by Sasha Wasley
The teachers were seated in the beer garden, where fans and spray-misters had been set up to keep hotel patrons cool. Jay poured the drinks and introduced Free around the table. Free snapped a group selfie with the champagne flutes and posted it on her Instagram account. She looked around to check on Finn several times but her line of sight was blocked by a bunch of blokes standing in the beer garden doorway.
Max lost some of his shyness and wouldn’t stop talking about reptiles and snake handling. It got a little dull at times and Free tried to introduce a few different topics but he was persistent.
‘Where’s the other guy who got a residency?’ one of the other teachers interrupted at last, and Free seized on the subject with relief.
‘Aidan? He couldn’t make it tonight.’
‘I’m not sure about him,’ Jay said.
‘Why’s that?’ asked Free.
‘Seems a bit up himself,’ said Jay. The bubbly had obviously relaxed her. ‘I mean, why isn’t he here? Too good for us?’
Free had also been thinking he should have made more of an effort to fit in, but she didn’t think it was fair to make accusations in his absence. ‘He said he had to work on his piece for an art show.’
Jay chortled. ‘Working on his piece, is he? Sounds about right.’
The others burst into laughter. Even Free had to smile, although she felt obliged to defend Aidan.
‘He’s a respected artist,’ she said. ‘He got this job, after all. I mean, I got it because I’m local, I guess. But Aidan’s not local. He’s super qualified. He’s sold art to big companies in the city and had exhibitions and everything.’
Jay snorted. ‘His exhibitions were funded by his family. Free, being local helped your case, but you got the contract because you’re very talented and you had the experience and skills we were seeking. Plus, the YouthArts grant conditions specified that artists under thirty were preferred as a way of meeting the government’s youth engagement targets. But Aidan – he’s thirty-five.’ She paused. ‘You know who his mum is, don’t you?’
Free drew a blank. ‘Umm . . .?’
‘Aidan Hamilton. It’s not Amanda Hamilton, is it?’ Max asked.
Jay nodded. ‘The woman who owns the Buildplex conglomerate.’
Free gasped. ‘No! Buildplex is the company working on the Herne River Dam.’
‘That’s her. One of the state’s biggest businesswomen. Perhaps Aidan failed to mention this, but the company that commissioned some of his artworks for their corporate head office also happens to be Buildplex.’
Free was aghast. ‘No. Really?’
‘Buildplex are stepping on toes locally,’ one of the other teachers threw in. ‘It’s not just the dam project. They’ve bought out some properties and small businesses, too. People are getting worried about how many fingers they have in pies in the region.’
Free pictured Aidan’s self-satisfied expression as he’d told her about his corporate customers. How could he brag about that? It was cringeworthy. ‘I’m totally opposed to the dam,’ she said.
‘You and half the town,’ said Jay. ‘Are you a member of that anti-dam group on Facebook?’
‘Of course! And I’ve subscribed to the newsletter, and I sign and share all the petitions. I went to a protest at the construction site with my sister a few weeks ago.’
Jay lifted her eyebrows. ‘Wow, you really are anti-dam.’
Another teacher leaned in. ‘Why are you against it, Free? I thought this dam was supposed to save the local agricultural industry.’
‘It’s wrecking the river!’ she said. ‘They’re going to divert the Herne so farmers can irrigate huge areas and grow crops like sugar cane and rice – thirsty crops.’
‘Greenie groups are saying it’ll interfere with the natural cycle of the river,’ Max added.
‘It’s already happening,’ Free said. ‘My dad’s friend spotted a load of dead fish downstream from the construction site.’
‘It’s certainly a contentious topic.’ Jay lowered her voice. ‘There are suspicions that the approval process was corrupt. Corporate influences.’
Free had also heard rumours about corruption, but she didn’t know details. She waited, intrigued.
But another teacher snorted. ‘Rubbish. The dam got approved by the government, based on the water needs in the region.’
Jay tipped her head. ‘Maybe.’
‘Didn’t Amanda Hamilton send the office holders from the Mount Clair Chamber of Commerce on a trip to Japan to show them a similar project?’ Max said.
Jay nodded. ‘That’s right. And several members of the chamber are also local government councillors, or work at the shire office. They claimed the Japan junket was allowed, as it was an educational trip – pro bono professional development, courtesy of the Amanda Hamilton Foundation. But it was an all-expenses-paid trip that lasted two weeks, staying in the best hotels and playing golf on the world’s most expensive course. And when they got back, they campaigned energetically for the dam to go ahead.’
‘The chamber has been involved in the tile wall project, too, hasn’t it?’ Max asked.
‘They have,’ Jay said. ‘They were pretty vocal in their support of the project as a tourist attraction and a statement of place for the town.’
Max was watching her. ‘And you think Amanda Hamilton might’ve paved the way for Aidan to get the school residency, as well?’
Jay checked around them but the other teachers had lost interest. ‘I don’t know. YouthArts gave me first look at the applicants and he wasn’t even on my maybe pile. And yet he got selected.’
Free fell speechless with horror for a few moments. It was bad enough that the dam approval process was dodgy – but now the residency as well?
‘Wow,’ she breathed at last, ‘I thought it was a proper selection process.’
Jay shrugged. ‘Perhaps it was. Maybe he earned the position fair and square . . . and maybe his mum is pulling a lot of strings in town since her company won the bid for a major construction project in north-west WA.’ Jay sipped her wine, eyebrows raised.
Was this how things worked? Free thought about her own residency. Could her father – or perhaps Beth – have enough pull in the town to influence her selection? No, of course not. The decision had been made jointly by the state government’s YouthArts funding body and the local shire. Who would care what a local farmer or doctor wanted? With a tickle of doubt, she recalled that Beth was a member of the Chamber of Commerce. Her clinic had even won some chamber award last year.
‘Oh well, at least we got you, Free,’ Jay said. ‘That’s one good choice. You’re not the daughter of a Buildplex executive too, are you?’
She clinked Free’s glass, giggling at her own joke, but Free was glad when the conversation moved on from the integrity of her and Aidan’s residencies.
The blokes had cleared out from the beer garden doorway by now and Free looked over at the bar to see if Finn was still there – and caught him glancing her way. His face immediately lit up with one of those beautiful smiles and Free returned it automatically. She hardly ever blushed but heat crept up her cheeks now, knowing this big, strong, hot guy was looking at her. She fidgeted with her glass for a few moments, then made up her mind to go to the bar for some water. She could just stand there, not far from Finn, and give him another smile if he looked her way. Maybe they would get chatting again . . .
But when she steeled her nerves and got up to fulfil her mission, Finn, Briggsy and their entire crowd had vanished.
Poop.
Free woke on her couch, the cat curled up and purring on her chest. She had a headache and a dry mouth. Ugh. Why had she gone and drunk so much? On her first social outing with her new colleagues, too.
Her disappointment over Finn leaving Mounties early floated through her mind and she cast the thought away. That had nothing to do with getting drunk.
Still, after discovering his departure, she had knocked back a glass of bubbly a little more quickly than sh
e should have – and it was on an empty stomach. It had made her tipsy. Tipsy meant suggestible for Free, and Jay had suggested shots. Free knew she was a lightweight when it came to drinking, but before she had a chance to think the better of it, she, Jay and two other young teachers had shots lined up on the bar. Some of the staff had left around seven, but the singles and kid-less stayed on. Reptile-loving Max Drummond, who apparently didn’t drink, drove everyone home in Jay’s car around eleven, spilling Free in through her front door. Vaguely aware that she should eat something, she’d stuck a bowl of baked beans in the microwave and . . . that was the last thing she remembered.
The cat jumped onto the coffee table and gave her a pointed look. ‘Max,’ he said.
Free staggered over to the kitchen, where the microwave was intermittently beeping to let her know her baked beans were ready. She opened the door to stop the hellish beeping and held her breath, averting her eyes while she tipped the bowl into the bin, genuinely fearful for her stomach. She put a piece of bread into the toaster. She could probably handle toast.
She gave Max some cat biscuits and let him outside, then flicked on the television and stared at a music video program, her thoughts slipping back to the night before. Good Lord, what if she’d embarrassed herself in front of everyone? But nothing awful came to mind. Jay had been drunk too, so she probably wouldn’t have thought much of it even if Free had done something stupid. She relaxed slightly as she fetched her toast, then sat back down to nibble her breakfast and sip water.
She almost spilled her drink when her phone rang right beside her. What the hell? Ah – her handbag was hiding beneath a couch cushion. She dug out her phone and saw the caller ID: Beth.
Free tried to sound bright and coherent. ‘Hiya!’
‘Morning.’ Beth’s voice was as collected as ever. ‘You ready?’
Free thought furiously. ‘Ready for . . .?’
There was a subtle pause and the hint of a sigh. ‘Did you read your messages this morning? Or did you only just wake up?’
‘No, I’ve been up for ages.’ Free checked the clock: ten-thirty. ‘I haven’t looked at my phone this morning.’
‘There’s been a bridesmaid dress disaster. Willow emailed the online store to ask when the dresses we ordered were going to arrive and got a reply from a liquidator. The business has gone bust.’
Free dropped her toast. ‘Our dresses?’
‘Are no more,’ said Beth. ‘Willow’s dress was through a different shop, thank God, but ours aren’t coming. Willow’s been messaging us all morning. She’s on her way into town. We’re going to try Pizzazz.’
‘Oh, Beth – Pizzazz?’
‘I know, but it’s only a couple of weeks till the wedding,’ said Beth. ‘We’re running out of options.’
‘What time are we supposed to be meeting?’
‘In ten minutes.’
Free thought fast. Surely she could get dressed and drive to the main street in town within about ten minutes. ‘Okay, I’ll be there.’
‘I’m at yours, out the front. Should I come in or wait in the car?’
Dammit. Sprung. ‘You’d better come in.’
Free dashed for the pile of clean washing on her coffee table. At least she could answer the door fully clothed and pretend she was almost ready. But suddenly Beth was in the doorway, having let herself inside. Hadn’t she locked the door when she got home last night? Whoops.
‘Morning, Sunshine.’ Beth laughed as Free scrambled into a long sundress. ‘At least you’re out of bed.’
Free repressed a scowl. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’
Beth glanced around, taking in Free’s last night’s clothes abandoned on the floor and toast-and-water breakfast. She checked her phone. ‘Willow’s already in town, at Galileo’s, ordering us coffees.’
‘I’ll be ready in two seconds.’
Beth shot her a sceptical look and tapped out a reply to Willow. ‘Hurry up. I’ll get her to order you a detox smoothie, shall I?’
Free fumed inwardly as she went into her bathroom. Bloody Beth and her relentless competence. She always knew best, was always on time, always knew when Free had screwed up. Free sprayed some deodorant and swept her tangled hair back into a hasty bun. Trying to ignore the dreadful things the taste of toothpaste did to her stomach, she cleaned her teeth and then grabbed a pair of big sunglasses. By the time she’d slipped her feet into sandals and returned to the lounge room, Beth had somehow found the time to helpfully fold her clean washing. It was stacked in neat piles on the coffee table.
The humiliation smarted like a slap. ‘You shouldn’t have done that. You don’t need to do my housework for me.’
Beth gave a little shrug. ‘I don’t mind. I had nothing else to do. You ready? Let’s go.’
It was lucky Beth was driving because Free wasn’t even sure that she was fully sober yet. They met Willow inside the café on Main Street. Free inspected her sister’s anxious face and hugged her.
‘Don’t worry about the dress thing,’ she told Willow airily. ‘I’m sure we’ll find something gorgeous today.’
Unexpectedly, Willow turned her worry onto Free. ‘Are you all right? You look tired.’
Beth fought a smile. ‘Free had a big night last night, didn’t you, Free?’
‘No! Well, I went to the pub.’
Beth laughed and Willow relaxed. ‘Good time?’
‘Yeah. I got to know the teaching staff a bit better.’
Her sisters wanted to know about her new job, so she described the set-up at the school and her upcoming teaching work as they sipped coffee. Free started to feel slightly better, and by the time they’d finished their drinks she was ready to face a morning of dress shopping.
There was only one store where a girl could find a formal gown in Mount Clair, and that was the forty-year-old Pizzazz Boutique on Main Street. It was the place where most women in Mount Clair had bought at least one high school ballgown, awards night frock, cocktail party dress or bridesmaid outfit.
Beth sighed, flicking through dresses on the rack marked Weddings. ‘Nothing in the colour we chose. I suppose shimmer grey is too much to ask from Mount Clair,’ she added under her breath. She pulled out an emerald green dress and gave it a critical examination. It was satin and slinky, with fine straps. ‘This isn’t bad. It would complement the guys’ ties, too. What do you think?’ She checked with Willow.
‘That’s pretty,’ said Willow. ‘But . . .’
Beth had already pulled out a second one and handed it to Free to try on.
‘But?’ Free prompted, putting a hand on Beth’s arm to stop her sister from charging straight for the fitting room.
‘Oh, it’s really dumb, but Tom threatened to be a “groom-zilla” when we first got engaged. He said he wanted pink bridesmaids, and I thought it would be funny if . . .’
‘Oh my God, yes!’ Free bounced on the spot. ‘That would be the best.’
Beth’s face was wary. ‘Bright pink or soft pink?’
Willow shrugged but Free was already scanning the rack for pink dresses. If Willow wanted pink, pink she would have. They’d never even asked her what she wanted and Beth had pretty well chosen the shimmer-grey bridesmaid gowns for them from the online store. Free handed the long green one back to Beth, spotting a frothy baby-pink number.
‘Look!’ Free whipped it out. It was V-necked and fitted at the waist, with soft chiffon folds that fell to the knees. Willow looked delighted; Beth, appalled.
‘There’s only one,’ Beth said hastily. ‘We need three, remember?’
Free pushed the one she’d found at Beth and hunted more concertedly in the dress rack, but she only found lilac and pale blue in the same pattern.
‘Hang on, this might work.’ She forced Beth to hold the pink one up in front of her and then held the blue one in front of herself. ‘And Tanya in the lilac.’
Beth was still frowning but Willow was thrilled. ‘Yes! They look really cute together. And Tom will be so shocked,’
she added, chuckling.
Under sufferance, Beth tried on the pink and Free, secretly gleeful, the blue. She was right – they did work together, and Willow looked so excited that Beth relented, although she obviously hated the romantic chiffon dress. They fit, too, and the lilac was in the right size for Tanya, Willow’s best friend from Perth.
‘It’s meant to be,’ Free declared.
‘They’ll show every bit of red dirt,’ Beth predicted and Free discerned a sour note in her voice.
‘Who cares?’ Dropping her voice, she added, ‘They’re what Willow wants.’
Beth gave an infinitesimal roll of her eyes but let it go. It was worth it when Willow hugged Free goodbye at the end of the shopping trip and whispered ‘Thank you’ in her ear.
After Beth dropped her home, Free debated whether she should paint, drop in to the school to do some more prep work, or take a nap. Me, teaching, she thought, terror seizing her all over again. She envisioned how her first class would go on Monday: dozens of teenagers with hostile faces, watching as she fumbled with her pile of papers, searching desperately for her first lesson plan. Hmm. She should definitely go to the school to do more preparation. She could take her daily river photo on the way.
She dug her key to the school’s art room out of her handbag, but a knock on the door interrupted her preparations to leave. Free answered it and stood in open-mouthed shock when she found Constable Finn Kelly on her doorstep, rubbing Max’s ears.
He lifted his eyes and looked as astonished as her. He was in uniform. Free caught her breath in panic – Beth . . . Willow . . .
But Finn broke into a smile. ‘Free! You – you live here?’
‘Um. Yes . . .’
So damn tall. And that hard, strong frame with those broad shoulders. Good Lord, he was stupidly hot, with those eyes like a Kimberley stream – all warm colours marbled with light. She forced herself to blink.
‘Is everything okay?’ she asked. ‘Have I done something illegal?’
Finn seemed to recover from the surprise. ‘No, it’s all okay. It’s not an official visit. I’m off-duty, actually – just finished my shift. It’s just, I noticed the printer.’ He indicated the porch table.