The Beach Book Bundle: 3 Novels for Summer Reading: Breathing Lessons, The Alphabet Sisters, Firefly Summer (57 page)

“Matthew?”

She touched his back through his T-shirt. No response. She ran her hand down his side, and he flinched. She waited, tried again, moving lower toward his crotch. He muttered something, moved away, lying on his front, out of reach.

“Forget it, then,” she said loudly, crossly. When had this happened? The two of them who had barely been able to keep their hands off each other since the first night they met. She thumped the pillow in frustration. How had she made such a mess of things?

She fought back tears, fanning angry feelings instead. If it hadn’t been for Lola, the way she had started talking incessantly about how much she missed the three of them, how she had dreamed about the Alphabet Sisters again, she’d never have been in this position. Lola had never said it, but Carrie knew what was beneath it all—it was all Carrie’s fault, for stealing Matthew from Bett. If she had never done that, they would all be living happily ever after, wouldn’t they? She hadn’t been able to get the guilty feelings out of her mind, at the same time that Matthew’s work started taking him away for stretches at a time. When he was home, they seemed to fight. And not just about having a baby anymore, either. They’d found plenty of other subject matter instead. Finally, in a fit of temper two months earlier, she had said they needed a trial separation.

He’d been shocked. “Why?”

“Because it’s not right. We shouldn’t have got together. You should have stayed with Bett.”

“Carrie, we’ve been through this. I fell in love with you. It would have been wrong for me to stay with her.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t have. Maybe that’s what you should have done. It was a test of your love for Bett.”

“What?”

“You know, like a temptation. And you failed. And now we’re both being punished.”

“What are you talking about? Have you had religious cranks staying at the motel?”

She couldn’t explain it any better. And then he’d gotten angry, and they had rowed about all sorts of other things, until they had both been glad when he had stormed out and she had told him not to come back.

At the back of her mind were Bett and Anna’s voices. “We told you so.” She couldn’t bear it. What a horrible, awful, unfair mess, she thought, curling tighter into a ball on the very edge of the bed.

Beside her Matthew gave another loud snore. It was all she could do not to smother him with her pillow.

I
n her room at the motel, Anna was lying on her bed, with Ellen tucked in beside her fast asleep. Anna’s eyes were wide open as she stared into space. Her skin felt clammy, her stomach was churning, she felt exhausted but unable to sleep. She was in the country, the fresh air—wasn’t she supposed to feel better? Truth was, she’d never felt so tired or so awful in her life.

She’d had another fight with Glenn on the phone that evening. More guilt, more blaming, more heated words, all in hushed tones so that Ellen, in the bath, couldn’t hear. She’d come out wrapped in a towel, and asked, “Is that Daddy?” At Anna’s nod, she’d reached for the phone and settled herself on the bed, chattering away to him, all the solemn little phrases tumbling out of her. “Is work busy?” “Is Singapore hot like here?” “Will you bring me a present when you come home?” As if things were perfectly normal with them all. And then the worst of it. “Will you say hello to Julie for me, too?” Anna had nearly been sick. Ellen was friendly enough with her father’s lover to send her messages.

When Ellen had handed back the phone, Anna had barely been able to speak to him, only keeping her voice civil because she knew Ellen was listening to every word. Afterward, she’d wanted to throw the mobile across the room, hoping to see it smash, the parts fly into all corners. On the verge of doing that, in sight of Ellen or not, it had started ringing again. Not Glenn this time, but her booking agent, Roz. She apologized for ringing so late, but explained that a big job had come up from one of her past clients. Was Anna available?

“They’ve specifically asked for you. It’s a good gig, Anna. You could do it in your sleep.” It was the voice-over for three separate teenage sex-education videos, as well as a series of radio ads directed at parents and teachers. If the response was good, there could even be follow-up commercials. “Top rates, too. For a few days’ work, maximum. Can you do it?”

Anna had massaged her temple with her spare hand. She’d promised Ellen they would have a long break together. God knows they both needed it. But this job would pay well. Which would mean she wouldn’t need to take Glenn’s money, for a little while at least. The thought made her feel good. “Of course I can,” she’d said.

Ellen murmured in her sleep. Anna pressed a kiss on her head. Lola’s ban on any talk of Matthew came to mind. Was that the key to life? Simply ignoring any difficult subject? Should she have ignored the fact that Glenn had become bored with her? Just kept on smiling, attending social functions with him, perhaps taken a lover or two of her own? Ignored the calls from Julie, the intimacy in her phone conversations with Glenn proof that their relationship had changed from colleagues to lovers? Just kept smiling, smiling, smiling? Until her face hurt and her body ached with the tension?

She’d managed to avoid the subject here beautifully so far. She had skillfully answered her parents’ few questions about him, deftly explaining his absences from these home visits, murmuring something about work pressures and promotions and overseas trips. There was no risk of Carrie and Bett asking after him—they’d made their feelings about Glenn clear three years ago. She’d felt Lola’s eyes on her, as ever, waiting for the questions, but so far, nothing.

Not that she would answer them anyway. “Yes, Lola, Bett and Carrie were right that night. I did make a very bad decision years ago, and I’ve lived with it ever since. I did ignore all my own instincts, went ahead with a marriage to someone who I knew only cared about my face and my body, not my heart, definitely not my mind or soul.”

But how did she fix the unfixable? Did she go to Bett and Carrie and admit that they had been right? That the terrible things they had shouted at her, the night of their big fight, had actually turned out to be true? That her marriage was over, that she was exactly what they accused her of becoming—cold, fake, self-obsessed? Would they say it had served her right, that she had made her bed when she married Glenn for his money, his social standing, his contacts?

In her arms, Ellen gave a little wriggle. Anna held her tighter and shut her eyes, tired of thinking, willing sleep to come to her, too.

M
atthew was gone by the time Carrie woke up the next morning. She looked for a note, an apology. Nothing.

“That’s why!” she shouted out the door, to no one but the birds in the paddocks opposite. “You don’t talk to me; you don’t tell me anything anymore. It’s no wonder it’s ruined.” She burst into tears and ran back into their bedroom, grabbing the pillow he had slept on and sobbing until it was wet under her cheek.

Chapter Ten

B
ett tried out her new swivel chair again, giving it a little spin and ending up facing Rebecca’s office across the corridor. A stack of newspapers lay on the desk beside her. She’d already skimmed through them, enjoying every article, getting up-to-date with the ins and outs of Clare Valley life. There were stories about water shortages next to photos of largest-ever pumpkins, schoolchildren’s charity efforts alongside politicians handshaking.

She’d had a long meeting with Rebecca that morning. Apart from writing general news and feature stories, Rebecca wanted her to write the editorial for a new project, a twelve-page supplement on the Valley’s tourist attractions, sponsored by the tourism commission. “They’ve asked for lots of color, all the sights and smells and tastes, so I want you and the photographer to actually try everything out, so you can write it from the visitor’s perspective.”

“You want me to do it? The new girl?” It was a dream assignment.

Rebecca laughed. “Yes, I know. I’d rather be doing it myself. Let me tell you, being editor’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Bett had returned to her desk, feeling buoyed and enthusiastic about a writing project for the first time in months. She started drawing up a list of subjects: the wine-tasting tours, the gourmet cooking course in one of the Clare Valley’s grand country homes, the overnight sleeping under the stars experience at the Valley’s oldest sheep station, the guided historical walk along the path of the old railway line.… This was more like it, she thought. She wrote the lead sentence of an article in her head, as she often did for practice.
Bett Quinlan, thirty-two, announced today that she was very happy to be back working for a real newspaper.

She had picked up the phone to dial one of the tour operators when a voice behind her made her jump. “Bett Quinlan, as I live and breathe.” It was Neil, the gray-haired sports reporter who’d been with the paper since it started. “It’s great to see you. Welcome back on board.”

She stood and hugged him. “Great to see you, too, Neil.” It had been good to see lots of her old colleagues. They’d asked after London, after her family, normal things. No one had mentioned Matthew yet.

“I’ve been hearing all about your grandmother’s musical. Don’t suppose you’ve got a part for an old fellow like me?” He burst into the first line of “The Sound of Music.”

“Auditions are on tomorrow night. Why don’t you come along?”

“You know, I just might. I wouldn’t mind treading the boards one more time.” He gave a quick little soft-shoe shuffle before he walked away.

Rebecca came out of her office. “I’m thinking about coming along myself.”

“You’re kidding. Do you want to be in it?”

“Of course not. But I wouldn’t want to miss the chance of seeing some of the locals auditioning. Much better than watching those reality shows on telly. Now then, Hildie’s just come in, the photographer you’ll be doing the tourism supplement with.” She poked her head into one of the side rooms and called out. “Hildie, are you around? Come and meet our new reporter.” Then she lowered her voice. “You might remember him, actually. It was before my time in the Valley, but he used to work here before he went to Melbourne for a few years. I snapped him up when he came back last year.” She smiled over Bett’s head at the new arrival.

“Bett Quinlan, all the way from London, I’d like you to meet Daniel Hilder.”

Bett turned and felt the color run from her face. Her one-night stand had just walked into the room.

I
n the gym at the country club, Anna looked up at the clock. She’d been on the treadmill for only ten minutes, and she was already breathless, feeling out of shape after just a few days away from exercise. She could almost hear her personal trainer’s voice. “A little every day keeps age and fat away.” Too bad. She could do nothing about her age, and it wasn’t as if she needed to lose weight at the moment. If anything, she needed to put some on. Irony of ironies—now the pressure was off, now that Glenn was gone and she could put on some weight if she wanted, she wasn’t hungry. She could let herself go completely if she wanted. It wasn’t as if there was another man on the sidelines dying to see her naked body.

“Hello, Anna.”

She turned. It was Richard Lawrence, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, a towel over his shoulder. It was the first time she’d seen him since the morning after Lola’s party. He certainly looked much fresher today. Taller than she remembered. Still wearing his glasses. His hair was cropped very short. He looked quite like an athlete, she thought. Like a marathon runner, in fact. Lean and spare.

“Richard, how are you?” She coolly reached forward and turned off the treadmill, gradually adjusting her steps as the belt slowed. She’d always taken care stepping off this kind of equipment, especially since Bett had rung her in Sydney some years before and recounted her humiliating first and last visit to this gym. She had mistimed stepping off the treadmill and been catapulted backward onto the rowing machine, landing on another woman and pushing her onto the floor as well. It was one of Anna’s favorite Bett stories. She had nearly cried laughing while Bett was telling her.

Richard smiled. “I’m well, thank you. I didn’t realize you liked to work out here, too.”

“Occasionally. But I’m not in the mood this morning. I think I’ll try the natural-air approach and walk back to the motel instead.”

“Do you mind if I join you? I’ve been hoping to have the chance to talk to you again.”

She stood in front of him, a towel in her hands. Years ago she had decided to get it out into the open when men made approaches to her like this. “Really, Richard, you’re being very forward. Are you trying to pick me up?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said calmly. “You’re certainly very beautiful, and I like that spark in your eye, but I like to be able to have a conversation with my lovers, not just look at them. So it’s probably too early to tell.”

To both their surprise, she burst out laughing. “That is the best answer I have ever heard. What about your workout?”

He grinned. “We could walk the long way back, couldn’t we?”

O
ut at her house, Carrie was feeling sick. A book lay on the wooden boards beside her. She’d come home from the motel for a quick break after lunch, hoping for a message from Matthew, an e-mail, perhaps even a letter. She’d found nothing. Pacing the house, feeling restless, she’d tried the TV, then the radio, before crouching in front of the bookshelf in the hall. It was filled mostly with magazines and textbooks. Neither of them was a great reader. She’d come across one of Matthew’s few books, a collection of English vet stories. As she flicked through it, his bookmark had fallen out.

It was an old photograph of Matthew and Bett together, arm in arm.

A
t six o’clock, Bett came running up the path to the motel and practically burst into Lola’s room. “You knew he was working there, didn’t you? That’s why you said all those things about me looking as good as I could. I thought you meant the other stuff, but you meant Daniel Hilder, didn’t you?”

“Hello, darling. Did you have a good day at work?”

“Lola, I mean it. Why didn’t you warn me?”

“What was I going to say? ‘Best of luck at work tomorrow, and by the way that man you had the one-night stand with in Melbourne three years ago is working there now so you might want to make sure you’ve got your lipstick on straight.’ Really, Bett, wasn’t it better to be surprised? Think of how much you would have been worrying last night if you’d known he’d be there this morning.”

“But have you any idea how embarrassing it was? As if it’s not bad enough knowing people are talking about me and Carrie and Matthew. Why don’t we just put me on the back of a truck and drive up and down the main street, letting people laugh at me for all the mistakes I’ve made in my life?”

“That’s a great idea. I wish I’d thought of it. We could get sponsors, perhaps?”

“It’s not funny, Lola.”

“Did Daniel laugh at you?”

“No.”

“Did he call all your colleagues over and tell them what happened between the two of you?”

“No.”

“Perhaps he didn’t remember it himself.”

“Of course he remembered it. You don’t forget a night like that, do you? Or perhaps he has forgotten it? Oh God, that’s even worse.”

“The poor man can’t win,” Lola said, laughing. “You’d be furious with him if he did say something about it and furious with him if he’d forgotten it. He’s very nice, you know. And you told me the sex was quite something, once you stopped all the crying and talking and got on with it.”

“Did I really tell you that?” She realized that, yes, she probably had. The state she had been in at that stage she was practically stopping complete strangers and telling them intimate details about her life.

“I just can’t bear it,” she wailed, as she relived the brief and stilted conversation she’d had with Daniel that morning, with Rebecca standing between them chatting away unawares. “I knew I shouldn’t have come back here, Lola. Anna and Carrie and I are on eggshells with each other. Mum and Dad are still in their own little world. I’d have been better off staying in London.” She was shocked at the feel of a hand across her cheek. “Did you just slap me?”

“It wasn’t a slap, it was a flick of my fingers. Quite a different thing. I was scared you were about to become hysterical, and I didn’t have a bucket of water handy.”

Bett stood open-mouthed.

Lola took Bett’s face between both hands and looked her right in the eyes. “Bett, face him. Face every single thing life throws at you. Daniel was kind to you that night, wasn’t he? And everything you told him was the truth? Perhaps it was a good thing for him, too, a crash course in understanding women. Perhaps he’s been kinder to his own wife or girlfriend because of some of the things you said to him.”

“Wife? Is he married now?”

“No, although there was a serious girlfriend in Melbourne, from what I could drag out of him the other day when I remembered who he was. A live-in girlfriend, that’s the phrase, I believe. Horrible term, makes me think of velvet-covered sofas for some reason.”

“Was he living with her when I slept with him? Oh no, that’s even worse.”

“I don’t think so. He’d been with her for only a year or two, I think.” Lola laughed. “Bett, don’t look so horrified. You didn’t get pregnant, did you? Catch anything from him? He didn’t have lice? Scabies? AIDS? Don’t look so surprised. I watch TV soaps, remember. I know every disease going.” She looked at her watch. “Darling, the auditions will be starting soon. Do you want to stand in front of a gathering of people in a state like this? And no, you can’t get under the bed, so stop looking over there. Go for a walk. Think about things and remember how lucky you are.”

“Lucky? That my most embarrassing moment has come back to haunt me?”

“That’s not your most embarrassing moment. You told me your most embarrassing moment was last year when you walked around the center of London for an afternoon without realizing you had your dress tucked in your knickers.”

Bett howled. “Apart from that.”

“See, you’ve had more embarrassing moments than you realize. There’s no need to carry on as if this is the one that will tip you over the edge.”

“Can’t you be kind to me?”

“I am being kind. Cruel to be kind. Bett, go for a walk. Be glad of your good strong legs and stop worrying about tiny things that don’t matter. Do you know, I’ve just remembered another one. That time you made the speech at school and called the guest of honor by the wrong name the whole way through—”

“No more, Lola, or I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll do what? Elizabeth Quinlan, are you threatening your feeble eighty-year-old grandmother? Get out now or I’ll call the police.”

A
n hour later, Lola was in a new outfit and full makeup, sitting behind a small table at the function room door, greeting people effusively as they came in. Ellen was sitting beside her, politely handing out registration forms to each person.

“Sandra, marvelous to see you.” Lola beamed. “And which of your daughters is this? And what will you be singing, dear? Celine Dion? Oh, one of my favorites. Here, fill out this form, would you? We’ll get started as soon as we can.”

Anna, Bett, and Carrie stood at the other end of the room, watching the people stream in and sit down on the chairs lining the walls.

“I can’t believe the turnout,” Anna said. “I thought we’d be searching for people to audition.”

Bett had a flicker of nerves. “Do you actually know how to run one of these things?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been to a million of them. We’ll do the warm-up songs, then get everyone to sing a verse and chorus of their chosen song, ask them to stop midway through if we think they’re terrible, or hear them to the end if they’re okay. Then if we want them, we call their agents and make an offer.”

Bett’s lip twitched. She noticed Carrie was trying not to smile, too. “I don’t think Len the butcher or Mrs. Gill from the primary school are going to have agents.”

“You know what I mean. We need to run it professionally, set the standard from the start. It’s going to be hard enough to pull this off in a few weeks as it is, starting from scratch, without any professional actors or musicians or performers, apart from me.” There was a tiny pause. “And you two, of course.”

“A lot of the people here have got experience,” Carrie said briskly. “I think you’ll be surprised, Anna.”

“I hope I am.”

“Hello, Carrie.”

Carrie turned. It was Kaylene, one of Len’s daughters. She worked in one of the Valley hairdressers, although Carrie didn’t go to her anymore, since she’d learned what a gossip she was. Carrie smiled a welcome nevertheless. The more the merrier tonight. “Hi, Kaylene. You know Anna? And Bett?”

Kaylene nodded at the other two. “God, I didn’t ever think I’d see you Quinlans standing in the same room. I heard you had a ferocious row over Matthew.”

“Did you?” Anna said coolly. The three of them were standing close to one another and without realizing it inched even closer.

“Mmm. Someone said you hadn’t spoken in three years.”