Truth be told, Felicity wasn’t much of a bushwalker. She got enthusiastic about it every couple of years, but her interest usually dried up once she’d bought new hiking shoes, quick-dry pants and a moisture-wicking shirt. Dom had said she was more of a bush shopper.
But Felicity wanted everyone to be laughing, flirting, having fun, getting along. Cole clearly hadn’t told Clementine about his failing gym or the money from Dom, who seemed to be watching Oscar with great suspicion. Oscar and Isla were basically at each other’s throats—could Isla have found out about the kiss? No, because she didn’t seem angry with Felicity. Either way, the house was full of tension. The obvious solution was to get everyone out of the house.
It hadn’t quite worked. Isla had stayed behind to read a book, and Cole had said he wanted to start prepping lunch; the guy sure liked cooking. But at least Dom, Clementine and Oscar were following Felicity down the hill.
She’d pretended to choose the trail at random. Only Clementine seemed suspicious.
Twigs cracked and leaves crunched beneath their boots. The terrain was difficult. The trail was narrow and winding, the sort used by animals rather than humans. But occasionally she saw tyre tracks in the dirt, as though mountain bikers had come this way. She stamped because she’d heard that heavy footfalls would alert snakes up ahead and make them retreat; then again, maybe the reptiles were hibernating and the stomping would wake them up.
The winter sun filtered through the trees, igniting flecks in the air that could have been snow. After an hour of walking, the cold was burning the back of Felicity’s throat, even as sweat poured from her armpits. Occasionally the trail turned a bend and a gap between the trees exposed the spectacular mountain range lining the horizon like a giant’s molars.
Clementine was right behind her. ‘I know what you’re doing,’ she said.
‘How can you talk?’ Felicity wheezed. ‘I can hardly breathe.’
‘We’re just walking,’ Clementine said, not sounding even slightly puffed.
‘There’s walking,’ Felicity gasped, ‘and there’s walking.’
For about a year, she’d been telling herself that stand-up was all the exercise she needed—she’d worn a Fitbit onstage once, and it had tracked an impressive number of steps over the course of her set. But she now realised the difference between pacing back and forth across a flat surface and this: marching downhill on rocks and lumpy dirt. Coming back up would be even tougher.
‘You’re trying to work out if I was telling the truth about the light,’ Clementine said.
Felicity feigned confusion. ‘What light?’
‘The light I spotted out the window last night.’
‘Oh. The light that very conveniently changed the topic away from your sexual history?’
‘The light I saw coming from exactly this direction.’
Felicity looked around as though that hadn’t occurred to her. ‘Really? Are you sure? Because I don’t see anything that would create a light around here. The highway isn’t visible, there are no other buildings, there’s no—’
‘You’ve made your point,’ Clementine said. ‘Maybe, maybe I imagined it. But that’s not the same thing as making it up.’
‘You ladies okay down there?’ Dom’s voice was distant. He and Oscar had fallen behind.
Unease burbled in Felicity’s gut—she didn’t like the two of them being alone together.
‘Fine!’ she and Clementine called in unison.
‘Listen.’ Clementine lowered her voice. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said.’
‘I say a lot of things,’ Felicity said, but hope fluttered in her chest.
‘About borrowing.’
‘Oh, that.’ She shrugged, as though she offered to lend out her husband all the time.
‘Are you sure Dom would be comfortable with it?’
‘It was his idea.’
Clementine looked startled. ‘Really?’
‘We talk about you quite a lot. Sometimes he asks me to wear a blonde wig.’
‘You’re joking.’ Clementine blushed furiously.
‘I wish.’ Felicity wasn’t joking so much as lying—the line was always fuzzy. She knew Dom was attracted to other women, but he’d never expressed interest in Clementine specifically. If Felicity admitted that though, she thought Clementine would be reluctant to participate in tonight’s entertainment.
Before Clementine could respond, they rounded a corner and found themselves facing a pile of garbage.
Felicity’s hand flew to her nose. ‘Urgh, gross.’
The semi-transparent plastic bags were stacked in a pyramid, like someone was building a temple to wastefulness. There had to be fifty bags or more. Some were stuffed with food scraps, while others held old clothes and blankets. A broken folding chair and a battered bike lay nearby, surrounded by apple cores, soiled wet wipes and crumpled wrappers.
‘So much for virgin wilderness,’ Felicity said.
‘Why here?’ Clementine looked around. ‘It’s a crazy place to dump anything.’
‘Looks like garbage from the house.’ Felicity stooped to examine an empty packet of sliced ham. The use-by date was still days away.
‘You think the cleaner left it here?’ Clementine wondered.
‘Right. Just out of sight from the back deck.’
‘That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t they drive it back down the hill when they left?’
‘The broken bike wouldn’t fit in the car?’ Felicity guessed. ‘Or they were saving money. People have to pay to dump stuff at the tip. Cheaper to leave it up here.’
‘But they must have known someone would find it. Bushwalkers would rent this house all the time.’
‘The odds of them taking this particular trail are low.’ Felicity gave Clementine some side-eye. ‘Unless they spot mysterious lights in the dark.’
Oscar and Dom caught up. ‘What the hell?’ Dom said, looking at the garbage.
‘Don’t worry, we’ve already solved the case,’ Felicity said. ‘It was the cleaner, on the mountainside, with the garbage bags.’
Oscar stared at the pile. ‘You think the cleaner just chucked all this here?’
‘Seems so,’ Clementine said.
Dom hugged Felicity, as though she might be traumatised by seeing garbage. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘I’ll live,’ Felicity said.
‘You know I don’t like giving anything less than a five-star review …’
She squeezed him back. ‘You can do it, baby. I believe in you.’
Oscar looked uncomfortable, and Felicity remembered he worked for the real estate agency. ‘Chantelle’s never done this before,’ he said.
‘That you know about.’ Dom raised an eyebrow. ‘There could be secret garbage piles hidden near all your properties.’
Oscar’s brow furrowed. He reached for his phone, then paused, probably remembering there was no reception.
‘Shall we keep going?’ Clementine asked.
‘Nah,’ Felicity said. ‘All this sleuthing has made me hungry. Let’s head back. By now your husband has probably plucked a pheasant for lunch and roasted it in that giant oven.’
As they walked back up the hill, Felicity glanced back. It felt ominous, this pile of stuff left behind by other couples who had rented the house: the grubbiest parts of their lives, festering just out of sight.
As they hiked back up the hill, Clementine seemed to fall behind, even though she was the fittest of the bunch. Taking the hint, Felicity fell back as well. Soon there was enough of a gap between them and the men that they wouldn’t be overheard.
‘Borrowing,’ Felicity prompted.
Clementine took a deep breath. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Let’s talk logistics.’