The Girl in the Yellow Vest (6 page)

‘Yeah, you’re one smart lady.’

Charlotte glanced at her watch. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Hopefully, he’d say goodbye soon and they could both get on with their lives. She glanced at the computer screen in front of her. She really had to get this invoice done and off within the next half hour. Not to mention the stack of other chores she had lined up for the day, as well as a meeting with the emperor himself at TBA o’clock that evening.

‘Would you like me to come and service your hot-water system some time?’ His languid tone broke her thoughts. ‘It was looking pretty run down when I was there yesterday.’

Were they back to business again or was that a trick question?

Regardless, her hot-water system did need a service. Ever since Silver Seas had entered ‘the slump’ she had been letting things like that slide. ‘Yeah okay,’ she finally agreed. ‘I’ll give you a call about it later. But I really must go now.’

Thankfully he didn’t protest and they rang off. Charlotte put the receiver back on the phone and sighed. It wasn’t that she was against relationships exactly. It was just that she had two already that were taking up most of her time. A fifteen-year-old sister, whom she was practically raising, and a mum who needed almost twenty-four-hour care. Where was she supposed to put a boyfriend in that mix?

Besides the fact that Jared’s double-pierced ears, neck tattoo and bleached hair with red roots didn’t even slightly get her ticker counting faster. In fact he probably made her double her resolve to save herself the pain. She didn’t have anything against the ‘bad boy’. He just lacked that charismatic, irresistible something that . . .

Her thoughts dissolved as the lithe, masculine figure of Barnes Inc’s notorious project manager sauntered past the reception window. He neither glanced in, nor paused, in that arrogant, dogmatic way that was only his. Even so, she couldn’t help but crane her neck a little so that she could watch him manoeuvre that perfect arse of his into the driver’s seat of a white ute.

Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout. If only he didn’t have the personality of a cactus.

‘He’s a bit of all right,’ a voice cackled at her elbow. ‘Don’t suppose he’s looking for a fling while he’s in town.’

Charlotte jumped, nearly sliding off the counter she’d been leaning on so heavily and landing on the floor. She didn’t like the direction her mother’s thoughts were taking. ‘Mum, you gave me a fright!’

The older woman who had suddenly materialised by her elbow ignored this remark. She patted her wiry, grey-streaked hair, watching the ute disappear in a cloud of dust. ‘I’m calling dibs.’

‘You’re
what
?’

‘He’s mine. Hands off.’

‘I wasn’t –’

‘Yeah right,’ she scoffed, adding smugly, ‘Gentlemen prefer blondes. And stop calling me Mum. I’m too young to be your mother.’ And she removed a pocket mirror from her purse to examine her make-up, which had been applied with all the coordination of a five-year-old. Yes. Definitely having an episode.

Charlotte kept her voice light. ‘It’s not even seven yet. You should still be in bed.’

Her mother, otherwise known as Virginia Templeton, shook her head. ‘I have business in town, Sarah.’

Sarah was the receptionist her mother had let go about eighteen years ago just after Charlotte’s father had died. Sarah had been caught renting rooms to her friends for free. But that wasn’t the most telling hint that the sixty-year-old was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. Despite the fact that she was carrying an old-fashioned handbag and had pulled most of her hair back into an off-centre bun, she was still dressed in her long pale-pink nightie, the kind that buttoned up at the front.

‘Come on, Mum, let’s get you some breakfast.’ Charlotte came out from behind the counter and took her by the elbow. ‘You haven’t eaten yet, have you?’

Virginia pulled her arm away but looked slightly confused. ‘Actually . . . er . . . I don’t think I have.’

‘Thought so.’ Charlotte put up a plastic sign on the counter top,
Ring bell for service
. Spinning her mother in a complete circle, she walked her back through the door she’d come in by. It was also the entrance to their home.

They entered a cosy-looking living room. The decor was simple, consisting of a pine bookshelf, an inexpensive TV cabinet, a matching coffee table and a pair of gum-green couches. The curtains were floral and the carpet cream. All in all, the layout had not really changed since she’d first left home to study psychology in Brisbane nineteen years back. They passed through this area, straight to the kitchen and dining where Charlotte’s younger sister, Zara, sat eating some toast.

The fifteen-year-old grinned. ‘Hey, Mum, off to town again?’

Charlotte tried sending her a meaningful look as she gently removed her mother’s handbag from her wrist, but Zara didn’t seem to receive the message. Charlotte took her eyes from her sister and guided her mother to a chair. ‘What would you like, Mum? Toast or cereal?’

Virginia Templeton glanced from daughter to daughter. She had a blank look in her eyes as though she were coming out of a dream and was trying to find her bearings.

‘Tell you what,’ Charlotte patted her shoulder, ‘I’ll get your favourite. Coco Pops.’

Zara immediately frowned. ‘That’s so unfair.’

Frankly, Charlotte was in no mood to get into an argument. She felt like all she ever did these days was give people boundaries. If it wasn’t her family, it was the resort patrons or, more precisely, the workers from the Hay Point Wharf project, situated two minutes up the road.

But for the giant expansion project going on there, Silver Seas would never have had the opportunity to fill all but one of its luxury beachside chalets. In fact, prior to the approach from Barnes Inc, she’d had the resort on the market because they’d been facing bankruptcy. Her contract with the major construction company had saved her parents’ business. However, now she didn’t know whether their arrival had been manna from heaven or the onset of the plague.

The problem was FIFO workers weren’t exactly domestic goddesses. In fact, they weren’t domestic anything. They treated her chalets like, well, like dongas. Coal-encrusted footwear was trampled straight into the two-bedroom units, through the white-tiled foyers and down the short, cream-carpeted halls to the bedrooms. Luckily the shoes seemed to come off then. But Charlotte couldn’t help but notice that her floors were getting more and more stained. If they kept this up much longer, she would need to replace all the carpets by the time the project was over.

And that wasn’t the only bone she had to pick.

There was this one guy the men called ‘Fish’, and with good reason. His name was his hobby, his diet and his personal life philosophy. Charlotte had nothing against passion. What she did have a problem with were the fish guts he left in the sink every morning after his evenings on the shoreline. Part of the service of Silver Seas resort was housekeeping. She didn’t mind cleaning as such. It was something she was prepared to do to keep her parents’ legacy alive. But within reason, please! To be greeted every morning by the stench of this man’s rotting catches as soon as she threw open his chalet door, and then be expected to clean it up as well, was definitely more than she’d signed up for.

And then there was the level of drinking going on after five. Was it normal for a man to consume half a carton or more every night? Surely there must be some alcoholics among them by now. There had been no damage to property as yet, but Charlotte couldn’t see how this good luck could continue. Every night she found the evidence of their consumption littered around her pool chairs and on the outdoor tables. At first she thought she might just put a bin out there. But the large plastic blue hint, even adorned with a sign saying
Place rubbish here
, seemed to have no impact whatsoever upon the revellers who used the space for their booze-ups. Besides the mess, she had a teenage sister to consider. She didn’t want Zara getting any ideas. The girl was rebellious enough as it was.

She walked into the kitchen and silently made her mother’s breakfast, wondering why the men didn’t want to go down and explore the beach like normal tourists. Salonika at twilight was gorgeous. Pristine blue waters, golden sand and usually not a soul in sight. Their little piece of paradise was definitely one of Queensland’s best-kept secrets. She instantly got a mental of image of beer cans and bottles making a trail from the surrounding bushland to the water’s edge. She shuddered. Maybe it was better that the Barnes Inc workforce stayed as far away from it as possible.

The last thing she could afford to do was offend the project manager. But she was running out of patience. If Mark Crawford would not answer emails, phone messages or even personal confrontational visits, it really was time to bring out the big guns. And in her case that was vanilla and raspberry cupcakes.

She turned around briefly and glanced into the oven to see if they were ready. Not quite yet, but she had time. The aim of the game was to make sure that when Mr Crawford came to visit her that afternoon he stayed for a long and detailed chat about how things could improve. It was important that they moved forward on this matter in a way that was beneficial to them both.

Or what? I’ll kick them out? Yeah right.

Without them it would be back to running from the bank. And she already knew how much fun that was. On a sigh, she took the bowl of Coco Pops to her mother and set it in front of her.

Her sister’s voice was just as glum as her thoughts. ‘I never get to do anything good around here.’

It was clear they’d moved up the complaint ladder from ‘breakfast-food choices’ to ‘everything in general’.

She was tired. ‘Zara, please.’

‘Well, it’s true. Everybody is going to Rosemary’s fifteenth birthday next weekend except me.’

‘I’m sure not everyone is going.’

‘How would
you
know?’

‘Call it a hunch. A responsible parent would not let their fifteen-year-old teenager go to an unsupervised beach party at night.’

‘Well, you’re not my parent, are you?’ she pointed out. ‘So take a load off.’

Charlotte sighed. ‘Zara, you know Mum wouldn’t want you to go.’

‘Mum doesn’t know
what
she wants.’ Zara looked at the woman seated listlessly across from her, apparently staring into space. Virginia made no response. ‘Mum, can you hear me?’ Zara leaned forwards.

Virginia seemed to surface from a very deep pool. Her eyes held nothing of the sparkle that had characterised them only a few minutes earlier. This was sometimes the only indication that she was not having an episode. Her moments of clarity, when she was truly in the present, were getting so rare these days that Charlotte treasured them like polished pink sea shells.

‘Yes, dear?’ Virginia said slowly.

‘Can I go to Rosemary’s beach party?’

Virginia licked dry lips. ‘I think . . . I think you should ask your sister.’ Her voice was breathless, as if she’d been running a marathon or something.

Zara groaned in frustration. ‘The Party Police? Great.’

Charlotte clenched her fists behind the counter, wondering how she could explain to a teenager in five words or fewer the potential risks of such a party. In the end, she settled on, ‘In this case, I think I know best.’

Oh that’s original.

But the cheeky teen wasn’t going to let her off easy. ‘Give me one good reason why I can’t go.’

She wasn’t buying into a full-blown argument now. ‘You need to get ready for school; you’re going to be late. We don’t have time to argue about this at the moment.’

‘You’re not even going to give me a say, are you?’ Zara demanded.

‘Zara,’ Charlotte began, ‘it’s just –’

‘I hate you!’ Zara threw at her, pushed her bowl away and walked out of the room.

That went well.

‘Don’t worry, Lottie.’ She felt her mother pat her hand. ‘She’ll come round.’

‘Why do you always make me be the bad guy?’ she asked.

Her mother smiled. ‘Because you’re so good at it.’

She watched as her mother slowly spooned a mouthful of Coco Pops between her lips and felt tears prick her eyes. She knew Virginia was in the present because she was quiet and withdrawn – a stark contrast to her younger self. There were days when her mother thought Charlotte was Zara, others when she thought she was their old receptionist, and days when she didn’t recognise her at all. Although Silver Seas was no longer very profitable, it was the safest, most familiar place for her mother to be right now. Virginia and her late husband, Charlotte’s father, had bought it just after they had got married. When he had passed, about twenty years ago, it had kept her mother’s spirit alive. Now it was Charlotte’s duty to keep this place going.

Lowering herself into the chair Zara had just vacated she said, ‘I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle here.’

‘You were exactly like her at that age, Lottie, and look how great you turned out.’

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly. ‘And what about Luke? What was he like?’

‘Oh,’ her mother’s voice seemed wistful, ‘you know your brother – he was just like your father and still is. The strong, silent type.’

Charlotte smiled. As far as she was concerned, her younger brother was the one person in the world she could count on completely. Luke lived in Mackay with his wife and kids and came to visit usually once a week for a catch-up. She always looked forward to seeing him. But socialising was the last thing on her mind right then.

She had a zillion things to do. Even with all their units occupied, the business was still struggling. She was using every cent she earned to pay off the debt her mother had amassed. Just yesterday she’d had to let another one of the staff go. Apart from cleaning up the pool area, she had to go pick up some supplies for the restaurant, there was an electrician coming in to fix the air-conditioner at number eight and the website was down again. She was going to have to call the service provider. And this all before ten o’clock. But first and foremost, she had to take those cupcakes out of the oven. They had to be perfect for this afternoon, if they were going to do her any favours.