Chapter 17
Michelle flopped to the floor, bursting into tears. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ve been such an idiot!’ she wailed.
It all came flooding out: how she wasn’t sleeping; how she’d lost her appetite; how she’d fallen in love with Filippo .
. . it was pathetic, unprofessional, she was behaving just like Nick, no wonder Dreamwives was going down the toilet – and now Filippo was trying to get back with his horrible ex – did Katrina remember Bianca Vargo?
‘I’ve been so pathetic. So, so pathetic!
I don’t know what to doooooooooooo . . . ’
Katrina gazed at Michelle as she lay curled up on the rug, weeping like a little girl.
It was heartbreaking – and a terrible shock.
Where was executive, girl-boss Michelle?
Katrina conjured up an image of the wry-but-sympathetic smile that had warmed her heart backstage during Grease, then done the same, decades later, when they’d swilled champagne in the pool change room and come up with the idea for Dreamwives.
That smile had seemed invincible. More importantly, it had seemed incorruptible.
Loyal, funny, down-to-earth Michelle was genuinely .
. . well, good. ‘Goodness’ seemed an old-fashioned trait, but it radiated from Michelle.
Why had Katrina never appreciated that? Why had she gone to Chloe’s party all those years ago, instead of taking up Michelle’s offer of hot chocolate?
Why had she allowed herself to get swept along by people like Gabby, Pauline and Nicola, who had gossiped about her then abruptly dropped her, instead of standing by her?
Katrina had always believed those women were her friends, but she now saw, with piercing clarity, that Colville was the only thing tying them together.
Speech nights, car pools and committee meetings were shared experiences, sure, but they didn’t constitute true friendship.
True friendships weren’t transactional or one-sided, and they didn’t end the minute someone lost status.
Michelle was a true friend. She’d come to Katrina’s aid time and again, and now it was Katrina’s turn to grow up and be a true friend to Michelle.
Without Dreamwives, neither of them had a way of earning money, so a true friend would try her very hardest to resuscitate the business – even though this particular true friend had only a modest, suburban skillset and was a nobody. A mere housewife.
But Katrina did have what it took to humiliate herself in front of an entire nation.
After all, she’d done it in front of the Colville gala audience – although she’d been drunk at the time.
Maybe she should crack open a rosé before stepping into the firing line, because she couldn’t abandon her one, true friend. It was that simple.
Kicking off her lone slipper, she tightened the sash on her robe and reached down to squeeze Michelle’s hand, saying, ‘Sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.’
When Michelle answered with a sob, Katrina gave her hand a firm tug. ‘Come on. Up you get. I’ve got this.’ And she did. A plan had popped into her head.
Mustering the pep she used to rally the Under-14s swim team, Katrina hauled Michelle to her feet, then turned and headed for the kitchen, where she snatched up the orange boxing-glove card.
Picking her way through the mess on the floor, she paused at the bottom of the stairs to glance into the games room.
Rolf was still there, on the sofa; he’d managed to find something black-and-white on TV.
‘All good?’ he asked Katrina.
‘Everything’s fine,’ Katrina said, as Michelle caught up with her.
‘What are you . . .? Where are we going?’ Michelle sounded uncharacteristically lost. ‘Upstairs?’
‘To my wardrobe.’ With each step, Katrina’s confidence rose.
Not only did Michelle need her, but Ilse had a point.
What did Katrina have left to lose, now that Justin was gone and Hamish would likely follow?
Katrina could cower in the kitchen, letting the world sneer at Dreamwives, or she could flex her manicured fingers and fight.
As for logistics, she would ignore the scale of the thing and treat it like a Dreamwives job.
She’d been sullen Samantha with Kirk Keane, quirky Hazel with Drew, demure, bespectacled Bridget with the memoir-writing politician, and jocular Leanne with the football fanatic.
Surely she could put on another performance: persuasive businesswoman Katrina?
‘The first question is, which show?’ she asked when she reached the landing. ‘Plenty of them will want to talk to me, but which will be the kindest?’
‘You mean . . . TV shows?’ Michelle seemed to be in a daze.
‘Yes, or video channels.’ Then Katrina remembered something. ‘What do you think of The Drift? They’re big on mainstream and socials.’
‘I don’t know. Which one’s that?’
‘The one with Rod Tomic.’ Katrina pulled out her phone and started scrolling through her contact list. ‘The aunt of my best Year Nine swimmer is a producer there and even if Colville’s dumped me, I bet The Drift will be interested. Rod does a lovely, friendly interview.’
After placing the call, she didn’t have long to wait.
Yes, Gina did remember Katrina from the state championships and yes, she had seen the news and recognised her, though of course she’d always known there were two sides to every story, and since she’d never thought Katrina was the sort of person to—
Politely, Katrina cut her off. Bustling into her bedroom, she explained that she wanted to go public. She’d like to tell the truth, because people had been lying about her. And she was looking for the right media organisation to help, if Gina was interested?
Gina was very interested. Her voice jumped about two octaves as she said she would talk to their executive producer and get back to Katrina right away. On this number? Yes? And when was Katrina thinking of doing it? As soon as possible? Excellent . . .
Katrina hung up with a triumphant smile, then turned her attention to Michelle, who was standing in the bedroom doorway, swaying a little.
Michelle looked wan and exhausted. She was eating her heart out over the sexy Italian, though she’d been hiding it really well.
Who knew that Michelle could fall just like other women? She’d always seemed so contained.
‘Sit down,’ Katrina said gently, giving her bed a pat.
While Michelle meekly obeyed, Katrina went to her wardrobe, selected a pile of garments and dumped them onto the bed.
Katrina had never been on TV before, but she loved red carpet round-ups and snarky fashion commentators, and reckoned she could get it right.
‘I need your help.’ She held up a red sheath. ‘What about this?’
‘It’s sexy . . .’ Michelle said, doubtfully.
‘You’re right, too sexy. It’ll send the wrong message.
’ Tossing the sheath aside, Katrina next considered a baggy, man-style blazer.
‘Just too . . . too . . . not me. No.’ She flung it down.
‘And what was I on when I bought this?’ The floral prairie dress with puffy sleeves was frankly embarrassing.
‘I need something sleek, professional and capable. Not sexy and definitely not floral. Ah-ha!’ She pounced on a vibrant emerald-green pantsuit with a fitted blazer, measuring it against herself.
Maureen Quigley always said that bold colours were vulgar, but Katrina had been drawn to it, even as she’d heard her mother’s voice in her head.
It wasn’t expensive, but it fitted well.
Michelle nodded. ‘That’s good. That’s very good.’
Yes, with a white button-down and small gold earrings, the suit would do nicely. No cleavage whatsoever, of course, and hair in a soft chignon. ‘I just need a crisp white shirt . . .’ Katrina dived back into her wardrobe.
‘I wish I could be interviewed instead of you,’ Michelle said. ‘I’m sorry you have to do this.’
‘Well, you were always backstage, weren’t you?’ Katrina tried to imagine the poor, sad, lovesick Michelle on camera and failed. ‘Anyway, you’re not really in the right state.’
Michelle groaned. ‘Sorry about that freakout downstairs.’
‘We’re all human. I’ve broken down over and over about Craig, and do you remember how pathetic I was about Nick back in high school?
’ Katrina pulled a face at her white-shirt collection, then squared her shoulders and emerged from the wardrobe with two possibilities – a Camilla and Marc, and an old Country Road. ‘Now, which one? This, or this?’
The words were barely out of her mouth when her phone rang. Flinging aside the shirts, she perched next to Michelle, put the call on speakerphone and said, ‘Hello?’
Gina got straight to the point. ‘It’s all good for the live show this evening. Can you be here at four pm?’
Katrina blinked and swallowed, then took a deep breath. ‘Of course!’ she said gamely, her heart pounding. Could this be real?
‘We’ll start promoing now,’ Gina continued. ‘“Kirk’s Mystery Woman Speaks Out.”’
Michele signalled frantically. ‘NDA!’ she whispered.
‘I’ll just put my business partner on.’ Katrina passed the phone to Michelle, who cleared her throat and clutched Katrina’s arm.
‘Gina, just so you know, the only way Katrina can speak to Rod is if the show doesn’t use the name of any celebrity or imply any connection between Katrina and them.
’ Michelle’s voice was surprisingly steady, though a little squeakier than usual.
‘She can only talk about what Dreamwives does and how we serve our clients.’
Gina seemed unfazed by this. ‘No problem, we’ll go with “Mystery Woman Speaks Out”. I’ll text Katrina the parking details.’
Michelle returned the phone to Katrina, but Gina had already hung up. Katrina stared at the blank screen. Her hand was trembling, but she wasn’t going to let Michelle see that.