4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Alison gripped tightly to her third cup of coffee, pressing her forehead against the glass door leading to the second floor balcony. It wasn’t just the cold that prevented her from walking outside. There was something about the large stone patio that made her feel exposed. Years ago, when they’d bought the house, it had been her favourite part of the property. The view out over the deep grey lake and the surrounding forest and hills was spectacular.
From where she stood now, she could see the jetty, jutting out over the still water. Back then, the house had been a weekender, a family holiday home, or a place for a rare romantic weekend. Now, it was the only home she had, but it had lost its sense of sanctuary.
A sound behind her made her nearly jump out of her own skin. She swore aloud, her voice coming out tight and panicky. One day, she promised herself as she looked down at the source of the sound, she wouldn’t have a heart attack every time her phone rang. She took a long breath.
“Hey baby,” she said, a smile in her voice as she answered the call.
“Hey Mum,” her son’s voice came down the line. She blinked for a minute, still startled to hear an adult man speaking, as if the boy ringing her from university would still have the high sweet tones of her only child. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m good sweetheart, how are you?”
“Oh you know, fine,” he said easily. Alison frowned. She knew he’d gotten this trait from her, that it was her fault, her modelling, but she wished that she could know for sure that if her son said he was fine, it was because he was fine.
“Are you really?” she pressed. He laughed, the sound setting her at ease.
“Yeah. Yeah I’m good.”
Jac - he’d recently insisted on dropping the k - gave her an easy rundown of his life. He loved his classes and the two girls he shared a house with had turned into good friends, though Alison noticed he still spoke of one of them, Mizuki, with the slightly awestruck tone of a young man in love. He was spending all his time in the wards of a large city hospital and loving it, because her baby boy was halfway through med school and was going to be a fucking doctor.
“How are you, Mama?” he asked her and she blinked at the sweet word.
“I’m fine, darling,” she reassured him and he sighed.
“No, actually, Mum. Can’t you tell me something real for once?”
She sucked in a breath at the tone, but she knew this was what she got for years of lying to a smart, sensitive boy, that everything in his life was just fine. She’d only ever wanted to protect him. When his whole life imploded, she’d understood, far too late, how wrong this lie had been.
“Well.” She hesitated. Where was the line? She refused to be her son’s responsibility; her problems were her own to solve. “It turns out that they know I’m here,” she admitted.
“Are you okay?” he demanded quickly, clearly rattled. She tried not to sigh. This was why she’d tried to keep him out of everything, but she’d promised him honesty and now she had to remind him that she was the parent and perfectly capable of taking care of herself, despite his over-active protective streak .
“I’m absolutely fine,” she said firmly. Wasn’t she? Fine? “I felt a bit rattled, of course, but no one is bothering me and Uncle Harry comes up every weekend.”
“Oh, like he’ll be of any use.” She heard the fondness in Jac’s tone for his mother’s oldest friend. Harry had his own holiday home perched high on the valley’s edge above Gold Hill, walking distance into town, while back in Melbourne they’d lived their lives one suburb apart. Jac had a running joke that Harry was his real father, much to Harry’s extreme horror. “What are you going to do?”
Alison gazed out through the glass doors to the lake, her eyes on the empty jetty. She wondered if she was visible standing here, if anyone cared to look.
“Nothing, my love. I’m sick of running. I’m quite safe here.” She kept her tone even. “There’s sure to be a spot of gossip, but it’ll pass.”
She thought of the moment in the pub the other night, the possessive expression on the face of the pretty, ethereal creature who’d appeared to claim Hope, the pure horror in her eyes as she’d clocked Alison. She sighed. Thank god Alison wasn’t trying to make any friends here. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Eleven a.m. She held back a sigh when she remembered that it was only Wednesday. That Harry would come back on Friday evening. That until then, she would entertain herself with solitary pursuits: reading, cooking, exercise, an old movie. She was well practiced, after all .
“Well, call me any time,” her son chimed in and she cringed slightly, both not wanting to let him go and wishing he wasn’t so clearly trying to take care of her from afar. She was proud of the sweet, considerate man he’d grown into - despite it all - but she wanted more than anything for him to be free to live his life without anxiety for at least one of his parents.
“You too, baby boy,” she told him, enjoying his laugh. He was six foot three and twenty-three years old, two facts she struggled to keep in her mind.
“Bye Mama.”
Alison held tight to her phone, a smile on her face, as she gazed out over the cold landscape.
Dusk was falling earlier and earlier as autumn dragged closer toward winter. At four p.m. Alison drove to the local supermarket, sick of eating toast for dinner and deciding to treat herself to a proper meal, like a fully functioning, non-depressed adult woman. She pushed her cart listlessly around the aisles, at least half her brain taken up by reassuring herself that no one was staring at her. She looked up from the milk fridge to realise that was a lie.
Hope was six feet away, her own trolley stalled, her eyes on Alison’s face and her expression that of a startled rabbit. Alison tried not to visibly sigh. She’d not been wrong; Hope now knew exactly who she was. She steeled herself, placing the carton of milk in the trolley .
“Hi,” she said to Hope, unable to keep the trace of bitterness out of her tone. She didn’t stop to chat, allowing Hope to escape her toxic clutches without needing to fumble for an excuse. Hope gawped at her, not quite getting her own greeting out before Alison wheeled past. She heard a faint hi , in response, spoken to her back.
Alison finished her shopping, refusing to let herself feel run out of town by the judgement in anyone’s eyes. She spotted Hope a couple more times in different aisles, but made a point of avoiding her eye contact. There was honestly only so much she could manage.
At the checkout, an older woman rang up her purchases, keeping up a steady stream of easy chatter about the cold weather and the scourge of weekend tourism. Alison recognised it as the kind gesture that it was, the woman recognising her as a sort of local, letting her know she was in the fold. She heaved her own bags into the trolley. The woman handed her the receipt and paused, meeting Alison’s eyes.
“Chin up,” she said. “Don’t let the bastards get you down.”
Alison’s eyes blurred with sudden tears at the unexpected directness. She struggled to blink them back.
“Thank you… Sonja,” she said as she looked at the woman’s name badge, then at her warm eyes, even softer now as she saw Alison’s clear distress. “I appreciate it. ”
She booked it out of the store before she actually cried in public.
Outside, the sun was setting, the final rays of gold light low between the buildings as she packed her groceries into the back of her car.
“Latest model Audi. That makes sense.”
Alison’s head snapped up. Hope was loitering next to her car, her own hands empty. She must have packed away her own groceries before waiting in the carpark for Alison. Alison swallowed, steeling herself for what was coming next.
“Because I’m a corrupt bitch who perverted justice to stay with a rich man, or because I’m a sellout whore who traded her soul for a television deal?” Alison kept her tone mild, getting the standard accusations out before Hope could.
Hope’s jaw dropped and Alison felt faintly victorious at having won the encounter. She examined the young woman for an extra beat before she slammed her car boot shut. Hope’s hair was swept up on top of her head, escaping wisps of blonde making her look soft and pretty, above her bright knit sweater and skin-tight jeans. She looked tired, Alison noted, with faint circles under her eyes. Her eyes were a warm golden brown and without the red lipstick from the other night, her lips were still a warm pink. Oh, to have that glowing skin, despite an apparent lack of sleep .
Alison turned away, pushing her trolley back to the little bay. On her return, Hope was still there, only now she looked determined.
“I meant,” she said, gesturing to the gleaming black car, “because you give off this posh, old money vibe. The car suits you. It’s classy and elegant. And,” she added, with slight bite, “incredibly obnoxious.”
“My sincere apologies,” Alison said drily. “Don’t let me keep you.” She headed around the car and opened the driver’s door, sliding in behind the wheel. To her absolute shock and rage, the passenger door opened and Hope leaned down to glare across at her.
“Would you hold on for three seconds?”
“Can you get out of my car, please?”
“I’m not in your car!”
“I’ve got places to be,” Alison lied, annoyance flooding her at this woman’s ongoing insistence at taking up her time. Hope huffed and to her intense horror, slid into the passenger seat and closed the door behind her.
“ Now I’m in your car,” she said tightly. “See the difference?”
“What do you want?” Alison bit out. She was furious at the invasion, every muscle in her body tensed like she could fly out of her own skin.
“I want to know if I’m safe!” Hope cried. “I want to know if you’re safe. You told me that day at the lake that I’d put myself in danger, and I had no idea what you were talking about. And now…” She trailed off, her eyes on Alison’s, pinning her still, not letting her look away. “Now I suppose I do. So tell me, Alison Hartmann , are we in some kind of danger I should know about?”
Alison stared at her. The fury dissipated with such speed she felt lightheaded with its loss. Hope was breathing fast, her whole body tilted at Alison’s, her lips parted and her eyes intent. All Alison could hear, was we.
First, Sonja’s soft words, now Hope’s imploring eyes, not judging or rejecting, just wanting to be reassured. She remembered the absolute jolt in her chest that day at the lake, filled to the brim with fear and regret, hearing those unexpected words: I’m Hope. I live here. Alison had long given up on hope. For a second, she’d been flung back to her days as a young Catholic schoolgirl, wondering if the glowing golden haired woman materialising at her side was some kind of divine intervention, trying to shepherd her back to wholeness. I’m Hope. What the fuck was with this town?
Alison let her hands fall from the steering wheel where she’d unconsciously gripped them and onto her lap, her fingers unfurling .
“No,” she said quietly. “You’re not in any danger.”
“But that man at the lake,” Hope whispered. “He was threatening you. And he knows what I look like.”
“Honey.” Alison surprised herself with the warmth welling up inside her. “He was a television producer.”
Hope stared at her for a long moment as if trying to understand the words. Then she burst into shocked laughter. Despite everything, Alison found herself smiling.
“A TV producer?” Hope clapped a hand to her forehead looking both exasperated and relieved. “Are you fucking serious? All week I thought I’d stumbled into some kind of mafia moment.”
“You thought you’d be sleeping with the fishes,” Alison agreed. “You must have been so stressed. God, I’m so sorry.” She reached across the gearbox and squeezed Hope’s arm. The wool of her jumper was cold to touch, but as Hope looked back at her, Alison let go as if she’d been touching her bare skin.
“Alison.” Hope pronounced her name carefully, as if truly acknowledging who precisely she’d been dealing with all this time. “You said I’d put myself in a dangerous situation. Why were you trying to warn me if he was just some TV exec? ”
“Because he might not have been!” Alison all but exploded with the words. She took a quick breath and lowered her voice. “Because there have been some very, very bad men around me at some points in my life. And you can’t just swan in to help strangers every time you see a threat, Hope!”
Hope considered her, taking that in. To Alison’s surprise, the younger woman’s expression slowly grew soft.
“And you can’t spend the rest of your life trying to protect everyone around you,” she said gently.
“ What?”
“You didn’t know me,” Hope pointed out. “I wasn’t in any real danger. But you were warning me off anyway. Pushing me away. Letting me know that being near you meant I was at risk. You literally didn’t know me and you tried to protect me from being around you at all.”
Alison was speechless. She stared out the darkening windscreen, fumbling for a response. For the first time in a long time, she had nothing.
“Have dinner with me. ”
Alison’s mouth fell open at Hope’s words. She turned her head to stare at her.
“ Excuse me?”
“Have dinner with me,” Hope repeated. The last rays of light played against her skin, reflecting sparks of gold in her warm brown eyes.
“Why?” Alison demanded. Nothing about this interaction was making any sense.
“I need a reason?” Hope asked, amusement in her tone.
“Yes.”
“ Okay.” Hope appeared to be trying to hold back a laugh. “You’re new in town and I’m very welcoming,” she said. “The wine bar has a new menu I’ve been meaning to try. I think we got off on the wrong foot. And,” she added, sinking her teeth into her plump lower lip to stop her smile, “I can definitely imagine worse views to have across the table.” She met Alison’s eyes, waiting.
Alison’s stomach plummeted.
“I don’t-” she started, unsure exactly how to finish that sentence. “I’m not- ”
“Hungry?” Hope asked, her eyes guileless. “Perhaps you will be by tomorrow evening.” Alison breathed out a small laugh. Hope watched her. “I’ll see you then,” she said. “Seven o’clock.” She opened the car door, then paused. “For the record, this is me getting out of your car.” Hope smirked at Alison and three seconds later, the door slammed closed, leaving Alison staring out through the windscreen at the evening sky, completely unsure as to what had just happened.