Chanel Sweethearts (3 page)

‘We're going to need a lot of rubbish,' Rainbow said, frowning as she looked at the acre of grassy field.

‘Yep, we can ask around the area.'

‘Yeah! We can get all the rubbish from the neighbours,' Rainbow said excitedly. ‘We can become the town's compost dump! What a great saving for everyone, they won't have to use the tip.'

‘Yeah, it's good already and we haven't even started.' Songbird put her hands on her hips and stood staring out at the potential landfill site.

‘So that's stage one,' Rainbow said, eyeing off their own compost heap.

‘Yep, then in a couple of months it'll be ready for the next bit; that's where we suck up the carbon and start making a difference.

The women ensured their children were all working together happily in the vegetable garden, then picked up their tools and started turning their compost mountain, discussing, in detail, their plans for saving the planet.

Tori lugged a washing basket full of new linen through the front door. She felt like she was wagging school, coming down to the holiday house on a weekday, but there was so much to do to prepare for the season.

The beds had to be made up, so she left the new Sheridan linens on the end of each bed for Joy the cleaner. The pantry had to be cleared and restocked. She wrote Joy a detailed note explaining her alphabetical storage system. The outdoor furniture had to be sanded back and oiled; she sent the handyman a text. What next, she wondered, rubbing her hands with satisfaction at how well she was powering through her duties.

Right, windows. Trickier chore, that. She didn't have the window cleaner on speed dial. She shuffled through the kitchen drawer until she found the business card holder. First one. She called and booked him in for the following weekend. Job done.

She popped out to the car to scoop up the box of summer tableware she'd picked up at Country Road and the fluffy new towels in aquamarine and teal, which were her colours this summer.

As she lugged the homewares inside, she bubbled with excitement at the summer ahead. She couldn't wait for the kids to break up from school so they could load up the four-wheel drive and spend two glorious months in the country. Besides, she needed a break from her husband, Owen. It was a real struggle living under the one roof at the moment so a summer break would do them all good.

She dropped her load at the front entrance and stood admiring her beautiful garden. White sand spilled from the drive through the meandering paths that had been painstakingly styled by the landscaper to look natural and beachy. Wide driftwood bench seats dotted along the pathways overlooked feature acacias, she-oaks and flowering gums.

Her favourite trees, her magnolias, flanked the front door. She'd argued with the landscape designer over those. He'd suggested they weren't native, would probably struggle to live without regular water and, more importantly, wouldn't suit the overall design, but she absolutely loved them and insisted. He was probably right in the end. They did look a bit dead.

She stepped over the knobby club-rush that was overgrowing onto her jetty-style front walkway. Her next priority was to get stuck into the garden. She pulled out her phone and booked the landscape gardener. Excellent.

Tori looked out at the exterior of the house. The place really could do with a good clean. Algae grew up the sides of the bollards she'd bought from the Flinders Pier renovation. Country dust coated the weatherboards. And the big artistic granite rocks lining the garden's entrance could use a thorough scrub – they were filthy. She phoned Nick to organise an external mini-facelift before next weekend.

He protested that he was too busy working full-time next door, but she sulked loudly until he gave in.

‘Why can't your handyman do it for you, Tori? Dave's a good man,' Nick said.

‘Oh no, I only use him for the basic jobs. We really need you for the more high-level work,' Tori insisted before bidding him farewell and tossing her phone on the kitchen bench.

She was exhausted. Time for a cuppa. Maybe Jessica was at home. She went out onto her back deck and looked over the post-and-wire fence to the neighbouring property. Although Jessica's land was several hundred acres, the homestead was just a few hundred metres from the boundary. No, Jess's old Patrol wasn't in the drive. She must be at the General Store. Well, that was as good a place as any for a break.

Tori unloaded the rest of her summertime essentials from the car: Saeco espresso machine, new beach towels, boogie boards, wetsuits, pantry items from The Essential Ingredient that couldn't be sourced at the local IGA, new cushions in teal and aqua and, finally, ramekins. She certainly couldn't do an entire summer without ramekins, now, could she?

At last it was time for a well-earned break. She hopped into the BMW, retracted the convertible's roof to enjoy spring's nervous sunshine and headed down to the General Store.

Richard would never tire of this view. There it was, his precious MCG right in his backyard. He may have been a country boy at heart, growing up on the Springforth Estate, then raising his two children, Jessica and Angus, down there with his now late wife Eva, but Richard Wainwright embraced every aspect of his city lifestyle.

Sporting events within a stroll; exhibitions, theatre and shows next door; bars, clubs and restaurants rendering his kitchen redundant. Even his daily espresso was taken care of by the barista in the five-star apartment building's lobby.

He plucked a cherry tomato from the ornamental tree perched on the stone patio table and popped it into his mouth. Definitely lacking the country composted flavour, but never mind. At least it gave the stone and stainless steel balcony a touch of green. He poured a cup of water into the plant.

He gave one more look at his beloved sporting arena. Cricket season was around the corner and so was The Long Room; come on summer! He sniffed the smoggy spring morning and went back into the apartment.

The phone on the kitchen bench caught his eye and he frowned. His beloved daughter, Jessica, hadn't called for two days. Perhaps he should ring and see how she was. But he already knew. She'd been miserable ever since that bastard–. No, he stopped himself. He wouldn't allow negative thoughts to block his energy. His tai chi instructor advocated eliminating such bitter emotions.

He took a calming breath and opened his MacBook. It hummed to life with an aerial shot of Springforth Estate. God he loved that place. He could see the old lavender fields where Eva had run the Lavender Lunches cafe in the early eighties. Good lord, was it really almost thirty years ago? The beef cattle were grazing in stasis and Jess's crazy garden looked like a lace doily resting under the house.

Richard checked his email. Board papers had been sent for his next directors' meeting. He had been one of Australia's largest beef cattle breeders but had long since sold off the business and was now semi-retired as a board member and shareholder of the company Beef Bargains of Queensland. He enjoyed the advisory role as it freed up his time for more pleasurable pursuits. His mind flickered over to the sultry Genevieve Walters and he smiled in memory of their last get-together.

Genevieve was a stunner; all voluptuous curves, flashing white teeth and big blue eyes that shone with life and fun.

They'd been seeing each other for a few months now and he loved her feisty nature and glamorous looks. He flicked through his emails quickly and was disappointed to see there was no news from Jess, just another message from his daughter-in-law complaining again about the long hours Angus worked and how annoying the children were being. Richard shook his head and wondered anew how his son coped with his high-maintenance wife.

He shut his laptop and put family out of his mind for a while; he'd ring Jess tonight, but right now he was late for Genevieve.

Nick was at the top of his ladder, his voice muffled as it drifted down from inside the ceiling cavity. ‘So, how's Blondie MacBrilliant working out?' he asked.

‘Look, she might struggle to tell her lattes from her laksa, but she's really sweet, and besides, she needs the work,' Jess said. She frowned crossly at the Excel spreadsheet on her computer.

‘You're a real softy, Red.'

‘Don't call me that,' she replied.

‘What? Softy?' he teased.

‘No, you know what I mean.'

‘What, “Red”? Why not? It's your name; you earned it!'

‘Just don't do it in front of people.'

‘What people? Everyone in the village knows it's your nickname. Are you worried the posh city girls might hear?'

‘No,' she said defensively, stabbing the keyboard of her laptop. ‘It's just got a bit old, that's all.'

She'd acquired the nickname in her late teens. She, her boyfriend Mark and Nick had been building a chook house at Springforth and Jess had insisted on painting its exterior in lurid cherry to cheer up the chooks. As Nick brought the can of paint to her he had tripped on a rock and a sheet of bright red had sailed through the air and landed all over Jessica. It coated her hair and face, dripped from her chin, soaked her chest and ran down her legs.

Mark and Nick had stared aghast in silence for about two seconds, then laughed so hard neither could stand up. They'd rolled around on the gravel path almost in pain with mirth.

The oil-based paint took days to wash off completely, leaving Jess with a faint pink tinge to her skin and hair for several days. Every time Mark or Nick passed her in the school halls they'd burst out with fresh laughter and ask, ‘How's it going, Red?' Somehow it just didn't seem as funny to her as it did to them.

‘Hellooo, are you here, Jessica?' Tori popped her head through the servery window. ‘Any chance of a coffee around here? I haven't seen a waitress since I arrived.'

‘Tori!' Jess exclaimed, walking into the cafe to greet her friend.

‘Hello, daaarling!' Tori smiled, and gave Jess a bear hug.

‘You haven't been down in ages. I've missed you,' Jess replied.

‘I know, bloody weekend sport. It's a real pain. I've half a mind to have the boys join the local footy team down here.'

‘You should, then I'd get to see you more often,' Jess said as they sat down at a corner table.

‘I was kidding, I like their limbs intact, thanks all the same. I've heard how rough the locals play.'

‘Hmm, good point,' Jess answered, looking round to see her new waitress standing in the corner frowning at a box of napkins.

‘Trixie, two lattes over here, please,' she called with a wave.

‘Oh, sorry,' Trixie said, dimpling her cheek. ‘I didn't see you there.'

‘Is she new?' Tori asked, stowing her Fendi Zucchino bag safely under the table.

‘Yes, still learning the ropes. Last Wednesday was a nightmare: she left meals going cold in the kitchen while she fiddled with her iPhone. Somehow she'd changed it to Mandarin and then couldn't read the phone menu to change it back to English.'

‘Well, she seems nice. By the way, the place looks brilliant, Jess,' Tori said, looking around. ‘And the gallery has so much great stuff to buy. I can't decide on that duck-egg blue vase or the canvas totes. I think I'll get both, they'll work well with my summer theme this year.'

‘Yes, I've made it summer-ready,' Jess said and followed her friend's eye around the room appraisingly. ‘The holiday hordes are about to hit.'

In the corner the overstuffed sofa piled high with cushions sat behind a sixties boomerang-shaped coffee table. Magazines from the seventies and eighties spilled from an old brass newspaper rack on the floor. The fireplace, cleaned of winter's cheery warmth, was decorated in Jess's signature styling with accessories from the nearby beach: driftwood sticks with shells and urchins dangling from their limbs.

‘I love how you make the cafe look like just one more of your sculptures,' Tori commented.

‘Thanks.' Jess squeezed her friend's hand. ‘That's what it feels like for me too. Aaaand,' – she drew the word out for dramatic effect – ‘you'll never guess what happened to me last week.'

‘Ooh, gossip, you know how I love that, sweetie,' Tori said. ‘It's almost as fun as shopping!' She smiled her thanks as the waitress put a frothy coffee before her.

‘Thanks, Trixie.' Jess waited till the girl was out of earshot before she continued. ‘I had a very interesting visitor, and an even more interesting offer.'

Tori squirmed with excitement. ‘Don't hold back, darling, give me the details.'

‘Well, I don't know if I've ever told you about Jimmy McConnell?'

‘Hunky heart-throb from design school?'

‘Oh, yes, I did, ridiculous really, can't believe I had such a crush. Although he's still rather gorgeous. And anyway, he's offered me a job.'

‘What? Where?'

‘In town!'

‘No way!'

‘Yes way.'

‘Where in town? That'll be great, you'll have access to much better retail opportunities. What would you be doing?'

‘I would be a designer, chief designer in fact, at Mimsy Baxter's Still Life.'

‘Wow, Jess, that's brilliant. I love that store. I'd never send a bunch of flowers ever again – why would you when you could send a sculpture? I love their stuff. I'm in there all the time snapping up gorgeous bits and pieces.' Tori's eyes shone with excitement.

‘I know. Mimsy's fab, isn't she?'

Tori gave a shrug. ‘Well, you have to take the job of course,' she said.

‘You think?' Jess twirled one long blonde curl around her finger. ‘You really think I should?'

‘Of course, darling, it's exactly what you need. It will be a breath of fresh air after the sadness of the past year and you'd be much closer to the boys up in the city.'

‘I thought of that,' Jess nodded, dropping the tendril of hair. ‘Imagine if Graham changed his mind and let me see them sometimes; how amazing would that be?' She clapped her hands with excitement at the idea. ‘It really could work, couldn't it?'

Suddenly her face clouded over. ‘But then again, this is my home. What about the store, the gallery, Springforth and...' An image of Nick's smiling face flitted through her mind. ‘...And, you know, my friends down here?'

‘Darling, it's the city, not Europe,' Tori scolded, lightly tapping Jessica on the wrist. ‘You have everything running smoothly here with Linda in control, and Melbourne's only an hour-and-a-half away. You could come home on weekends and have the best of both worlds.'

‘Yes, that's true. There's nothing really stopping me,' Jess said, and chewed her thumbnail thoughtfully.

Tori waggled a finger at her. ‘What about Nick? What will he say?'

Jessica frowned. ‘What are you talking about? What's Nick got to do with it?'

‘Found your problem, Jess,' came Nick's voice from the kitchen. ‘I found what's making the god-awful smell.'

‘Oh, Jeezuz! Keep it down!' Jess leapt up from the table. ‘Excuse me, Tori, kitchen issue. I'll get Trixie to bring you some lunch.'

As she entered the kitchen, she fumed. ‘Could you not announce to the entire restaurant that we have a stinky kitchen?' she demanded.

Nick's cheeky grin emerged from the manhole. ‘Keep your hair on, Red. Look.' A dead mouse dangled by its tail from his fingers.

Jess flew over and slammed the lid on a stockpot that was bubbling away precariously close to the carcass.

‘Shit!' she whispered in horror. ‘We haven't got mice, have we?'

‘No, this little guy's a one-off. The traps are all empty and the bait hasn't been touched. Have you noticed any mouse droppings?'

‘None at all. You're a star. How about a steak sandwich for your efforts?'

‘With fries, cos I'm about to nail that loose verandah board down.'

‘Your prices have gone up,' she told him, smiling.

‘I'm a skilled worker, you know. You can't expect me to charge mere bread and water.'

She laughed as she wrote down his order and took it over to the chef.

It was funny that Tori had mentioned Nick. It wasn't as if they were an item – never had been – though they'd been the closest of friends at high school. Back then he'd constantly had a troupe of admirers happy to be his girl but he'd never settled on any one favourite. Then, during their HSC year, Imogen had come along with her sleek big-city attitude and had finally tamed the most popular boy in school. They'd got married after she fell pregnant but tragically the baby had died just after birth and the relationship ended soon after. Nick had simply seemed to disappear for a few years after that, and when he did resurface it was without his trademark confidence and easy smile. Both had taken longer to restore, but now he seemed to be in a good place again. Four years ago, just before she met Graham, Nick and Jess had picked up their friendship where it had left off. Nick had been an absolute star since Graham walked out, supporting her through the darkest times, but they were still just best friends and nothing more.

‘I'm off, darling,' Tori said, peeping around the swinging kitchen door.

‘We haven't finished our chat,' Jessica protested. ‘I haven't even asked about your life.'

‘Never mind, I can see you're busy. Hi, Nick.'

‘G'day, Tori,' Nick said, leaning against the bench. ‘I'll get to your place tomorrow first thing.'

‘Thanks, that'd be fabulous. I might catch you at home later, Jess. But right now, I'm going shopping: there's a new homewares shop in Red Hill.'

Then she looked back at Nick as a thought struck. ‘Hey, you don't know a cobweb guy, do you? I have cobwebs in the corners of my windows and I need an HLM to get them off.'

‘An HLM?' Nick asked.

‘Yes, a Helpful Little Man,' Tori said. ‘I've never done cobwebs before and I don't know how.'

‘Er, yeah, I'll think about it,' Nick said, wondering quietly if the city folks' requests could get any more bizarre.

‘Grazie, ciao,'
Tori said and waggled her fingers on her way out the door.

Nick dug through his toolbox for a hammer. As he stood, Jess suddenly had a throat-closing thought. ‘Oh my God, your birthday's coming up, isn't it?'

‘Well, you could say that, in fifty-one weeks.'

Jess looked up and cringed. ‘What? You mean I missed it? It was your birthday last week? Oh Nick, I'm so sorry I forgot. I'm such a ditz.'

‘Don't be silly, we had a nice day together anyway.'

‘When was the twentieth? What day was that? Tuesday? Oh shit, Nick, that's the day we cleaned out my filthy gutters. What kind of birthday is that?'

‘The best kind,' Nick replied. ‘Sludgy leaves, rusty gutters, possum poo and you. Doesn't get any better than that!'

‘I am so sorry,' she said. ‘I had it in my mind the week before; I even knew what I wanted to give you.' Bugger, she thought. She'd planned to buy him an iPod shuffle so he could listen to his favourite music while he worked, but somehow she'd just lost her train of thought yet again and forgotten one of her closest friends.

She sighed and shook her head. ‘Sorry,' she said again.

Nick smiled at her as Trixie brought him over his steak sandwich. ‘You could just give me a kiss,' he grinned and made a grab for her.

‘Oh stop it, you flirt,' she said and whipped him with the tea towel.

Trixie stuck her head back in the door. ‘Have we got any milk?' she asked.

‘Did you look in the other fridge, the one in the storeroom?' Jess replied.

‘Oh, yeah,' the waitress said and went back into the cafe.

Nick rolled his eyes. ‘How do you stand it?'

‘She's nice,' Jess replied. ‘There's more to a waitress than just remembering orders and serving food, you know.'

‘This place would grind to a halt without you,' Nick said as he poured tomato sauce all over his chips.

‘Hmm,' Jess replied, dropping her gaze. ‘We'll see.'

‘What does that mean?' Nick asked.

‘Well,' – Jess grabbed some bread and ham to make herself a sandwich – ‘I was thinking of maybe trying something new for a while – in the city.'

‘What?' Nick put down his knife and fork. ‘You can't leave here, Jess, it wouldn't suit you. Look at you, with your whacky clothes.'

Jessica assessed her Bettina Liano skirt and distressed Collette Dinnigan tee and shook her head at Nick. She thought the look was pretty fashion-forward really. But she wondered how the chic professional women of Melbourne might see her. Maybe Nick was right. ‘Oh settle down,' she said. ‘So what if I do stretch my wings? This will always be home.'

Nick fixed her with a steady gaze. ‘Is this something to do with that bloke who was in the store the other day? The one in the tosser suit and the wanker car?'

‘Nick, can you not be such an alpha male for one second? That was Jimmy McConnell, you don't know him. He's the second-in-command at Still Life in Melbourne.' Jess slathered mayo on the rye bread and added some of chef's new chutney.

‘Still Life? Never heard of it. What did he want?' Nick asked through a mouthful of chips.

‘I knew him at design school and he just wanted to toss some ideas around, that's all.' Jessica definitely wasn't about to reveal details of the job offer while Nick was in such a filthy mood.

He grunted.

She arranged some roasted capsicum and fetta on her sandwich and sliced it into triangles.

‘Well, I'm off,' Nick announced, wiping the edge of his mouth on his sleeve.

‘Bye,' Jess answered, as he sauntered out the door. It was a relief to be rid of his grumpy face for a while.