Collision

by K. A. Sterritt

  Knowing I couldn’t procrastinate any longer, I headed back inside to get ready. One of the emails from my mother had informed me that the theme was ‘Black and White’. My mother was famous for elaborate and over-the-top extravaganzas, so this theme showed great restraint. She’d already asked me to wear a conservative white dress to give Richard some visual hints. We’d been dating for three years, and my mother was determined to have me married off as soon as possible. The thought made me nauseous, but I would wear the damn white dress she bought me because that’s what I always did. When I slipped the white lace over the fitted underlay, I felt like the fraud I was. I was already a prisoner in my own life, but marriage would be a life sentence.

  Navigating my way out of the city in my red rocket was easy. I loved the Yarra Valley wine region and wondered if I’d be happier living out of the city, surrounded by animals and wide open spaces. My parents were xenophobic city dwellers. Whenever I’d tried to bring up my mother’s childhood on the Mornington Peninsula, I was shut down with a ferocity I couldn’t understand.

  Chapter Seven

  Leo

  The fights were barbaric—men beating each other half to death—and the guilt should’ve weighed heavily on my soul. But it was a consensual arrangement. I needed an outlet, and fight night was it. The prize money wasn’t great, but money wasn’t my sole motivator. The sense of relief I felt from pummelling men into the ground was disturbing. My rage just poured out of my fists, and for a few hours, I didn’t feel like a ticking time bomb with a fast-burning fuse. There was something addictive about putting myself in the firing line, to feel the pain and to see exactly what I could endure.

  The stunning young blonde staring at me through the cage had snapped me out of doing something really stupid. She looked like a displaced angel caught in Hell. I couldn’t take my damned eyes off her and was momentarily mesmerised. She held my stare with a steely resolve. I was intrigued and more than a little turned on. She was completely out of place, but there was a strength emanating from her that told me she could handle herself.

  My phone’s ring tone interrupted my thoughts.

  “Leo. Hey. It’s James.”

  “Hey, mate. What’s up?”

  “I’m working a function tonight, and the bartender has pulled out last minute. I told the boss lady I might know someone who could step in.”

  I paused. My body was screaming at me from the fights, but I could always do with the extra money.

  “Where and what time?”

  When he gave me the details, I didn’t respond immediately.

  “She pays almost double the normal rate,” he continued.

  Fuck it. I could handle it. Fight night had been good for me. “Okay. I’ll be there. Thanks for the job, mate.”

  Dressed in black suit trousers and a white button-down shirt, I jumped in my old Jeep and headed out of the city. I wanted to make a detour to see one of my best friends, Beatrix, who also happened to make a mean cup of coffee.

  Bea’s Beans had recently been profiled in an online travel magazine as having the best coffee in the wine region, which I thought was a massive understatement. It was easily the best coffee I’d had anywhere. Tourists were making a point to stop in to sample her special blend, and her little business was booming.

  “Leo!” Bea screeched from behind the coffee machine.

  I pushed my Ray Bans on top of my head and smiled. “Hiya, Bea. How are you?”

  “Better for seeing you. What brings you out this way?”

  “I hear your coffee isn’t too bad.” I winked.

  “Can you have it here or do you need it to go?”

  “I’ve got a bit of time.” I pointed to the blackboard menu above her head. “Better get me one of those toasted sandwiches too.”

  “Coming right up, handsome.”

  I took a seat by the window, grateful the lunch rush was over. I had half an hour for some caffeine and carb loading. The Saturday paper was open on the table, and I flicked casually through the pages. A small article on Melbourne’s illegal fight club scene caught my attention. I knew the scene might change sooner or later, but I wasn’t looking for accolades or recognition. I was looking to expel the anger no amount of therapy would quash.

  Bea came out from behind the counter with my coffee and sandwich. “What happened to you?” she asked, leaning in to inspect the few plaster strips I’d placed over cuts on my face and hands.

  “Oh, that’s nothing. I was out last night and got caught up in a fight. You should see the other guy.” I laughed, hoping she’d drop the subject.

  “Can you sit down for a bit?” I took my seat and gestured towards the empty place opposite me.

  “Have you hired someone to help you out yet?”

  “Angus has been hassling me to let Kayla take over a few shifts, but I don’t want to give it up my full control. I feel like it’s a big part of who I am.” She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side, indicating the framed pictures on the wall. “You’d understand that.”

  I knew exactly what she was getting at.

  “It’s different, Bea.”

  “I know. I just wish…” She shook her head, knowing this was a pointless conversation we’d had too many times.

  “Hey, is it okay if I crash at yours tonight?” I asked. “I was out late last night and don’t really want to drive back to the city after work tonight.”

  “Of course. The side door to the spare room will be open. Let yourself in.”

  “Thanks, Bea.”

  A noisy family came bustling through the door, interrupting her train of thought. She leant down and kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said then went back behind the counter.

  I had to get going anyway, so I took the last swig of coffee and gathered up my phone and keys.

  “Bye, darlin’,” I called out as I walked towards the door. “Thanks again.”

  Chapter Eight

  Juliette

  On my way to the coffee house I’d seen online, I’d taken a wrong turn and had become mesmerised by the Gruyere countryside, beautiful old houses and lavender fields. One particular home stood out. I pulled over on the side of the road and stood on the grassy verge to get a closer look. It was so quiet and peaceful. An occasional bird cry was the only noise to break the silence. I took a deep breath, and my lungs thanked me for the cool, fresh air despite the scent of lavender that, unlike most, I found offensive.

  The house was a heartbreakingly beautiful double-storey stone farmhouse that appeared abandoned. Ivy grew with reckless abandon over large sections of it, and some of the stonework was crumbling. It didn’t look like the gardens had been tended in a really long time. Despite the state, I admired the drystone wall lining the property’s front boundary, adding to my budding love affair with this house. With no signs of life, I pushed the iron gate open and shuddered at the screeching sound it made. Glancing around quickly to make sure no one was there, I walked through. I knew it was trespassing, but it really didn’t look like anyone lived there, and the idea of getting caught gave me a small rush.

  I stepped gingerly from stone to stone in my peep-toe heels my mother had bought me. She insisted I dress “appropriately” for her functions and didn’t trust me to accomplish that goal myself. At twenty-five years old, my mother still treated me like an irresponsible child.

  A brass plate was fixed to the wall next to the front door: “Gwendolyn.” I walked around the side of the house and stepped carefully through the overgrown garden beds to one of the large sash windows towards the back. Clearing a patch on the dirty glass with my hand, I peered in. The smudged pane made for poor visibility, but I could see sheets over the furniture. The whole place just felt sad and lonely.

  Sitting back in my car, I glanced over to the house one more time, curious as to why I felt so incredibly drawn to it.

  ***

  Bea’s Beans had an unassuming shopfront and was located only a few minutes’ drive from the beaut
iful farmhouse on the edge of a small township.

  “Long black, please,” I ordered from the girl behind the counter.

  “Take a seat. I’ll bring it over to you.”

  “Sorry. I should’ve asked for it to go. I’m in a bit of a hurry. I got a bit sidetracked on my way to find you. You see, I read about this coffee online somewhere and had to check it out. Might have been a travel magazine. I’m not sure. Anyway, it’s just so beautiful around here and you also have the best coffee in the state, so you could say I’m in heaven.” I had no idea why I was rambling.

  “Hey. Slow down, darl. I’m not sure you actually need caffeine.” She laughed in a friendly tone that wasn’t mockery.

  I took a deep breath and thanked her.

  “I’m Beatrix, coffee connoisseur,” she said. “This is my place.”

  “Oh. Hi. I’m Jules.” I rarely introduced myself as Jules. Always Juliette or Juliette Salinger. I just felt instantly comfortable with this girl. “I like to think I’m a coffee connoisseur too.”

  “Well, Jules, if that’s the case, you can call me Bea.” Her smile was warm and genuine. “I sell my special blend beans if you wanted to take some home.” She pointed to a table on the wall to the left of the counter. “I can grind them for you if you like.”

  “Thank you.”

  I walked over to the table to check out the various beans and coffee machine accessories she was selling. Above the antique wooden table was a corkboard jam packed with hundreds of flyers advertising local events and services. There was an ad for the amateur fight night I would be competing in at Lilydale, which was close by. I still couldn’t believe I was actually going to do it.

  My eye was drawn to a collection of framed photos next to the cork board. One of them I could have sworn was Gwendolyn—the stone farmhouse—in immaculate condition.

  “Here’s your coffee,” Bea said from behind me.

  Startled, I turned and took the coffee from her hands. She looked to be about my age and was ridiculously pretty with short blonde hair, green eyes and a heart-shaped face.

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  “So you’re not from around here, then?” she asked.

  “Oh no. I live in the city.”

  Bea perched herself on a stool. “I couldn’t live anywhere but here. I’ve been here all my life.” Her face was pure contentment. “So what brings you out this way, then?”

  “Your coffee, for one thing.” I didn’t want to talk about my mother’s charity or the fact I was running late for Richard’s speech rehearsal. I took a sip of my coffee and let out an involuntary moan of pleasure. “This may be the best coffee I’ve ever had. Puts George to shame, and that’s saying something.”

  “George is your city barista?” she asked, smiling broadly.

  “Nope, and don’t laugh. He’s my coffee machine. I call him George.”

  Bea threw her head back and laughed. When she stopped, she pointed to her coffee machine, grinning. “Meet Charlie.”

  I liked this girl, and I didn’t have many friends I could be myself around. It was hard being friends with those who knew me only as the society princess.

  “So why do you have a picture of that house in here?” My curiosity needed a little fuel.

  “One of my best friends grew up there.” She rubbed her forehead lightly as she spoke, and a flash of sadness washed across her face. “It’s still his family home, but no one lives there anymore.”

  I had so many more questions, but before I could ask anything else, the door opened. A tour bus had stopped out front and a line of customers filed in. I glanced at my watch and nearly dropped my coffee. I was late and would incur my mother’s wrath. Richard would be annoyed with me too, for upsetting her and not listening to his speech.

  “Sorry, Jules,” she said, stepping down from her stool. “I’d better get back to it. It was lovely to meet you.”

  “You too.” I held up my empty coffee cup. “Best coffee ever.”

  “Thanks. Coming from someone who names their coffee machine, that means a lot.”

  I put my cup back on the counter, waved to her and headed for the exit.

  I held the door open for a few stragglers from the bus. “Bye, Bea.” I waved again when the exit was free.

  I had to drive back past the stone farmhouse and couldn’t resist pulling over again, even though I was now horribly late. This time, I was looking at it in a different light. I started envisaging it as a family home full of laughter and noise. I imagined the lawns mown and the flower beds flourishing with colour. I wondered what state the inside was in, and I wondered why no one lived there anymore.

  I wanted to lose myself in that house in the countryside, miles from my life in the city. If my mother could read my thoughts at any given moment, she’d have a heart attack. She felt it was a matter of time before Richard and I got married and moved in together. It would kill her if I disrupted her fragile world in any way. My fierce determination to help maintain her illusion was taking its toll, but the alternative was unthinkable.

  My phone’s ringtone broke the silence. I knew who it would be before I looked at the screen.

  “Hello, Mother.” I closed my eyes and rested my chin on my chest with my shoulders slumped forward.

  “Where on earth are you, Juliette? You should be here already. You’re being very disrespectful. I’m disappointed in you.”

  I wondered if it had occurred to her to be worried about me. I could’ve been in an accident and lying injured in a hospital, or worse. Instead, her concern was keeping up appearances.

  “I’m sorry. I got lost, but I’m on my way.”

  “I was relying on you and you’ve let me down.” She sniffed.

  She was crying. Of course she was.

  I sighed. “It’s okay, Mum. Tonight is going to be a huge success. I’ll be there really soon.”

  “Well, hurry up,” she said, still sniffing. “Are you wearing the dress I bought you? I brought an option for you just in case.” She went silent for a moment before she screamed, “Not over there!”

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “The help can’t follow my simple instructions either.”

  “Right. Well, I’ll see you soon.”

  She hung up without saying goodbye, and I just stared at my phone as it disconnected.

  I was exhausted. I didn’t want to turn the car back on. I wanted to stay right there in the middle of nowhere, where I felt completely at home. The object of my fascination shimmered in the late afternoon sun, highlighting the yellows and browns of the crumbling sediment.

  I had a feeling deep in my gut that I was meant to find that house, and that it somehow held the key to my freedom. I had no idea how long I sat there, but when my thoughts came back to the present, I was aware of the darkening skies. I turned the key and floored it.

  Chapter Nine

  Leo

  “Sure thing, ma’am,” I replied through gritted teeth and a fake smile. Mrs Fontaine, the woman running the charity event, was a ball breaker.

  She had changed her mind about the exact placing of every table no less than five times. I had to keep reminding myself this woman paid her event staff almost twice the going rate. I was just grateful I didn’t have to associate with the type of people who attended her functions in my everyday life.

  “That’ll do,” she said finally.

  The event was being held on the lawn behind the homestead of the most luxurious estate in the Yarra Valley. It was a cocktail party and everything was black or white. How original, I’d thought. The setting, however, was unique. Situated at the top of the hill, the guests would be overlooking the rows of vines and the mountains beyond. It was wine country at its best.

  The Estate homestead was impressive—an old white weatherboard with plantation shutters and a full wrap-around veranda.

  “Is there anything else you need?” I asked politely.

  She gestured towards the veranda. “I’d like a wet bar set up over ther
e. Make sure my guests’ glasses are never empty. I’ll leave it up to you to—”

  A man appeared out of nowhere and interrupted, “Where the hell is Juliette?”

  Instead of being irritated by his rudeness, Mrs Fontaine tried to appease him. “I’m so sorry, Richard darling. I’ll give that inconsiderate daughter of mine another call. Come with me. We’ll find somewhere private to run through your speech.”

  The rude son of a bitch had stood directly in front of me as if I didn’t exist. I supposed in his world, I didn’t.

  “I’m sure I can find a way to help you relax,” she continued.

  His back was to me, but I could see her hand grip his arm and then rub it up and down. Well, that seemed inappropriate, I thought to myself. Shrugging, because I genuinely didn’t give a shit, I walked away to get on with my job. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the girl they were discussing. She was about to incur her mother’s wrath, and whoever this guy was to her, he was a complete wanker.

  The string quartet began playing as the guests started arriving, and I walked around with a tray of filled champagne glasses. There were four staff members including James and me. We were there to serve the fifteen couples who’d no doubt paid a pretty penny to attend this exclusive shindig. They would all be staying in the luxury accommodation, so the champagne was flowing.

  An attractive woman, probably in her forties, approached, eyeing me up and down like I was her next meal.

  “What can I get for you, ma’am?”

  “What are you offering?”

  I replied in a serious tone, “French champagne, wine, spirits, mineral water. What are you drinking?”

  She leant over the bar, invading my personal space. “I was hoping you were on the menu.”