by Loretta Hill
Spider released a breath. ‘And Eve blaming herself only puts more crosses next to my name.’
‘Why am I only hearing about all this now?’
‘Because I didn’t want you to worry. Because I wanted to try to fix the problem myself,’ Spider said in a rush. ‘Because I thought I could build bridges with your dad without you involved. You know, bond with him.’ There was a groan in his voice. ‘But he’s definitely having none of it.’
She was getting cross at her father now. He could be excused for being protective of his daughters but this was beyond reasonable. ‘I don’t understand his logic. How could you have started the fire? It’s preposterous.’
‘The point is … you believe me, right? I didn’t light any fire.’
‘Of course I believe you.’
The relief on the other end of the phone was palpable. ‘To be honest, I was half afraid you might side with your family again on this one.’
‘Spider,’ tears smarted in her eyes, ‘I know it’s been a rough couple of days. Just as rough for me.’ She reached into her pocket and scrunched up the note she’d found in the tea jar into a ball. ‘But I love you. I believe in you. And I want to marry you. We’ll find a way to get through this. You and me.’
‘Come home, will you?’ His voice was gentle. ‘I just want to hold you.’
‘You don’t need to ask twice.’ She’d hung up then and returned to her sisters, who actually seemed rather subdued sitting together on the grass. In any event, they were not in the least bit dubious when she told them that she thought Spider was not having an affair and it had all been a big misunderstanding. In fact, they both encouraged her to have faith in her fiancé and everything would be okay.
But was faith enough?
There was so much she’d learned about herself and her own life recently and the secrets people covered up to protect her or to protect themselves. It seemed every time she thought she was getting somewhere, another can of worms appeared on the bench. All she ever wanted was for everyone to get along. Her father had given her such a terrible burden, and now it seemed he’d just added to it. Why on earth did he feel that Spider would do something so vindictive to Eve? They were such good friends. It was a friendship she’d often been jealous of. Eve was beautiful, smart and loyal. And she had so much in common with Spider. How many times had she wondered why it was herself that Spider was so attracted to and not her sister?
When she got home, her sisters disappeared to their bedrooms and she pulled the balled-up note from her pocket and gently unfolded it. There were other women out there who she needed to worry about, not Eve. This note was proof of that. How it got in the tea jar and how long it had been there still troubled her.
Does it really matter, Phoebe? Spider had not been meeting anyone at the Wildwood Bakery today. And if this letter was old, then it was old news and perhaps he’d never seen it.
She folded the note and put it back into her pocket, just as Spider entered the room.
‘Hey, where’ve you been? I’ve been waiting for you.’
She stood there stiffly as he came over and enveloped her in a hug. Her body relaxed as she breathed in his unique scent and felt the warm pressure of his embrace.
He pulled out a little, gently kissing her lips before saying, ‘I’m glad we had that talk this afternoon. I feel like we understand each other a little better.’
‘Me too.’ She put her hands on either side of his face. ‘And I’m sorry about everything. Believe me, I don’t want you to feel left out of your own wedding.’
‘Thanks,’ he smiled, ‘and I promise I’ll try to be more supportive of your family reconstruction.’ He grimaced. ‘Though it might help if I knew what was going on with your dad.’
‘It’s not my secret to tell.’
‘Phee, we’re going to be married pretty soon. And if you can’t trust me, then who can you trust?’
He brushed her hairline with his fingertips as he voiced her concern.
Could she trust him? When she had a note from his potential lover sitting in her pocket?
‘I had a terrible run-in with your father today,’ he added as she was still thinking. ‘I seem to be only making our relationship worse.’
‘What do you mean?’
He explained in detail how he had tried to give her father a set of right-handed golf clubs. ‘Why didn’t you tell me he was a lefty?’ he demanded in the end.
‘I didn’t realise it was something important you needed to know,’ she protested. ‘It’s certainly not a big secret or anything.’
Spider’s face turned pensive. ‘Well, apparently everything else is.’
Of course, that was when Patricia had walked in, all smiles and suggestions, wanting them to go to Aravina’s that night.
‘I just feel like I haven’t had you two all to myself yet,’ she complained. ‘With everything that’s been going on, we just haven’t had a chance to catch up.’
Phoebe could tell Spider wasn’t entirely pleased about his mother’s arrival, or the convenient way Phoebe used it to avoid the conversation he’d started.
As it turned out, dinner with the in-laws at Aravina Estate was almost as much of a nightmare as dinner with the whole family the night before. Not because Aravina didn’t have one of the prettiest restaurants in the South-West. It did. Set in a stately white manor rimmed by a traditional verandah overlooking a garden to rival her mother’s, the ambience was all she could have asked for. The food was great too. But honestly, it was like stepping out with a football team who knew you were supporting the other side.
Patricia seemed to be on a mission to condemn everything Phoebe’s mother did. It was the positive remarks with the backhanded slap that kept Phoebe’s hackles up almost the entire night.
‘It’s so nice to be eating dinner a little later. I just wasn’t that hungry yesterday at six o’clock. Particularly with all the junk food we had beforehand.’
And, ‘Your mother is such a wonderful cook, my dear. I don’t know why she didn’t make something of her life like your sister Eve did.’
Spider was particularly moody, no doubt because of their earlier truncated conversation. She was beginning to wonder whether she could do anything right.
When she woke up the next day, she tried to view it as a fresh start. A new beginning where everything got sorted out. After getting dressed, she entered the kitchen where her family and Spider’s were all gathered to start the day. Over breakfast they decided that the men would continue with the restaurant renovations and the women would get moving on the wedding front.
Basically, her wedding-chore lottery was abandoned in favour of this simpler division of labour. She could tell some people were extremely relieved, particularly Spider and Heath, who had been tasked with organising the decorations and the photographer respectively. Spider was also glad to be letting his partner, Adam, off the hook.
‘There’s nothing more emasculating,’ he said to her, ‘than sitting around with another man and talking about chair sashes. Especially with a guy like Adam.’
‘What’s wrong with Adam?’ Anita enquired tartly.
‘Nothing,’ Spider amended rather quickly. ‘He’s just not into pink satin.’
‘Are we going with pink for the dining chairs?’ Anita asked the gathered group at large. ‘I thought you girls wanted to wear blue.’
‘The chair sashes are supposed to match the bridesmaid dresses,’ Phoebe informed Spider.
‘Oh,’ he shrugged. ‘Well, I didn’t know that. And I suspect neither did Adam, though I can’t be positive because he’s brushed me off several times when I’ve tried to engage him.’
Tash grinned. ‘You’ve tried to engage him several times?’
‘Call me paranoid,’ Spider groaned, ‘but I don’t think he’s interested. In fact, I don’t think he likes me either.’
Phoebe scoffed. ‘Now you’re definitely being paranoid.’
‘No,’ Spider shook his head slowly. ‘The guy defini
tely has a problem with me.’
‘Eve,’ Phoebe leaned across the table to try to get the attention of the sister who was keeping her head so far down it was nearly under the table, ‘you talk to him the most. Does Adam have a problem with Spider?’
Eve cleared her throat. ‘Not that I know of.’
‘There you go,’ Phoebe smiled. ‘All in your imagination. Anyway, I think this division of labour is a little more sensible.’
It was also putting a smile on Spider’s face again. So who was she to knock it? All she wanted was ‘happy’ going forward. No more drama. Tash and Eve left for town soon after breakfast. Tash, in fact, appeared very keen to get out the door that morning. She seemed nervous at breakfast, constantly glancing out the window. Heath seemed to find his wife’s attitude amusing, lacing his fingers through the hand resting on the tabletop.
‘Calm down, Tash,’ he’d smiled. ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day.’
She’d glared at him as she snatched her hand away. ‘You better bloody believe it.’ Tash wanted to hit Busselton for dresses and also talk to a couple of DJs she and Eve had lined up who lived in the area. It seemed like a good plan to Phoebe and Eve as well. Her younger sister seemed more wedding-focused that morning too. She had asked Phoebe about the cake.
‘So did you have any ideas about what you might like?’
‘I don’t know.’ Phoebe quickly glanced at Spider, now very conscious of her obligation to be wholly inclusive. ‘What do you reckon, love?’
He looked up from his bowl of Weet-Bix, a slight smile playing on his lips. ‘I know for a fact that Eve makes a gorgeous fruit cake.’
Eve’s cheeks coloured faintly as she dipped her head again in modesty.
A sudden undeniable flush of jealousy washed through Phoebe’s body, surprising her with its potency. Although she knew she was being irrational, she couldn’t help but retort somewhat irritably, ‘But fruit cake is so dime-a-dozen, isn’t it? A bit boring, don’t you think?’
Unfortunately, that’s when her mother stepped into the fray.
‘But, Phee! I can’t imagine you having any other type of cake but fruit cake. It’s tradition.’
‘Chocolate mud cake is very nice too,’ Patricia put in her two cents’ worth. ‘I know a cake maker in Busselton, a friend of a friend I used to know in Perth, who does an absolutely marvellous one.’
‘We don’t need another cake maker, we’ve got Eve! The best chef in town.’ Anita’s voice brooked no denial.
‘With the exception of Spider, I couldn’t help but agree. However,’ Patricia settled her teacup on its saucer rather coolly, ‘considering most of the cake is not going to be edible anyway, I don’t think we need a full-blown chef in this instance, do we?’
Phoebe watched her mother, who was blinking rapidly, with growing concern. ‘Mum, it’s okay.’
But Anita barely heard her. ‘Not edible?’ she whispered, her expression disturbingly trancelike.
‘Oh yes, didn’t you know?’ Patricia smiled in amusement, which was possibly the worst thing she could have done. ‘Most wedding cakes these days act more like centrepieces. They are completely fake apart from the top tier, which is reserved for the bride and groom to take with them on their honeymoon.’
Anita spluttered. ‘But that’s an outrage. What about the guests? Are they not to have any cake?’
Patricia’s eyes widened. ‘Anita, you mustn’t concern yourself. I assure you, they won’t mind. It’s the done thing.’
‘But I will,’ her mother choked. ‘I will mind very much.’
For Anita, food was synonymous with love. Mothering, hospitality, nurturing – they were all part of feeding, of giving, of loving. Without food, how was she supposed to express herself? Phoebe could see from her mother’s quivering lip that she was about to have a meltdown.
‘Mum –’ she began, intending to reassure her that their wedding cake would definitely be entirely edible and every guest upon the Tawny Brooks property would be going home with a piece, when, to her great chagrin, Spider spoke up. In fact, he put out his hand and patted his mum’s arm.
‘That’s a fabulous idea, Mum. Besides, Eve’s got enough to do without having the cake on her plate as well. Pardon the pun.’
Eve opened her mouth to protest but Patricia got in first, smiling triumphantly. ‘Perfect. Well, I’ll get in touch with that wedding-cake maker I know in Busselton. We’ll sort it right out – my treat.’
‘Great.’ Spider nodded.
Phoebe’s mouth fell open. What the?!
As Spider returned to his breakfast, she bit her tongue. What was she supposed to do? Speak up? Go against his wishes in favour of her mother’s? Put her family first again? She cringed. Hadn’t she just promised to do better? She could feel her sisters’ eyes on her, bringing on the guilt even more. Tash, in particular, was doing little jerky movements with her head in Anita’s direction. She glanced at their mother, who was sending her a look of both pain and pleading.
Anita was expecting Phoebe to take her side, to speak up on her behalf. Gently, she shook her head, sucking in a breath as her mother pressed a hand to her chest as though she had just been stabbed in the heart.
Phoebe shut her eyes as Anita’s chair scraped loudly on the kitchen tiles when she pushed it out. Standing up abruptly, her mother said, ‘Excuse me,’ and left the room.
A rustle sounded as her father, who was sitting at the head of the table, folded his newspaper and laid it beside his coffee. ‘One–nil,’ he murmured.
Silence followed as he raised his teacup to his lips, sipping delicately at the hot liquid. Everyone at the table turned and looked at him.
‘What?’ he shrugged. ‘Somebody’s got to start keeping score.’
The family finished the rest of the meal in relative silence before filing out to get on with their day. After a while it was just Phoebe and her father sitting there, sipping tea. He was on his third cup. The silence stretched between them and she began to grow more and more dissatisfied.
‘Something bothering you, Phee?’ he asked without looking up.
She choked. ‘How can you ask that?’
He blinked.
‘Of course something is frickin’ bothering me!’ She gritted her teeth. ‘This is hell, Dad. And I don’t mean to be insensitive, but you’ve put me here.’
His lips moved slightly. ‘You wouldn’t know what hell is, Phee.’
‘Why? Because I’m your happy daughter? The one that never lets anything get her down? Well, I am down. I’m down and I’m out.’
He touched her hand. ‘No, you’re not. You’re a rock, my dear – the strongest of my children, as hardy as the vine. That’s why you always stay so positive.’
She snatched her hand away. ‘Well, it’s just an act because I’m not feeling positive. I’m barely holding it together. It’s dreadful being the only one who knows you’re leaving us. They’ll need more time to adjust, Dad. Not to mention the fact that I’m desperately afraid for you.’
‘I’m okay.’
‘No, you’re not okay,’ she trembled, ‘and I’m not either. I can’t keep your secret any more.’
‘So instead you’d rather rip our family apart early, three and a half weeks before your wedding? You promised me you would at least give them that. Think of your mother. Think of what this would do to her.’
She swallowed hard. ‘It’s not working out, Dad. There won’t be a wedding if I continue to keep Spider in the dark.’
Her father’s eyes darkened. And for once she saw what her fiancé might see every time he looked into the face of John Maxwell. A genuine contempt, a hard-heartedness that knew no mercy.
‘Why do you hate him so much?’ she demanded, the words catching in her throat. ‘What did he ever do to you?’
‘It’s not what he did to me.’ His long tanned fingers drummed upon the table. They were brown and wrinkled but they were still the hands she knew so well. Strong, capable, safe.
She remembered the f
eeling of her own hand tucked into his when she was no more than five years old. She’d felt as tall as a tree as he’d led her about. Nothing could touch her. Looking at those hands now though, she felt nothing but sadness and regret. There was so much she wanted to say but the words dried in her throat. They seemed so inadequate, so futile. And now, the man she wanted to marry was pitted against him. She had no idea how to deal with that. Ever since the whole wedding debacle had started, she had felt so divided. Her family on one side, her fiancé on the other. And as hard as she tried, she could not fuse them together.
‘Spider told me that you think he lit the fire that chased Eve out of town,’ she began, trying to keep her voice steady.
‘Didn’t he?’ Her father’s fingers abruptly stopped their drumming.
‘No, Dad. Of course not. He would never do that to Eve.’
‘Even to get back at me? To teach me a lesson?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘I told him I did not like his relationship with Eve. I told him that I thought he should end it or else. And he refused.’
‘Well, of course he refused,’ Phoebe spit out. ‘You can’t dictate to someone who they can or cannot be friends with. Apart from the fact that, if he’s marrying me, I would hope that they continued to be friends. As I said to you a month ago, all I’ve ever wanted is for everyone to get along.’
He looked at her, long and hard. ‘This wasn’t about friendship.’ His watery eyes never wavered from hers. He didn’t say another word – he didn’t need to. As the silence stretched between them, doubt crept through her body like dye in water.
The words of the letter, which she almost knew off by heart now, rang in her ears.
I have been meaning to tell you this for quite some time. And now that you’re here at Tawny Brooks, it seems almost like a sign that I should.
Her brain folded upon itself.
It can’t be Eve. It can’t be. She doesn’t like him that way. She told me so!
But her gut was telling her otherwise. She voiced her worst fear.