Wildflower Ridge Page 11

  ‘Where the hell has this come from? I thought you wanted some company on your run this afternoon, not a whipping boy.’ Penny’s legs worked harder to keep up the pace as it escalated along with the tension.

  ‘Nothing compares to your bright lights and endless holidays, does it? Vince probably has an allergy to farms or something ridiculous like that. That’s why he’s never even bothered to visit.’ Lara panted with exertion, sweat making her shirt cling to her back.

  Penny’s breath came thick and fast, and she felt her heart hammering as her legs continued to pedal. What a way to mend fences, she thought furiously. The hurtful comments bounced back and forth in her mind, confusion turning to defensiveness.

  Penny swung her bike left to avoid hitting several large rocks scattered across the road. Lara veered to the right and they met back in the middle like a silent stalemate.

  ‘Coming home wasn’t an appealing option, but at the time it was the only option. I was perfectly happy in the city and I’ll be even happier when I return. I want to get back to my life, back to Vince, back to the city where no one reads my mail before me at the post office or feels entitled to offer advice about my life. No wonder Sam left—I’d be sick of your bad attitude day in, day out, too. Don’t take your anger out on me just because your life’s gone pear-shaped.’

  Penny was unaware that her voice had risen to a yell until she’d finished. The air was suddenly dead silent. Even the birds had ceased their twittering.

  Lara stopped abruptly. Penny flushed at the low blow and drew to a halt as her sister doubled over with her hands on her hips, sucking in air.

  ‘If that’s how you feel, you’re better off in the stinking city with all the other selfish buggers who only care about themselves and their image. You and Vince deserve each other. Go and run back to him and stay far enough away that your shitty attitude doesn’t rub off on Evie.’ Lara’s face was puce as she straightened up, little specks of spit gathering at the corners of her mouth.

  ‘But let’s get one thing straight. You don’t know the first thing about Sam and me or how hard things have been. You’re living in a dream world, Penny.’

  Penny eased herself back onto the bike, wheeling it around unsteadily and ignoring the pain from the hard seat. She was still fuming as she rode away, her mind brimming with comebacks that remained unspoken as her tiny remainder of self-restraint finally pulled rank.

  Penny wrenched the tap to scorching, letting the hot beads of water melt away the anger. It wasn’t only the things Lara had said; it was anger at herself for thinking she could smooth over their rocky relationship with a banana cake and an attempt at civility. I should have known it would never be so simple with her. The ride back home had taken twice as long as their descent to the lake and she’d walked more than she’d cycled, pushing the bike up the steepest sections of road, swearing each time the pedals clipped her ankles.

  She emerged from the shower, red from the scalding heat, still just as hurt. She towelled off and slipped into a pair of jeans, combed her damp hair and reapplied her make-up before she picked up her phone. Vince’s lack of contact was wearing whisper-thin, especially in light of Lara’s observations.

  Her fingers stabbed at the phone as she composed a new message.

  Exactly what day is our apartment free? Please have it cleaned and ready ASAP. I don’t care how much it costs. Make it happen, Vince.

  She hit ‘send’ and reached for the painkillers.

  Twenty-three

  ‘Don’t worry yourself about Lara; you’ve got bigger fish to fry. I hate to say it, Pen, but Vince and that Charlotte woman were the hot topic at the kindergarten pick-up line,’ said Diana, her car aerial decorated with black and white ribbons to match the netball team colours.

  Penny’s imagination ran wild and she felt lost at sea without access to her social media accounts. This is getting beyond a joke.

  ‘At kindy pick-up? I thought Mrs Beggs just cultivated the story to drum up more business?’

  ‘Has he called you back yet, Pen? At least tried to contact you? Maybe you should shelve the Facebook ban and get back online?’

  Penny was mute as they travelled the seven kilometres to the local netball courts, the excitement of the children lining the back seats setting her further on edge. Diana parked directly in front of the courts, reached into her cavernous nappy bag and located a tatty iPad case. Scribbles and stick figures decorated the cover and the entire screen was smeared with greasy fingerprints.

  Penny glanced at it warily, unsure whether she wanted to touch the murky item, which had evidently been manhandled by her nephews on more than one occasion. As keen as she’d been to get that password from Evie, she was now ambivalent about opening the Pandora’s box awaiting her online. As long as she didn’t see Charlotte’s Facebook page, she could keep telling herself Olive and Mrs Beggs were exaggerating, or that they’d gotten the wrong end of the stick altogether. But if the kindergarten mums had got hold of the whisper too, maybe there was more to it.

  ‘Oh, get over yourself. I promise you won’t get gastro.’

  Diana ushered Cameron and the twins out of the car, pressed a pink five-dollar note into Cameron’s hand and pointed them in the direction of the small tuckshop. A sharp whistle came from the netball court. The junior netballers clustered around the coach for a quick pre-game pep talk before racing into their positions.

  ‘Go get ’em, Evie,’ called Diana out the car window, beeping her horn as their niece placed her toes on the goal circle and waved back at them.

  The game got off to a flying start. The Bridgefield Magpies converted turnovers into goals, Evie shooting with accuracy to get her team to an early lead.

  Penny looked down at the device. Dr Sinclair’s voice echoed in her mind, urging her to repeat the calm mind, body and soul mantra. They had talked about the likelihood of getting sucked back into social media and how that would be a backward step in Penny’s recovery. And up until then, Penny had felt okay with the break. Empowered even. But the whole Charlotte thing was like a scab begging to be picked. I’m pretty much recovered now, anyway. Penny’s fingers wavered above the onscreen keyboard. She itched to type in her email address, but something stopped her.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I can’t do it. I want to know, but I don’t want to know. I’m committed to staying away from news and social media, but it’s killing me having third-party reports about Vince and Charlotte the Harlot!’

  ‘How about I log into my account and you can watch over my shoulder as we stalk her from there? Then you wouldn’t technically be breaking the rules, would you?’

  ‘Thanks, Diana.’ Penny racked her brains for Charlotte’s surname, tapping her fingers on the car’s dashboard.

  ‘You’d better hurry up, so we can find her before the netball break is over. My deal is we have to finish before the second quarter starts.’

  Penny groaned, coming up with a blank. She reached for her phone to scroll through her work emails, but it was flat.

  ‘I don’t know her surname. And Vince doesn’t have a Facebook account anymore, I’m sure of it.’

  Diana tapped Vince’s name into the iPad’s search engine, navigated to his LinkedIn profile and started working her way through his list of contacts. I should have thought of that, Penny agonised, peering over her sister’s shoulder. Perhaps I haven’t been giving Diana enough credit. She recognised Vince’s photo from an industry awards night the previous year, and a nervous smile crossed her face as she studied his handsome profile. It wasn’t long before a familiar blond woman popped up in his contact list. Diana typed the name into Facebook and gasped as Charlotte’s profile loaded. One in every three pictures in Charlotte’s timeline featured Vince.

  ‘Un-fucking-believable! I cannot believe I’m seeing this.’ Penny’s heart raced as dozens of photos of the glamorous pair flashed onto the screen.

  ‘Un-fucking-lievable, un-fucking-lievable.’ Penny turned to see the cheeky twins chor
using from their car seats and Leo smiling at her with a tomato sauce–smeared face.

  ‘Oops, sorry Diana.’ She cringed, before going straight back to the screen. Diana had flicked onto the ‘details’ section and was scrolling through Charlotte’s employment history.

  ‘Go back to the photos. I’m not finished. We already know where Charlotte works,’ interjected Penny.

  ‘Give me a minute, Pen, I’m streamlining this for you. And I bet you didn’t know she has a Certificate IV in “sensual massage” from the Oxford Natural Therapies Centre?’

  Penny gasped. This is getting worse and worse.

  Diana clicked to the next tab. ‘Or that her relationship status is “complicated”?’

  Another tab.

  ‘And her last few status updates have been annoyingly cryptic, but attention-seeking rubbish like “the truth will come out soon” and “freedom equals happiness”. Looks like we’ve seen all we need to see here, Pen.’ Diana logged out abruptly and shoved her iPad back into the filthy case. She gave Penny a sympathetic smile as the umpire’s whistle blew and their niece returned to the court.

  ‘What? That’s all you’re giving me? That’s like offering an alcoholic a drink then cutting them off after one sip,’ said Penny, exasperated that her sister would so heartlessly open the wound but not even offer a bandaid.

  ‘Shhh, I promised Lara I’d watch Evie play and she’s just about to get another goal. Oi, that’s a bit rough!’ Diana leaned out the car window and called across the court: ‘Steady on, Evie. It’s not a contact sport.’

  Penny blinked as Diana drew back into her seat and looked in the direction of the netball court. Evie’s opponent was being helped off the court, her arm cradled at an awkward angle.

  ‘Did you see that? I’d swear Evie did that on purpose, the little bugger. She’ll be on the bench next quarter if she keeps it up.’

  Penny stared at her sister.

  ‘How can you concentrate on the netball at a time like this? And what the hell am I going to do about Charlotte? Stunning, skilled in sensual massage, living and working in the same postcode as Vince. I can’t lay claim to any of those things right now, let alone compete with her.’

  ‘Un-fucking-lievable,’ called Elliot from the back seat again. His brothers laughed.

  ‘You should have seen what your niece just did. The other team’s goal defender will be in a cast for weeks by the look of things, and she’s standing there like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Are you sure this Charlotte girl isn’t just living in a fantasy world? Maybe she’s schmoozy with all her male colleagues?’

  The netball whizzed to and fro in front of the car as Evie’s team tussled for dominance. Penny’s head moved back and forth, watching her niece shoot goal after goal, but all she could see were Charlotte’s timeline pictures running like a slideshow through her mind. How the hell does Vince plan on explaining this one?

  Twenty-four

  Angie spooned another scoop of ice cream into her overflowing bowl.

  ‘So, what are you going to do about it, Penny? Hang and quarter him, or sew raw prawns into his suit pockets so they’re ruined by the time he works out where the smell’s coming from? I’d suggest the latter—that’s what I felt like doing when my last boyfriend nicked off. Might have to join Tinder like your friend, Jade.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Penny, reaching for the ice cream tub. Her brow furrowed even further as she began eating directly from the container.

  Angie gestured to the soft brown couch and plonked herself down in her favourite corner. Penny joined her, oblivious to Mr Darcy and Lizzie Bennet romancing their way across the television screen.

  ‘I still can’t believe she put all those photos online. As if she was parading her boyfriend for all and sundry to comment on, not my boyfriend. If I had her phone number, I’d give her a piece of my mind. And if Vince would answer my calls, I’d give him a piece too. Bloody bastard.’ Penny rammed another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, flinching when the metal clipped her teeth. ‘He’s obviously been sucked in. I bet he doesn’t even know Charlotte’s got these photos up.’

  Angie laughed incredulously. ‘If Vince has Facebook, then he knows about it, Penny. She’s obviously tagged him in every one of those photos—how else did Olive and Mrs Beggs find them? I thought he’d be the type to update his status and profile picture at least weekly.’

  ‘Maybe his account was hacked, Angie. It happens. He shut it down six months ago after someone posted a heap of penis-enhancing ads on his page. I didn’t realise he’d opened a new one.’

  Angie took the tub of ice cream away gently and pressed pause on the remote control. Colin Firth froze on the television, a wet white shirt clinging to his chest.

  ‘You really think he’s oblivious to the family portrait scenario she’s projecting on social media?’

  ‘I don’t know. I hope so. I was worried about them working together initially, but I can’t believe Vince would make a fool of me like this, or knowingly let Charlotte broadcast her feelings across the internet. Surely he’s better than that?’

  ‘Well, let’s look at the cold hard facts. Vince has been working away, right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You haven’t had sex for how long?’

  ‘Eternity. Well, before I got sick, really.’

  ‘Okay, and this Charlotte is a divorcee with a specialty in tantric massage who has posted dozens of pictures wrapped around your boyfriend?’

  ‘Sensual massage, not tantric massage, Angie. Oh God, this is not looking good, is it?’ Penny covered her face with her hands as if it would help the facts realign into a more attractive scenario. You will not cry, she ordered, squeezing her eyes shut against the brimming tears. She tried to envisage the engagement ring and the New Zealand plane tickets that were locked up in the storage unit with all their other possessions. She set her jaw and shook her head at Angie’s sympathetic gaze.

  ‘He’s got to be innocent. Get rid of that look, Angie. We don’t know all the facts, and until I’ve heard it from Vince, I’m going to believe this looks worse than it is.’

  ‘Oh, Penny,’ Angie rolled her eyes, ‘you are the epitome of glass half full. I wish I could share your optimism, but God help my future boyfriend if I ever caught him in that situation. That type of stuff wouldn’t fly with me. No way.’

  Penny turned the little radio on her bedside table to the local FM channel, hoping the soft music would help her mind settle. But four or five songs passed without registering as she recomposed the text message again and again.

  Call me, Vince.

  Too soft. Penny hit delete.

  Call me, or else we’re over.

  Too dramatic. She started typing again.

  For God’s sake, Vince, I know about Charlotte.

  Erghhhhh.

  She tried to channel the ‘glass half full’ attitude Angie had doubtfully commended, searching for the right words to convey her message.

  ‘This is ridiculous.’ Penny groaned, thumping the pillow in frustration. She tried to call Vince again, instinctively clutching the phone to her ear as the call failed to connect. What the hell? Where’s the respect? Where’s the goddamn loyalty?

  Penny’s fingers flew across the screen as she tried one more time.

  I’m coming back to Melbourne early and you’d better be there when I get back. CALL ME.

  She shuffled to the windowsill, pointed her phone towards the mountain range and hit ‘send’ before she could change her mind.

  ‘Penny, Penny, Penny.’

  Eddie bounded into the house, his boots squelching on the wooden floorboards as he rushed into the kitchen. Penny glanced up from the tray of biscuits she was scooping onto cooling racks, saw the muddy footsteps behind him and pointed to Eddie’s feet.

  ‘Boots.’

  Eddie nodded, his happy smile not dampened in the least at her harsh tone. His whistling broke the silence as he placed his boots by the back door.

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sp; Eddie returned, embraced her warmly and she tried to soften her rigid stance. The last few nights had consisted of more worrying than sleeping, and her patience was running low.

  ‘Real fast on the motorbike today!’

  She looked at his red cheeks, windblown hair and the gleam in his eye, and remembered the test drive Angus had mentioned last night.

  ‘Did you try out the new quad bikes?’

  ‘Yep. Good ones.’

  ‘And what about the snazzy side-by-side ones? The UTVs? Did you like those?’

  He tilted his head to the side, wrinkling his nose, and shrugged.

  The sound of laughter filtered in through the porch window. She felt a stab of irritation as she watched Tim clap a hand on Angus’s shoulder and her father’s chin lifted to share another joke that had them both throwing back their heads in amusement. She watched them leaning against the ute tray, their faces as animated as Eddie’s. Tim’s hair was an almost identical shade to the dry grass in the paddocks behind them, his body fitting the worn denim jeans in a way Vince’s never quite could. How can he be so comfortable around the rest of my family, yet so guarded and wary around me? She turned back to her biscuits. One bite was enough to know they were her best yet. The thought comforted her, helping take the edge off the tiny shaft of jealousy that had wormed its way into her mind and the residual anger she felt about Vince’s alarming lack of contact and what he may or may not be up to in Sydney.

  The smell of sugar and melted butter erupted from the porch door as Tim swung it open and stepped inside. His stomach growled at the inviting scent. The farmhouse had a distinctly homely fragrance these days, which seemed to suit the large kitchen.