Shadow Lily Read online

  He tilted the screen of his computer, angling it away from us. “As long as you’ve got your account details, I can do it from here,” he said flatly. “Clients come and go all the time. No big deal.”

  “You won’t miss my business then,” I replied, slapping my ATM card down on the desk.

  Garett meticulously keyed in my account number before pausing to study the details on the screen. Then it was our turn to watch the colour drain from his face. I couldn’t see what he was looking at, but I knew he was choking on an obscene amount of numbers as he read the account balance.

  “Ah, Mrs Décarie,” he stammered. “Charlotte.”

  “You can call me Mrs Décarie,” I obnoxiously corrected.

  “This is a sizeable transaction.” Garett rose to his feet. “I can’t authorise it from here. You’re going to have to deal with my manager.”

  I shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Fine,” I replied. “Get him in here. I’ll wait.”

  “I’ll wait too,” said Lily, finally sounding more like herself. She plucked one of the brochures out of the pile and waved it at him. “Maybe we’ll fill out a customer service survey while we wait.”

  ***

  Dealing with the bank manager took forever. My care factor when it came to our finances was zero, and after asking me a heap of business related questions that I had no answers for, he realised it too. Finally losing patience with me, he picked up the phone and ordered a teller to draft me a cheque.

  “Please have your husband call me at his earliest convenience,” he urged on his way out Garett’s office. “I’d like to discuss this matter with him personally.”

  Lily leaned closer. “Are you sure about this, Charli?” she whispered.

  “No,” I whispered back. “But let’s roll with it anyway.”

  ***

  As good as it felt to stick it to Garret, victory was fleeting. Not only was Lily still broke, but she’d also been humiliated at the hand of a creepy ghost from her past. I had no idea what sort of history they shared, but I knew it was ugly.

  It had been painful to watch, and yet again, I felt responsible. By the time we got in the car, I'd apologised a hundred times.

  “It's not your fault, Charli,” she muttered.

  I briefly glanced at her before pulling out onto the road. “But it was my idea to go.”

  “You didn't know that was going to happen,” she replied. “That guy is a total dick. Always has been.”

  I was desperate to know how she knew Garret, but I held off asking. Despite the fact that I’d wedged myself firmly in the middle of it, it really was none of my business.

  The journey home was spent in silence. When we rounded the corner of our street, Lily finally spoke up. “I'm never going to be more than I am, Charli.”

  I slowed the car, focusing more attention on her than the road ahead. “What do you mean, Lil?”

  “You said people can change,” she replied. “I don't think that's true.”

  The only thing more worrying than her words was her tone of voice. She sounded flat, dull and broken. I had no idea how to deal with her – or what to say – so I stayed quiet and let her speak.

  “No matter how far I remove myself from who I used to be, people refuse to let me forget.”

  “Oh, Lily,” I whispered.

  Without warning, she buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. “I can’t move forward,” she sobbed. “I’m stuck.”

  Desperate to comfort her, I pulled into my driveway, ripped on the handbrake, and threw my arms around her. “Please, please don't cry,” I begged. “Just talk to me.”

  An eternity had passed before she pulled herself together enough to speak, and when she did, her topic of choice was the smarmy banker. “When I knew him, his name was Garry.” She spat out his name with pure venom. “Garret must be his fancy financier name.”

  “Trust me, Lily,” I scoffed. “There's nothing fancy about a man who wears clip-on ties.”

  She almost laughed but didn’t quite get there. “The popular girls in high school used to hang out at the football club in Sorell on Saturday nights,” she said. “Do you remember?”

  I shook my head, telling her no. “I was never popular,” I reminded her. “I used to hang out with Nicole and a packet of Tim Tams.”

  “You were lucky then.”

  After a thoughtful pause, the conversation continued, and the more she spoke, the harder it became to listen.

  “The players called us the A-girls,” she revealed.

  I wasn’t sure what that meant. “As in A-listers?” I asked naïvely.

  “No, Charli.” Her voice was tiny. “A as in always. Always up for anything.”

  I’d spent my awkward teenage years thinking that the popular girls had it all. From the outside looking in, they were confident, happy and admired. Lily wasn’t the strongest in that crowd, but she was always destined to have a place because her sister was the queen. What I didn’t know was that their entire empire was built on dirt.

  “When you’re young and desperate for acceptance, you do some appalling things.” Every word out of her mouth was laced with shame. “And I was the most desperate of them all.” The tissues on her lap had been wrung into a million pieces. She began picking the lint off her skirt. “I grew up being told I was stupid and useless,” she whispered. “And that no man would ever want me.”

  It was logical to assume that the taunts had come from Jasmine, but I'd seen her mother in action first hand. Chances are, it was a team effort.

  “I guess I set out to prove them wrong, and for a long time it worked,” she explained. “Win, lose, or draw, there was a clubhouse full of blokes on a Saturday night who were only too willing to tell me how pretty and smart I was – for a price.”

  “I'm so sorry, Lil.”

  There was absolutely nothing else I could say. I was sorry that her family treated her so poorly, and I was sorrier that she’d allowed men to treat her even worse.

  “Don't feel sorry for me,” she demanded, pulling in a long steadying breath. “I don't need pity.”

  “I don’t pity you.”

  “Good,” she snapped. “Because I worked it out, right? I grew up, stopped whoring around and ditched the trashy outfits.” The sarcastic edge to her voice got lost in pure despair. “I tried to smarten myself up too.” She picked up her phone and shook it. “I have a word-of-the-day app for Christ’s sake.”

  The corner of my mouth lifted. “What's today's word?”

  Lily swiped her finger across the screen. “In-ex-tric-able,” she replied, breaking it into syllables. “Impossible to disentangle or separate.” She let out a humourless snicker. “That’s apt, isn’t it?”

  I nodded, but couldn't bring myself to laugh. I hadn't heard anything funny in hours.

  “I disentangled myself from my sister.” The words raged out of her. “I did everything right, Charli.”

  “I know.”

  “And then Lisa comes back, and she's no better than she was in her A-girl days. She's launching herself at Noah like some sex starved alley cat, and I'm so bloody weak that I can't bring myself to put a stop to it.”

  I quickly replayed her rant in my head, and still couldn't make sense of it. “You've lost me, Lil.”

  She lifted her head, staring at me with teary, red eyes. “I’ve been seeing Noah for months.”

  “Romantically?” I choked.

  “Yes,” she replied sadly.

  Lily Tate wasn't the first girl in the Cove to keep a relationship under wraps. Gabrielle pioneered that move years ago, but I suspect their motives were wildly different.

  “Why are you keeping it a secret?” I gently asked.

  Pure agony swept her face. “Because he doesn't know anything beyond the last three months,” she whimpered. “Jasmine and her cronies would be champing at the bit to fill him in on all the sordid details that I'm trying to leave behind.” She waved her phone at me. “Inextricable, remember?”

 
“You're not that girl anymore, Lily,” I said strongly. “He’ll understand.”

  She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, still trying to pull herself together. “Have you ever felt like you're not good enough, Charli?”

  I huffed out a sharp breath. “I have been made to feel unworthy a hundred million times,” I told her. “But never by Adam. He only sees the good, even when I show him nothing but bad. If Noah is a keeper, he's only going to see the good.”

  I folded my arms to stop myself reaching out and shaking her. I'd never been more determined to get a point across in my whole entire life.

  “I don’t think I can keep him now,” she sniffed. “I’m pretty sure it ended today.”

  “Just talk to him,” I muttered, looking across at my house. “Honesty is always the best policy.”

  Lily let out a tired laugh. “Are you talking about me or you?”

  “Me, probably.” I reached into my bag and grabbed the gazillion-dollar cheque. “I have to go inside and tell my husband that I spent the afternoon closing all of our bank accounts.”

  13. CONSTRUCTIVE EDITING

  Lily

  When the only option you have is to put on a brave face and get on with it, life becomes much easier. In a last ditch effort to recoup some reward for the mass of doggie couture taking up space in my house, I spent the next weekend flogging my wares at the Salamanca markets.

  It didn’t make me rich, but the feedback was positive and just knowing that a handful of pups were going to be spending winter comfortably decked out in my outfits made me smile.

  The next mission when it came to getting on with it was finding a job that didn’t entail sweeping hair. Employment options in a small town are limited at the best of times, but when your qualifications are stunted too, it’s nearly impossible.

  My résumé was hardly stellar. Since leaving school, I’d waitressed at my parents’ vineyard restaurant, worked as my sister’s salon lackey, and made outfits for pets in my spare time.

  I didn’t even include the short stint at Alex’s café. There’s just no easy way to explain that the nicest, most laidback bloke in the Cove cracked after three weeks of working with me. I could still recall his dismissal speech word for word. “I’m sorry, Lil,” he said regretfully. “It’s not me; it’s you. You’re going to kill yourself working here.”

  I couldn’t even take offense. Being hit with a ninety degree shot of steam from a coffee machine hurts, and I managed to do it more than once.

  With the exception of the Blake’s café, I handed my mediocre résumé out to every small business in town. Nothing came of it, and with a heavy soul and a pang of nausea, I made the tough call to contact Jasmine and ask for my job back.

  “I think we need a mediator,” she foolishly suggested. “We need to set some ground rules before you come back.”

  It was one of the most ridiculous things I’d heard in a while, but it was far too early to rock the boat by saying so.

  “Meet me at the vineyard in an hour,” she instructed. “Dad can oversee the proceedings.”

  She made it sound as if we were headed to court, but I couldn’t deny that having Dad there would make things easier. Unlike my mother, he was impartial and fair. If Jasmine fired up, he wasn’t above hosing her down.

  ***

  My family home is a stately farmhouse on the south side of town. It doesn’t boast ocean views, but there are worse sights to wake up to than artfully planted rows of grape vines.

  The instant I pulled up to the house, I knew my father wasn’t there. His white Land Rover was missing and parked in its place was the Davis’ ridiculous souped-up minivan.

  I wasn’t sure if his absence was a last minute change to the program or a deliberate snookering. Either way, I was probably screwed.

  My mother met me at the door with a huge hot pink smile and an uncharacteristic hug. “I knew you’d come to your senses, sweetheart,” she crowed. “It’s lovely to have both of my daughters back on the same side.”

  I’d never understood why there had to be sides, but there was no denying that an invisible line existed. As long as I was towing the line, I was walking on the good side, and as much as it pained me, that would be my path from now on.

  As soon as I rounded the corner into the dining room, I knew the stage had been set. Lisa and Jasmine sat side-by-side at the table, both doing their best to look superior.

  I stopped dead in my tracks, glowering at Lisa. “What are you doing here?” The bitter question raged out of me. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “She’s our friend, Lil,” Jasmine said pointedly.

  Lisa’s smirk was as black as her heart. “I’m just here for moral support,” she replied.

  I pulled out a chair and sat opposite my sister. “But you have no morals, Lisa.”

  Part of me was hoping she’d ask me to explain myself. Using a real life kitten as a prop to win the affections of the local vet was about as wanton as a woman could be, and I would’ve gladly told her so.

  Civility was slipping fast, but my mother saved the day by waltzing back into the room with a plate of sandwiches and a pot of coffee. “Isn’t it lovely to have the whole gang back together again?” she asked.

  Jasmine’s reaction to the juvenile statement was swift. “We’re not a gang, Mum,” she corrected with a haughty laugh. “We’re just best friends.”

  A groan of absolute disgust escaped me. “Can we get on with this, please?” I asked. “I’ve got things to do.”

  “What things?” asked Lisa. “Packing your bags for fashion week?”

  Ordinarily, a bitchy comment like that would’ve given me palpitations, but as I stared her down from across the table, I realised there was nothing but calm in my heart. I was better than the likes of Lisa Reynolds, and I always had been.

  “I’m not going to fashion week,” I casually confessed.

  “The deal fell through?” The genuine concern in Jasmine’s voice threw me. “I’m sorry, Lil.”

  “There never was a deal,” accused Lisa, cackling like a demon. “Charli made it all up.”

  Mum stopped plating up morning tea, sat down beside me and reached for my hand. “That little wench is a born liar. I’ll never understand what that lovely American sees in her.”

  “Maybe you should ask Mitchell,” I dully replied. “He fell for her first.”

  “Rubbish,” scoffed my mother, dropping my hand. “My son would never – ”

  Surprisingly, Jasmine cut her off. “He did, Mum,” she confirmed. “He loved her. Let it go.”

  Literally squirming in her seat, Lisa threw her two cents in. “She’s still a dirty liar,” she snapped. “She made poor Lily look stupid.”

  Mum obviously agreed. She reached across and patted my hand. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” Her tone was sickly sweet. “You can pick up where you left off at the salon and put this whole nasty episode behind you.”

  “What about your business?” asked Jasmine. “Have you completely given up?”

  On the off chance that she was genuinely interested, I answered her. “It hasn’t taken off as I’d hoped,” I confessed. “But I did sell quite a few pieces at the markets last weekend.”

  I knew my sister inside and out. The smile she gave was true, which made me minutely hopeful that Lisa hadn’t completely poisoned her soul. “That’s great, Lil,” she praised. “I knew people would love them.”

  “But you have to think long term,” said my mother. “Not everyone has the luck of Charli Blake. We can’t all enjoy the lifestyle of a kept woman.”

  She’d been marginally well behaved until that point, but the impending spinster lecture was a sure-fire sign that things were on the downward slide.

  “I’m not exactly washed-up yet,” I muttered.

  “Tell me, Lil,” sneered Lisa. “How does one recognise that they’ve finally become an old maid?”

  I felt the smirk that swept my face, and it was just as wicked as hers. “Th
ey buy a kitten,” I replied. “That’s the end of the line right there.”

  ***

  Despite the mild drama, I left the vineyard feeling completely intact. Lisa's best efforts at rattling my cage failed, mainly because I got in first and gave hers a good shake instead. It felt a lot like victory, and there was only one person I could think to share it with.

  I called Charli from the car and asked if she had time to meet. Neither of us were particularly skilled when it came to being friends, but there was merit in trying. We didn't talk every day – or even every other day – but picking up where we left off was always easy.

  “I’m just on my way to the café,” she told me. “Can you meet me there?”

  “I’m not sure,” I vaguely replied. “Your dad gave me a lifetime ban. Do you think it still stands?”

  Her warm laugh was contagious. “You’ll be fine,” she insisted. “I’ll vouch for you.”

  Thankfully, Alex wasn’t much of an enforcer. After making me promise not to touch the coffee machine, he agreed to relax the rules. “Can I trust you alone for an hour?” he asked.

  The question could only have been for Charli. Alex wouldn’t have trusted me alone for a minute.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “Why?”

  He was already reaching for his keys. “Because I promised Gabi I’d take her to lunch last Thursday,” he explained. “Today seems like a good day to follow through.”

  Charli put the back of her hand to her forehead. “My father,” she swooned. “The last of the true romantics.”

  As Alex slipped out the door, she moved to the business side of the counter. “Tea or coffee?”

  “Tea, I think.”

  “Me too,” she replied, sounding totally unenthused. “But what I really want is wine.”

  “Rough day?”

  “No.” Her smile was wicked. “I’m just in the really unfortunate position of craving wine while knocked up. It starts early in the mornings.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. By lunch time, I’d just about kill for a chardonnay.”

  It felt good to laugh, and I realised that it happened most often when I was around her. “We wasted a lot of time being enemies, didn’t we?” I asked, thinking out loud.