18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
“Literally, this is the life,” Hope sighed, reclining back on the wooden seat in Harry’s garden, angling her face up at the sun. Alison turned towards her and smiled.
“You’d think you were on a beach in Vanuatu,” she said, “instead of a frosty backyard in rural Victoria.”
“Excuse you,” Hope raised her eyebrows over her sunglasses, “but this is practically the Bahamas after the winter we’ve just had.”
The sun was weak, the warmth barely existent, but Alison found she couldn’t argue. Winter had truly seemed to go on forever, and today was the first day in months her arms had been bared to the light. It felt delicious.
It was late on Sunday morning and the two of them had arrived simultaneously to help Harry prep for the massive lunch he was serving in honour of Prisha’s birthday. Their assistance this morning had been planned for a week, but on arrival they found the kitchen had been taken over by last night’s bare-chested, thoroughly buff conquest expertly pummelling the pizza dough. A smug looking Harry shooed the two of them out into the garden with a mimosa each in hand and their cooking assistance had turned instead to sunbathing.
“You seem unnaturally relaxed,” Hope informed her. “Does the sunshine melt that stick up your arse?”
“That’s… quite the image,” Alison reflected and Hope laughed. Alison supposed she was relaxed. It had been a rough couple of weeks following the shooting in Melbourne. Her hyper-vigilance had sharply increased, causing her to jump at shadows and find excuses to call Jac, just to reassure herself he was safe. But maybe there was something to Rishima’s methods, because whatever it was inside Alison that kept her so tightly wound seemed to be slowly easing. Healing isn’t linear, Rishima reminded her. No one is going to give you gold stars for progress and take them away when you have a bad week. Alison was annoyed by how clearly her therapist kept reading her.
She felt quite certain that if Rishima could see her now, reclining in a sunbeam, surrounded in Harry’s blossoming spring garden, Hope at her side, feeling nothing but lazy contentment, that she’d absolutely give her a gold star .
“It’s nice to see you finally taking a breath out,” Hope said. “All that meditating must be good for you.”
“I suppose it is,” Alison agreed, stretching her legs luxuriously. “Of course, it helps that no one’s released a television show about me in almost a year.”
“Funny that,” Hope said. “At least that’s got to be a once in a lifetime experience.”
The coil inside Alison tightened slightly.
“I hope so,” she said. “That’s not actually a given, though.”
Hope swivelled her whole body towards her.
“What do you mean?”
“That day on the jetty,” Alison said. “The day we met. You interrupted a television producer trying to push me to consent to a spin-off series.”
“ What?” Hope’s voice came out high-pitched. “Are you fucking serious? About what? ”
The fury in Hope’s tone on her behalf felt warmer than the sunbeam.
“Based on my life,” Alison said flatly, still trying to reckon with the absurdity of it all. “They wanted to write a series where I claw my way back to the top after the divorce. The idea had me dabbling in being some kind of clandestine informant, flirting with the mob.”
“But that’s not true .” Hope’s jaw seemed to have unhinged, gaping at Alison. Despite herself, Alison found herself chuckling wryly.
“Do you think Universe Below was true? The bones of it were based in fact, but anything that wasn’t on public record or didn’t literally happen in a courtroom or before the media was pure invention.”
“I get that.” Hope sounded impatient. “But inferring you’re in bed with the mob-” her voice petered out. “Sorry, poor choice of words.”
“Oh no,” Alison corrected her, “I can only assume that was literally in their plan, somewhere along the line. My husband fucked a mobster, so what a great plot twist if I did too. The innocent wife corrupted.”
Hope raised her sunglasses on top of her head. Her eyes were blazing.
“That’s slander,” she said shortly. “Not to mention wildly dangerous for you. ”
“Well, yes. My lawyers made that point extremely clear. Without my consent the series would be obvious defamation. So far, that seems to be the end of it.”
“But Universe Below got made,” Hope pointed out. “They even used your real name, for god’s sake. How did they get away with the series if you didn’t consent then either?”
“Did you know,” Alison said, “that in Australia you can make a film or a television series about anyone you want, living or dead? No consent needed.”
“I-” Hope stopped. She shook her head like she was trying to clear her ears. “ What?”
“There’s no right to privacy in that capacity. Just a right not to be defamed. If they made a series alleging I was in bed with the mob it’s defamatory. But if they make a series showing my husband was… it’s not defamatory because it’s true. So they have free range.”
“But… that’s so unfair…” Hope trailed off. She shrugged helplessly. “You said you tried to fight it though?”
“At first. Until I realised that the more I fought, the more publicity it gave them and the more exposure and attention I got. In the end it was better just to let it go. Lay down and take it and wait for the storm to blow over. ”
“Ali.” Hope’s voice was low. “I’m only going to ask you this once, and I promise not to let there be any blowback on you. Can you please tell me precisely who I need to murder about this?”
The coil in Alison’s belly loosened. Hope looked deadly serious.
“I lo-” the words nearly fell out of Alison’s mouth, along with her smile. “I quite adore you,” she announced instead, warmth flooding her body. “You look so dangerous right now.”
“Don’t patronise me,” Hope said tartly. “I have access to an intense amount of horse tranquilisers.”
Alison raised her eyebrows.
“While I deeply appreciate the sentiment, don’t you think that particular plot twist would be a little too tempting for the networks?”
“Hm.” Hope considered. “Mafia fixer’s ex-wife befriends sexy, murderous pansexual. It does have a bit of a ring to it.” She stood up and collected their empty glasses. “Another?” Alison nodded and Hope considered her for a second. “I love you too by the way,” she said with a knowing smirk before she turned on her heel and headed back to the house.
Alison slumped back in her chair and could only laugh as she gazed up at the sky, because her life was fucking ridiculous.
“Holy shit,” Hope said on her return, refreshed glasses in hand. “I can’t even tell you what I endured to get these drinks. It’s like a gay disco in there. The likelihood of finding a chest hair in your pizza is getting higher by the second.”
“Oh my god-” Alison nearly dropped the glass Hope was handing her. “Please tell me you made these yourself.” At Hope’s nod she took a grateful sip. “Should we be warning Prisha to bring her own catering for safety reasons?”
“What’s a little chest hair between friends?” Hope toasted her. “Besides, Preesh has been kidnapped for the morning. Camille’s taken her out for some one-on-one. Massages and a spa morning.”
“Sounds romantic,” said Alison drily before she thought better of it. The mimosa must have been stronger than she’d thought. Hope’s head jerked up.
“Huh?”
“Nothing,” Alison cursed herself. “I was just making a silly joke.”
Hope was staring at her, the sunglasses shielding her eyes but there was an alertness all of a sudden that Alison couldn’t evade .
“No, you weren’t. What are you thinking? I mean, they’re friends. Best friends.” Hope’s voice was tinged with anxiety. Alison knew it was too late. For Hope to be jumping on her words like this, it was clear the suspicion was ticking inside her too as all the pieces lined up.
“You’ve seen them together,” Alison said softly. “I think it’s pretty clear what Prisha wants, isn’t it?”
“Oh fuck.” Hope sat rigid. “Oh fuck. No.” She leaned forward on the chair, her head in her hands. “No,” she said again after a moment, straightening up. “I mean, there could be an attraction there, I can see that. Their friendship isn’t conventional, right? But they’ve been best friends for like, a decade. It’s not what you’re suggesting.”
“Well,” said Alison carefully. Hope was so not ready to confront this and Alison wanted to protect both her and Prisha in this moment. “You know them both much better than I do.”
“Yeah,” said Hope. “I do.” They were quiet for a moment. Alison wondered if they’d all dodged a bullet. Then Hope spoke up again. “You’re a fresh set of eyes though,” she said with a groan. “And you’re annoyingly smart. Oh god. Do you…think she’s got, like, real feelings here?”
Alison sighed.
“I do,” she said simply .
“Oh my god ,” groaned Hope. “Okay, no. We’re just speculating. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but it’s so unlikely. They live together.”
“I know.”
“It’s fine,” Hope said faintly, her hands opening and closing in her lap, nervous energy almost sparking from her fingertips. “They’re fine. So maybe there’s an attraction, that’s not the end of the world. I just feel kind of stupid for not seeing it earlier. I mean apparently you saw it right away.”
“You’re not stupid-”
“I am though,” Hope said glumly. “About this kind of thing. I don’t have the best track record.”
Alison opened her mouth and then closed it again.
“What do you mean?” she asked carefully. She felt her own anxiety start to spike. Was this whole group about to go up in smoke?
“Back in Sydney,” Hope said slowly, and Alison blinked. Hope and Gold Hill were so synonymous in her mind she always forgot Hope was a recent transplant. “My ex-partner left me for my best friend. ”
“Hope.” Alison gazed over at her, sadness tugging in her chest. She was hit with an urge to pull Hope into her arms that was so intense she knew better than to indulge it. “What happened?”
“There was always a vibe,” Hope said grimly. “In retrospect. But at the time I just kept telling myself I was imagining things. Because they both loved me, right?”
“Not fucking well enough.” Alison felt livid.
“Apparently not,” Hope agreed. “Which all became horribly clear when I came home sick from work one day to find them in bed together.”
“ Hope.”
“I know,” she said, with a wry smile. “Biggest cliche ever. What a fucking joke. Especially because I was so crook with covid I really needed that bed.”
“Honey,” the word slipped out Alison’s mouth, her hand reaching out helplessly, touching the air between them. She imagined Hope, sick and alone, betrayed and heartbroken, and suddenly she empathised strongly with Hope’s urge to commit murder.
“It wasn’t the best time in my life,” Hope said, in clear understatement. “Gold Hill… these friends, it kind of saved me, be cause it’s always felt so safe. We just all genuinely love each other, you know?”
“Of course.” Alison wondered if Hope was as wildly unconscious of the feelings swirling around her as she appeared, or if her brain was just doing a really damn good job of trying to keep things in safe compartments for her.
“Then Flynn and Magnus happened. And now Prisha and Camille? It’s a lot.”
And you and Camille, Alison silently added. Did Hope know? On some level, surely she knew. She wondered, not for the first time, if Hope, too, had feelings for Camille that she was suppressing. Alison had seen firsthand the intimacy between them, the sparks pouring off Camille in Hope’s presence. Camille was gorgeous, intelligent, creative, single, available… Hope’s exact age. Alison swallowed. They’d make a beautiful couple, a fact which would utterly destroy Prisha. And considering Camille’s mistrust for Alison, where would that leave her? She found herself wishing she could freeze them all in time and stop the wreckage they were heading for. Surely they could prevent it somehow, soften the landing at least, keep it all together? She was at a loss to figure out how.
She looked over at Hope. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, no longer basking carelessly in the sun.
“Who on earth would cheat on you? ” Alison heard the way the words sounded as they left her mouth, but screw it, it had to be said. She looked at her gorgeous friend with her incredible brain, her huge heart, her sweetness and sass. Hope who’d swan in to protect lone women as if she was eight feet tall and made of metal, not real and vulnerable the way she was inside. Who in the world could have all that within their reach and not thank their lucky stars every second of the day that she was theirs?
“Alison,” Hope said softly. “Who would cheat on you?”
They considered each other for a moment. Alison was thankful they were both wearing sunglasses, because she was pretty sure her own gaze would be deeply troubling right now. If she and Hope were something more, no one would be cheating, that was clear as hell. The thought was strangely heartbreaking and deeply terrifying all at once.
“Are you still in touch?” Alison felt compelled to ask. She wanted to know everything, all of a sudden, about the romantic side of Hope. She’d been on a damn date with the woman, even seen her on a date with someone else, and still this part of Hope felt like a mystery to her. They didn’t talk about it, she realised. They talked about every other thing under the sun, but their own romantic lives remained untouched. The omission suddenly hit her as obvious. Why didn’t they talk about it? Because of the tension between them, or because it would bring up questions that Alison did not feel equipped to answer?
“With my ex?” Hope sounded flabbergasted. “ No. How about you?” The curiosity in her tone made it clear Hope had noted the omission too.
“Not willingly,” Alison said shortly.
“What does that mean? Because of Jac?”
“Jac’s an adult, thank god,” Alison said. “I can’t imagine what having to coparent with my ex-husband would be like.”
“But you do have contact?”
“Unfortunately yes,” she said. “About every six months, like clockwork.”
“Why?” Hope sounded aggravated.
“Well,” Alison said, “he wants me back.”
Hope knocked over her own drinking glass, the remnants of watery ice spilling onto her lap. She swiped it away without even looking down.
“ What? ”
“I know. It turns out his choices haven’t worked out all that well for him. The affair might have been hot and heavy, but it was all over the moment Mike Grant learned what his wife and lawyer had been up to.”
“How is your ex-husband even alive right now?”
“It’s a good question,” Alison said. “And one that kept me up at night for at least a year. At any rate he very much is, and he’s still in possession of all his extremities, last I heard.”
“So his married girlfriend dumped him, and what, he thinks you should take him back?”
“His girlfriend dumped him, his wife divorced him, his son doesn’t want anything to do with him. He’s been disbarred from the legal profession and he’s a pariah from the world he once ruled over… I almost feel sorry for him.”
“I don’t,” Hope said quickly. “Bastard.”
“I think he believes if I took him back, he’d regain some social standing. I stood by him once. If I were to take him back, it’d be the ultimate signal to the world he’d been absolved. A man like Simon never gets knocked down for long… he’s been planning his comeback since the moment he fell. ”
“I hate him.” Hope took a sharp breath. She pushed back her sunglasses and the look in her eyes made Alison’s breath catch. “You’re not… tempted are you?”
“ No. ” Alison almost laughed. “I keep blocking his number. I’ve changed mine three times. It doesn’t matter, he always finds it. He’s not great at hearing no; his ego is so big all he hears is try again next time.”
“Well,” Hope said grimly. “At least now I know who I have to murder.”
“If Mike Grant can’t get it done, I don’t know that you’ve got much chance. The man’s made of teflon.”
“Horse tranquiliser is too good for him.” Hope’s tone was dark.
“You’re slightly terrifying.” Alison found herself smiling again.
“If he comes anywhere near you, I’m going to be ready.”
Alison tried to ignore the noticeable palpitation her heart did at the seriousness in Hope’s tone. Hope might have been just over five feet of blonde and pretty but it was not a horrible experience imagining being defended by her.
“My hero,” she said with a grateful smile.