26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
By early February, Gold Hill was sweltering. Alison had never lived in the Victorian countryside over summer and it came with different pressures. Like waking up every day and monitoring the bushfire risk warnings, seeing smoke from passing bushland going up in flames and wondering, heart-in-mouth, if today was a day to leave.
It was with desperate pleasure that she’d ran out into the torrential rain that week, letting the cold water sluice her skin, soaking into the bone dry grass, knowing that fires were being washed into ash and the streams were being refilled, that for at least a couple of weeks the world around them wouldn’t feel like a tinderbox on the verge of explosion.
By Saturday morning she felt tingly and excited. It was a new feeling for her, considering its cause. Camille was hosting a party, a huge party in fact, out at her beautiful home, to launch her new exhibition. She’d attracted some serious interest recently and her works were starting to sell for eye-watering prices. For the launch, she’d had her studio transformed into a temporary gallery, inviting a massive guest list of friends, family and serious art buyers, to celebrate her career reaching the stratosphere.
One of the many upsides was that Camille was happy and fulfilled, leaving minimal room for pining and her frostiness towards Alison had slowly faded. Now that they’d been in each other’s lives for over nine months and Alison was yet to steal Hope from her, she seemed to reluctantly accept Alison’s presence as legitimate and just last week had even sought her out for a real conversation, sat side by side at The Barrow.
Alison considered the way she was feeling about this afternoon’s party compared with the last party she’d attended at Camille and Prisha’s place. This time she felt deeply at ease. She knew there was a chance that amongst the invited guests she’d encounter at least one old foe, or someone who was horrified at her presence, but she had six close friends to circulate with, six of her favourite people on the planet, and with that, she felt immensely safe.
Her doorbell rang and she smiled. She ran down the stairs and opened her front door.
“You look stunning,” Hope greeted her easily.
“Thank you. You too.” She leaned in for a quick cheek kiss and led the way upstairs. It was forecast to be another ridiculously hot day, so Alison had gone for a simple green sundress, light cotton, ties knotted on her shoulders but otherwise barely touching her skin. It was as close to naked as she could get away with in public, because this heat was close to unbearable. She’d put her hair up in a sleek ponytail, not able to bear the sensation of the heat of it falling on her skin.
Hope was equally casual. She wore a loose white shirt, barely buttoned, all glimpses of sun-kissed golden skin and a tightly fitted skirt that was barely longer than the shirt. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and she clutched a sunhat in her hands. She looked beautiful, mouthwatering actually, but Alison was gradually getting used to that.
“Something cold to drink?” Alison offered her. They were due to leave for the party soon enough, but they still held their habit of taking a little time together first. Alison wondered if it was Hope still trying to make sure she was in a good place before hauling her out to a party. Honestly, she didn’t really need it, but she deeply appreciated the sweet, protective side of Hope, so she accepted it every time.
“Please,” Hope said. “Nothing alcoholic though. It’s going to be a long enough day in the heat as it is.”
“Ugh, you’ll be fine. You’re such a summer baby,” Alison said, as she filled two glasses with ice cubes and sparkling water. “I, on the other hand, may die. I’m going to take a wild guess that the studio isn’t air conditioned?”
“It’s so not,” Hope agreed. “Camille has promised industrial sized fans, so we can all look like we’re in a music video. ”
“Can’t wait.” Alison sounded sarcastic, but she actually couldn’t wait. The party, she knew, had been immaculately planned.
Hope accepted her glass and drank with gusto. All of a sudden, Alison heard a disturbing sound. A key, turning in the lock of her front door. She went rigid. Hope cocked her head.
“Who’s that?” she whispered, the look on Alison’s face making her go still.
“Darling?” came a man’s voice from down the stairs. “You didn’t answer my calls, so I thought I’d stop by.”
All the fear left Alison’s body, followed by a bone-deep rage.
“Simon,” she said in a whisper. She froze. She deeply did not want this man here, invading her space, interrupting her perfect summer’s day, Hope of all people, here to see it. A flash of actual rage hit Hope’s face as she watched Alison struggle for control.
“I’m going to demolish him,” she said softly. Alison’s lips parted in a sharp breath. “Just…” Hope put down her glass and to Alison’s absolute shock, reached down and shimmied out of her skirt, leaving her in her shirt and tiny lace panties. “Go with it.” She jerked her head toward the stairs as Simon called her name again and absolutely dizzy with dry-mouthed confusion, Alison turned and walked to the stairwell .
“Simon,” she called down flatly. “What are you doing here?”
She heard his footsteps.
“Ah, you’re home,” he said brightly and just like that, her ex-husband strode into view. He was fitter than ever, dressed formally in long sleeves and trousers as if it weren’t a sweltering day. He looked handsome, his hair now entirely silver, deeply powerful: every bit the man he still believed himself to be. He took the stairs in a confident stride. “Sorry to barge in on you,” he said. “I was worried when you stopped taking my calls.”
“How do you still have a key?” Alison said through gritted teeth as he reached the top of the stairs and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek.
“I quite forgot to take it off my keyring,” he said easily. “You look gorgeous,” he announced, his tone delusional in its approval, as if she were still his wife, dressed for his pleasure.
“Babe?” Hope’s voice drifted in through the open door to the balcony. “Who’s at the door? Should I put some clothes on?”
Simon’s head whipped around. Alison followed his gaze to see a spectacular sight. Hope was laid out in profile on one of Alison’s white deck loungers, her sunhat over her face. She wore nothing but her tiny knickers and her shirt was unbuttoned all the way, just barely covering her breasts, bra draped over the back of the lounger, in favour of a wide expanse of silky cleavage, tanned abdomen and soft thighs gleaming under the midday sun.
“Well,” Alison somehow found her voice, understanding now Hope’s instruction to go with it . “It’s my ex-husband actually. So perhaps you should get dressed, my love.”
Hope made a show of arching her back and slowly sitting up. She placed her hat aside, her golden locks tumbling down her back. She got to her feet, her movements languid, and gave them both an eyeful of bare skin before she sauntered in their direction, slowly buttoning a single button to cover her breasts.
“Ex-husband?” she asked, sounding bewildered. She cast Simon an unimpressed glance, then as she reached Alison she said, “oh , that ex-husband,” scrunching up her pretty nose with distaste and melding herself into Alison’s side. She slipped her arms hesitantly around Alison’s waist and tilted her head up to gaze into her eyes. “Should I stay?” she asked softly. It wasn’t a suggestion; Hope was very prettily asking her permission.
Alison stifled the groan of want that almost slipped out her throat. As it was, her breath hitched, audibly. Hope was bone-jarringly perfect like this. The tilt of her throat, their height difference, the absolute submissiveness of her posture and her phrasing. Alison remembered her instruction to go with it but at this point she’d almost forgotten Simon existed .
“No, sweetheart,” she said, her voice coming out husky. “Go wait for me in the bedroom.” Hope’s pupils dilated and Alison leaned in, her voice soft, up against her earlobe, perhaps inaudible to the room, but perhaps not. “Naked,” she murmured. “On your knees.”
A tiny whimper left Hope’s lips and Alison had no idea anymore what was for display, what was real, or even if it was the display that made Hope make that sound. She did know there was no way to fake the flush of heat that raced up Hope’s throat.
“Of course,” Hope said, her tone hushed. She flicked her eyelashes up to her face. “Whatever you want, Ali.”
Without a second glance at Simon, Hope turned and left. It was several seconds before Alison remembered to drag her eyes back to her ex-husband. Simon’s jaw hung loose. She didn’t think, in eighteen years of marriage, that she’d ever seen him shocked.
“As you can see,” she said firmly, “I’m otherwise engaged. Don’t ever barge into my house again.”
“Alison-” Simon worked his jaw. He stared at her like he’d never seen her before. “I don’t… You’re not-” his eyes jerked to the hallway to the master bedroom where Hope had disappeared. Alison sighed.
“Look Simon,” she said impatiently. “It’s quite clear we both would have preferred to spend our time with beautiful young blondes. The difference is that I would never have destroyed our family to do so. Now give me back my fucking key. ”
Simon stared at her. As if on autopilot, he took the key off his keyring and placed it in her hand. She tilted her head imperiously toward the door. Simon Hartmann, smooth-talker, ruiner of dreams and lives, finally lost for words. He turned on his heel and walked down the stairs. She waited until she heard the door close behind him, then ran down to make sure the door was locked.
Heart in her throat, she climbed back up the stairs and slowly began to walk down the hall towards her bedroom. She had no idea what she’d find when she opened that door, but her blood was beating hotly in her ears as she went to find out. Two steps away, the door flung open and Hope almost bowled her over on her way out.
“Oh!” she said, her hands quickly righting Alison before she almost knocked her into the wall. Then she kept moving. “Is he gone?”
Hope was still in her shirt and underwear, but the shirt was fully buttoned. She moved fast through the living room and Alison trailed behind her feeling all kinds of winded.
“Yes,” she said. “Well done. He’s very much gone.”
Hope whirled around, a tight smile on her face .
“Thank god,” she said. “What a piece of work.” She shimmied quickly back into her skirt and picked up her hat. “We should go,” she announced abruptly. “We definitely don’t want to be late.” She picked up her sweating glass of melted ice water and chugged it back like it was vodka.
“Hope-” Alison couldn’t get a read on her, on the whole situation. Hope seemed jittery and on edge.
“Can we not?” Hope stopped her. “We both agreed we’re not too great at talking about this stuff, so can we just really not? Let’s go and enjoy the party.” She smiled, this time open and broad and Alison would have bought it, except for how quickly Hope whirled around and headed for the stairs. Alison didn’t know how to tell her that she hadn’t remembered to put her bra back on, and honestly wasn’t sure if she could tell her.
They drove together to the party, Alison at the wheel, her mind in all kinds of havoc from the events of the last half hour. Images raced through her mind on loop: Hope’s determined expression, her skirt hitting the ground; Hope’s body offered up like a trophy and a taunt; Hope’s eyes flaring with desire; the shock on Simon’s face.
And yet, now, Hope was out of sorts. Did she feel used? Had Alison taken the game too far? Oh god, maybe she had. It had been Hope’s plan and Hope’s instigation and Alison had gone with it, but had she taken the ball and run with it beyond Hope’s comfort zone? She was dying to ask, dying to fix it, but Hope was right. The last time they’d tried to talk about this stuff they’d had to take eight steps back from each other and they were only just back to normal .
“On the bright side,” Hope spoke up into the silence in the car, as if continuing on a conversation they’d been having the whole time. “We absolutely obliterated him.”
Alison darted a glance sideways. Hope had a satisfied smile on her face that looked very much genuine.
“We did,” she agreed. “I suspect he won’t be trying that again in a hurry.”
“No horse tranquillisers even required,” Hope added and Alison found it within herself to laugh. For a moment, she thought the tension had finally eased, but then they didn’t say a word for the rest of the drive.