The game, p.9
The Game, page 9
“I’ll go outside now and get some more wood in. There’s a wetback behind the fireplace that heats the water and six hot showers are going to drain the tank fairly quickly.” Imogen’s undainty feet thumped down the stairs.
Collie hooked one long leg out of Bree’s bed. “I’m cold. I’m going to have a shower and get dressed.”
“Me too.” Lily slid off the bed. “Did you hear the storm in the night? That wind was crazy.”
“Crazy enough to bring down several branches. Imogen said her uncle is coming out on Tuesday to clear the driveway. We can’t leave until then because we won’t be able to get the cars out.” Bree climbed off the bed and pushed open the bathroom door. “I’ll see you both downstairs.”
“What do you mean we can’t leave?” Lily stopped in the doorway, blocking Collie’s exit. “Macy said she was planning to go as soon as she got up. I think she’s hoping that Stella will leave with her, or at least drop her into the nearest town so she can get on a bus.”
“She can’t leave,” Bree said again. “Not unless she’s willing to go out there in the rain with a chainsaw to clear herself a path.”
“She won’t be happy,” Lily warned.
“It’s not as if it was done purposely. No one has any control over the weather.” Collie placed her hands on Lily’s shoulders and steered her away. “Go and get dressed, bunny girl. We all have some serious talking to do this morning.” She pulled the door shut behind them, leaving Bree alone.
Bree walked over to the window to look out. She saw a flash of red and blue as Imogen hurried down the slope to the storage area under the cabin. Somewhere in the distance, she heard a clap of thunder. Shivering, she turned away from the window and went to pick up her phone from the bedside table. No new messages.
She tossed the phone onto the bed and walked into her bathroom to prepare herself for whatever further disasters the day might hold.
Chapter Eighteen
By the time Bree walked into the kitchen, the room was warm and filled with the fragrant, mouthwatering scent of coffee, toasting bread, bacon, eggs, and maple syrup. Bree tipped her head back, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. “Mmmm. It smells wonderful.”
“Are you sure you don’t want any bacon, Collie?” Imogen picked up a crisp curl of bacon in a pair of tongs and dangled it in front of Collie’s nose. “You vegetarians don’t know how good life can be.”
“You non-lesbians don’t know how good life can be,” Collie quipped. She was wearing sweatpants with a stripe down the side and a tight fitting zipped sweatshirt, as if she was about to run out the door and go for a jog.
Imogen muttered something but her words were lost in the sudden loud hail of rain against the window above the sink.
“Is there anything I can do?” Bree asked. She’d spent longer than she normally did in the shower, relishing the chance to stand under the hot water without someone banging on the bathroom door and yelling that they needed to use the toilet.
“You can set the table if you like. I don’t know how many of us are having breakfast. Stella and Macy haven’t shown their faces yet.” Imogen dropped the rasher of bacon back into the pop and sizzle of the pan.
“I can help set the table.” Lily skipped in from the family room. She’d pulled her long hair up into a ponytail and was dressed in baggy jeans and a bright pink sweatshirt bearing the logo If You’ve Got It, Flaunt It. She looked scarcely older than eleven or twelve. She most definitely didn’t look like the busy mother of twin boys or a woman who could have written any of last evening’s confessions.
“Has anyone checked on Stella and Macy? To see if they’re alright?” Bree wondered why she was the only one who had thought about this after the other women confirmed that none of them had spoken to the other two women this morning.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” Bree left the kitchen and hurried across to the stairs, alarmed by the sudden deep sense of dread now snapping at her heels. She had just placed her foot on the first step when Stella appeared at the top of the stairs. Today she wore tailored black trousers and a pastel blue twinset. She had even added a string of pearls to her ensemble. She stared unsmiling down at Bree and didn’t make any move to descend.
“Good morning.” Bree tried for an upbeat, sunny tone in an attempt to raise a smile. “Did you sleep well?”
“Not really.”
“We’re just getting breakfast ready if you’re hungry. I know I am. Imogen has made bacon and eggs for everyone except Collie and she can look after herself. There’s granola and yoghurt there too if you want it. Lots of branches came down in the storm last night and they’ve blocked the driveway.” Bree knew she was babbling now but the words kept falling out of her mouth of their own accord.
“Oh.” The news of the blocked driveway didn’t seem to surprise Stella. She slowly made her way down the stairs.
Bree looked up to the landing. “Have you spoken to Macy this morning?”
“She’s getting dressed. She’ll be down soon.” Stella stopped on the stair above Bree. “I was so upset by what happened last night.”
“I know. I really am sorry. I hope we can all talk about it civilly this morning and get it sorted out. The air needs to be cleared and we all know that.”
Stella nodded. She stepped past Bree and walked over to look out the large living room windows. “Is the storm supposed to clear soon?”
“I don’t know. I heard thunder earlier.” Bree went to join her by the window. If it were anyone else but Stella, she would wrap her arm around her waist and give her a friendly hug. “Imogen’s uncle said he can come out on Tuesday to clear the driveway. He’ll need to use a chainsaw.”
“I can do it. I’m good with a chainsaw.” Stella didn’t turn away from the window. She was looking at the trees on the other side of the driveway as they bent and swayed under the force of the wind.
Bree blinked. Perfectly dressed, not-a-hair-out-of-place Stella was the last person she would have expected to admit that she was good with a chainsaw. “You are? That’s wonderful. We can check with Imogen and find out where her uncle keeps it.”
Imogen appeared in the kitchen doorway with the tongs in her hand. Spots of bacon grease sparkled on the end of the utensil. She pushed her hair back from her face with her other hand. “Uncle Bevan took the chainsaw away with him the last time he was here. He needed it to help a friend clear his lot. He said he’ll bring it back on Tuesday when he comes out.”
“Darn. That’s the end of that brilliant idea. Where did you learn to handle a chainsaw, Stella?”
Stella smiled mysteriously. “You’d be surprised by what I can do.” She didn’t clarify her comment but instead walked over to the kitchen. Bree saw she was wearing some kind of narrow-heeled slipper shoe trimmed with black fur. The slippers looked expensive rather than comfortable.
“Do you want a cooked breakfast or cereal and yoghurt?” Collie asked. “There’s some tinned fruit here too, or fresh berries. Your wish is my command, unless it’s bacon.” She gave Imogen, who had returned to her spot in front of the stove, a jovial prod in the ribs. “All-girl lovin’ is also forbidden.”
Imogen snapped the tongs at her.
Stella frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Bree said quickly. “It was just a little joke from earlier this morning. Why don’t you go and sit down, Stella? There’s probably too many of us crammed in the kitchen as it is and we’ll only get in each other’s way.”
“I’ll just have coffee. I’m not a big breakfast person.” Stella walked through to the family room and Bree heard her speaking to Lily. Was it too early to breathe a sigh of relief? It would be nice to think that their morning might continue in this non-abrasive vein.
“Ow!” Imogen dropped the skillet into the sink with a clatter. “Burned myself.”
“Are you ok?” Bree stepped across to look.
“I’ll be fine.” Imogen sucked at her finger as she lifted the skillet back up onto the counter. “I’ll run it under the cold faucet for a while. Can you go ahead and serve the breakfast to those who want it?”
“I’ll put some aside for Macy. She can help herself when she comes down.”
Five minutes later, the five women sat at the dining table with meals of varying types and sizes in front of them. Bree licked her lips as she leaned over her plate of bacon and eggs. “This feels like such a treat. My breakfast is usually a cold piece of toast as I rush out the door to take Addison and Jackson to school.”
“How is Addison doing at school?” Stella asked.
Bree looked at her sharply but Stella was tracing her finger along the lines and patterns on her coffee mug and not looking directly at her.
“She’s doing ok. Fifteen is a tricky age for a girl. You’ll find out for yourself once Antiqua reaches her mid-teens.”
“I’m not looking forward to the day when Miss Bossy Pants Jessie turns fifteen,” Collie said fondly. “She’s bad enough at ten.”
Bree glanced at Stella again but she was now gazing out the window. She couldn’t possibly know about her meeting with Mr. Daintier, could she? She hadn’t asked how Jackson was doing at school. Did anything more sinister lie behind her comment or was Bree now second-guessing everything that anyone said? She needed to tell them that she’d found the extra confession but she had to wait until Macy joined them. She sliced a neat square of toast and egg and popped it into her mouth as the others ate in silence and the rain threw itself brazenly against the window.
“The thunder that rolled across earlier sounded close,” Imogen said. She’d pushed her plate aside and she now had her elbows on the table with both hands wrapped around her coffee mug. “We might be in for a fireworks display soon. I love a good electrical storm.”
“Lightning is scary. I hope the electrical storm goes straight past us.” Lily tugged at her ponytail. “Lightning strikes kill on average 51 people every single year. I read it somewhere.”
Macy stepped into the doorway and they all turned to look at her. She was wearing a rain jacket zipped all the way up and it seemed she was ready to depart. She forced her mouth up into a smile but it did nothing to ease the flinty glare in her gaze. “Good morning.”
Chapter Nineteen
Macy refused to believe that the driveway was blocked. She obstinately declared that she would go and check for herself. Naturally, everyone else followed and their breakfast was left as it was, half-eaten and cooling rapidly on the table. Macy flipped up the hood of her jacket and opened the door to step out into the rain-soaked wind gusts while the others crowded around the living room window to watch.
“She always was stubborn,” said Imogen as Macy braced her foot against the biggest branch and unsuccessfully attempted to push it to one side. The wind lifted her jacket at the hem and flung it up against her back. Bree saw that she’d missed a loop when she threaded her belt through the loops of her jeans. The sight of it was oddly poignant. Imogen nudged Bree with her elbow and she jumped, taken by surprise by the unexpected contact. “Remember when she refused to believe that the chicken curry we’d ordered for our The Bachelor binge-athon had gone off and she insisted on serving herself a plate full of the ghastly stuff? She was sick for days. She’s a cause and effect personality type.” Imogen seemed curiously pleased with this memory.
“A cause and effect personality type? What’s that?” Lily perked up, interested to discover something new.
“She likes to know for herself what will happen if she does one thing and whether that action will cause something else to swing into motion. Kind of a domino effect. Look, she’s coming back inside.”
“I guess she’s discovered that she’s not big enough or strong enough to cause that branch to swing into motion and roll off the track. No cause, no effect,” Collie said drily. She strode over and pulled the door open to reveal a sodden and sullen Macy, downcast and dripping all over the mat. “Wipe your feet, darling.”
Macy huffed and puffed but she stepped inside and pulled her boots off. She sat them neatly beside Bree’s boots before turning around to face everyone. “What? What are you all staring at?”
“Macy, come and have some breakfast,” Bree said, attempting to coax her friend out of her sour mood. “We’re stuck here for now so it’s best if we all make the most of it. We need to talk about last night. All of us together.”
Macy sucked in a deep breath. She pushed her hood back and angrily wiped her wet hair out of her eyes. “This weekend was supposed to be fun.”
“And we’re trying to get it back on track.” Bree hooked her arm through Macy’s and tugged gently. “Imogen has made a lovely big pile of bacon and eggs.”
Stella pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and walked back through to the kitchen ahead of everyone else. Bree and Macy followed, just as a flash of lightning lit up the room. Lily gasped and grabbed for Collie’s hand. “I don’t like lightning.”
“I love it.” Imogen remained where she was, close to the window, and gazed rapturously up at the sky.
A low rumble of thunder rattled across the roof as Collie and Lily walked hand-in-hand into the kitchen. “Come on, Imogen. You’ll still be able to see the storm from the family room windows.”
It took a few minutes for everyone to settle themselves back at the table. Bree saw that Macy took only a single slice of toast, which she carefully smeared a thin scraping of low sugar peanut butter across, and poured herself a cup of black coffee. Bree knew she always took cream with her coffee. She refused Imogen’s offer of bacon and eggs and she shook her head at Collie’s suggestion of granola and berries.
Bree took a sip of her own nearly cold coffee and braced herself. It was time to tell everyone about the extra confession note and even though it was a shame to disturb this thin and cautious veneer of peacefulness, it had to be done. She just needed to pull her big girl panties on and get it over with. “I came down here at 6.00 am to make a coffee and tidy up the family room.”
“Good for you,” Imogen said heartily. “I was still snoring at that ridiculous hour of the morning.”
Bree turned to look at her. “I heard you get up in the night. You must have been awake at some stage.”
Imogen blinked back, looking perplexed. “Me? No, I didn’t get up. I was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow. I only woke up twenty minutes before I knocked on your door. Just enough time to call Uncle Bevan and take a shower. A quick shower.” She glowered around the table. “The tank really isn’t big enough to cope with six long showers.”
“I was sure it was you. You have a very distinctive way of walking.”
Imogen shook her head and returned her focus to her meal.
Bree gave her one last side eye and continued. “Anyway, while I was tidying up I found this. It was left in the glass bowl, along with another blank piece of paper.” She pulled the note out of her pocket and unfolded it before holding the page up for everyone to see.
Lily, who was sitting opposite Bree, leaned forward to read it out. “I lied on my insurance claim. What’s this, Bree?”
“Exactly what it looks like. Someone wrote two confessions and added them to the bowl. After the six confessions, we didn’t bother looking for any more – and why would we? I only found it by accident. I want to know who wrote it and why.”
The table erupted into an excited melee of chatter, denials, and questions.
“Everyone needs to calm down,” Bree said loudly, half rising from her chair in an attempt to regain control. “Can’t we be rational about this?”
The voices around the table stuttered into silence.
“We’re all rational adults,” said Stella at last. “But are we all friends? In my book, friends don’t treat each other as badly as some of us have been treated. The behavior of certain people this weekend has been appalling and unconscionable. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
“The problem is that the ‘certain people’ are refusing to put their hands up and confess to their actions.” It was Collie’s turn to scowl around the table. “Someone here knows exactly what she’s done but she’s zipped her lip.”
“Or two people,” Bree hurriedly amended. “Two of the confessions in particular were outrageous and if they weren’t true, they were designed to hurt. Did one person write both of those harsh confessions about someone’s husband while someone else wrote this one about the insurance claim?” She shook the page in her hand.
“Is the person who wrote the confession about the insurance claim willing to admit it?” Collie asked. “That would solve one piece of the puzzle.”
Everyone looked at each other but nobody said anything.
Bree’s finger strayed up to touch the tender, burgeoning spot beside her mouth. How well did she know any of these women? Had she been kidding herself for all this time that they were close? Aside from Stella, they had all been friends to some degree or less for more than ten years and in some instances much longer than that. Had a lying traitor been laying low in their midst for all this time? She was suddenly mad at herself. What was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she jumping up and demanding that they all cut through this new veil of mistrust and sort themselves out? She was obviously a weak-willed person. As hard as it was to admit it, she was the type of person who collected problems instead of dealing with them.
“I spent a lot of time thinking about this last night,” Stella said, enunciating each word clearly. “Obviously, the so-called ‘confession’ about Jack was aimed at me. I’m beginning to think that the one about the rude photographs was also aimed at me. I think someone here is only pretending to be by friend.” She looked around the table, waiting for a response.
“Maybe you were the one who wrote the confession about your husband dressing in woman’s clothes,” Imogen drawled. “Seems like Jack has been a very busy boy.”
Bree quickly looked down at her plate, not willing to meet anyone’s eye. Why did Imogen have to bring that up?
“You always were a snide bitch, Imogen.” Stella pushed her chair back as another flash of lightning illuminated the room.
