Where There Is Smoke

by Elisabeth Rose

  ‘I have no idea what that was about,’ she said. ‘And I’m not sure I want to.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Oliver said.

  ‘You should know.’ Gwen glared at the woman.

  ‘Should I?’

  ‘It was you who started it by sleeping with Hugh.’

  ‘I beg your pardon? Where on earth did you get that idea?’ She laughed but it was brittle.

  ‘I have my sources.’

  ‘Well, I would change my sources if I were you or you could get yourself into some serious trouble.’ Her tone changed to steel. ‘Legal trouble.’

  Gwen glowered but kept her mouth closed. Felix shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

  Cal said, ‘If that were true, I imagine Hugh would be a willing participant. By all accounts he usually is.’

  ‘For God’s sake!’ Gwen said. She turned back to the woman. ‘Why are you here, anyway, Bunny?’

  ‘I was invited,’ she said. ‘By Viivi.’

  Did Krista know about Hugh’s activities? He really should get up and walk out. What was he doing getting himself involved with this festering madhouse? No-one apart from Krista would care if he left and she was busy with her mother. He could phone her later.

  Hugh’s voice cut through the rumble of voices. ‘Please, everyone. I must apologise for Viivi’s behaviour. She’s been under a lot of stress organising tonight’s party and she never does well in the heat. She’s Finnish, as you know, so she’s much happier in the snow, hence our skiing trip next week.’ A little titter of laughter greeted this remark. ‘Please enjoy the rest of the dinner and I’m sure Viivi will join us a little later when she’s feeling better.’

  Applause rippled around the garden.

  Waiters appeared bearing the main course. Wine glasses were refilled, the music restarted, the dinner resumed. Oliver sliced into the chunk of barbecued steak on his plate. Apologising for Viivi’s behaviour? That was a neat sidestep and deflection of blame if what Gwen announced as common knowledge was actually fact and not gossip.

  A few minutes later, Krista sat down.

  Gwen leaned forward. ‘How is she? Should I go in?’ Desperate to get in there and claw at the wounds.

  ‘Brenda’s with her and she doesn’t want to see anyone else.’

  ‘What an awful thing to do to her, on this day of all days.’ Her gaze swung around the table hoping for a glimmer of interest in dissecting the situation but met with people studiously concentrating on eating.

  ‘They’ll sort it out,’ said Jack. ‘After fifteen years they know the best and the worst of each other.’ He sent a kindly smile Krista’s way then turned to Oliver. ‘Are you a cricketing man?’

  ‘I am. I play for the local team. Bat rather than bowl but I’m a reserve this season. Too unreliable because of work.’

  ‘What do you think of the Test team this year?’

  ‘Oh God. Not sport.’ Gwen glowered and picked at her dinner.

  Oliver gave his opinion and continued the discussion he would otherwise have enjoyed very much if most of his attention wasn’t on Krista, silent beside him with the silver dress shining in the lamplight but the sparkle gone from her eyes.

  When Cal and Felix weighed in on the state of the Australian team, Oliver said softly, ‘Eat something.’

  She obediently cut a small piece of steak and ate it. ‘Mama’s furious,’ she murmured. ‘She’s packing.’

  ‘Will she leave tonight?’ And here he was thinking she’d be in floods of tears at whatever sin Hugh had committed.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Will you go with her?’

  ‘Why would I?’ Surprise sharpened her voice.

  ‘Support?’

  ‘She has Brenda. She doesn’t need me.’ She ate a bite of potato salad.

  Oliver continued eating. He knew how that felt. Being abandoned by a parent. Not so much physically as emotionally. In his case it was both parents, because his mother did what his father said and had done their whole married life. She had no life of her own outside his sphere. She was Mrs Emily Johnson, devoted wife of eminent cardiologist Francis Johnson.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she murmured. ‘That you stayed.’

  ‘One thing I’ve learnt over the years,’ he said, and paused to swallow a forkful of lettuce while she waited, blank faced. ‘Never knock back a free feed.’

  The beautiful smile appeared like sunshine.

  ‘And this is a very good feed,’ he added.

  ‘It ought to be, the chef is world class.’

  ‘What’s he got up his sleeve for dessert?’

  ‘Wait and see.’ Her voice had a touch of pleading.

  ‘I will.’

  She turned to her neglected plate and began eating with a touch more enthusiasm than previously.

  ‘So will this shindig continue without the hostess?’ he asked softly.

  She nodded. ‘Hugh can’t send everyone away after making them come so far. He’ll make up some excuse when she doesn’t reappear.’

  ‘Do they have often have fights like this?’

  ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘This is different.’

  He couldn’t ask more, not with Gwen straining her ears to listen over the raised voices of the cricket tragics.

  ‘Do you like cricket?’ he asked in a normal voice.

  ‘I do. I prefer tennis but I do watch the tests.’

  ‘Do you play tennis?’

  ‘Yes. I’m pretty good although I haven’t played for a while.’ She eyed him as she said it, raised one delicate eyebrow. ‘Do you play?’

  ‘Yes. We have a regular four on Thursday evenings. Mixed doubles.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yes, you’ve met two of them. Shannon the cop and Tim who helped unload Arch Rival from the float.’

  ‘I missed him. Was he leaving when I arrived?’

  ‘Right, he was. He owns a vineyard on the other side of town. He’s Rupe’s neighbour.’

  ‘Who’s the other person?’

  ‘Shannon’s wife, Vicki. She’s an accountant. They live at the police station.’

  ‘Sounds fun. Not living at the police station,’ she said quickly. ‘The tennis.’

  ‘It is. The tennis club is pretty active.’

  ‘What else goes on here?’

  ‘Plenty of sport. There’s a book group, a youth group at the church, school functions, a couple of fetes, fundraisers, music and trivia nights and karaoke at the pub. A fun run. The Show. And there’s a new music and drama group just started up to put on a show.’

  ‘What sort of show?’

  ‘Gilbert and Sullivan. Patience.’

  She laughed. ‘Are you singing in it?’

  ‘I’m in the orchestra. Cello.’

  ‘My goodness.’ She looked at him in astonishment.

  He placed his knife and fork neatly together on his empty plate.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘That came out wrong. I meant, I’m impressed. I’m totally unmusical although I love music. That sounds like heaps of fun.’

  ‘Should be. We’ve never done anything like this before in town but the couple organising it are very experienced and seem to know what they’re doing.’

  ‘Maybe I could do something to help.’ She sounded wistful.

  He wiped his mouth with the napkin. ‘It’s not until June.’

  She nodded and drank some water.

  ‘You won’t be here then, will you?’

  ‘Probably not. Specially if Hugh sells the place,’ she added in a low voice. ‘Quite likely now.’ She sighed and placed her own cutlery side by side on the plate.

  A waitress whisked both empty plates away. Oliver took a sip of wine. Had he been too harsh? Handing out another dismissal when she was still smarting from the last?

  ‘No reason why you couldn’t lend a hand while you are here,’ he said. ‘What can you do?’

  She frowned. ‘Nothing special. I can paint sets or help with wardrobe. Help with publicity. Whatever’s needed.’
<
br />   Eager as a puppy given a pat on the head.

  ‘I’ll let them know. Rupe’s wife, Abbie, is an artist. She’s doing the set design.’

  ‘Rupe the other policeman?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Will you tell him—about, you know …’

  ‘Not unless something happens.’

  She grimaced. ‘Maybe it was just words.’

  But she didn’t sound convinced and remembering that pair who banged on his door, he wasn’t either.

  ***

  If it hadn’t been for Oliver, a calming, solid presence beside her, Krista would have excused herself and holed up in her room. As it was, the evening ground on. Hugh remained at his table, drinking and talking loudly to his companions as if his wife’s spectacular exit was nothing special. Dessert came and went, as did coffee, then the guitar trio was enhanced by extra players and a singer to provide dance music. The evening was running like clockwork, an ironic tribute to her mother’s organisational skill. She didn’t reappear although Brenda did briefly, to draw Hugh aside for an intense exchange. He shook his head, face thundery. Brenda waited a moment but nothing was forthcoming so whatever he’d said was his final offer.

  She glanced across at Krista as she headed for the house and gave an imperceptible shake of the head. No-one was giving an inch. Typical of that pair.

  By the looks Gwen kept throwing at Hugh and Brenda, Krista knew she was itching to go in and see Viivi but wasn’t game to disobey the earlier command and risk some of the fury being directed at her. The whole crowd would be speculating as to the enormity and nature of Hugh’s crime. Infidelity would be the top runner but Viivi had turned a blind eye to his flirtations before, saying they were nothing more than an ageing man’s attempts to recapture his fading youth. The implication was he was to be pitied.

  This time might be different. This time Mama was deeply hurt and angry. Whether she would follow through with her decision to leave tonight she had no idea. Perhaps Brenda was trying to persuade Hugh to talk to her but he was unlikely to forgive such a publicly humiliating display and for once, she almost sympathised with him. He must have done something bad, something unforgivable. Who with?

  She slid a sideways glance at Oliver. She couldn’t expect him to stay much longer although he sat, legs stretched out, watching the couples dancing, showing no signs of wanting to go home. He was uninvolved, a spectator. He wasn’t sitting there envisaging what might ensue after tonight’s debacle. Another divorce, another hysterical meltdown from her mother. Anger, bitterness, blame. She sighed heavily. She’d just turned thirteen when the last one occurred, watching wide-eyed and fearful, ignored and all but forgotten.

  Forget escaping to her bedroom, if she could go home she would. If Angus hadn’t taken her keys …

  Cal and Vanessa went to join the dancers on the artificial floor in the marquee.

  ‘Dance with me, Krista,’ said Jack, but she shook her head. A smile was hard to raise.

  ‘Sorry, I don’t feel much like dancing.’

  ‘It’ll cheer you up, lovey. Come on.’ He pushed his chair back and stood, holding out his hand.

  She looked up into his face and saw nothing but care and kindness. Was this what a father looked like?

  ‘All right. Thanks.’

  He held her in a waltz embrace and steered her expertly between the other couples in some old-fashioned dance style. After a few fumbling missteps, she picked up what he was doing with his surprisingly nimble feet and began to enjoy herself. He was right, concentrating on the movement and the music took her mind off the disaster.

  When she returned to the table, Oliver had gone. She scanned the crowd. Most people were dancing, some chatted at their tables, others had wandered off across the grass. A few people had asked about Viivi as she passed but she smiled, was noncommittal and kept moving.

  Hugh was talking to Felix and Gwen, her hand on his arm, a consoling expression on her face, her whole body inclined towards him. Something about the body language brought a frown …

  Felix was fondling a tumbler of whisky, avidly assessing the rear view of a red-haired woman dancing close by. Bunny. Krista turned away. What a complicated, disgusting mess. At least she’d managed to avoid her despicable ex-boss Charles and his wife.

  She headed indoors for the bathroom and found Oliver returning from the same mission.

  ‘Wait here. I’ll be a minute,’ she said and ran upstairs to her own ensuite. A quick repair job on her make-up, a spritz of perfume, and she rejoined him in the terrace room. He was chatting to the barman, laughing and comfortable. Far more so than he’d been with the guests or Hugh.

  He nodded to the man and drew her across to the other side of the room by the open door.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, it was a surprise, that’s all. I knew they’d been arguing lately but not …’ She gestured helplessly. ‘It’s not the first time.’

  ‘You mean they’ve done this before? I thought you said this was worse.’

  ‘Yes, it is. I meant Mama has had husbands before. Hugh is number four.’

  ‘Is she still here?’

  ‘I think so. I should go and see her.’

  ‘You should. I’ll go home.’

  ‘Okay. Thank you for coming, Oliver. I’m sorry you had to see this.’

  ‘No worries. You’re not responsible for your parents’ behaviour.’ Kind blue eyes studied her and then suddenly his lips brushed her cheek, leaving a tingling trail. ‘Look after yourself, Krista.’

  His fingers caressed her bare arm and then he was striding away, down the steps and across the grass for the gate. If only she could leave too.

  But she couldn’t. She asked the barman for a glass of water and downed it before going to face Mama.

  She tapped on the bedroom door. Brenda opened it, saw who it was and let her in without a word. Her face said it all. Resignation, weariness, worry.

  Three suitcases lay on the bed, half-full. A couple of bulging dress bags hung from the wardrobe door and a large carry bag held shoes. Mama had her back turned, emptying out a drawer.

  ‘I said don’t let anyone in,’ she snapped. She’d changed her evening dress for white linen slacks and a sleeveless print blouse.

  ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Oh, Krista.’ She dumped an armful of lingerie into one of the suitcases and closed the lid. ‘Make yourself useful and clear out the ensuite will you?’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Sydney.’

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why don’t you wait until morning and talk to Hugh first?’

  She didn’t answer, just slammed the drawer closed and opened the next.

  ‘We’ve been over that,’ said Brenda. ‘Viivi wants to leave.’

  Krista picked up a capacious bathroom bag and went to the ensuite. She filled it with everything she thought must be her mother’s and not Hugh’s. Brenda came in and did a quick check of the vanity and shower recess, collecting a few bottles of shampoo and shower gel.

  ‘She’s adamant that we go now,’ she said softly.

  ‘Is she talking divorce?’

  Brenda nodded. ‘I’ve never seen her like this.’

  ‘What happened between them?’

  ‘Hugh had an affair with Gwen that lasted until about a month ago.’

  ‘My God.’

  ‘He tried it on with Bunny. Apparently, after he ditched Gwen but she told him where to go.’

  ‘Good for her.’ No doubt the seating had been deliberate. Whose evil idea was that? Brenda or her mother’s. Felix’s interest in Bunny would be the cream on top.

  ‘She was the one who told Viivi what had been going on.’

  ‘Who is she? She said Mama invited her but I’ve never met her before.’

  ‘Viivi hired her and invited her to things so she could watch Hugh. She’s a lawyer and her brother is a private investigator. They work together and sometimes both go to f
unctions as a couple.’

  ‘So she knew.’

  ‘Suspected. She always played down his flirtations because they were with girls she knew weren’t a threat, but this one was much more personal. Gwen was supposed to be her best friend.’

  ‘Why didn’t she expose them both? Why invite Gwen here?’

  ‘I think because it would be more humiliating for her for everyone to know. She doesn’t want to be an object of pity. At least not tonight. It’ll come out, of course.’

  ‘Hurry up.’ Her mother’s voice dripped irritation.

  Brenda and Krista took the bag of cosmetics to the bedroom.

  ‘In there,’ Viivi said, pointing to the remaining open suitcase. ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘Who’s driving you?’

  ‘We’re taking the Mercedes and sharing,’ said Brenda. ‘We’ll stay in Wagga tonight. I’ve booked rooms.’

  There was nothing more to say beyond goodbye. Mama hugged her but her arms were empty, her mind elsewhere. Brenda gave her a quick kiss.

  ‘Take care, Krista.’

  ‘Safe trip.’

  She helped them carry the bags to the front door where someone had already parked the car. The security guard loaded the pile of luggage into the boot, the two women got into the front seat with Brenda driving and they were gone.

  Krista watched the red tail-lights disappear down the driveway. She may as well have farewelled an acquaintance who’d stayed a few days before moving on.

  ***

  Krista slept deeply and to her surprise, having expected a sleepless night, woke later than usual. The house was quiet. She hadn’t heard the guests leave last night and had no idea how long the party had gone on but the band was booked until one. Her mother and Brenda had left around eleven-thirty and she’d been in bed asleep not long after midnight in a shutdown of mind and body.

  She sat up and stretched. Eight forty-five. Amazing. Brassy sunlight streamed through the blinds she’d only partially closed the previous night. It had a reddish tinge and the branches of the gum trees visible through the gap waved in a brisk wind.

  Ten minutes later, she padded downstairs in her bikini, barefoot with a towel over her shoulder, to do her morning laps. The terrace room was clean and tidy, as was the kitchen when she poked her head in to see what was on offer for breakfast. Nothing. Not a soul around, the benches clear and spotless.