‘A word.’
‘I’m scared,’ Jackson said.
Apple fingered the waist of her pants, wondering if she could cover the cost of any of Loom’s eight-hundred-dollar pants minus the staff discount.
‘She can’t fire you over it.’
‘I’m sure she can.’
‘Where is your work kit, anyway?’
‘I missed laundry day.’
‘Why?’
‘Noah.’
Jackson socked Apple in the shoulder. ‘You dirty girl with your dirty laundry and dirty damn dick.’
Apple tried a smile.
The phone rang a few hours later. Jackson answered.
‘That was her,’ she said ominously, lowering the receiver. ‘She wants you to meet her for lunch on the corner. Just be cool.’
Apple’s palms were clammy. She hated confrontation, did all she could to avoid it. She felt vexed at herself and at Noah for giving her the confidence to wear her own pants.
Veronica was talking on her phone at an outdoor table when Apple appeared. She motioned for Apple to order.
‘Pear and prosciutto salad,’ Apple told the waiter, despite being too nervous to eat.
Veronica slid her phone away. ‘Why did you stop going to the Emmaline Gray Academy?’
Apple hesitated, confusion and surprise at the question stealing her words. ‘Well . . .’
‘Was it because you couldn’t be bothered? Couldn’t handle the pressure?’
‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘I loved the pressure. I miss it.’
‘Why did you leave, then?’
‘I couldn’t afford it.’
Veronica eyed her. ‘Those pants you’re wearing today – you made them, I assume?’
‘Yes and I’m so sorry,’ Apple gushed. ‘My others were dirty. I just grabbed them, I didn’t think. It won’t happen again. I can sew Sue a pair if she’s that upset.’
Veronica gave a cool laugh, then a sigh, and Apple wondered if she’d actually fire her for wearing the wrong pants.
‘I think it’s probably a good idea if you pay my design team a visit.’
Apple stared, uncomprehending.
‘You’re clearly wasted in the shop. Your eye for detail is next to none, and of the few designs of yours I’ve seen, each has been show-stopping. The customers love it when you style them, and although I don’t relish losing you from the shop floor, if you’re as good at designing as you seem, then, well, a design trial with my design team, perhaps?’ Her phone rang and she shooed Apple with her hand. ‘You can go. Take your salad.’
Jackson looked up as Apple re-entered the store.
‘Are you dead?’
Apple bumped into the corner of the counter, bewildered.
‘Was it a shredding?’ Jackson cringed.
A faint, tentative smile appeared.
‘What?’ Jackson said.
‘She just asked me to design.’ Apple said. ‘She asked me to design: for Loom.’
‘Design for Loom? Where?’
‘I guess the warehouse? I don’t know.’
‘Are you sure? She actually said she wants you to design?’
The idea of putting herself out there as a designer had always been quashed by a fear of what she might have to confront, but this was Loom . . . She was safe. Forgotten hope bloomed.
‘It’s a trial,’ she said.
‘Motherfucker.’ Jackson stared. ‘You can’t leave. You can’t go off with her. If I get left alone here, I will murder someone, I will.’
Apple took her hand. ‘I know, it’s crazy, I . . . I’ll get to use my hands . . . and my brain – together.’
‘I want to use my hands and brain together!’
Apple laughed, hugging her.
‘Fuck.’ Jackson softened into the embrace. ‘Fuck. You’ve ruined and made my fucking day.’
An immaculate nineteenth-century building with a new glass-box entrance grafted to its heritage facade housed Georgia’s flagship jewellery store in the Domain precinct of South Yarra. A sealed path cut through a pristine lawn to the locked glass door, and Apple stood waiting, watching people queuing by the window of a nearby cafe and wondering how everyone seemed able to afford so many coffees every day. She sipped from her thermos cup, the tea still warm from home.
Poppy was hurrying up the path. Apple smiled, excited to tell her the news.
‘Homemade chai?’ Poppy smelled the nozzle of Apple’s cup then took a sip. ‘Oooh, I miss it.’
‘Guess what?’
Poppy wiped her mouth.
‘I almost have a design job.’
‘What? Where?’
‘At Loom.’
‘Loom? Really?’
‘I know. I can’t believe it.’
Poppy began to laugh, eyes almost teary, ‘Oh my goodness, that makes me feel emotional. Yes, yes, yes! When do you start?’
‘I think next week.’
‘Yeek!’ Poppy clapped. ‘Yeek!’
A uniformed guard strode down the path and greeted them.
‘Good morning. You are . . .?’
‘Oh, I’m Apple . . . This is Poppy.’
‘Charlie mentioned you’d be here. He’s running late. You’re welcome to wait inside.’ He swiped a card and the sisters exchanged glances as the glass door released. He unlocked the heritage building beyond, and when he switched on the lights the store lit up, glass cabinets glistening.
‘Holy God, Apple. We’re the only customers in Georgia’s.’
The guard offered them a seat, but the girls stayed where they were, huddled in the middle of the room.
‘Do you know if Georgia’s is still privately owned?’ Poppy asked after a beat.
‘Yes, by the family.’
‘You can tell, can’t you? It feels like a brand protected by generations of family. Are you sure Charlie didn’t mind helping?’
‘I told him my sister needed a jewellery education and wanted him to give it to her.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That he thought you’d never ask.’
Poppy grinned, hands clasping. ‘Is that him?’
Charlie was striding across the paved lawn. Apple’s heart sped.
‘God, he’s suave.’
He was too near now for Apple to reply, and he grinned, saying nothing as he landed a kiss on her cheek, stubble faint.
‘Good morning.’ He smiled as Poppy drew him into a hug.
‘Thank you for doing this! I was embarrassed to ask but I obviously only want to buy an engagement ring once, and I think you’re the man who knows about these things. I know you probably have less than no time, though.’
‘I do know about these things. And I always have time for you two,’ Charlie said. He glanced at Apple.
A well-groomed man was attending to stock in a cabinet and glanced up as Charlie approached.
‘Boy Beauchamp!’ His hand went to his chest. ‘Who are these belles?’
‘Poppy and Apple, this is Felix, our number-one salesman.’
‘Oh, Charles, you know what it does to me when you call me your number one.’ Felix fanned himself. ‘Isn’t he scalding?’
‘I was just telling Apple that,’ Poppy said.
‘And to what do I owe the pleasure of the heir apparent? Surely he has a ball game? A long lunch? You couldn’t be working . . .’
‘It’s all work, Felix.’ Charlie yawned.
‘He’s cool, unflappable – but, girls, boy Beau lacks my refined expertise. He may know every gem in this place like the back of his hand but I tell you, no one can place a rock like Felix Austen.’
‘Agreed,’ Charlie said. ‘We’re here for engagement rings.’
‘For Heidi? At last? Well, you won’t need help from these two. Heidi wants the cushion-cut 11.22 diamond in platinum with the pavé circlet. It’s all I hear about.’
Charlie cleared his throat. ‘The ring’s for Poppy.’
‘Oh my, congratulations.’ Felix gave a little bow. ‘Hand me your paw.’
> Poppy held out her hand, glancing back at Apple, eyes alight.
‘I love your little pixie fingers!’ Felix stroked her hand. ‘We’ll easily find something for you. Shall I leave it to you, boy Beau? Or would you like me to do my job?’
‘Poppy just wants an education. Tell her everything you know, and let her know cost price of anything she likes, just in case.’ He winked at Poppy.
‘Oh, Charlie, thank you. No.’ Poppy looked nervous.
She glanced at Apple until Felix smacked her fingers. ‘Stop looking at her, look at me. I have the exact thing, things. You’re going to try on every little thing. Go away, Beauchamp, you’re making us jumpy.’
Charlie and Apple took up a seat in the lounge and an assistant appeared with a tray of champagne.
‘Wow,’ Apple said.
‘Sorry, it’s custom.’ Charlie took one for each of them.
‘Thank you, and thank you for letting us exploit your . . . your expertise.’ She glanced back at Poppy.
‘It’s my pleasure. I hardly ever have friends visit me at work.’
‘Isn’t Felix a gem. I imagine once people start working here they’d never leave. It’s just an incredible space.’
‘It used to drive me crazy when I was small. Dad would drag me in here on the weekend, I’d sit in that exact chair over there, and all I wanted to do was crash my Lego spaceship into the piles of baubles. It was so boring. Thinking back, the staff were all so tolerant. I was such a pest.’
There was movement by the door as a security guard let in the day’s first clients and Apple glimpsed the long, ironed hair of a brunette before realising it was Heidi.
She strode towards them, not looking at Apple until she’d pecked Charlie’s mouth and corrected his hair.
‘It’s you again.’ She finally glanced at Apple.
‘Apple,’ Charlie said.
‘I remember.’ Heidi eyed the flute in his hand. ‘Working hard?’
‘What are you doing here?’ he said.
‘Getting cufflinks, for Alan’s birthday. You said you’d get them last week and you didn’t.’
‘I said I’d get them today.’
‘I don’t trust you.’ Her smile was strained. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Apple’s sister is looking at engagement rings.’
‘She’s engaged? How old is she? Is she Amish? My God,’ Heidi snorted, peering at Poppy.
‘Charlie?’ Felix called from the counter. ‘Are you happy to do this one at cost?’
‘Any one, Felix, any.’
‘Oh, Charles,’ Heidi said. ‘What are you doing? Did you ask your father?’
‘Ask my father?’
‘If you can dole out cost prices to strangers.’
‘Poppy isn’t a stranger, she’s our friend,’ Charlie’s voice rose.
‘She and Apple were with us in Daylesford.’
‘You’re so fucking vulnerable, Charles. Oh good, there’s Maryanne.’ She made for the other attendant.
Charlie cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry—’
‘It’s fine. We shouldn’t be here.’ Apple stood up from the lounge. ‘I said we were exploiting you. I’m sure people ask you for things all the time. You don’t need to—’
‘You’re not people. Heidi was just—’
‘It’s fine. She’s looking after you. Poppy, we should—’ Apple was about to say that they should leave, but Poppy was standing by the counter, hand in the air.
‘Look,’ she said breathlessly, eyes on the jewel on her finger. ‘Look, look at this.’
Apple hurried to see it: circle-cut with pavé prongs holding the diamond proud. ‘Poppy,’ it’s beautiful, but—’
‘I didn’t intend to . . .’ Poppy began quietly and Apple slid close. ‘I didn’t think we could afford it, but at cost this is only a thousand dollars more than a vintage one I really liked, and look at it, look at it, and it’s Georgia’s.’
‘It’s beautiful but . . . but you should think about it, show Lachie.’
‘I won’t be able to just come back here and demand that price again! And Lachie’s away for weeks. He told me to start looking.’
‘You can’t just buy it because of the price.’
‘I’m not. Look at it. I didn’t think I cared about rings, but look, look at how it sits. Felix has picked the perfect size and shape for my finger.’
The ring looked like it had been made for her. It was feminine but not too delicate, resting on her finger as though it had always been there.
‘It’s up to you.’
‘I won’t be able to stop thinking about it if I don’t get it. Charlie,’ Poppy’s voice rose, ‘I love this. I’m in love with it.’
‘It looks like it was waiting for you.’ Charlie came to see. ‘What do you think?’ His eyes met Apple’s.
‘Well, I mean – every piece in here is beautiful.’
‘This is the one. I’m going to do it.’ Poppy looked at Apple as if for permission. Apple didn’t know what else to do but smile.
‘If she changes her mind she can bring it back,’ Charlie said as Poppy returned to Felix.
‘Charlie, no – you’re too good.’
‘No, I’m not.’
Poppy hurried back, breathless, clutching a Georgia’s bag.
‘Thank you.’ She looked up earnestly at Charlie. ‘I feel very spoiled, unreasonably special. I think I feel a bit dizzy!’
‘Unreasonably special? Not possible?’
‘Feels like it.’
‘Charles!’ Heidi called. ‘The cufflinks?’
‘See you soon?’ Charlie started towards Heidi.
‘Yes,’ Apple said.
They walked outside and Poppy stared at Apple. ‘I just bought Georgia’s.’
16
Apple fondled Noah’s hand on the gearstick and gazed out the window at the water as they cruised along Lakeside Drive, east of the bay, fifteen minutes south of the CBD.
She slid on sunglasses, the morning sun bright.
‘Charlie said you visited him at the store last week.’
‘Yes. Poppy bought a ring. Charlie helped out. I felt bad.’
‘Why? He loves it, loves winning people over.’
‘He’s good at it.’
Noah scoffed. ‘Glad you think so.’ He slid his hand onto her inner thigh as she watched black swans glide by.
‘You have big hands.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Bigger than Charlie’s.’
Apple smiled and he grinned.
‘He lives around here, you know – Clement Hall, epic old home . . . I’ll take you there some time and the whole family can win you over.’
‘Charlie lives with his family?’
‘Has this giant cottage–carriage house thing out back. I don’t live at home. I’m a big boy.’
‘I know. Those hands.’
He cupped the back of her neck, leaning over to kiss her, eyes still on the road.
‘Thanks for driving me,’ she said. ‘I feel less nervous.’
They took a turn towards Port Melbourne and Noah asked for the street.
‘Fallon.’
‘Fallon Street? That’s the industrial precinct.’
‘Did you know I have you to thank for Veronica asking me to design? She offered the trial because of those pants you made me wear that morning.’
‘You have me to thank for a lot of things.’ Noah pressed his hand to her crotch and she let it stay there, liked the strength of it.
They turned into a wide lane, Noah pulling up at a two-storey brick warehouse next to a bus depot, with a ‘Holdings of Loom Ltd’ sign over the door.
‘If she’s nasty, tell her she has me to answer to.’ He kissed Apple and she pressed her head against his, still not used to the intimacy, someone being there.
‘Thanks.’
Apple pressed the buzzer by the metal door.
‘Apple?’ Veronica’s voice came through the intercom.
‘Yes, it’s me.’
<
br /> The door buzzed, Apple’s nerves spiked and she hesitated before walking inside and mounting the steel staircase. At the top were whitewashed walls with steel-framed windows, sketches and posters hanging from copper pipework, and a pitched roof. Her d’Orsay flats skimmed old boards.
‘Let’s get started.’ Veronica strode from the central workbench, taking a hold of Apple’s shoulder as she said, eyes sharp, ‘We’re still hashing out the Loom shoe saga. I swear I don’t know what I pay them for sometimes. I don’t like anything they’ve come up with. It’s just so dreadfully conservative. Think, Apple, think.’
‘O-okay.’
‘This is Quentin and Tilly.’ Veronica strode back to the table. ‘This is Apple. She’s my new designer and has come bearing fresh ideas for footwear.’
Apple frowned at the overstatement but stayed quiet, hoping her hands wouldn’t tremble as she pressed them to the wooden bench.
‘Don’t let me down!’ Veronica landed a sketchbook and pencil in front of her then sailed towards the staircase, and no one spoke as they listened to her clank down the stairs.
‘Thank God.’ Quentin massaged his forehead when the door slammed. ‘That woman is appalling this week. Do you have some magic, Apple?’
She stared at him, her heart quick. She hadn’t expected to be coddled, but this was the deep end.
‘Can I see what you’ve got?’
Tilly offered her sketchbook. Apple began looking through her concepts for footwear, her mind turning over.
Veronica had been right and wrong. Her designers’ ideas were safe; they were classic and would sell. But Apple knew that Veronica, despite her reasonably conservative clientele, hankered after being ahead. As she reached Tilly’s last sketch, Apple’s eyes fluttered closed, pencil spinning in her fingers.
‘I’ll be right back.’
She walked downstairs, out of the building and crossed the road.
She’d noticed it when Noah had dropped her off. She always noticed them – piles of hard rubbish – the designer in her wondering what forgotten gems were hiding among the rubble, waiting to be resurrected, repurposed.
An old detached car seat had been rained on and didn’t look to have been waxed in years. The tan-coloured leather was cracked and unevenly faded, busted at the seams. She slid her hand into a tear, where she gripped and tore some more.
Then she hurried back to the warehouse, torn scrap flapping in her hand.
The Rules of Backyard Croquet Page 16
