White Tulips & Wedding Cake

by Jonathan Solomon

  Iris and Malik nodded their heads as they were led into an interview room.

  “I just wanted to give you an update about the investigation into the window incident. We initially missed a CCTV point on a public thoroughfare and after review, we were finally able to get clear footage of the car about ten seconds before the incident occurred. We were able to see the car’s number plates and have accessed the motor registry details to find out information about the owner of the car. A warrant was issued for the driver’s arrest,” said Detective Hibiscus.

  “That’s good to hear. And the driver has been located?” enquired Iris.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact she is being held in a cell, here, at the moment. She’s been silent and is not offering any information,” said Detective Hibiscus.

  “She?” repeated Iris. “I was thinking the perpetrator was a male youth under the influence of who-knows-what.”

  “You’d be surprised. In my line of work nothing surprises me anymore,” mused Detective Hibiscus.

  Iris and Malik exchanged looks.

  “Well, to cover all bases, we need to confirm if this was indeed a random attack or a motivated act,” said Detective Hibiscus. “We have footage of the car and the driver but the driver was wearing a balaclava. So we have asked you to come and see if you can identify this driver.”

  Iris was feeling very nervous. She was not sure what to expect.

  “If you could please both now follow me to the police screening room,” said Detective Hibiscus. They all walked into a dark room, which had a large and long glass window looking into a smaller identification room.

  “The driver will be brought out in a minute,” said Detective Hibiscus.

  Two police officers walked into the identification room with a tall and dishevelled woman.

  Malik’s face remained neutral as he tried to see if he had seen this person before.

  Iris’s hands flew to her mouth in surprise and disbelief. She did indeed know this person.

  It was Dahlia Knight-Shade.

  “Do you know who that person is, Iris?” asked Detective Hibiscus pointing at the tall woman in the identification room.

  “Yes,” said Iris. “That’s my old boss. I worked for her in a florist shop, in Bexley.”

  “Well, we saw a business card in Dahlia’s car. We have ascertained that the flower store in Bexley has ceased trading. Were you aware of that fact?” asked Detective Hibiscus.

  “No,” answered Iris, “When I go my separate way, I really go my separate way.”

  “Would you know why she would undertake such an act? Is her ceasing trading connected with you in anyway?” continued Detective Hibiscus.

  Iris thought back to when she resigned. She then thought about how she had been able to get Pahi to work for Late Bloomer Blossoms. Iris wondered if taking on Pahi as an employee at Late Bloomer Blossoms was the catalyst for Dahlia’s act of revenge.

  “I don’t see how I’ve done anything to upset Dahlia. Dahlia’s the one who usually does the upsetting,” answered Iris.

  Then all of a sudden Dahlia started yelling at the window. Malik stood further back away from the glass.

  “Who’s in there? Are you in there, Iris? You broke my business bitch! May you be eaten by lions! By lions, you hear me? My business! My poor business!” yelled out Dahlia. The two accompanying officers then restrained Dahlia, and the trio left the room in an ungainly fashion.

  “Let me rephrase that,” said Iris. “I don’t think I should be held responsible for Dahlia’s business issues. I offered Pahi higher wages and Pahi was happy to work for me. It was up to Dahlia to find another employee.”

  “Well, thank you for your time Iris. It seems like we have now obtained a confession from Dahlia. I will note that this attack on your store was actually motivated. This will be important information when this matter is prosecuted. Hopefully a conviction can be secured by both the statements you and Malik provided. We don’t require anything further from either of you at this time,” said Detective Hibiscus. “You’re now free to leave.”

  “Thank you, Detective,” said both Iris and Malik as they left the room and made their way out of Surry Hills Police Station.

  Chapter 33

  Saturday, 1 September – 2:30 pm

  “Hello everyone!” said Violet as she hugged Orchid, Yasmin, Gardenia and Blossom. They were all waiting outside the Drawn from Life Art Studio in Balmain. Jonquil and Camille were talking to Rosie.

  “So, Camille and I were thinking about somewhere tasteful to have a hen’s night, but it’s not really a hen’s night either. What should we call the event?” asked Jonquil.

  “Maybe call it the pre-commitment party? Actually, I think’s it’s referred to as a hag do,” offered Rosie.

  “What about a Cockerels’ Night?” suggested Jonquil.

  “I think we should just leave it as hens’ night. A cockerels’ night just sounds wrong. It might be taken the wrong way,” Camille said.

  “Anyway, whatever it’s called, it’s nice to have a classy party to signify the road to monogamy,” said Jonquil.

  “Or the end of monogamy. Oops, so sorry Rosie, too soon? Yes, I know. Silly me,” said Camille.

  “Yes, silly you,” said Jonquil to Camille. “Rosie, we are so sorry that you had to go through a divorce.

  “It’s okay. For the most part it was amicable. I’ve got my nursing to keep me distracted. I’ve also tried to return to some writing but I’m seriously stuck,” said Rosie.

  “I’m sure the enthusiasm will come back, eventually,” said Jonquil. “Oh look Anthony and Heath are here.”

  Anthony and Heath were walking down Darling Road, holding hands and wearing pastel pink business shirts and pale grey pants. They also both wore rainbow sashes across their shirts.

  All of Heath’s friends laughed and went up to Anthony and Heath to give them hugs. Rosie stayed behind with Jonquil and Camille.

  “Can everyone please make their way into the studio?” said Jonquil as she opened the door of the art studio.

  Once they were all inside, a woman in her late sixties with short spiky blue-rinsed hair welcomed the group.

  “Hello everyone, my name is Lavender and I will be your art instructor for this afternoon. If everyone could please occupy an easel that would be good. There are aprons so you’ll need to put this on to protect your clothing,” said Lavender.

  “I can’t draw,” said Blossom. “I can do stick figures and that’s about it.”

  “I thought we were here to just stare at the model and pretend to be drawing,” said Orchid.

  “I love drawing. I can make a single line be passionate, meaningful and insightful. All at once,” cheered Yasmin.

  The model - a muscular and suave man wearing a satin, Japanese print robe - sauntered into the open space in front of the group.

  “Look, here he is,” said Gardenia. “He’s a stunner, all right.”

  “Do you think he’s straight or gay?” asked Violet.

  “Doesn’t matter! Let’s start drawing!” said Yasmin.

  “So everyone should have at the bottom of their easel a piece of charcoal and a pencil,” said Lavender in front of the group. “Now for the next five minutes the model, in his robe, will be doing five one-minute poses to warm you up. Please use the pencil first.”

  The group then started to draw the model’s poses. While this was occurring, Lavender brought out glasses of champagne. Lavender saw to it that everyone had a pencil in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other.

  “Ok, so now that the warm-up exercises are completed, the model is now going to disrobe and do three ten-minute poses,” said Lavender.

  The model took off his robe gracefully and tastefully. He then positioned himself into a discus thrower pose. The sunshine dappled through the open windows onto the model’s body, highlighting the contours and form of his muscular body.

  “Oh, to see him every morning,” sighed Gardenia.

  “I second that,�
�� agreed Blossom.

  “He just needs to bring me a cup of coffee and my life’s complete,” said Yasmin.

  The next thirty minutes went quickly. The model had moved to the Thinker pose.

  “Please switch to charcoal. Try to experiment with the texture of charcoal. And don’t be afraid to get dirty. That is, to get it all over your hands,” said Lavender.

  The next pose was the David sculpture pose.

  By this time, the group were onto their third glass of champagne.

  “Orchid, your sketches are very accurate,” said Jonquil as she walked around the room to see how the group was going.

  “Oh, thank you, Jonquil. I went to art school. But to be honest, I think the female form is even more beautiful,” said Orchid. Jonquil smiled and headed over to see Rosie, who had chosen one of the front easels.

  “You’re very close to the model,” said Jonquil as she saw Rosie’s efforts at smudging part of her drawing to indicate tone and light.

  “Yes, I definitely have the best seat in the house,” Rosie said and smiled.

  “I’ll need to finish off my drawing. I like your smudging efforts. I might do the same,” said Jonquil before she returned to her easel.

  Rosie did not normally drink but after knocking back a few glasses of champagnes she found herself in the mood for having fun. She was having an enjoyable afternoon. She felt an old cheeky part of herself come to the fore. All of sudden, Rosie had the urge to scribble a rude message on her large sheet of paper, just above her drawing. Rosie started writing in large capital letters, “ANTHONY IS SMALL”. Orchid and Blossom, who were behind Rosie, started giggling. Anthony looked over to see where the giggling came over and saw in horror what Rosie had written. Anthony walked over and tore off the piece of drawing paper. He scrunched up Rosie’s carefully smudged drawing.

  “This is not funny, Rosie,” intoned Anthony under his breath. The rest of the group, who had not cottoned on to what was happening looked up mystified before returning to their drawings.

  Rosie ignored Anthony and went back to observing the model.

  “Well, I guess I better go back to the drawing board,” said Rosie to herself as Anthony returned to his easel with the bunched up piece of paper. Rosie looked at the large blank sheet of paper in front of her.

  “To a fresh new page,” said Rosie as she toasted herself with her glass of champagne, and began to draw the model anew, with newfound passion.

  Chapter 34

  Saturday, 8 September – 10:55 am

  Ollie walked up to the flower store, ready for another day of deliveries. A man walked past and wolf-whistled Ollie.

  Damn the lycra, thought Ollie as he blushed.

  Ollie was greeted by Iris, who was standing in the front of the store holding the bike.

  “How are you, Ollie?” said Iris as she accepted a kiss on the cheek from him.

  “Good. I got a good night’s sleep,” said Ollie.

  “I’ve finally been catching up on those. They’re great aren’t they?” said Iris. “I’ve placed the orders in the delivery bike box and you should be all set.”

  Iris handed over the bike and point-of-delivery device to Ollie.

  Ollie saw that his first delivery that day was to Surry Hills. He added the address to his GPS system on his mobile phone and placed the earphones in his ears before securing the helmet over his head.

  “I’m heading off now. See you later, Mum,” said Ollie as he moved the bike out onto the pavement on Oxford Street.

  The riding was becoming easier, and he gained muscles due to the frequent deliveries. He had in fact put on more kilograms but they were due to muscle gain.

  Ollie rode towards the city before turning into Flinders Street and continuing onto South Dowling Road. He soon found himself negotiating small side streets and was directed to the street he was after.

  Number 36. It was a very thin two-storey Victorian terrace. Ollie got off his bike and looked into the delivery box to find the flowers he needed. It was a large bouquet of gladioli. Ollie laid the bike against the terrace’s wall and took off his helmet. He then brought over the flowers and the device to the door and knocked.

  The door opened. At the door stood a radiant Indigenous Australian woman holding a bundle of papers in one hand.

  “Oh my, are these for me?” asked the woman.

  “These flowers are for a Deb-Evonne Freeman,” said Ollie, double checking the details on the device.

  “That’s me,” enthused Deb-Evonne as Ollie handed over the flowers so she could sign-off on the device.

  “Enjoy your day,” said Ollie as he returned to his bike.

  “Oh! Can I ask you a big favour?” asked Deb-Evonne. “I need assistance with a script reading. It will only take five minutes of your time.”

  “Sure,” said Ollie.

  Deb-Evonne let Ollie in and closed the door behind them. Ollie could see that the walls were covered with framed production posters. They appeared to be promotion signs for past theatre productions in the 1990s and 2000s. Deb-Evonne walked over to the kitchen and laid the flowers on the kitchen bench.

  “Oh, there’s a card,” remarked Deb-Evonne as she opened the envelope. “Dear Deb-Evonne, please accept these flowers as a token of our gratitude for your wonderful performances at Impermanence Theatre. Love from staff at NLFTC Company.”

  Ollie took a closer look at a poster, which featured Deb-Evonne standing on the Chard Steps in a passionate speaking manner. Ollie saw that the show was presented by the Nothing Lasts Forever Theatre Company.

  Deb-Evonne clutched the card against her chest.

  “It’s moments like this that I live for. I’ve always dreamed of being an actor. By putting my heart and soul into this goal, I’m now reaping rewards,” said Deb-Evonne as she gave a broad smile to Ollie. Ollie could not help but return the smile.

  “So, that I don’t take up too much of your time, here is the script for scene 5 of a new play by an accomplished playwright. I only just got the script a few days ago. The piece is called, “Catharsis”. I’m, Margie, and you’re, Jamie. From the top.”

  “Okay,” said Ollie. He saw the top of the page highlighted in neon yellow. Scene five.

  “But, I love you Jamie,” said Deb-Evonne as she launched into her scene. “And now you want to throw away what we have? What we’ve accomplished. Accomplished together.”

  Ollie cleared his throat for his debut.

  “Margie, I’ve been living a lie. I only married you because I needed to please my parents. They wanted grandchildren,” Ollie read from the script.

  Deb-Evonne’s face took on an emotional affect with a glistening of her eyes.

  “So everything is a lie? You never loved me? What about our wedding vows that we said tenderly to each other. In front of all our friends and family. You had tears in your eyes at that moment. At our very special moment,” said Deb-Evonne.

  “You’re emotionally blackmailing me again. Look, I’m going to pack up and leave. I can’t deal with this right now. This conversation is done,” read Ollie from the script.

  “You coward! Now that I think about it, you run away from any hint of conflict. You can’t face reality. You’re only good at destroying other people’s realities,” Deb-Evonne’s voice rose.

  “Margie, I’m leaving now,” said Ollie from the script.

  “Fine, go ahead. I can now see you’re a hard-hearted and nasty person. Of course my life would be better without you,” said Deb-Evonne said as she straightened up her back. “Please leave.”

  “How dare you! I am not a nasty person. I have a heart. You just can’t see how much I have changed. Meeting this new person has done something miraculous. It’s brought out the best in me. It’s made me be the person I never knew possible. You, on the other hand, only bring out the worst in me,” said Ollie.

  Deb-Evonne then began sobbing.

  “But we were together for five years before we got married. Wasn’t that enough time for you to work th
at out?”

  “Margie, even after all the time we spent together, I don’t think we can ever truly know and understand each other. We don’t have the keys to each other’s hearts,” said Ollie.

  “You mean you threw away my key to your heart. I want it back Jamie. I want it back!” said Deb-Evonne, her face becoming stronger and more fierce.

  “I don’t where it is!” said Ollie.

  “Well, find it then!” cried out Deb Evonne.

  “Margie, it’s over,” said Ollie. “Jamie leaves the stage.”

  “Where’s my key? Give me back my key…,” said Deb-Evonne softly.

  “And the scene ends,” said Ollie as he handed back the script. “And your lines were correct.”

  “Oh, thank you. I only just got the script a few days ago. I really appreciate the practice. I’m really trying to explore all the emotional aspects of this scene,” said Deb-Evonne who returned to her cheery and warm self with that wonderful smile. “I want to be as powerful as I can be with this Margie character. Strong but not melodramatic.”

  “It was a great performance,” said Ollie.

  “Thank you so much. I will let you out,” said Deb-Evonne as she walked Ollie to the front door to let him out onto the street.

  “All the best with your acting,” said Ollie as he got onto his bike.

  “Thank you! And thank you for delivering the flowers. They’re beautiful,” said Deb-Evonne and closed the door behind her.

  Ollie returned to his bike and saw that the next job was in Bondi. He hopped onto his bike and made his way to Bondi Junction before turning off onto Bondi Road. He breezed down the steep road and hoped that he would not lose control of his bike as he was freewheeling down quite fast. Soon he came to Bondi Beach and found the apartment block he was searching for.

  Ollie looked into the delivery box and retrieved the bouquet of Golden Wattle, Royal Bluebell, Kangaroo Paw and a Waratah. Ollie pressed the buzzer for unit number five.

  “Hello,” a confident woman’s voice answered.

  “Hi there. I have a flower delivery for a Lilian Rochfort,” said Ollie.