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“But what if I fail? What if all the other girls are smarter and I don’t fit in?” Belinda paced around the kitchen.
“Ah, but what if you succeed? And what if the other girls adore you as much as I do?” Christie poured water into coffee cups.
The pacing stopped. “You do?”
“Most certainly I do! Listen, for me, the first day of the beauty course was terrifying. I wanted it so, so much, but I just knew everyone would look at me and see a little country girl.”
“But you’re a city girl.”
“You know, one of these days I shall hold a meeting in town and discuss that phrase with everyone. Including your cousin Martin.” She struggled to keep a straight face. “I spent my first seven years in the outback.”
“You did?”
“And I was terrified putting myself in the company of young women who I imagined were already beauty experts. And guess what?”
“They were?”
“Some thought so. But all of us were just as nervous and excited and ambitious as each other. Within a few days, we had sorted ourselves into groups and – just like at school – either became friends or simply tolerated one another.”
Belinda pulled a face. “School wasn’t much fun. I mean, I did okay, but I was always a bit different.”
“You’ll see plenty of different in Melbourne! But isn’t that what you want? The chance to become what you want to be?”
“But who is going to talk to the pastries?”
Christie burst into laughter. “Sorry.” She tried to stop. “I’ll drop in and speak with them.”
Belinda stared in disbelief. “You mock my pastries?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean—”
Belinda’s mouth quivered and then broadened to a cheeky smile.
“Funny. Maybe I should warn your teachers about you.”
“No need. I shall let them find out for themselves. Oh, I almost forgot!” She dug around in her oversized handbag and pushed a brightly wrapped box in front of Christie.
“Oh. What’s this?”
“It’s a box.”
“Ha ha. For me?”
“Are you okay? I mean, I can give it to someone else.”
Christie put her hand on the box with a stern “Mine!” and Belinda giggled.
Christie carefully pulled the ribbon to undo the elaborate purple bow. She unwrapped the vivid yellow paper one end at a time. Before taking the paper off, she peeked at Belinda, who was intent on the process.
“Hurry up!”
“I might wait until you go. No? Okay, okay.” With a flourish, she revealed the present. “Oh, sweetie.”
Framed in ornate silver was a photograph. From Thomas and Martha’s wedding, it was taken on the beach, following their vows.
It was a moment caught in time. Christie gazed up at Martin as he wound a strand of jasmine around her braided hair. His concentration was on the jasmine and hers was on his face. He’d smiled. “There, that’s better. Jasmine Sea.”
Until then, Christie had believed he didn’t love her, but when he’d used those words, her heart had almost stopped. He’d remembered their first evening together, when she’d joked about being a candle maker who created a scent made from a flower and the ocean.
“Do you like it? I was going through all the photos and saw you two in the background. It looked like a special moment. You really love him.”
“I really do.”
“Well then. We’re all happy.”
“You are a wonderful friend. I love it!” Christie leapt up and hugged Belinda. “And you will be fine in Melbourne. You call me anytime you are lonely or not sure about something, okay?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. And what’s more, I’ll be back for work so we’ll hang out and maybe go take a look at Docklands Studio together.”
Christie wasn’t entirely certain, but there may have been a tear in Belinda’s eyes when she left a few moments later. It was hard to tell past the mist in her own.
***
The office on the twelfth floor overlooked Port Phillip Bay. It was a large, immaculate workspace with modern furnishing and no clutter. A map of Victoria took up a whole wall, sporadically studded with the company logo.
Behind the desk, Derek Hobbs stared at a laptop. Cold coffee was untouched from two hours ago.
Intent on his monitor, he ignored a tap on his glass door. The handle turned. It was locked. The tapping began in earnest until, annoyed, he glanced up.
“Dammit.” He hurried to unlock the door. Ingrid pushed her way past, carrying a takeaway tray with two coffees.
“Are you quite alright?” She demanded as Derek locked the door again.
“Busy.”
“Your phone is busy!”
“Nope. Unplugged. And before you tell me, the mobile is off.”
As soon as he sat again, Ingrid passed him a coffee. “Why?”
“Thanks. Told you. I’m busy.”
“Too busy for me?” She tottered around the desk, stilettos digging into the deep pile of the carpet. She peered at the screen.
“Oh. Really?” She smiled faintly. “Aren’t you past all of that?”
“She was here.”
“Christie?”
“Yes.”
“In this office?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. In Melbourne. I saw her go into the Four Seasons the other night.”
“Did she see you?”
“No. She was working at the studios. She went there the next morning.”
“Stalking her?”
“I was curious. But then she disappeared in that stupid car of hers so no doubt is back with the artist.”
Ingrid perched on the corner of the desk, crossing one black-stockinged leg over the other. “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you visit?”
“Ingrid, why are you here?”
“You arranged a meeting. With Rupert, if you recall?”
“Sorry.” He took her hand. “Don’t mean to be abrupt but I just can’t help thinking that if things don’t work out with the artist, she’d be willing to sell. And we might as well be the ones to buy.”
“Does your ex know Rupert?”
“No. She would never have come across him. Oh, clever girl!”
Ingrid tilted her head. “I do love sea air. And I’ve been wanting my portrait painted for ever such a long time. In your internet stalking there, does it say if Martin Blake does anything other than abstracts?”
Derek got to his feet. “Did I tell you how clever you are?”
“You are most welcome to repeat it.”
“Then I must do so. Dinner tonight and we will discuss this further.”
“Send me a text with the details. I’ll leave the door unlocked. Rupert is waiting, you know.”
After she left, Derek stood in front of the map of Victoria. He ran his hand along the Great Ocean Road until he reached River’s End, a small dot on the map. He wanted that town.