The Girl in the Yellow Vest
Read The Girl in the Yellow Vest Online
Authors: Loretta Hill
Emily Woods counts cracks for a living. Concrete cracks. So when her longterm boyfriend dumps her, she decides it’s time for a change of scenery. Her best friend, Will, suggests joining his construction team in Queensland. Working next door to the Great Barrier Reef seems like just the sort of adventure she needs to reboot her life . . . until she realises that Will is not the person she thought he was.
Charlotte Templeton is frustrated with the lack of respect FIFO workers have for her seaside resort. But picking a fight with their tyrannical project manager, Mark Crawford, seems to lead to more complications than resolutions. The man is too pompous, too rude, and too damned good looking.
As both women strive to protect their dreams and achieve their goals, they discover that secrets will come out, loyalty often hurts, and sometimes the perfect man is the
wrong
one.
Extract from OPERATION VALENTINE
For Mum and Dad,
Your enduring love and faith in me has
always been my biggest blessing.
Thank you so much for all that you are.
The head bridesmaid, a brunette in a long blue gown, rose from her chair and walked unsteadily to the dais with the studied clumsiness of someone who was completely wasted but trying very hard not to show it. After leaning on the lectern a few seconds too long, she unfolded a rather worn-looking piece of paper and placed it in front of her.
‘Good evening, everyone,’ she hiccupped. ‘I’m Robyn Churchill, Lena’s best friend. I’ve known Lena,’ she squinted at the piece of paper, ‘for f-fifteen years and – oh to hell with it.’ She tossed the piece of paper aside and lifted one purposeful finger before slurring, ‘The truth is, when Lena told me she was off to the Pilbara to be a proper engineer, I never thought she’d come back engaged.
Never.
Sunburned maybe . . . but planning a wedding? Ha! The thought never even crossed my mind.’ She teetered a little and had to grab hold of the lectern. ‘But you know, when I think about it
now
, I really should have seen it coming.’ She patted her hair; the cream-coloured flower she was wearing now hung precariously from one bobby pin. ‘After that day he spotted her swimming in her red bra and matching knickers, it was
blatantly
obvious that Lena was going to attract his attention.’
The bride, sitting three seats to the left of the podium, in a strapless satin gown with a crystal-studded bodice, covered her mouth with both hands and looked down at her plate.
‘Good Lord.’ Julia, who was sitting next to Emily at table number seven, leaned discreetly sideways so that she could murmur out the side of her mouth. ‘There’s one at every wedding, isn’t there?’
Emily’s mouth twisted wistfully as she studied Lena. While her old uni friend had appeared momentarily embarrassed, she was now looking across at Robyn with a sort of helpless affection. It was the kind of expression worn by a person whose cup of happiness was so full nothing could be said or done to empty it.
And with just cause.
Her new husband looked gorgeous. The groom was dressed in a smart black tux – its very cut a stark tribute to his masculinity. He cast his glowing bride a look so potent it made Emily’s heart ache.
Is it wrong for me to feel resentful?
In their group of friends, Lena was never supposed to be the first one to get married. For starters, she’d only been dating Dan for a few months before he’d popped the question, and in the Pilbara of all places. Wasn’t that like the most unromantic place on the planet?
Emily, on the other hand, had been in a committed relationship for five years. They’d owned a house together. They had a dog, for goodness’ sake. His mum called
her
to find out what he wanted for his birthday. If anyone had been well and truly on the road to a happily ever after, it was her. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass.
How wrong were you?
In Trent’s mind, it had clearly been a different story. Instead of the pulp-fiction ending she’d dreamed of, he’d gone with a very literary alternative.
Tragic symbolism.
The tragedy she got. What it symbolised she had yet to decipher.
Lifting her wine glass, she took a soothing sip. She had promised herself not to wallow in her misery tonight: there was too much to enjoy. A reunion with her engineering buddies, for a start. There were eight of them. Three girls – Lena, Julia and herself – and five guys, one of whom was her best friend, Will. She could still remember late nights spent in the Reid Library with this crew trying to finish a Structural Analysis assignment or, worse, a Mathematics one. They’d take it in turns to do the coffee run to the café downstairs. Then, of course, there were the toga parties and the quiz nights, the early-morning dancing at some club in Northbridge. If they were honest, they hadn’t got through engineering individually but collectively. Each had needed the others to be responsible when he or she failed to be. They shared information, assignment answers and hangovers alike.
Graduating and entering the workforce had been a sobering period during which they all realised it was time to stand on their own feet. Now, if they were lucky, they caught up once a month instead of every day. In fact, if Lena hadn’t decided to get married that Saturday, Emily doubted they would be catching up at all.
No, that’s not completely true.
She would have made time for Will. Now that he worked in Queensland, she only got to see him every four or five weeks when he flew back to Perth to take his R and R. While they did text and email a lot, she missed having her best friend in town.
Smiling, she turned to the subject of her thoughts, who was sitting on her right. ‘Now, when I ask you to be my maid of honour, you need to promise me to stay sober until after the speeches.’
Will returned her smile but shook his head. ‘There is no way, this side of hell, that I’m being your maid of honour.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Why not?’
He gave her a long look. Will might be her best friend but he invariably refused to do anything girly. No facials. No chick flicks. And no shopping together – though he had made a binding exception to that rule in the case of them needing something like a top-secret computer microchip available only from the Japanese black market. ‘And then I’d expect you to be my Bond girl,’ he insisted.
This was pretty funny, considering Will looked nothing like James Bond, though Emily suspected he would secretly like to. With longish brown hair, a short beard and black-rimmed specs, he was a lovable nerd who hadn’t changed one iota since the day she’d met him, an eager seventeen-year-old with a passion for science similar to hers.
She couldn’t help but notice that he still hadn’t answered her question.
‘Well?’ she pressed him.
He was silent and for a moment she thought his expression was serious. Would he really not stand up for her at her wedding? She knew it was a little corny, but she’d do it for him. Then his expression cut to a jovial one: ‘I think Trent would want me to be his best man. And, to be honest, I think I’d much rather be a best man than a maid of honour. No offence.’
She froze.
He doesn’t know.
She was so sure he’d been avoiding the subject till they had a private moment to talk. Why hadn’t Trent told him?
‘What’s the matter?’
As she looked up to meet his eyes, she realised she couldn’t blame Trent. She hadn’t told anyone yet either. Telling people about her break-up made it real.
‘Will, the truth is –’
But Robyn was now calling for everyone’s attention. ‘I’ll need you all to charge your glasses!’
The moment to speak was lost as Julia passed her a bottle of white. At the front of the room, Robyn leaned over and plucked her own champagne glass from a table beside the podium, looked at it and then set it down again. ‘I’m going to need some more grog in that,’ she said to the bridesmaid called Sharon. A chuckle rippled through the crowd as Sharon complied.
Robyn raised her now full glass and rocked on the balls of her feet as she surveyed the crowd. ‘There is no doubt in my mind: Dan and Lena make an exceptional couple. So in love, it makes you ssss-sick.’ She looked down momentarily and with studied resolve clutched her stomach. A few seconds passed. Emily and the rest of the room held their breath.