and the wooden beams under their feet. Happy Birthday, Rose stretched in a banner over their heads and flapped with the tail end of a breeze that gusted in from Botany Bay.

  ‘You look tired, love,’ Rose said to Katie.

  ‘So I’ve been told,’ she replied wryly. ‘Work has been busy. In fact, I had to go into the office this morning.’

  ‘On a Sunday?’

  Rose’s disapproving tone seemed to bring a lull to the conversations that were going on around them.

  ‘Yeah,’ Katie answered, keeping her voice low so it could be heard only by her parents. ‘I’ll be away the week after next so I’m trying to get ahead.’

  Stephen lumbered over, beer in hand. ‘Did I just hear that you’re going away, Sis?’ he asked in his booming voice, thwarting Katie’s attempt to keep the conversation private. ‘Anywhere exotic?’

  Stephen worked as an engineer in the family business, and thanks to all the time he spent on noisy construction sites, he was totally oblivious to the volume of his voice.

  ‘It’s a residential course at the Hunter Valley.’

  ‘What’s the course on?’

  Stephen was five years older than Katie and he took a keen interest in her career. Well aware that he was under-utilising his own talents, he seemed to need occasional reassurance that his little sister was taking advantage of every opportunity that came her way.

  ‘It’s a High Potential programme,’ Katie told him. ‘Six senior associates have been selected from the Sydney practice – they’ll put us through training and three of us will be offered a partnership at the end of the year.’

  Her mother looked dubious. ‘It sounds like some kind of competition.’

  Rose had a knack for hitting the nail right on the head and Katie laughed. ‘You know what, Mum? That’s exactly what it is!’

  ‘The others won’t stand a chance against our Katie,’ said Stephen, only half joking. ‘They should give you one of the partnerships straight up and fight amongst themselves for the other two places.’

  Katie smiled. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence but it will be a very even field.’

  ‘You mean the others are as determined and competitive as you?’ he asked, cocking one bushy eyebrow.

  ‘I don’t know who they are yet, but I can assure you that they’re worse than me. They’ll be seeing dollar signs and won’t care who they trample on to win.’

  ‘You know, kiddo, you’re improving my impression of lawyers by the minute.’ He ruffled his fair hair as if perplexed by the ruthlessness of it all.

  They all laughed except Rose. ‘Does this programme mean that you’ll have to travel?’

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ Katie answered. ‘There’s a compulsory four-month overseas assignment.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘No chance of getting back with Geoff, then?’ asked Jean, their next-door neighbour, plump, kindly and totally tactless. It seemed that the conversation was now a free-for-all.

  ‘No.’ Katie felt herself tensing. Considering everybody here regarded themselves as pseudo aunts and uncles with the accompanying concern about her welfare, it wasn’t surprising that they felt compelled to ask about her broken engagement. But the fact it was expected didn’t necessarily mean it was any easier to talk about.

  ‘Geoff couldn’t keep up with our Katie,’ said Alexander, a big, meaty Russian who had met Frankie Horgan on a construction site long before Katie was born. ‘You’re a career girl – eh, Katie?’

  All eyes on her now, Katie mustered a smile, as if Alexander was right on the mark.

  If only the situation with Geoff was as simple as me putting my career first, she thought.

  However, she acknowledged that Alexander had seen her graduate through nappies, braces and sullen teenage rebellion before finding herself at university. Maybe he knew her better than she knew herself.

  ‘Career won’t buy you love –’ Jean started to say.

  ‘Where’s Annie?’ Katie asked, changing the subject abruptly. ‘She told me she was coming.’

  Annie, Jean’s daughter, was her closest friend. With only six months between them, they had been inseparable from toddlers to teenagers. Katie had been maid of honour when Annie got married last year and she was godmother to her six-month-old baby boy, Zack.

  Jean tutted with disapproval. ‘Zack is acting up again. I told Annie that being a mother was much harder work than a highflying career – but she didn’t listen. You young girls –’

  Jean stopped mid-sentence as angry amber flames whooshed from the barbecue. Burning fat sizzled and hissed as Frankie madly swatted the fire with his spatula. By the time it was under control, Jean had forgotten the advice she had been about to impart and the conversation moved on. Katie breathed a sigh of relief and hoped that was the last she would hear of Geoff for the night.

  The party didn’t wind up until the early hours of the morning. Katie walked Jean, who was more than a little tipsy, next door and then joined the rest of the family on the deck. The night possessed the chill of looming winter and they had swapped short sleeves for fleece sweaters many hours before.

  ‘Comfortable?’ Stephen enquired as Katie stretched her denim-clad legs along the cane lounge.

  ‘Not yet.’ She propped some cushions behind her back. ‘Now I’d be entirely comfortable if you would pour me a glass of wine.’

  ‘Bloody hell – if you become a partner you’ll want me to drop grapes in your mouth as well,’ he complained as he reached for the bottle of chardonnay.

  She smiled; nobody would be happier than Stephen if she got the partnership. They were very close and she was as ambitious for him as he was for her. But he was thirty-six, and floundering in both his career and his personal life. He was highly intelligent, with a brilliant mind that Katie always thought should build monumental bridges and state-of-the-art office towers, not houses in the suburbs. Unfortunately for him, women often didn’t look past the big loud exterior to see the intelligence, humour and kindness beneath.

  With the wine’s cool oak taste in her mouth, Katie sank deeper into the weathered cushions of the lounge. She loved it out here on the deck. Frankie had built it when she was in her mid-teens. Potted plants, crowded along the base of the pale green fencing, added their scent to the sunbaked wooden beams and burnt barbecue coals. Katie took a deep breath in, storing up the calmness, creating a reserve to get her through the hectic week ahead.

  The minutes ticked comfortably by until Rose broke the silence.

  ‘I told people they needn’t bring anything,’ she said, shaking her head at the table full of gifts and cards.

  Katie came out of her reverie. ‘They only want to mark the occasion, Mum. There are some beautiful things here.’ She swung her legs down and reached for one of the cards.

  Keep true to the dreams of your youth, Rose, and have a wonderful birthday,

  From your dear friends, Alice and Tom

  Frankie and Rose’s friends were like family; they had replaced the people they had left behind in Ireland. Forty years’ worth had gathered in the small house with the large deck to cheer Rose on as she entered a new decade of her life.

  ‘I just wanted everybody to have a good time,’ said Rose. ‘Not to waste money –’ She broke off as tears welled up in her eyes.

  ‘Ah, come on now, Rose,’ said Frankie, drawing her to him in a gruff hug. ‘You’re only a bit overwhelmed, that’s all.’

  She sniffed and nodded simultaneously. ‘I know – I’m being silly – must be too much wine.’

  ‘Yeah, that second glass must have been your undoing,’ sa
id Stephen with a grin.

  ‘If only you stopped at two,’ she retorted, regaining her composure somewhat. ‘You’ll have a fine head on you in the morning!’

  Rose caught Katie smirking into her glass of wine. ‘I don’t know what you’re laughing at, you’re as bad as him. Smoking yourself to death as well, thinking that I don’t know.’

  Katie shrugged good-naturedly. ‘I know that you know – but I don’t smoke in front of you out of respect.’

  Rose rolled her eyes. Her motherly chiding was always underscored by a loving concern and her ability to laugh at all their foibles.

  ‘Oh well, I’d better redeem myself and give you your birthday present.’ Katie gave an exaggerated sigh as she put down her glass.

  ‘I hope you haven’t gone over the top too,’ said Rose.

  ‘It’s nothing that you don’t deserve,’ Katie replied. ‘Can you pass my bag, please, Stephen?’

  He handed it over, grimacing at the weight of it. ‘Jesus! What do you keep in there?’

  The bag’s more sizeable contents included a make-up pouch, an electronic diary and a bestselling novel. Smaller items, like old shopping lists, crumpled receipts and loose change, had gravitated to the bottom. Extremely ordered and tidy when it came to her work, Katie was much less particular in her personal life. Chaos prevailed in both her handbag and her apartment.

  The envelope for her mother came out looking a little tattered around the edges. Katie leant across to kiss Rose’s cheek.

  ‘Happy birthday, Mum!’

  Rose tore cautiously along the envelope’s seal. She slowly pulled out the contents and took a moment to read them.

  ‘Tickets,’ her voice was faint, ‘to Ireland.’

  ‘To Ireland?’ Frankie repeated incredulously.

  They both stared down at the tickets in her quivering hand.

  Katie rushed in to fill the awkward silence. ‘You’ll need to go for a few months – forty years is a lot to catch up on . . .’ Her voice trailed away when it became evident that they didn’t share her enthusiasm. ‘Sorry, Mum. Have I overwhelmed you again?’