sister
against sister, for destroying the bond that she and Tanya had once thought
indestructible, she couldn’t. Hating him couldn’t undo what was done. She felt
only pity.
CHAPTER
13
The tram jolted to
a stop. Releasing her grip on the pole, Jemma stepped down through the open
doors. She waited for a light blue van to pass before making a dash toward the
pavement and the shade of a gift shop awning. Out of the direct midday sun, she
took a moment to orientate herself. If she had followed Fen’s directions
correctly, the café where they were supposed to meet should be about 80 meters
from the corner.
Hitching up her shoulder bag, she headed in what she hoped was the
right direction. She spotted a sandwich board up ahead and quickened her pace.
The sign directed her down an alleyway, where she found Pinot’s tucked behind a
wrought iron fence.
She walked through the arched gateway into the grapevine-canopied
courtyard, continuing past when she didn’t see Fen amongst the people at the
tables.
Inside was dark and cool, a faint berry scent to the air. She paused
in the doorway, giving her eyes time to adjust. Except for a sole woman diner
in the corner picking at a salad and reading a magazine, the café was empty.
She heard a clink of glass and looked across in time to see a blond head bob up
from behind the bar, hands full of wineglasses.
The man behind the bar smiled at her, set the glasses down, then
wiped his hands. “Table for one?”
“For two, please. Outside, if that’s okay.”
He showed her to a table near the back, next to a raised herb
garden, and left her with two menus. A couple of minutes later, he returned
with two tumblers and a bottle of iced water.
Fen announced her arrival with a rapid staccato of heels against
brick pavers, her sleeveless green-and-white dress swaying as she made a
beeline for the table. “So sorry. I got caught up on a phone call just as I was
leaving.” She kissed Jemma’s cheek, sat down and picked up a menu. “Order
first, talk second. I have to be back in an hour.”
Jemma opted for the house salad: a selection of spinach and baby
greens, walnuts, apple slices and Gorgonzola dressed with a raspberry
vinaigrette.
“Siciliano eggplant torta, but hold the mayo, thanks,” Fen said,
handing her closed menu to the waiter and turning to Jemma. “If you don’t mind
me saying so, you look great. Melbourne must agree with you.”
Jemma gave Fen a knowing smile. “The same could be said about you.”
Indeed, everything about Tanya’s friend glowed – from her flawless Eurasian
skin; to her almond eyes; to her fine, dark hair. Quite different to the last
time they had met, when pallid faces and red-rimmed eyes were the look of the
day.
Fen glanced over her shoulder and then back at Jemma. “I really
didn’t know about Tanya’s pregnancy.”
“I believe you. That’s not why I wanted to meet.” Jemma picked up
the water bottle, motioning at the tumblers.
“Please.” Fen waited until Jemma finished pouring. “So why did you
want to see me?”
“Insight?” More question than statement. “You were my sister’s best
friend.”
“I don’t know that there’s much I can tell you.”
“It might not seem like much to you, but anything – anything at all
– you can tell me about Tanya and what was happening in her life in those last
few months would mean a lot to me. No doubt you heard all about our bust-up.”
Fen nodded, her finger tracing a path through the condensation on
her glass.
“So stupid. I still can’t believe how it happened.”
“I can. Our friendship nearly went the same way.”
Jemma’s head snapped up. “Are you serious?”
“You know how besotted your sister was with that man of hers. She
wouldn’t hear a bad word said against him, whether it was true or not. I made a
passing comment one day about her not seeing him for what he really was. Bad
move. She didn’t even give me a chance to explain, just picked up her bag
against sister, for destroying the bond that she and Tanya had once thought
indestructible, she couldn’t. Hating him couldn’t undo what was done. She felt
only pity.
CHAPTER
13
The tram jolted to
a stop. Releasing her grip on the pole, Jemma stepped down through the open
doors. She waited for a light blue van to pass before making a dash toward the
pavement and the shade of a gift shop awning. Out of the direct midday sun, she
took a moment to orientate herself. If she had followed Fen’s directions
correctly, the café where they were supposed to meet should be about 80 meters
from the corner.
Hitching up her shoulder bag, she headed in what she hoped was the
right direction. She spotted a sandwich board up ahead and quickened her pace.
The sign directed her down an alleyway, where she found Pinot’s tucked behind a
wrought iron fence.
She walked through the arched gateway into the grapevine-canopied
courtyard, continuing past when she didn’t see Fen amongst the people at the
tables.
Inside was dark and cool, a faint berry scent to the air. She paused
in the doorway, giving her eyes time to adjust. Except for a sole woman diner
in the corner picking at a salad and reading a magazine, the café was empty.
She heard a clink of glass and looked across in time to see a blond head bob up
from behind the bar, hands full of wineglasses.
The man behind the bar smiled at her, set the glasses down, then
wiped his hands. “Table for one?”
“For two, please. Outside, if that’s okay.”
He showed her to a table near the back, next to a raised herb
garden, and left her with two menus. A couple of minutes later, he returned
with two tumblers and a bottle of iced water.
Fen announced her arrival with a rapid staccato of heels against
brick pavers, her sleeveless green-and-white dress swaying as she made a
beeline for the table. “So sorry. I got caught up on a phone call just as I was
leaving.” She kissed Jemma’s cheek, sat down and picked up a menu. “Order
first, talk second. I have to be back in an hour.”
Jemma opted for the house salad: a selection of spinach and baby
greens, walnuts, apple slices and Gorgonzola dressed with a raspberry
vinaigrette.
“Siciliano eggplant torta, but hold the mayo, thanks,” Fen said,
handing her closed menu to the waiter and turning to Jemma. “If you don’t mind
me saying so, you look great. Melbourne must agree with you.”
Jemma gave Fen a knowing smile. “The same could be said about you.”
Indeed, everything about Tanya’s friend glowed – from her flawless Eurasian
skin; to her almond eyes; to her fine, dark hair. Quite different to the last
time they had met, when pallid faces and red-rimmed eyes were the look of the
day.
Fen glanced over her shoulder and then back at Jemma. “I really
didn’t know about Tanya’s pregnancy.”
“I believe you. That’s not why I wanted to meet.” Jemma picked up
the water bottle, motioning at the tumblers.
“Please.” Fen waited until Jemma finished pouring. “So why did you
want to see me?”
“Insight?” More question than statement. “You were my sister’s best
friend.”
“I don’t know that there’s much I can tell you.”
“It might not seem like much to you, but anything – anything at all
– you can tell me about Tanya and what was happening in her life in those last
few months would mean a lot to me. No doubt you heard all about our bust-up.”
Fen nodded, her finger tracing a path through the condensation on
her glass.
“So stupid. I still can’t believe how it happened.”
“I can. Our friendship nearly went the same way.”
Jemma’s head snapped up. “Are you serious?”
“You know how besotted your sister was with that man of hers. She
wouldn’t hear a bad word said against him, whether it was true or not. I made a
passing comment one day about her not seeing him for what he really was. Bad
move. She didn’t even give me a chance to explain, just picked up her bag
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