Chapter 14
Issy stood on the dusty balcony outside the display suite, waiting as Warwick fumbled with an enormous set of keys.
She yawned as she looked out over the construction zone below, silent and still in the blue evening light.
Her feet hurt. In ten minutes, she told herself, she would be sitting down with a glass of chilled white wine with her feet up, and the disastrous afternoon would be a distant memory. If Warwick ever found the key.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he muttered, as the handle failed to turn yet again.
After two more keys, the door clicked open.
He grinned, excessively pleased with himself, and gestured for her to enter.
She wheeled her suitcase inside and looked around.
It was a large open-plan space with high ceilings and herringbone floors.
A curved cream lounge circled a marble coffee table, artfully styled with interior design books, a clam shell and an artificial succulent.
It had the staged appearance of a showroom.
‘This okay?’ Warwick asked, redundantly. He’d already explained that the other apartments were still unfinished. This one had been fast-tracked and furnished for publicity purposes.
‘It looks fine. Thanks, Warwick.’
He twisted the key off the ring and passed it to her. ‘I’ll leave you to get settled in.’
‘Warwick, before you go …’ She waited for him to look up. ‘How do you think the meeting went earlier?’
He paused, appearing to think carefully about his answer. ‘As good as could be expected. They’re a tough crowd.’ He gave her a smile. ‘They’ll warm up once you settle in.’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ He’d obviously misunderstood the question. ‘But how do you think it made me look, when you corrected me in front of them?’
He frowned. ‘Better me than one of them, wouldn’t you say?’
She paused. ‘Let’s present a united front in future.’
She thought she saw him raise his eyebrows a fraction. ‘Sure thing.’
He left, the door thudding quietly closed behind him.
She pushed off her trainers, suddenly aware of how stuffy the room was.
It had the stale feel of a space that hadn’t been disturbed for some time.
She pushed open the sliding door to the balcony, hoping to get some air flowing, but outside, the night was warm and still.
She gazed out over the twinkling lights of the houses below, stretching towards the rolling hills of the horizon.
How strange it was to be back in this town that was both familiar and foreign.
She rubbed her face and sighed. Shower first, then wine.
She took the bottle of Western Australian chardonnay from her suitcase—it could chill while she had a long, hot shower—but when she opened the fridge, the light didn’t come on.
She put a hand inside. It was warm. She opened the freezer.
It wasn’t cold either. Great. She put the wine inside anyway, wondering where the plug was.
Probably right at the back of the cavity where it would be impossible to reach.
She debated calling Warwick but decided against it.
He’d seemed a little put out when he left.
Her eyes landed on a cheeseboard that sat on the island bench.
Fake grapes and a plastic wedge of brie beside a bottle of warm Champagne in an empty ice bucket, styled to encourage potential buyers to picture themselves popping open a bottle. She laughed out loud at the irony.
Shower then. She dragged the suitcase off the lounge and into the hall, glancing into doorways to get a sense of the layout.
Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. The main suite was a little on the small side, but perfectly comfortable.
She took out her toiletries bag and went into the ensuite bathroom.
She turned the tap, half-expecting no water to flow after the fridge experience, but there was a gurgling noise and a few spurts, then a strong, steady stream.
She held her hand under the water, waiting for it to get hot.
It didn’t. In fact, it got colder as the water that had been sitting in the pipes flowed through.
Fine. A cold shower then. It wasn’t the end of the world.
People did ice baths, after all! Mad people, in her opinion, but it was obviously possible.
Raphael, her trainer, was positively evangelistic about the benefits.
Bracing herself, she stepped in, shuddering as the freezing water hit her skin. Bloody hell. She soaped herself up quickly, cursing Wim Hof—or whatever his name was—for making her feel like a wimp for hating every second of it.
When she was dressed, she poured herself a glass of warm wine and reached for the remote. Had anyone bothered to hook up the television yet? Or was it purely for display purposes, like the cheese plate? She pressed buttons but nothing happened.
She tossed the remote and it hit the clamshell on the coffee table.
This was ridiculous. Malcolm wanted her on site to be across what was going on here, but this was just unfeasible.
She needed to eat. She needed wi-fi. There was no chance that would be set up yet, if they didn’t even have the TV working. She picked up her phone.
‘Good evening, the Ashworth Park Hotel and Spa,’ said the sing-song voice of a young woman. ‘How can I help you?’
‘Ah, hello, it’s Isobel Ashworth speaking. I need a room tonight. One of the suites, if possible.’ The hotel was just a few kilometres out of town. She would stay there. If only they’d avoided this nonsense altogether, she would currently be in a bubble bath perusing the room service menu!
‘Oh, Isobel, hello. Um, let me see what I can do … hmm … we have a conference here today and tomorrow and all the rooms—’
‘There must be something. Could you put Jeffrey on?’ Jeffrey was a delightful gay man who treated her like a goddess. He’d been the manager at the hotel for fifteen years. He’d sort this out.
There was some shuffling, muffled talking, then a deeper voice. ‘Isobel?’
‘Jeffrey! I’m in desperate need of a room! Please tell me you can help?’
He clicked his tongue. ‘Darling, I’m so sorry, but we have nothing.’
‘Nothing at all? It doesn’t have to be fancy. Anything would be better than the alternative, let me assure you!’
‘We have the entire finance team of Macquarie Bank here. Every room is taken, even the two cottages. I wish I could—’
She sighed. ‘Forget it. Thanks, anyway. I’ll work something out.’
She thought of Kilmore, the sprawling estate where she grew up, just ten minutes down the road. Issy had suggested she stay there to her father, but he insisted that she must be on site. He wouldn’t expect her to stay in conditions like this, though, would he?
Her mother went back and forth between Sydney and Hartwell, but she preferred the country.
Was she at Kilmore at the moment? Issy couldn’t recall.
She pulled the elastic out of her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders, and slumped back against the cushions, rubbing her tired eyes, thinking it through.
If Heather was there, Issy would be subjected to an inquisition about her first day in Hartwell.
She didn’t have the energy for that. On the other hand, if her mother was in Sydney, the house would be locked up.
She’d have to call Rosa and ask her to meet her there to open it.
She thought warmly of her former nanny, now the housekeeper at Kilmore.
It was getting late. That wouldn’t be fair.
Instead, she rang Warwick.
‘Isobel,’ he said, a statement rather than a greeting.
‘Warwick, hi. Sorry to bother you, but nothing works in this apartment. The fridge is dead. There’s no hot water. I don’t think I can stay here.’
‘Ah, maybe try the Red Lion?’
‘The Red Lion? You mean the pub?’
‘Yeah, they’ve got rooms. Pretty basic, but—’
‘Oh, no, I’m not staying at a pub. Is there anywhere else? What about that little bed and breakfast on the way into town?’ She tried to recall if the sign said vacancy or no vacancy.
‘Nah, that’s Pammy Ward’s place. They’re in the UK for Christmas, visiting the grandkids.’
‘Somewhere else, then?’
‘I don’t like your chances of finding something at this time of night.’ A pause. ‘You can stay at my place if you want? We’ve got a spare room. Dani won’t mind.’
‘Oh, thank you, Warwick, that’s very kind, but no, I wouldn’t feel comfortable with that.’ It was sweet of him to offer, but she couldn’t think of anything worse.
‘Righto, then. Looks like you’re staying put for tonight.’
‘Fine. Let’s work on it tomorrow.’ She hung up.
The phone was still in her hand when Hugh rang.
She swiped to answer and burst into tears.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said.
‘Everything! The project’s a disaster. It’ll be a miracle if it’s done by the launch date.
The workers think I’m a joke. The project manager made me look like an idiot.
I can’t even get a coffee in this town! And I’m staying in a display suite where nothing works!
’ She inhaled a deep shaky breath and exhaled, trying to regain her composure.
‘Babe, I’m sure it’s not that bad.’
She sighed and took a sip of warm wine, recoiling. At room temperature, the buttery taste she usually loved was nauseating.
‘Your parents own a five-star hotel down the road,’ he said, as if the thought wouldn’t have already occurred to her. ‘Why don’t you move up there?’
‘I tried that. It’s fully booked!’
‘I suppose now’s not a great time to tell you that I, ah … I can’t get down there as soon as I thought.’
‘What? When, then?’ He was meant to be arriving tomorrow, or Wednesday, at the latest.
‘Ah, not sure at this stage. I’ll see what I can do.’
She filled the kettle and flicked it on. Nothing. Bloody hell. She couldn’t even make a cup of tea! ‘Fine. I’ve got to go.’
‘Iss—’
‘No, honestly, it’s fine. I’ve just got work to do.’
She hung up and threw the phone across the room. It hit the corner of the island bench and fell to the ground. When she picked it up, there was a large crack across the screen.