by Lisa Ireland
Dear Kit,
What’s new? How did you go on your mid-year exams? I’m sure you will have blitzed them. I went okay in mine. I studied my butt off for weeks, which paid off in the end. I ended up getting a 75 for Economics, which I was happy with seeing as I thought I was going to fail . . .
Kit shook her head. Libby always underestimated her ability to do well, even as a kid. She scanned the letter, which was filled with the inane pieces of information that as teens they’d thought newsworthy – which teachers were mean, the students Libby liked, and even more space devoted to those she didn’t. There was almost a whole page describing the dress Libby was wearing to her year ten formal, including a detailed sketch of the puffed sleeve satin and chiffon extravaganza in mauve. Kit remembered the gown well. Libby had sent her photos after the event, and even at the time Kit had thought it was pretty hideous. Over the page Libby had moved on to her date for the formal. Apparently she was spoiled for choice.
Simon Turner (he’s that boy I was telling you about who goes to St James’ College) asked me to go with him, but I ended up choosing Tim Brooker instead. Tim’s a nice guy, kind of quiet, which suits me. Shelby told me Simon Turner expects the girls he goes out with to put out, so I thought it was best to turn him down. I’m not ready to go all the way just yet. How about you? Are you going out with anyone? Do you ever hear from Liam? I know how much you used to like him. Or is there someone at your new school who you’ve got the hots for?
The memory of the first time she’d read this letter, when she was sixteen, came flooding back to Kit. Back then she had no idea that Libby’s initial few months at Underhill had been so awful. She’d torn the envelope open with glee, keen to read all Libby’s news, but then there were the pangs of jealousy as she read about how well Libby said she was settling into her new school. Apparently Libby not only had new friends but a string of boys who liked her. And she went to a girls’ school, for God’s sake. At the time, Kit had been at her new school in Footscray for over six months and she’d managed to make some decent friends, but the boys didn’t even know she existed.
Of course that had all changed eventually. She’d joined the SRC and found her gang. And she’d finally gotten boobs, which helped with the boy thing. But on the day she’d read that letter she’d been envious of Libby and afraid they were growing apart.
But somehow they hadn’t. The letters and the phone calls kept coming. For years they poured their hearts out in letters like these, then emails and finally calls and texts. When something happened in Kit’s life Libby was always the first person she wanted to tell, and she knew Libby felt the same way. Cam would be mortified if he knew some of the things Libby had told her first – like the news that Libby was pregnant with Harry. The fact that Cam was actually the second person in the world to hear this news was a secret Kit had sworn never to tell.
Grinning at that thought Kit put the letter aside – it would be sure to give Libby a laugh – and closed the box. Sorting through this lot would take more time than she had today. She pushed the box to one side and made her way back to the kitchen, where she poured herself a not quite cold glass of water from the tap – obviously the cold pipe had heated up in the punishing morning sun – and glanced at the wall clock. It was twelve thirty. By the time she had a shower and changed her clothes Libby would surely be ready to see her.
She allowed herself the luxury of a longer than usual shower, taking the time to wash and condition her hair and shave her legs. Her phone pinged just as she stepped out onto the bathmat and she smiled, congratulating herself on having great timing. She quickly towelled herself dry and then grabbed the phone, eager to read the message, which was bound to be from Libby.
Hey Kit. So sorry to do this to you, but something’s come up. I’m going to have to cancel this afternoon. Can we make it tomorrow instead? I promise I’ll make it up to you and we’ll have the whole day together – just us. I’ll call and explain everything as soon as I can.
Kit stared at the message for a moment, not comprehending. Something was wrong. She knew Libby had been looking forward to today as much as she had – Libby even had a countdown chart – and so there was no way she would cancel, not unless something major had happened.
Kit started to reply and then stopped. Stuff this texting. She needed to speak to Libby properly. She tapped the call button and waited for Libby to pick up.
After a few rings the call went to voicemail. Not a good sign. Libby must be somewhere she couldn’t answer. But where could that be? A hospital perhaps?
She sent a reply.
Hope everything is OK. Call me ASAP.
She stood with her phone in hand for several minutes in anticipation of a response, but none came. She considered redialling, but what would be the point? Libby was obviously unable to talk right now; she’d call as soon as she was able, of that Kit was sure. In the meantime she should get dressed, just in case there was some sort of emergency and she was needed.
She padded down the hallway to her bedroom and threw the towel on the bed. It took seconds to slip on a bra, undies and the floral cotton dress she’d picked out earlier. She raked a comb through her still damp hair, briefly screwing her nose up at the sight of her dark curly mop in the mirror. It would probably dry frizzy, but it was too hot to contemplate using the hairdryer and, besides, if there was some sort of drama she didn’t want to be wasting time fiddling with her hair. Now she was ready to go, Kit picked up her phone and checked it again. No further word from Libby. This was starting to get worrying. She tried Libby’s number again to no avail. She tried again several times over the next half hour until finally Libby picked up her call.
‘Hello?’ Libby’s voice was quiet and subdued.
‘Lib, what’s wrong? Did something happen to Harry? Are you okay?’
‘No, no. All fine. Just hold on a minute, can you?’ Kit could hear Libby murmuring to someone. Obviously she wasn’t alone.
‘Where are you?’
Laughter and the sounds of clinking glasses preceded Libby’s reply. ‘Hang on. I’m just making my way to the bedroom.’ Silence then, until Libby finally came back on the line. ‘Kit, I am so, so sorry. I was going to call you, honestly I was. My house is full of people. Cam’s boss turned up with a welcoming committee and I can’t very well ask them to leave. Can we get together tomorrow?’
So nothing terrible had happened. In fact it appeared Libby was in the middle of some sort of party. Suddenly Kit’s pent-up worry turned into anger. ‘What the actual fuck, Libby? We’ve had these plans for weeks. Are you really just blowing me off?’
‘I’m not blowing you off, I swear. I had no idea these people would be here. It’s Cam’s boss and his wife and some of the other important people from the company. I really can’t afford to get off on the wrong foot with them.’
‘Surely you can say you already had plans? I mean, that’s reasonable, right?’
‘Look, it’s a tricky situation. I probably should have said something right away, but I didn’t and now it’s too late.’
‘So that’s it then? The plans we’ve had for weeks and weeks are just shelved because Cam’s boss turned up uninvited?’ The angry words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.
‘Please don’t get upset. There’s really nothing I can do. You must know I’d much rather be spending time with you.’
Maybe Libby was telling the truth, but Kit couldn’t help but feel hurt just the same. She’d never been afraid to express her opinion, but since Jude’s death she’d found herself somewhat prone to overreaction, a trait she despised. So she fought her instinct to lash out, to punish Libby with sarcastic barbs for making her feel vulnerable. Instead of saying something she’d no doubt regret, she ended the call without another word.
Libby always did know how to break her heart.
Chapter 6
Libby stood in the house’s cavernous ma
ster bedroom – her bedroom – and took a moment to compose herself before heading back out to the impromptu gathering being held in her family’s honour. After that disastrous phone call with Kit, socialising was the last thing she felt like doing. What she wanted to do was to get in her car and drive over to Kit’s house and apologise before spending the rest of the day catching up with her friend. Her first day in Melbourne was ruined and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
The day so far had been a strange one, so much so that she was beginning to wonder if the universe was trying to tell her something – maybe that the decision to move to Melbourne was a mistake? From the moment they’d arrived at Arcadia Lakes, Libby had felt uneasy. Despite all the information provided by the company and her own research of the development online, she found she was unprepared for the reality of it. It was surreal in a way – the manned gates at the entrance to the estate made it feel more like a compound in a dangerous overseas country than a Melbourne suburb. The company advertised this as a security feature, playing up the safety aspect of living in a gated community, and from her home in Sydney this had seemed appealing. But this morning when their driver stopped so they could show their credentials to the security guard, Libby had felt apprehensive. It was almost as if a form of claustrophobia had enveloped her.
The source of her anxiety was hard to pinpoint because the estate itself was beautiful. The wide streets were tree lined and the trees were surprisingly mature considering the area was relatively new. It must have cost the company thousands to plant them. Their driver had taken them on a short tour of the estate, pointing out how all the streets fanned out from the central, manmade lake. The Arcadia Club – a huge Hamptons-style clubhouse – sat on the lake’s edge, with the eighteen-hole golf course behind it. Apparently there was a swimming pool in the clubhouse grounds, and tennis courts too, so she could hardly complain of a lack of facilities. So far the estate was living up to its promises; the whole place seemed perfect. Maybe even a little too perfect. She almost felt like she was on a movie set depicting the ideal suburb rather than in a real community. Still, that wasn’t exactly cause for complaint, she supposed.
The house was equally flawless. After the tour the driver had pulled up in the driveway of an elegant modern home and given Cam the keys. ‘Welcome home,’ he’d said. Once inside Harry had run from room to room in excitement, calling out an ever-growing list of features. His excitement had buoyed her spirits. She’d been dealing with a sulky teen ever since they’d announced the move, so it was a relief to see that Harry approved of the house if nothing else. Cam was equally ebullient and his enthusiasm filled her with optimism for this new start. The house – with its light-filled rooms and gleaming modern surfaces – was every bit as luxurious as the photographs had suggested. Of course it didn’t feel like home yet – only a tiny amount of furniture from their old home had come with them – but she planned on putting her personal stamp on the place as soon as possible.
‘I can’t believe what a great job the removalists have done unpacking and setting up this place,’ she’d said, putting her hand out to touch a towel hanging from a rail in the bathroom. ‘I thought we’d need a few hours to get organised, but the beds have all been made and the towels and linen unpacked. There’s really nothing much to do.’
Cam shook his head. ‘When Richard told me we wouldn’t have to worry about a thing he wasn’t kidding. Pretty good, eh?’
‘Yeah, it’s amazing.’
At that point the doorbell rang, putting an end to their tour of the house as Cam charged off to answer it. Libby followed him to the entrance hall to find two strangers entering the house.
‘Libby, so lovely to meet you. Welcome to Arcadia Lakes!’ A tall, slender, ash-blond woman, aged somewhere between her late forties and early sixties – Libby was never good at picking ages – made a beeline for her. The woman leaned in to air-kiss both her cheeks. ‘How are you settling in? Is the house satisfactory? Do let us know if there’s anything you need, won’t you?’
‘Everything is lovely, thank you . . .’
The woman looked at her expectantly. Was she supposed to know who this person was?
‘Oh my goodness, I haven’t introduced myself, have I? How silly of me. I’m so used to everyone knowing who I am already. I’m Georgina Thorburn, Richard’s wife.’ She inclined her head towards the grey-haired, chino-clad man shaking Cam’s hand in the cavernous entry foyer behind them. Realisation dawned on Libby. Richard was the CEO of Cam’s new company.
Georgina strode through the hall and on into the main living area, as if the house were her own. ‘I personally oversee the décor of all the housing for new employees. I’m going through a minimalist stage at the moment. I’ve been reading The Life-changing Magic of Tidying Up. Have you heard of it?’
Libby smiled and shook her head.
Georgina barely drew a breath before continuing. ‘It’s by Marie Kondo and it’s a system for decluttering your home, well, your whole life really. I’ll lend you the book. Anyway, as I was saying, I’ve used a minimalist approach, but if it’s not to your taste we can always modify it.’
‘Oh no, everything is just lovely. Thank you so much, Georgina. I love everything you’ve chosen.’ It was a lie, but Libby couldn’t imagine what else she could say. ‘It’s all so . . . sleek and modern and it will be so easy to keep clean.’
Georgina laughed. ‘You won’t need to be worrying yourself about trivial matters like cleaning, darling. The company provides a cleaner for you.’
‘Really? Wow.’ Libby mentally winced at her words. It probably wasn’t smart to seem so overawed. She hoped she wasn’t making a fool of herself. It wouldn’t do to create a bad first impression, for Cam’s sake.
Georgina turned her attention back to the men. ‘Richard, what on earth is taking you so long? Come on in here and meet Cameron’s wife. She’s totally adorable.’
Richard turned obediently and smiled at his wife as he walked towards them. ‘My apologies, Libby. I was just bending Cameron’s ear about the company golf tournament. Do you play?’
Libby shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Oh, Libby, you really must have lessons. Our golf pro, Damien, is a wizard. He’ll have you playing like you’re on the tour in no time,’ Georgina said.
‘Oh, I really don’t think –’
‘Shall we sit down?’ Cam interjected, gesturing towards the white leather couches. He raised his eyebrows at Libby from behind their guests.
‘Oh yes, I’m so sorry. Please do make yourselves comfortable,’ Libby said. ‘I would offer you something to drink, but I’m afraid our plane was delayed a little and we haven’t been here long. I haven’t had a chance to go shopping yet.’ Libby glanced at Cam to make sure this wasn’t a faux pas. He was clearly anxious about her first meeting with his employer and his wife, but surely they weren’t expecting to be fed? They knew that Libby and Cam had walked through the front door less than an hour ago.
‘Oh, that’s all been taken care of too,’ Georgina said as she took a seat. ‘You obviously haven’t had time to look in the fridge or the pantry yet.’
Libby sat down on the couch beside Georgina, while the men settled themselves opposite her. ‘No, as I said, we haven’t been here long. We’ve popped our suitcases into the bedrooms and done the tour of the house, and that’s about it.’
Georgina smiled. ‘I took the liberty of having the moving company fill the fridge and the pantry for you. We weren’t sure what you’d like, so I had Felicity compile a list. You’ll meet Felicity and Jeremy soon. They’ve got kids around the same age as your Harry so I thought she’d probably have a better idea of what you’d need than I would.’
‘Georgina, I’m speechless. You really have been too kind.’
‘Nonsense, darling. It’s what we do for all our executives and their families. We want you to feel at home. Don’t we, Richar
d?’
‘Absolutely,’ Richard replied, but his response had an automatic feel to it.
‘So,’ said Cam, ‘seeing as you’ve gone to the trouble of stocking the refrigerator, the least we can do is offer you some refreshments. What can I get you?’
‘I think this occasion calls for champagne, darling. You should find plenty of chilled Moët in the wine fridge.’
Cam grinned. ‘Excellent. Lib, maybe you could come put together one of those platters you’re so good at?’
‘Of course.’ Libby stood and plastered a smile on her face, as if she couldn’t think of anything more delightful than entertaining perfect strangers on the first day in her new home.
Georgina put her hand out and lightly caught Libby’s forearm. ‘There’s no need for that, Libby. The rest of the executive team and their families will be here soon. Everyone wanted to be here to welcome you to Arcadia Lakes on your first day. But we didn’t want you to have to fuss about the catering so Felicity has organised all that – she has her own catering business so it’s really no big deal for her. All you need to do is relax and enjoy yourselves.’ Georgina glanced at the expensive-looking gold watch dangling from her wrist. ‘I told them three o’clock. Richard and I are a bit cheeky. We came early so we could have you to ourselves for a bit. Hope you don’t mind.’
‘No, of course not,’ Libby said as she took her seat again. What else could she say? It wasn’t as if she could tell her husband’s new boss and his wife that she considered inviting themselves and a host of others to her home rude and inconsiderate.
Cam returned from the kitchen with a bottle of champagne in a silver ice-bucket – not one Libby recognised, so it must have come with the house – and four champagne flutes. ‘We’re delighted to have you here,’ he said. ‘And we can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done for us so far.’ He passed a filled flute to Georgina and then one to Libby. ‘Isn’t that right, sweetheart?’
