12. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Lara looked across the road as she put her keys into the front door of her store the next morning and saw Esme arrive at the same time. She glowered at her. Esme shook her head disapprovingly, her shoulders drooping before she flung open her front door with a snap. Lara was tempted to give her the finger while she was at it but that might be going over the top. She heard a tsk in her direction as Kylie Burgess walked by her.

“Come on honey,” Kylie grabbed her thirteen year old daughter’s hand, all but dragging her away from Lara’s toxic influence. Her child looked embarrassed so Lara shot her a friendly wink and her jaw dropped. She stared at Lara as they crossed the road and her mother glanced back and shot her another dirty look. Kylie reached Esme and rubbed her arm comfortingly. Lara smirked and walked into her store, turning the closed sign to open. Another day .

It was a Friday, always her busiest day as the luxury SUVs began to flood up the mountain. Lara was friendly to them all, just enough. They were mostly couples here for a romantic break and Lara knew full well that being even baseline friendly to the husbands never worked in her favour. Instead she focussed on the women, smiles and flattery, tips for good massages and day spas, places she never ever went herself, though she’d never betray a hint of that to her customers. It was all part of the fantasy, wasn’t it? The rainforest hinterland, full of lovely locals living the dream. Her bottom line depended on it.

The day sped by in a rush, a haze of polite smiles and light chit-chat - the new line of boutique infused coconut oil she’d stocked just flying off the shelves - before she finally closed up the shop and picked up Tilly. She stalked past Ollie with barely a glance, her power neatly restored now that Ollie had made a play and lost. Lara was more than happy to know it was hopefully their last school gate encounter according to the timeframe Ollie had helpfully provided her. No more overthinking about what the hell to wear each day: normality restored.

Tilly was filled with excited chatter for the evening ahead and the weekend beyond. Once home, Lara put her to work, tidying the living room and peeling potatoes, and, in accordance with the magic of bonfire night, Tilly didn’t even complain.

By five p.m. the women started to arrive, Frankie jumping out of Sadie’s station wagon with a squeal and a smile, little Spencer toddling amongst everyone’s knees, ignoring his mother’s every attempt to get him to eat the cheese toastie she’d grilled for him, Esme and Chloe out in the back paddock piling up the logs .

The flames were just licking at the wood, the sky going from deep blue to gentle lavender when the last straggler - Audrey - finally arrived.

“Oh my god, hi!” The voices around the fire rang out. “You look amazing!”

Lara turned to see if it was a new haircut or a great dress, ready to smile and agree, when she stopped still. Along with her, Audrey had brought Ollie fucking Gabrielli. To Lara’s home. To bonfire night. A sharp wedge of betrayal sliced through her. Bonfire night was hers. It was all but fucking sacred. Bringing her here? She straightened her spine.

A hand gripped her arm, just as she started to open her mouth. Sadie had her eyebrows raised.

“Oh come on,” she said, her voice low. “Are you going to tell her there’s not enough room in this town for the both of you?”

Lara narrowed her eyes, but let out a small huff.

“She’s at my house ,” she emphasised.

“No,” Sadie reminded her, “she’s in your back paddock. I think you can probably survive that.”

“For fuck’s sake,” she muttered. She looked up and found Ollie’s eyes on her. She didn’t drop her gaze when she saw Lara look back. Lara toasted her, sarcastically, with her wine glass and Ollie smiled widely. God, she was so damn smug. Lara looked away.

Chloe was on BBQ duties that night, but Lara found all of a sudden she’d rather not mingle. She helped with the cooking and let the wine take the edge off her annoyance. When the cooking was almost done, her glass was empty.

“Here,” came a low voice, just above her left ear. “Let me refill you. This one’s far better.”

Ollie was pouring her something crispy cold and golden, a Gabrielli labelled bottle, of course.

Lara rolled her eyes.

“Thanks,” she said, keeping her tone practically dead.

Ollie smiled, her eyes flicking to hers for a beat.

“You’re welcome,” she said, as if Lara had been actually sincere. Then she melted back into the group.

Ollie held fucking court. She was the new face but also an old face, and a popular one at that. The women flocked around her, Lara only able to watch in helpless fury as her bonfire night became an Ollie Gabrielli welcome party. She did her best to ignore the woman and talk instead with others but every break in the conversation she could hear a breathless voice asking about Melbourne, or Ollie’s warm tones talking about her nieces and nephews, her mother driving her nuts or a dog called Rocco.

“Um, actually,” she heard Ollie pause, “I’m back for three months. My grandmother is dying.”

Lara felt an uncharitable urge to roll her eyes. Here we go, the sob story, let’s all feel sorry for the princess of Ribbonwood High. Predictable sounds of sympathy echoed around the fireside.

“Oh no, it’s okay,” Ollie added. “Old people die. It’s kind of their thing.”

Lara found herself cackling in surprise, just slightly too loud and Eva looked at her, appalled. Ollie looked over at her and grinned too.

“Sorry,” Ollie added wryly. “I love my Nonna. I don’t want to lose her.” For a second her voice cracked, but then she rallied. “But to die at ninety-one, living at home with your family and your grandchildren and great-grandchildren…it’s hardly a tragedy. We should all be so lucky.”

Ugh. That was even worse than a sympathy ploy; now she was a fucking philosopher. Everyone was nodding meaningfully.

“Alright,” Lara interrupted. “Thank you for the beautiful life lesson, Ollie, we’re all so glad you’re here.” Eyes widened around the circle at her dry tone but Ollie just imitated her toast from earlier, an almost pleased smile on her face at her irritated interjection. Immediately Lara was annoyed at herself. She really was playing right back into her hands, Ollie still the golden girl and Lara the sharp-tongued outcast. God, three months did she say? She remembered why they were all here. It wasn’t for Ollie Gabrielli. It wasn’t for her either. “Shall we get down to business?”

She reached over and squeezed Eva’s arm, handing the spotlight to her. Eva hesitated, but then told them the latest, murmurs of outrage slowly building. Lara waited until she’d finished and the silence rang out for a beat. Then all the eyes around the fire turned to her.

“I think,” she said calmly, “it might be time to escalate things. Don’t you?”

The discussion fired up: wild ideas, comedy revenge, tentative suggestions. Ollie sat, open-mouthed, quiet, letting the words swirl around her. Lara tried not to waste time wondering what was going through her mind. She didn’t care. She really didn’t. After about twenty minutes of silent listening, the newest - temporary - member of bonfire night finally spoke up.

“I have a cousin in the mines up there,” she said softly.

Lara felt her eyes light up.

“I think,” she said, her gaze on Ollie’s - just daring her to back out now - “that maybe we have our plan.”

Ollie looked back. This time when she raised her beer at her, her face was serious. A pact.

When the details were in place and the buzz died down, the formality of the evening broke. Small conversations resumed, some women louder with the buzz of alcohol in their veins, others quiet and thoughtful. People milled about, easy gossip, comforting murmurs. They could have let the fire die down but by unspoken agreement they kept throwing logs on, just enough to keep the flames holding the darkness at bay.

Sadie went up to check on the girls, to make sure they were tucked up in bed - not sleeping, there was little chance of that - but safe nonetheless.

Lara was propped up lazily against a cushion and gazing into the fire when she found her glass was empty again. She wasn’t drunk but there was a pleasant warm haze floating in her bloodstream that made her a little too comfortable to want to move. She was just about to heave herself up and go grab another drink when Ollie Gabrielli materialised, plonking herself down on the picnic rug beside her, wrapping long graceful fingers around the stem of Lara’s wineglass and pouring her another one herself, meeting her eyes with a provoking smirk. Lara suddenly realised she’d been waiting for this moment all evening, though for the life of her she couldn’t say why.

Ollie looked more than comfortable reclining right there next to her, watching Lara with her steady warm gaze. It was as if Lara had never rebuffed her at all, let alone barely three days ago. The confidence of this woman was other level.

“I have a question,” she said, apropos of nothing. Lara readied herself for another come-on, shrugging her assent, ready - pumped, in fact - to shoot her down again. Ollie held her eyes, the firelight glowing off her skin. “Are you all witches?” she asked. Lara choked on her wine. As she wiped her mouth, Ollie was grinning. “I mean, it’s a fair question, is it not? Here you are out at night, burning fires, in a circle under the full moon, plotting men’s downfalls. Seems witchy as hell to me.”

Lara found herself laughing, faintly delighted at the image despite herself.

“Do you really think I’d tell you, if we were? ”

“Oh, I won’t tell anyone,” Ollie said sincerely. “I think it’s fucking hot.”

“Apparently you do because you’ve just sold your soul to us.”

“Mm.” Ollie toyed with the label of her beer bottle, then flicked her eyes back up to Lara’s. “I suppose I have.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Lara wasn’t about to let her off the hook. “Do you have some kind of memory loss about the fact I said we wouldn’t be going for drinks in this lifetime?”

“Huh,” Ollie said thoughtfully. “From what I recall, you said I had not a single chance in hell of that happening,” she reflected. She bumped her beer bottle gently off Lara’s wine glass, mere inches away. “Cheers, by the way,” she smiled victoriously.

Lara’s jaw dropped. She snatched her hand away, the glass with it.

“This doesn’t count-” she protested, thoroughly peeved.

“Oh, I think it does,” Ollie argued. “There’s your drink, here’s my drink, and here we both are.” She leaned back on her elbows and stretched out her long legs, wiggling her toes luxuriously in her stupid, stylish, expensive looking ankle boots. “It’s quite cosy, actually. ”

“Can you leave? ” Lara tried. “Like honestly?” Her tone was unconvincing, even to her. Ollie was extremely aggravating, but her genuine smugness at just getting to drink next to her was - okay, fine - kind of flattering.

“You’re still the Queen Bee, aren’t you?” Ollie raised her eyebrows at her. “Still in charge after all these years.”

“ That’s what you thought?” Lara found herself gaping.

“Sure.” Ollie shrugged. “The blondest, the most beautiful, the coolest, the most coveted. There’s one in every high school. You were ours.”

“Oh, fuck off Ollie.” Lara couldn’t believe this shit. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“Me?” Ollie looked genuinely confused. Lara wanted to toss her wine in her face.

“ Yes you. The prize-winning athlete, the one who topped every exam, the one who won every award there was to award. Princess of Ribbonwood, then and now. The pretty, popular one. The good one.” She hardened her tone to stop her voice from cracking over the last point. Lara, it was well documented by the whole town, had not been good.

Ollie’s jaw dropped.

“I was a nerdy tomboy,” she said flatly. “And the class lesbian as you so astutely told everyone. Not to mention a wog.”

“Oh yes, that’s right, I forgot, also the beloved youngest daughter of a wine dynasty. Really rough stuff you were going through.”

“Lara,” Ollie sat up. Her face was suddenly serious. “Lara, I was a piece of shit to you. We were all shit to you, in the end. We were wrong. You didn’t deserve-”

“Oh, save it!” Lara did not want to hear this. There was something about it that made her feel slightly panicked, like all these years later she actually might want to cry to hear this from Ollie Gabrielli of all people. “Please, Ollie, fuck off with this shit-”

“I’m sorry, are there two grown women over here arguing about high school?” Sadie sat down next to them both with a thump. She looked straight up amused. “The same high school we went to - what - twenty years ago? When we were all fucking morons who didn’t know shit from a shovel?” She looked from one to the other. “Except me, of course. I was better than all of you which is the only reason I had no friends, not because every last one of you was a racist cunt.”

Silence rang out.

“Oh christ,” said Ollie. “I just thought you hated me. I didn’t-” She looked devastated, her mouth opening and closing, searching for the right words.

Sadie burst out laughing.

“I did hate you!” she snorted. “No need to turn on the white fragility routine. I thought you were a knob actually. Both of you.” She shrugged. “Turns out, things can change in twenty fucking years. I swear to god, if you don’t put a lid on this shit yourselves I’m going to sit here and prod you until you kiss and make up.”

“Oh please,” Lara interjected, rediscovering both her steady voice, and her pride. “We all know Ollie would enjoy that way too much.”

“Don’t worry,” said Ollie, her eyes back on Lara’s. “I know there’s not a single chance in hell that would ever happen.”