FIVE
Five
Lottie finished dragging the last of the outside display items inside before locking the door. She stood back for a moment to admire the window display she’d been working on for the last few days.
Since she had quite a few bits and pieces lying around in the shop to make use of, she’d tried to recreate the kind of bush camp Jack and his gang would have used. The garbage bags of leaves she’d collected the weekend before and the large log she’d managed to drag back to her car from her mother’s property looked fantastic as the bush backdrop, and was almost worth the near hernia she’d given herself.
There was a swag rolled up next to a log fire that she’d taken far too long to arrange decoratively. She’d had to experiment with red cellophane and some battery-powered tea lights to create a realistic look. She had an old lantern and a billy can for boiling tea, as well as some hessian sacks full of provisions. She’d added an old newspaper from the era and made copies of the original wanted posters for Jack and his gang that had circulated around the region at the time. Overall, it set a reasonable feel for the part of Jack’s life that had largely been spent hiding out between robberies, making him and his men very experienced bushmen.
She was heading to another meeting at the pub. Daphney had been in overdrive lately, and the number of emails coming through seemed to match the stress levels of their fearless leader.
‘I have a few concerns,’ Daphney started without preamble. Lottie sensed everyone around the table brace themselves.
‘I opened the festival’s Facebook page this morning and saw an enormous advertisement for the cabaret show.’
Lottie felt Cher straighten in the seat beside her. Oh God, this is not going to be good.
‘Cherise, I really don’t feel this cabaret show of yours is suitable for the festival,’ Daphney said, rubbing her fingertips lightly against her temples.
‘The show has everything to do with the festival. It’s a tribute to Kate O’Ryan.’
‘Yes but … I don’t see how a musical—’ she pursed her lips and drew out the word ‘—can properly do justice to the historical aspect of the festival.’
‘Daphney, may I remind you that I am in fact a descendant of Kate O’Ryan. If anyone has a right to decide what to do to honour her, it’s me. Which I have done. With this show.’
‘I just don’t see—’ Daphney started to protest before being cut off.
‘You don’t have to see. The committee isn’t contributing any funding to the show and I don’t have to get your approval to host it since it’s in my bar. I even made it for the Friday night so it wouldn’t clash with the festival plans. So why bring it up?’
‘I’m just concerned that it might … cheapen some of the more historical aspects—’
‘Cheapen?’ Cher echoed in a calm, softly controlled voice.
Oh fuuuuuuck.
‘Let’s go back, weren’t we focusing on the program?’ Lottie suggested quickly, sensing the exchange rapidly deteriorating into something unpleasant.
‘Which is partly why I’ve brought up the subject of this show,’ Daphney insisted. ‘I’m suggesting we remove it from the program listing.’
‘What?’ Cher demanded, leaning forward in her chair.
Lottie caught Janelle’s eye, then Christine’s. They both looked as surprised as she felt. The rest of the table exchanged furtive glances, while Shorty’s previously bored expression had perked up, possibly hoping for some kind of jelly-wrestling match to eventuate, and a few people shifted in their seats.
‘You said yourself it wasn’t funded by the committee. As such, I don’t think it’s appropriate to list it on the program as though the committee is endorsing it.’
‘I’m part of the committee,’ Cher said stiffly, giving a toss of the long blonde hair she’d worn, giving off Margot Robbie vibes.
‘Maybe we should all take a step back—’ Solene started gently before getting cut off.
‘But your show is not,’ Daphney retorted. ‘You decided to go it alone and put this all together without any prior consultation with the rest of us—’
‘Do you have any experience with putting together a theatrical production, Daph?’ Cher asked bluntly. Lottie suppressed a wince at Cher’s use of the diminutive; they all knew Daphney hated it.
‘I have some theatre experience,’ she said in a tight tone that signified Cher’s comment had hit its mark.
‘That would be volunteering at the primary school for their end-of-year Christmas concert, I’m guessing?’ Cher asked sounding mildly bored.
‘Ladies,’ Terry cut in, turning paler when both scowling women turned to him. He cleared his throat quickly. ‘I can see this is getting a little heated. As Solene tried to say, perhaps we need to take a step back for a moment.’
‘I don’t think that’s necessary, Terry. A simple show of hands is all that’s required here,’ Daphney said, tilting her chin slightly to look down her nose at Cher. ‘Those who are in favour of removing the cabaret show from the program, say yea,’ she said, stretching her hand into the air and looking around with a confident air … which slowly began to deflate as she noticed the lack of other raised hands. ‘You can not be serious?’
‘This festival was supposed to be inclusive. We all agreed on that,’ Elijah stressed, his dark eyebrows rising, making his rather long face seem even longer.
‘That’s true,’ Skye agreed, turning to Tori, who sat quietly beside her. ‘After all, that’s been the main focus of everything the committee has been promoting—that Banalla is a progressive and inclusive town.’
‘For cultural aspects,’ Daphney said.
‘Inclusivity isn’t simply about culture,’ Cher put in. ‘It’s about not excluding any parties or groups and making everyone feel valued. Do you think you’re being particularly inclusive right now, Daphney?’
There was an awkward pause before Daphney spoke, ignoring the question. ‘I can’t believe the rest of you are agreeing to this. It’s making a mockery of this whole festival.’
‘That’s your opinion, and you are welcome to voice it. However, majority rules and the nay vote has spoken on this matter,’ Terry said calmly. ‘Shall we move on to the next point of business? I’d like to wrap this meeting up and get home.’
‘Fine,’ Daphney bit out, snatching up the notes in front of her. The meeting continued, albeit in an uncomfortably strained atmosphere.
‘Can you believe the nerve of that woman?’ Cher snapped as they left the pub after the meeting ended.
‘I know,’ Lottie soothed. ‘But everyone had your back in there, so that was good.’
‘She called my show cheap !’ Cher continued, outrage still simmering. ‘Cheap!’ she repeated, turning to face Lottie. ‘There is nothing cheap about my shows. My shows are classy !’
‘They are,’ Lottie agreed. ‘You know what she’s like. Just ignore it and move on.’
‘Easy for you to say, no one just insulted your business.’
Okay, fair point. ‘I just think if you let her get under your skin, it’s the same result as if she’d managed to shut down your show. Don’t waste your time giving her a second thought.’
‘I’m writing in an extra character,’ Cher said with a devious narrowing of her eyes. ‘I’m writing in a whore named Daphney.’
Oh great. ‘Do you think that’s wise?’
‘Probably not. But it would be absolutely hysterical and more than a little satisfying. I’m going home right now to make the changes. I’ll need to find an extra person. Who do I know who’s slutty enough to pull that kind of character off?’ she asked herself thoughtfully, as though mentally flipping through her contact list.
‘Cher, I really don’t think—’
‘I know the perfect diva!’ she said, brightening. ‘Ruby Red. She’s a bit of a biatch—can’t stand her, really—but she’ll be perfect.’
Lottie gave up trying to talk her friend out of her quest for revenge, realising she was too far gone, if the expression of evil genius currently on her face was any indication.
‘Okay, well, goodnight,’ she said sarcastically as Cher began walking away, clearly forgetting she was Lottie’s ride.
‘What? Oh. Yeah, night, honey, talk tomorrow,’ she said, giving a limp wave over her shoulder.
Whatever Cher had in store for Daphney, it was sure to cause a commotion. Still, it wouldn’t happen until the festival, so that sounded like a problem for another day.