Where There Is Smoke

by Elisabeth Rose

  ‘You can always call a locksmith.’

  ‘I suppose so. I haven’t ever had to do anything like that,’ she said.

  No doubt Mama or Hugh took care of life’s little inconveniences such as finding a job, buying an apartment and a car, replacing lost keys … How could she stand it? She wasn’t a child but sometimes she acted like one.

  ‘Krista, you’re an intelligent adult. Have you ever thought of running your own life?’ His exasperation made the words sound sharper than he intended.

  ‘I do.’ She didn’t miss the edge.

  ‘Do you?’ He looked over to where her mother had moved on to another group of guests, laughing and smiling, intent on being the gracious hostess and perfect wife. At what cost?

  ‘You don’t know anything about me,’ she said tartly. ‘Not really.’

  ‘You’ve just told me your mother got you your last job and presumably the others, you don’t know how to get into your apartment and you have no direction in life. I assume you don’t actually have to work to survive but I think you want to be independent. Trouble is you’re too scared of breaking away from your mother even though you resent her interference and control.’

  She stared at him, her breath coming heavily, lips jammed together and cheeks a deep pink unrelated to the stifling heat of the evening.

  ‘Thank you for coming. I hope you enjoy yourself,’ she said in a tight voice and turned away.

  Lola appeared from the rosebed and trotted after her. Oliver finished his beer. He might as well leave now. There was nothing left for him here, having insulted the only person he was remotely interested in talking to. He hadn’t meant to do that but her acceptance of the situation and seeming lack of will to do anything constructive about it was infuriating. If she had to work for a living she’d see the world differently. If she had to struggle to pursue her goal—if she ever had one—she’d appreciate what she’d been handed on a platter and do her best to forge her own way. As it was, her helpless ‘poor me’ attitude made him grind his teeth.

  He handed his empty glass to a waiter and began working his way through the crowd to the gate. Was it his imagination or was that a hint of smoke in the heavy air? A few cigarettes smouldered between fingers in the crowd but this was a different smell, one with the tang of eucalyptus. No breeze stirred the surrounding trees so the fire was a considerable distance away and probably not a threat, but the locals would be listening intently to the radio for updates and checking the online Fire Service site for news. Grassfires were common at this time of year but so far the Bend had escaped a major onslaught. Oliver looked up at the evening sky. Still clear and the sunset was golden without the telltale reddish tinge of a smoke-filled filter.

  A microphone crackled and someone announced that guests should take their seats at the tables. Oliver hesitated. He should leave but he was hungry and the food was sure to be good—better than the leftover cold chicken in his fridge. Guests were moving about looking at place tags. He had no idea if there was one for him. The cold chicken might be the safer option, to avoid embarrassment.

  He threaded through the guests, heading for the gate, but Brenda bustled up and said, ‘I forgot to tell you, Oliver, I’m sorry. I’ve made a place for you on Table 2. Next to Krista.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m at the same table.’ She smiled happily and hurried away. Oliver followed the chattering women in front of him and kept an eye out for Table 2 and a cranky blonde in a silver dress.

  Krista took her place at the empty table after quickly scanning the other names. Gwen and Felix were seated two along, then a couple she hardly knew from one of her mother’s charity committees, someone called Bunny Bancroft was next, Jack, an old golfing friend of Hugh’s, Brenda, and next to her, unsurprisingly, Oliver.

  He hadn’t reappeared and she wasn’t craning her neck to find him. He’d probably gone home. She eyed the hastily prepared name tag next to her and considered swapping it with Jack the golfer, but before she could act, Jack pulled out his chair and boomed, ‘Krista, how beautiful you are. A silver goddess.’

  ‘Hello, Jack. Thank you very much. Where’s Wendy? Is she well?’

  ‘Couldn’t come. She’s on a cultural cruise on the Mediterranean. Climbing about Greek and Roman ruins.’

  ‘Sounds fun.’

  ‘She enjoys it. How have you been?’ He leaned his elbows on the table and studied her from under bushy grey eyebrows, like a benevolent koala.

  ‘I’m fine. You’re looking well.’ He was. Unlike Hugh’s usual friends Jack kept himself fit, loved his wife and children and was unfailingly polite and decent. No wonder Brenda had placed herself between him and Oliver.

  A waiter appeared and poured iced water into their glasses, distracting Jack from replying.

  Krista had her mother’s charity friends on her other side. Calvin and Vanessa True. At least Gwen and the despicable Felix were safely across the table. He’d have to have octopus tentacles to grope her knee from there. Would Oliver make a scene if Felix did? Jack would, if he knew. He had three daughters not much older than she was. Brenda was right. There were some good men around.

  The Trues appeared next. Vanessa was all sharp angles, in contrast to her husband whose shirt buttons were in serious danger of being propelled across the table like bullets when the stitching gave way under the strain. She flagged down the waiter and demanded red wine in a voice like gravel.

  ‘I only drink red,’ she announced.

  ‘She does,’ said Calvin. ‘Whereas I drink anything.’

  Krista nodded and smiled.

  ‘You’re Viivi’s daughter, aren’t you?’ Vanessa asked, full glass in hand. ‘You’re exactly alike. Isn’t she, Cal? She’s the spitting image of her mother.’

  ‘She is. The spitting image.’

  ‘How long have they been married? Hugh and Viivi?’ she asked next.

  ‘Fifteen years.’

  ‘Fifteen?’ Pencilled eyebrows rose dramatically.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What do you do, Krista?’ asked Cal. ‘Are you involved in the charity thing?’

  ‘No. I don’t have a job at the moment.’

  ‘I thought you were with Charles Petrovic,’ said Vanessa. ‘Viivi said you were.’

  ‘I was until last week.’

  ‘You weren’t there very long, were you?’

  ‘No. We had a disagreement.’

  ‘Young people change jobs at the drop of a hat nowadays,’ said Cal. ‘No sense of loyalty at all.’

  ‘It’s all about themselves,’ said Vanessa. ‘As soon as something doesn’t go how they want, they quit. It’s so hard to keep staff these days. We’ve had three housekeepers in eighteen months. Nothing but complaints. You’d think they’d be glad of a job but no, they just don’t want to work at all.’

  ‘Brenda has been with my mother for years,’ said Krista. ‘They get on very well.’

  ‘But Viivi is a delight, so undemanding,’ said Vanessa. ‘Who wouldn’t want to work for her? I’m much fussier.’

  ‘She is, she’s very fussy,’ said Cal.

  Fortunately the other guests arrived at the table all at the same time, including Oliver. He slid onto the chair beside her while she was greeting Brenda and being introduced to Bunny, an attractive, auburn-haired woman in peacock blue whose connection to Viivi and Hugh wasn’t made clear. No-one else at the table apart from Gwen seemed to know her either.

  ‘I wasn’t sure you’d stay,’ Krista said to Oliver when the others were busy meeting each other. Her heart beat just a little bit faster as he turned to reply. Was he angry with her? He had every right to be—but here he was and he didn’t look upset. He had the same calm expression he usually wore.

  ‘Neither was I but Brenda caught me as I was making up my mind.’

  Did that mean he was coerced?

  ‘Is there a fire nearby?’ boomed Jack. ‘I’m sure I smell smoke.’

  ‘There is but it’s a fair distance away. No danger
so far,’ said Oliver.

  ‘Rod said he was monitoring it,’ added Krista.

  ‘My goodness. A bushfire? How close is it?’ shrilled Gwen. ‘Are we safe?’

  ‘Rod said if the wind picks up and blows our way we might be in trouble.’

  ‘Who’d want to live out here?’ said Cal.

  ‘I do,’ said Oliver.

  ‘Why?’ asked Gwen.

  ‘Oliver is the local vet,’ said Brenda.

  ‘But you must have chosen to come here. Nobody forced you, did they?’ Gwen said.

  ‘I did choose Taylor’s Bend and I love it. Five years ago now.’

  He didn’t sound the least bit defensive. If anything, he sounded amused by their horror. The way he and the two police officers had quietly laughed at her that first day. Hearing these remarks, she had an inkling as to why. And squirmed.

  ‘Do you have a family?’ was Gwen’s next query.

  ‘I’m not married if that’s what you’re asking.’

  ‘Oliver is Krista’s friend,’ said Brenda helpfully.

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Gwen smirked at Krista. ‘You kept that quiet.’

  ‘That’s because I met Oliver three days ago when he looked after one of our horses.’ And she certainly wouldn’t be telling Gwen the details of a budding relationship if there was one.

  ‘Hugh invited me today, not Krista,’ said Oliver. ‘I’ve been treating the stallion here as well.’

  ‘Firebrand is very valuable,’ said Krista. ‘So Hugh was pleased Oliver could come out quickly to see him.’

  ‘What happened to that young man we met you with at the Christmas lunch?’ Felix asked, eyeing her through partly closed eyes, which he would assume gave him a sexy, cool look but didn’t. It made him look as though he needed glasses. ‘Johann, was it? You seemed very cosy together.’

  ‘Nothing happened to him as far as I know. I haven’t seen him since.’ One of her mother’s set-ups. Johann from Germany, son of some friend of hers holidaying in Australia.

  ‘That’s a shame. He was very good looking and so cultured,’ said Gwen. ‘Viivi had high hopes for you two. She’s very keen you should find someone and settle down, Krista.’

  Luckily, Jack and Bunny had struck up a conversation so Gwen’s remarks weren’t broadcast to the whole table. Oliver, however, was well within earshot and the Trues’ faces were alight with interest.

  ‘Why should Krista settle down?’ Oliver asked. The urge to kick him under the table was almost irresistible. He should ignore Gwen, the way she’d learned to do, not give her space to air her views on Krista’s life.

  ‘A girl needs a husband.’

  ‘Why?’ A spark of irritation was in his voice now.

  Krista sucked in a breath and firmed her lips. This was heading for disaster. Oliver was already annoyed by her behaviour and Gwen was always annoying.

  Now Vanessa True shoved her oar in. ‘Security. She needs a man to look after her. The world’s a tough place for a single woman.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Gwen nodded vigorously. ‘Security and protection.’

  ‘Excuse me, seeing as this is me you’re all discussing,’ said Krista loudly before Oliver could start. ‘Can I say, I would like to marry one day, but I’m not settling for some man because Mama wants me to.’

  ‘I should hope not.’ Oliver swigged a mouthful of wine.

  ‘Viivi only has your best interests at heart. She wants you to marry well.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ asked Oliver. ‘Marry well?’

  ‘It means she would be happiest with someone from her own social circle who is financially secure and can provide her with the lifestyle she’s used to.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’ He nodded. ‘You mean not someone like a country vet who should know his place and not have any ideas above his station.’ He laughed and shook his head and murmured what sounded like, ‘Unbelievable.’

  ‘Oliver …’ Krista began, but he said, ‘Don’t worry, Gwen. Krista and I are barely acquaintances. We have nothing in common and probably won’t meet again after this evening.’ He chuckled again. ‘But I can assure you that when and if I do meet the right woman, I will take my vows seriously. I will love her, respect her and I will always be faithful, which is more than can be said for some married men.’ He raised his eyebrows and his glass at Felix. ‘I’m sure you, as a married man, will agree.’

  On his other side Brenda caught Krista’s eye and barely smothered a laugh.

  Krista smiled but his words hurt on a level she hadn’t expected in spite of what he’d said earlier. He thought they had nothing in common and that was true, apart from the Moran problem, but it didn’t mean …

  A waitress placed the melon and avocado entree in front of her. She stared at the artful arrangement as though it was plastic. She could no more swallow food than ride Calypso in the Melbourne Cup.

  What didn’t it mean? Just because she found him attractive and he was kind … He’d made his opinion clear to her earlier, to Gwen and everyone within earshot with that statement a moment ago. Why did it matter so much? Why did it feel as though her future had become as bleak as the dry, dusty paddocks surrounding them?

  Chapter 8

  Oliver speared a melon cube. Delicious. Cool and refreshing. Krista sat unmoving and silent beside him and he couldn’t blame her. That woman, Gwen, was a real shocker. What a nasty snobbish bitch to launch into a discussion of Krista’s personal life like that, in front of strangers. If that was her idea of social superiority she was in a class all her own.

  ‘Are you okay?’ He spoke softly.

  She picked up her fork. ‘Fine. It’s the weather.’ Put the fork down.

  ‘Drink plenty of water.’ Ice tinkled as he pushed her glass closer.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘For … you know.’ She glanced at Felix who was guzzling food like a starving man.

  ‘Are they always like that?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m used to it.’

  ‘My father’s a bit the same.’

  ‘Really?’ She looked at him, eyes widening in surprise at the first personal piece of information he’d let slip.

  ‘That’s one of the reasons I came here.’

  ‘To escape?’

  ‘More or less, but I love my work and I love the town. It’s home now.’

  ‘I can see that. You’re lucky it worked out so well.’ She took a sip of water, then another.

  ‘Yes, I am, but Krista, I made the decision to follow my own path.’

  She took up her fork and jabbed it into a chunk of avocado. ‘You knew what you wanted to do. And you’re a man. It makes a difference.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Time to change the subject, that one had been done and he didn’t want to break the delicate truce they’d achieved. She’d been picked on enough. ‘This entree is really good,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, Mama changed her mind about five times before she and the chef agreed.’ But she only nibbled at the avocado slice on her fork.

  When the entrees were finished, Hugh stood and took the microphone for a welcoming speech. It was the usual thing except totally devoid of witticisms or jokes—or attempts at either. Very strange for a man who must be used to being the centre of attention and was presiding over what should be a happy occasion.

  The bloke could be addressing a board meeting. Oliver’s attention wandered as Hugh thanked a swathe of people for coming. He’d been to a few such celebrations in the Bend—Rupe and Abbie’s wedding, two twenty-first birthdays, Connie Benson’s fortieth birthday, and most memorable of the anniversaries, Laurie and Dot’s sixtieth, which filled the town hall to overflowing, started at noon on a Saturday and finished at about four on Sunday morning. Minus the happy octogenarian couple, of course, who’d retired to bed at nine pm. At all of those events the jokes and anecdotes had flown thick and fast, with the guests more than happy to throw in their own comments if they thought the speaker needed help, was getting boring or waffling.

  Hugh ended by thanking Vii
vi for fifteen happy years. She smiled and nodded graciously to the assembly but to Oliver she didn’t look overjoyed by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, when after toasting his wife, amidst applause, Hugh took his seat beside her, she leaned in close and said something which wiped the smile from his face as effectively as if she’d smacked him.

  He glanced at Krista. Her eyes were downcast, hands in her lap with the fingers tightly entwined. Without thinking, he reached across and placed his hand over hers. She looked up swiftly. For the longest of moments her eyes locked with his and the table, the guests, the garden, the chatter, the heat all faded to nothing, replaced by the warmth of her skin on his palm and the depths of blue swallowing him whole.

  ‘How dare you!’

  The shrieking voice cut through the languid evening air like machine-gun fire. Krista’s hands jerked free as she turned her head, body tense. Oliver followed her gaze to the main table where Viivi was on her feet, face contorted by fury. She swung her arm back and struck Hugh’s face a stinging blow with the flat of her hand. A collective gasp filled the stunned silence that followed her cry.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Brenda leapt to her feet and followed Viivi who, in a stumbling run, threaded her way clumsily between the tables towards the house.

  Without a word, Krista pushed her chair back and followed them both.

  Gwen began shoving her chair back as well but Felix wisely held her arm.

  ‘I wouldn’t, darling,’ he said in the type of voice that really meant, ‘Stay right where you are and don’t interfere.’

  ‘My goodness,’ said Vanessa. ‘What just happened?’

  Gwen snatched her arm free but stayed put. ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ she snarled. ‘This has been brewing for some time. Everyone knows.’

  Oliver and Jack exchanged bewildered glances.

  ‘Do they?’ asked Jack of the table at large.

  Oliver shrugged with a grimace. Across the table the auburn-haired woman, whose name he’d forgotten, casually sipped her wine. More used to such dramas than he was, apparently. He wanted to leave but the other guests were enthralled.