The ‘gang’ were their best friends—Shannon and Chris, Rhianna and Brent Stevenson, and Kelly and Al Kvant. Jon, Rhianna, Brent and Al had all grown up together in Boolanga. Although Tara got along with everyone, she was closest to Shannon.
Since the arrival of children, the gang’s gatherings had moved from the club rooms and the pub to Tingledale. The large living areas, the pool and the outdoor kitchen made entertaining easy and Jon loved playing host. Tara usually enjoyed it too but tonight, despite the laughs with Shannon, everything felt like a chore.
Shannon came back into the kitchen rubbing her back. ‘The kids are parked in front of a movie and the leftovers are wrapped and in the fridge. I say it’s time to kick back.’
A whoop of laughter floated in from the deck.
‘Good idea,’ Tara said. ‘Let’s head out and join the others. Jon’s lit a fire.’
‘This baby’s treating my bladder like a trampoline tonight. I’ll meet you out there as soon as I’ve had a wee.’ Shannon waddled off towards the bathroom.
Tara was carrying a wine for herself and a mineral water with a twist of lemon for Shannon when she met Kelly coming in from the deck.
‘Need a hand with anything?’ she asked.
By now, Kelly’s timing no longer surprised Tara. ‘Thanks, but it’s all good.’
‘Great.’ Kelly smiled and sat on the couch, her gaze flicking over Tara. ‘Nice top. Bit of a change from the yummy mummy activewear.’
Tara set down the glasses, trying to work out if Kelly was paying her a compliment. Sometimes she found it hard to tell. ‘And a change from the Hoopers blue polo,’ she said.
Kelly snorted. ‘When was the last time you wore one of those?’
‘You saw me wearing it on Friday when you bought the maidenhair fern,’ Tara said tightly.
‘Jeez, Tara, lighten up. Did you lose your sense of humour along with the weight?’
The words stung like a wasp. Lately, Tara had been wondering if Kelly wasn’t married to Al, and if Clementine and Brooke weren’t such good friends, would she choose to spend time with her? She gulped wine, deciding to laugh off the barb. If she defended herself or her job flexibility, it would only give Kelly an opportunity to trot out her favourite line: ‘Sleeping with the boss helps. Joking!’
Kelly worked three and a half days a week at the cheese factory and Tara knew she resented her own limited hours and flexibility. More than once, Tara had tried to explain what she gained in flexibility, she lost in many other ways. The staff didn’t consider her part of their team, and when she walked into the tearoom, conversations stopped. Yet she was expected to organise all the birthday morning teas, throw the farewell parties and baby showers and arrange the gifts. She was never invited to the staff’s impromptu gatherings and was used to the phrase, ‘Oh, we didn’t think [insert any day of the week] was good for you.’ The exceptions to this rule were the invitations to product parties—then she was expected to spend a minimum of one hundred dollars. She had enough scented candles to mask the stench of a sewage farm.
‘What do you think of this?’ Kelly continued, her eyes flashing with indignation. ‘That bitch expects me to come in on my day off for training on the new accounting system.’
Tara was familiar with all the challenges involved to entice trainers to drive up from Melbourne, let alone come on a date when most of their staff were in. She also knew Kelly’s dislike of her boss coloured her attitude to all requests. Kelly had never forgiven Fatima for keeping the office manager job after she’d returned from maternity leave. Initially, Dairyland had suggested the two women share the position, but Kelly, who’d worked for the company a lot longer, had refused to job-share, assuming that would trigger the promotion of her friend Rachael Dean into the position. It didn’t happen. Now, Kelly never missed an opportunity to complain about her boss.
‘She’ll pay you though, right?’ Tara said.
Kelly’s mouth pursed. ‘She probably thinks I’ll just swap my days round that week. But hello! Childcare! She’s not a mother so she has no freaking idea.’
It wasn’t worth mentioning that Kelly swapped her days around whenever she received an invitation to a lunch she didn’t want to miss. Or that Al’s mother loved looking after Hudson and was happy to do it any day of the week.
Keen to change the topic, Tara picked up Kelly’s glass. ‘Want a refill before we go outside?’
‘Sure. It’s Al’s turn to drive.’
Kelly immediately checked her phone. Tara tried not to grind her teeth at Kelly’s social media addiction and walked into the kitchen. Laughter surprised her—she’d thought everyone else was outside.
Jon was standing with his back to the door, his height and breadth blocking her view of whoever he was talking to. Despite the complicated mix of anger and hurt she’d been nursing since the bathroom incident, she couldn’t help smiling at the sound of his deep throaty laugh. It filled the air with his signature enthusiasm and love of life—and she realised she hadn’t heard it very often recently.
It took her a moment to notice the flash of diamonds and the manicured fingers resting on his forearm. They in turn made her aware of Jon’s head tilting down close to the woman’s head. Jealousy sawed through her like a serrated blade.
‘What’s so funny?’ she said, but her voice came out too loud and too high.
Jon turned so fast he swayed. At first, she thought it was a combination of his shock and surprise at being caught flirting—almost kissing!—Rhianna that made him overbalance. But then she noticed his gaze was roving wildly and taking far too long to focus on her. God, how much had he had to drink? Obviously more than enough to make him very drunk.
‘I was telling Jon about Benji and the chickens,’ Rhianna
