by Ali Ahearn
‘Takahiro and Kazuki need it more than you do,’ Kandy added. ‘And we’re not just talking about the inheritance, either. You guys are going to be all right without it. You never needed it. Not really. You just needed each other.’
Misty nodded solemnly. ‘Sisters are forever.’
A month ago Frances would have dismissed Misty’s starry-eyed statement as bumper-sticker bollocks. But it had been a hell of a month. Frances smiled at them, amazed yet again that beneath the Barbie-doll façades lurked some serious wisdom.
‘You’re right,’ Frances said, wrapping an arm around Joni’s shoulders. ‘Sisters are forever.’
Joni nodded. ‘Don’t worry. We’re going to be fine.’
And then Kandy pulled them all into a group hug. Their parents found them all like that a moment later. Kandy and Misty were introduced and then departed to join the celebrations.
‘Joni … Frankie,’ Carter said. ‘It’s good to see you both together again. Maybe it’s time we all made more of an effort …’ He put his arm around Lizzie’s shoulders. ‘Just because your mother and I are divorced doesn’t mean we can’t still get together.’
‘Obviously,’ Joni smirked.
‘I mean as a family,’ Carter said firmly.
‘Yes, darlings,’ Lizzie said. ‘Watching your pain just then … it was unbearable. No more pain. Okay?’
Then Lizzie pulled them in for a hug and Carter joined in. Frances looked at Joni. Had aliens taken possession of their parents? First they’d slept together and now they were the Waltons?
‘What the fuck?’ Joni said as Lizzie and Carter left to congratulate the winners.
Frances shrugged. ‘G moves in mysterious ways …’
Lex approached. ‘I’m so sorry, ladies.’ He shook his head. ‘I had no idea Sally had that up her sleeve. She really should be in management.’
‘No matter,’ Joni murmured, looking at Frances. ‘I’m glad it happened. For both of us.’
‘I’ve got to admit,’ Lex said sheepishly, ‘it was great television. But,’ he winked at Joni, ‘it was missing something.’
Frances looked at a grinning Joni, then back at Lex. ‘Oh?’
Lex reached into his pocket and pulled out the locket. He handed it to Frances and she stared at it in her palm. ‘But … how?’
‘Lex switched it when he knocked the platter from Darryl’s hands.’
Tears pricked Frances’s eyes as she gazed down at it. ‘So, whose necklace was burned?’
‘Debbie from Make-up,’ Lex grinned.
Frances stared incredulously at him for a moment, then laughed. ‘Well, God bless Debbie.’
She held the locket up. The weight, the decorative filigree; it was oh so familiar. It felt so right. And yet, it didn’t.
She looked at Joni.
‘Here,’ she said, unlatching the locket and hooking it around her sister’s neck before Joni could protest. ‘I think it means more to you than it does to me.’
Joni reached for it, nestling against her neck, automatically. Frances could see the protest forming on her sister’s lips but the minute Joni touched the worn surface, it died an instant death.
‘It looks good on you,’ Frances said. ‘It suits you.’
Joni, still fondling the necklace, gave her a smile. But before she could say a word, Nick’s shadow had fallen across them all.
Lex looked from Frances to Nick and back again.
‘Joni … do you fancy checking out another stand of Leichhardt trees I found, quite by accident, the other day?’
Frances blushed as Joni indicated her willingness to partake in something that Frances was fairly certain would bore her to tears. She watched them leave and then risked a glance at Nick. He was looking at her as if she were his own private playground.
‘Hi,’ she said.
Nick nodded. ‘Helluva ceremony.’
Frances grinned. ‘Are Australians always so understated?’
He shook his head and held out his hand. ‘We can be downright animated. How about we find somewhere nice and quiet where I can show you?’
Frances took his big, calloused hand and tried not to think about how amazing it would feel scraping against all her most sensitive places. They were almost through the general mayhem when a voice pulled her up short.
‘Frannie? We need to talk.’
Frances wanted to talk to Edward about as much as she wanted to contract rabies. In her haste to be naked with Nick, she’d even momentarily forgotten that he’d barged in unannounced and rocked her entire world. Forgotten his absolute treachery. As far as she was concerned, if she ever talked with him again it would be too soon.
Frances tried to pass by him but he grabbed her arm. ‘Frances! Please.’
Nick, one eye on Edward’s hand, one eye on Frances, drew himself up to his full height. ‘Mate, you’d better take your hand off her or this colonial farm boy is going to show you why his ancestors ended up in Botany Bay.’
Frances felt a moment’s triumph when Edward swallowed like a pubescent boy. If only he’d lost control of his bodily functions, her night would have been complete.
He glared at her. ‘If you divorce me, I’ll make sure half your inheritance comes to me.’
Nick stepped forward and Frances put a restraining hand on his arm. She said, ‘And I’ll report you to the police for embezzlement. I hear lawyers are really popular with prison inmates.’
Edward gaped at her but then Nick was sweeping her away with total farm-boy-with-shady-ancestry skill and there was no room in her head for anything other than Nick and what she was going to do to him. They slipped quietly from sight as the celebrations continued all around.
‘Hey,’ Joni said, as they hurried past her and Lex.
Frances, a little annoyed at the constant interruptions, barely suppressed a scream. It looked like her sister had managed to persuade Lex there were much more interesting specimens out in the wilds.
Particularly those populating the inside of her mouth. Good for her. Was it too much to ask for a little action in return?
‘Where are you going?’ Joni hissed.
Frances smiled. ‘I’m going to fulfil an old woman’s dying wish.’
And then she took Nick’s hand and led him to her shelter.
Acknowledgements
Writing a book takes a whole village and there are many people to thank.
To the small band of people who read the book in its various stages – Robbie, Rachel, Tina, Christine, Ann, Janet, Laurie – thank you all. Your praise, comments and criticisms have made the book much stronger and helped us believe that it was good and not just our egos and too many glasses of sauv blanc.
To Lindsay and Kevin who helped us with some good British insults.
The crew from HarperCollins: Jo Butler, who first read the manuscript and loved it and passed it on to Anna Valdinger, and then hounded her until she read it. Anna Valdinger for loving and buying the book. Mel Maxwell and Sarina Rowell, who went through it with a fine-tooth comb. To Jane Waterhouse for our fabulous cover – we have loved all your work. To all of you, many, many thanks.
To Clare Forster, our agent, who got back to us straight away and waded through the waters for us – thank you.
To Mark and Blair, two very different men who patiently filled the gaps for us while we were writing and above all else understand that we complete each other – our love and gratitude beyond measure.
To our children – Jack and Claire and Saul, Quinn and Neve. You’re all the good bits. You fill us up and make us smile every day.
Last but not least … Midway through 2011 we were devastated by the unexpected death of our beloved mother. Our book meant so much to her and it brings us great sadness to know that she never got to see the end product or share in the excitement of the book finally hitting the shelves. It is to her we owe the greatest acknowledgement of all for, quite simply, without her, this book would never have come to fruition. Mum taught us to live, love, laugh and lear
n. She was passionate and political. She passed on her love of reading. She knew there was a big wide world out there and encouraged us to see it. She never considered herself too old to say sorry. She instilled in us the importance of being independent thinkers. She believed passionately that a society is judged by the way they treat their less fortunate. She urged us to live large and leave our mark on the world.
She told us that we were beautiful. That she was proud of us. That we could do/be anything. That we could conquer the world.
In short, she made us the women we are today. The colleagues, the friends, the wives, the mothers. The writers.
So thank you, Mum. You held us up so we could walk on mountains. Life without you will never be the same – always just a little bit less. We love you.
About the Author
Ali and Ros are sisters who are as close as they are different. Ali married the first boy she ever loved. Ros tried to remember the name of hers the other day and gave up and had a chocolate bar instead. Ali thinks everything will work out. Ros thinks everything will get found out. But for all their differences, they are fiercely close and desperately proud of each other. Nothing feels real until it has been spoken aloud to the other. They both love to talk, laugh and write, preferably over a bottle of bubbly and something coated in chocolate. They live in Brisbane.
Copyright
HarperCollinsPublishers
First published in Australia in 2012
This edition published in 2012
by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited
ABN 36 009 913 517
harpercollins.com.au
Copyright © Ali Ahearn and Ros Baxter 2012
The rights of Ali Ahearn and Ros Baxter to be identified as the authors of this work has been asserted by them under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
HarperCollinsPublishers
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street, Sydney NSW 2000, Australia
31 View Road, Glenfield, Auckland 0627, New Zealand
A 53, Sector 57, Noida, UP, India
77–85 Fulham Palace Road, London, W6 8JB, United Kingdom
2 Bloor Street East, 20th floor, Toronto, Ontario M4W 1A8, Canada
10 East 53rd Street, New York NY 10022, USA
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:
Ahearn, Ali & Baxter, Ros.
Sister pact / Ali Ahearn & Ros Baxter.
ISBN: 978 0 7322 9313 0 (pbk.)
ISBN: 978 0 7304 9378 5 (epub)
A823.4
Cover design by Jane Waterhouse, HarperCollins Design Studio
Cover images: Young women © ImageShop/Corbis;
all other images by shutterstock.com
