She didn’t have Richard’s number. She thought about calling Charlie, but thought that would just make her seem like the weasel he probably already thought she was. She couldn’t reveal that she’d seen Richard, that she’d gone to Georgia’s, couldn’t risk Charlie thinking that she’d taken the bracelet for this exact reason: so she could call him.
She searched for Georgia’s Manhattan number, praying it had already been listed, and relief came when she found it.
It rang out.
‘Fuck.’ She undid the bracelet and tossed it onto the bed, massaging the weight of the six-figure piece away.
She thought of Jill and scrolled for her number. She glanced at the serpent and knew she had no choice. The piece had to be returned, immediately.
The call went straight to voicemail and Apple hung up. She tried again and was taken aback when she heard, ‘Jill speaking.’
‘Jill? It’s Apple March.’
‘Apple? Oh my God! How are you?’
‘I’m, I’m fine. I hope I didn’t wake you, I—’
‘Wake me?’ Jill laughed. ‘It’s lunchtime!’
Apple rubbed her eyes. ‘Sorry, I’m in the States.’
‘Are you?’ Jill chirped. ‘Daddy’s there! We opened a Fifth Avenue store tonight. I’ve been wanting to come over but couldn’t make it because of uni. What are you doing?’
‘Actually, I was there, at the store opening,’ Apple said slowly. ‘And I feel really awful, but Richard gave me a bracelet to wear and I left without returning it. I’m embarrassed and I don’t know how to get it back without it being stolen on the way. It doesn’t look . . . cheap.’
‘You went to the Georgia’s opening? I’m so jealous!’
Apple managed a laugh for Jill’s sake. ‘What should I do?’
‘Where are you? Text me the address. I’ll call Daddy and ring you back.’
Apple sat frozen on the bed until the phone rang. ‘Jill? Did you tell Richard I was sorry, I’m so, so sorry.’
‘As if Daddy would get angry. He’s sending someone. I said you could just wear it home and bring it round to Clement Hall next time you come, but he said no! I was so annoyed. I wanted an excuse to hang out, it’s been too long.’
Apple wondered how it was possible that Jill and Richard seemed oblivious to Juanita’s revelations.
‘It has been too long.’
‘It’s awful Charlie being away. I don’t see his friends anymore. Can we find an excuse to catch up?’
Apple couldn’t help herself. ‘Where is he?’
‘He moved to Florence, to oversee the new store. He didn’t tell you?’
‘Oh, yes . . .’ Apple knew nothing, but Jill made her feel like she should.
‘When are you back?’
Apple had stopped listening. She was thinking about Charlie, the finality of his whereabouts, realising that if she’d ever thought she was getting over him, she’d been wrong. Hearing that he’d moved away, she had to sit down.
‘Apple? When are you getting back?’
‘In a week.’
‘Really? Come over! I’m having a graduation party! I’ve finished my Arts degree!’
‘Congratulations.’
‘Come, please? It would make my day! It’s been way too long. I see everyone else all the time – it’s so boring. I’m already sad because Daddy and Charlie won’t be here, and I’ve been working so hard and I want to celebrate with everyone.’
Apple wanted to say yes. She wanted to hear more about Charlie, to see his sister’s cherubic face.
‘You don’t have to, of course not. I know you’re crazy busy.’ Jill tried to sound blasé.
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Yay! It will be so fun, I promise. It’s only a party for my very best girlfriends and there’s nothing you have to do, everything’s organised, no pressure, obviously, but yay!’
There was soon a knock on Apple’s door and a member of Georgia’s security relieved her of the snake. She watched with relief as the red ruby eyes slid into their box then disappeared beneath the lid and down the hall.
28
Back home, Apple was moody. She’d attended small shows in and around Manhattan, met designers whose work she’d fallen in love with, and on her last night, eight hours before she was due to leave, a couple of the designers had offered her space at their studio. When her 10 am flight took off, she’d considered asking the pilot to turn around.
Now, as she tried to settle back into the city she called home, she knew that her longing to be elsewhere was in part due to the revelation that this place was no longer Charlie Beauchamp’s home. It made everything feel a little emptier.
On Apple’s second morning back, Poppy came over. In the time Apple had been away, Jackson had set up March HQ in their rented North Melbourne warehouse, an old mechanic’s garage spanning two levels and, on the first floor, Apple’s things were stacked in crates. Poppy brought Frankie and a dozen tiny potted succulents that she distributed along the windowsill. She also took her time arranging organic pantry staples in the kitchen cupboards, then helped Apple properly set up the bed, arrange the sofa.
‘Where shall we put Frankie’s bed?’ Poppy said. ‘Next to yours? Or is he going to sleep there?’
Frankfurt was asleep on Apple’s pillow and she crouched to squeeze him, grateful for the tiny life form. ‘He can sleep with me.’
At day’s end Jackson came back from up the street with a box of canelés and Apple turned on the coffee machine. The light was beginning to fade when they were draining their cups.
‘Have you been up to the rooftop yet?’ Jackson asked.
Apple shook her head, tired.
‘C’mon, sunset’s amazing.’
Apple carried Frankfurt as they ascended a ladder-stair to the fresh air.
‘We should have lunch up here some days,’ Jackson said.
‘We should.’ Apple let Frankfurt down and he galloped excitedly around the open space. ‘Do you like your new view?’
‘I do.’ Poppy gazed out at a city made of rectangles, golden in the setting sun. ‘I feel . . . excited.’
‘I do too,’ Jackson said.
‘You know . . .’ Apple slid her arms around their waists. ‘I think I do, too.’
The following day, a message appeared on Apple’s phone. It’s me, being annoying . . . but are you coming to my grad party? Pretty pls?
Apple rose from her chair.
‘What was that?’ Jackson asked, and like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t, Apple squirrelled her phone away.
‘Nothing.’
She went into the bathroom and sat on the toilet seat, staring at her phone.
Sorry, she began to type but couldn’t continue, feeling an overwhelming desire to honour the young woman who’d been so relentlessly encouraging and kind.
I’ll be there.
YES! I’ll send a car!!
The Beauchamps’ Bentley looked incongruous in the narrow, graffitied laneway, its lights flaring in the gloom. The chauffeur met Apple at the old iron warehouse door. When he saw she was carrying a garment bag, he hurried ahead back to the car and popped open the boot.
‘Thanks, Andrew.’
The leather seat felt cool against the back of Apple’s knees as she fastened her seatbelt then watched Andrew’s intent gaze in the rear-view mirror as he backed down the lane.
‘How are the party preparations going?’ she asked when they were on their way.
Andrew glanced at her in the mirror. ‘I believe everything’s in order,’ he said. ‘Dick and Charlie are away, so I’ve had more free time. Convenient for when jobs need doing. I’ve ducked out a few times today for supplies.’
‘Very handy.’ Apple smiled but her gaze fell to the floor.
Twenty minutes on, the pillars of Clement Hall came into view as the car’s tyres crunched on pebbles. Memories from the auction welled up, and Apple closed her eyes, opening them again only when she heard Andrew at her door
.
‘Thank you.’ She slid from the car, collected her garment bag, then waited at the front door for someone to answer.
She pressed the bell again and when no one came she tried the handle and, tentatively, let herself in. The first thing she heard was Alison’s voice. She hesitated. She hadn’t figured on meeting the matriarch again this evening.
‘Oh!’ Alison looked surprised as she sailed into the foyer with two staff in tow. ‘Apple!’
Apple didn’t move, unsure if Charlie’s mother would be as unaware of Juanita Gray’s stories as Richard and Jill seemed to be.
‘I didn’t know we’d be seeing your sweet face!’ Alison’s arms spread wide before she kissed Apple on both cheeks and continued on her way. ‘Jill’s upstairs, second floor, third or fourth door on the left.’
Apple climbed the flight of stairs then walked along the hall. She knocked on Jill’s door.
‘Come in!’
Apple gently pushed the door open.
Jill’s room was pale peach, with a teal velvet lounge beneath a window that was partially obscured by trailing drapes. The huge bed was unmade and strewn with clothes, which were also scattered on the floor in a line towards a smaller room, where there were more clothes hanging and shoes racked.
‘Mum?’ Jill called from the dressing room.
‘It’s me,’ Apple said, and there was a beat before Jill peered out.
‘You!’ She ran forward and kissed Apple’s cheek, gold shimmer dancing from a brush in her hand.
‘Happy graduation.’
Jill laughed, breathlessly grinding her make-up brush into a compact. ‘Does the gold on my cheekbones look okay? I just wanted a bit of a glow.’
‘You look radiant.’
Jill dashed over to the bed and started throwing shoes into boxes and out of the way. ‘Sorry, sorry. There were friends here this morning, trying on everything for tonight. Half of us just finished our Bachelors!’ She spun around, hands clasped behind her back. ‘What’s that?’
Apple glanced down at the garment bag draped across her arms, with its small bow on the zipper.
‘A gift.’
Jill brought her fingers slowly to her mouth. ‘For me? I told you not to bring anything.’
‘It is your graduation, isn’t it?’ Apple laid it on the bed.
Jill said nothing, but moved towards the bag. Then she carefully unfurled the little bow before slowly lowering the zipper. Her breath caught.
‘Apple, no.’ She gasped as a hint of fabric fell out. She squirrelled it away again, giggling. ‘Is that . . .?’
‘It’s just a dress . . . It’s nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ Jill parted the bag then stood speechless. ‘Oh my God, Apple, you shouldn’t have.’
‘You can take that grosgrain bow off, if you like, to wear it more casually, or whatever you like.’
‘Apple. Did you make it?’
‘It’s nothing, honestly. I was thinking I really wanted to make you something, but there was no time when I got back. And then I remembered this sample I’d been working on and . . .’ She smoothed the collar. ‘And I realised it was perfectly you.’
‘It is perfectly me!’ Jill lifted it out. ‘It’s all . . . It’s all Wimbledon meets croquet meets sailor meets . . . Oh, I love navy, red and white, and look at those tiny pearl buttons! How on earth did you know my size?’
‘You’re about the same as Poppy, only a bit bustier. It’s a stretch crepe. There’s plenty of room in the skirt. It will fit.’
‘I already know it will.’ Jill put it up against herself. ‘Can you imagine it at the croquet with high socks? Lace-ups?’
Apple smiled and the dress crushed between them as Jill squeezed her.
‘God, I wish Charlie hadn’t left and that we saw each other more.’
Apple nodded, unable to speak.
Jill threw off her robe and slid the crepe fabric over her head, Apple helping.
‘Well?’ Jill panted, tugging the waist into place.
Apple let her gaze drift over Jill’s body. ‘Like it was made for you.’
Jill squeaked, dashed to the mirror then into her dressing room and came back with shoes.
‘These gold Marni brogues could look kind of insanely good.’ She tossed them onto the bed. ‘But then there are these Altuzarra satin pumps with the red that matches the skirt of the dress. But I don’t want to feel too overdone. It’s just an intimate gathering at home.’
‘I like the metallic.’
Jill flumped back on the bed. ‘Oh my God, can’t you just live here? Mum pretends she knows what’s cool but she doesn’t, Dad’s hopeless, Charlie’s never around. I need you.’
She put on the shoes and appraised herself in the mirror.
‘So bold, I love it.’ She smoothed her skirt and kicked her feet. ‘Guests’ ETA isn’t till 8 pm, but I need your eye to help me style the provisions.’
The ‘intimate gathering’ was a flock of sixty women, the party provisions were enough for a hundred, and by the time the first batch of guests had arrived, Apple was already feeling full and nearing drunk.
‘But you still have to try the salmon parcel stuffed with crab and beluga caviar.’ Jill pushed the platter Apple’s way. ‘Oh, and here’s Katie. Katie, I made your favourite cocktail, the Veuve and Delamain from your birthday, but the mixologist added passionfruit and cranberry and mint, and Apple and I are already drunk on it!’
Becky, the only friend of Jill’s that Apple knew, gave Apple a once-over before shaking her hand. ‘Ugh. You always look good.’
‘So do you.’
‘I’m probably being compared to you constantly these days.’ She reached for a drink. ‘Noah and I are dating now, did you know?’
Apple gave a little cough and put her cocktail down. ‘I didn’t. Good. That’s good.’
‘Yes.’ Becky eyed her. ‘It is.’
‘Hello, Becky darling.’ Alison embraced her.
Alison pinched Becky’s cheek, Becky complimented Alison’s dress and, whether it was true or not, Apple felt suddenly and conspicuously on the outer. In her full, drunken fug, she wondered what she was really doing there – she wasn’t Noah’s girlfriend, nor Charlie’s friend, and she wondered if in truth, in reality, her only purpose was being Jill’s . . . well, stylist.
‘Here she is!’ Jill appeared with two friends. ‘Apple made it herself, by hand. Apple, this is Jane and Emily. They’re in love with it, too.’
‘We love the dress!’ Emily said. ‘Can I have one?’
‘She has her own label – March,’ Jill slurred a little. ‘And she doesn’t make special pieces for everyone, just me.’ She twirled and skated away.
‘What about for special occasions? Like the gala next month?’
‘I asked first!’ Emily said. ‘I need one for my sister’s engagement. I’ll pay anything.’
‘Sure.’ Apple downed her cocktail and walked away. She went to find Jill, and gently touched her arm. ‘I think I’m going to go. Have an amazing night.’
‘What?’ Jill spun around and clutched Apple’s wrists, eyes wide. ‘You are not. Why would you say that? It’s not even nine thirty! Is it getting boring? Oh God, it is. Let’s swim.’
Jill dragged her by the wrist to the pool and Apple swayed uncertainly before fumbling with her clothes. Jill was grinning as she threw her dress over a bush before diving in. ‘The dress looks better on me, shrub! Apple, get in. It’s warm as toast.’
Apple downed a shot from a passing waiter then tried not to trip as she stepped down into the pool. She didn’t know how to resist Jill’s relentless optimism.
Apple had lost track of what time it was when a dozen young men arrived. The barely clad women shrieked with horrified delight, and Apple was so alcohol-addled that she thought she might be sick if she opened her mouth.
Men started to strip off, and the women climbed in and out of the pool, flesh shiny, lace see-through. Apple looked around for the ladder.
‘
Apple!’ she heard Jill call from dry land. ‘This is Gerard – Gerry. He has his eye on you.’
Apple didn’t know what Jill was talking about until a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man reached down a hand to where she bobbed in the pool.
‘Gerry,’ he said.
Apple fumbled to shake his hand. Her head swayed as Gerry smoothed back his hair, sitting poolside to survey the scene in his underwear.
‘This is my kind of party,’ he said.
Apple closed her eyes, nausea rising.
‘I don’t think she looks well,’ she heard Gerry say.
‘Oh no,’ Jill said. ‘Gerry, get her out.’
Apple felt Gerry’s hands under her armpits, then she was lifted up onto the edge.
She burped, tasted too much cognac and caviar, and said, ‘My clothes? I’m going.’
‘What? I’m not sending you home like this! Gerry, can you take her down to the guest house? Quickly.’
Gerry supported Apple as they made their way across the lawn, and Apple peered at the building as they neared it, the large cottage that was once Charlie’s.
‘No,’ she groaned.
Gerry opened the front door and helped Apple across the threshold, but she didn’t want him inside. She tried to close the door behind her.
‘Can I—’
‘No, it’s okay, th–thank you.’ Apple nudged him back out the door and steadied herself on the handle. ‘Night.’
‘I can come—’
Apple closed the door, rested briefly against it, then lurched around in search of a bathroom before vomiting into the toilet.
She lay for a while on the cool tiles before lifting herself up and stripping off her underwear. Then she took a shower.
The towels were soft and she tugged one around her before dripping up the stairs and into the first bedroom she found. She swayed for a while in front of the bay window, staring at the bodies dotting the lawn.
Finally, she stumbled back to the bed and passed out to the sounds of laughter and shrieking in the garden.
Apple didn’t know how long she’d been asleep when she woke to rustling at the end of the bed.
‘No, Gerry. Go away.’ Her head ached and her eyes felt dry as she blinked.
She fell back into sleep, but a voice woke her up again.
The Rules of Backyard Croquet Page 27
