Piping Her Tune Page 5

  A moan escaped from Abby. “Did you see the painting?”

  “Goodness me, my girl, everybody flocked to see it.” She gave a small laugh. “Excluding Fiona, of course. She told Malcolm you only put in your profile as an interpreter in the application letter. The gallery probably hasn’t done so well in years.”

  “I shouldn’t have done it but Victoria made me so mad. She’s…she’s so…”

  “Infuriating?”

  “And self-centred.”

  “I’m aware she comes across like that, though to be honest, she has no conception how beautiful she is. She’s brilliant and a keen mind is all she cares about. She’s worked very hard to get where she is. She started out as a geologist, becoming a multi-millionaire by the age of thirty.”

  Abby snorted. “I still can’t admire her. Not after the way she went on at the gallery.”

  A laugh exploded from Jan. “On the contrary, Vic’s made your career for you, my dear. The painting and her capricious reaction was the talking point for weeks in our circle. Everyone is waiting for the furore to die down before they order a portrait. You’re on the cusp of hitting the big time.”

  “You think so?”

  Jan toyed with the stem of a rose. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’d like to commission you to paint a portrait of Malcolm. I adore your vibrant style—you’re an excellent artist, though I’d like something more traditional. Would you be interested?”

  Abby’s step faltered. “Of course, I’d be delighted. I’ll contact you during the week to discuss the appropriate size and my price.” She peeped sideways at the older woman. “Aren’t you worried how Victoria’s going to take it?”

  “Let me handle her. Besides, she’s off on her trip next week.”

  For some reason she couldn’t explain, the words gave Abby a sense of loss. She shook her head. What did she care that the aggravating woman was about to leave the country? “Who do you think she will choose to go with her?”

  Jan’s voice had a puzzled tone. “I’ve absolutely no idea. I usually can read her but I’ve been watching her all night and still haven’t a clue. The only one she won’t want is Grace. Vic likes to be the one in charge.”

  Abby laughed. “Grace is way too butch. Victoria wouldn’t cop her for a day. And there’s one other she won’t choose as well. Me.”

  “Yes, definitely not. She couldn’t handle you. Who do you think she’ll pick?”

  “Maybe she’ll try to persuade Chantal to go.”

  “Perhaps,” said Jan, “though I imagine they’ll have to offer her more money.”

  “If Victoria wants her enough, she will. Money doesn’t seem an object to her.”

  “Yes, Vic’s extremely wealthy; if she prefers her, she’ll pay the extra herself. Six months is a long time if you don’t get on with your companion. Now I must get back to my hostess duties.”

  * * *

  Life stopped being a game for Victoria after her fledgling exploration company found the iron ore deposit in Western Australia. Business accelerated at a rapid rate, and by the time their first coal mine in the Bowen Basin was developed, the company had already gone public. The share price climbed steadily. Victoria’s personal wealth continued to accumulate—not even she had a good idea of what she was worth, but to the average person it would be substantial wealth. The business took a hit in the global economic crisis, though firm contracts minimized the effect. She sighed. With the downturn in China’s economy, things were tight again. She was getting tired of the constant pressure.

  As Chantal approached, Victoria was filled with nostalgia. How good it would be to go back to those carefree days, with no pressure, no commitments. The Frenchwoman had matured into an alluring creature and wore an air of worldliness like a soft mantle. Victoria smiled her welcome. “Let’s go out onto the patio, Chantal, for some privacy.”

  “Of course, and perhaps I can have a cigarette out there.” She laughed. “It’s my little wicked indulgence after a meal. Frowned upon in many countries I know, but nevertheless, I enjoy one occasionally. Now tell me all about yourself, mon ami. You are very wealthy now, I see.”

  “With a bit of luck and lots of hard work.”

  “But still single. Have you never found anyone to share your life? You have so very much to offer. Beautiful. Successful. Why is it, Vic?”

  The question put Victoria off balance. She struggled for an answer. “I…I honestly don’t know. I work all the time, though that’s a feeble excuse. It’s just—well—as soon as I think I’m interested in someone I get disillusioned. Maybe I’m looking in the wrong places.”

  “Perhaps you can’t see the forest for the trees. She could be standing right in front of you and you can’t see her.”

  “Like you?”

  A laugh tinkled. “Not me. We’ve had our time together. We have gone our separate ways. One thing I’ve learnt in life, you move on and seldom can go back.”

  Pensive, Victoria twirled her glass. “You were my first love, Chan.”

  “And you, mine. We loved, yes, but were we ever in love? I think not. If we had been, we would never have left each other.”

  “And did you ever find that kind of love?”

  “I thought I did. Vivienne and I were together five years.”

  “What happened?”

  Chantal breathed out a long sigh. “Like you, I let my work rule my life. My business took me away from home too much, so in the end, she left. It was six years ago.”

  Victoria glanced at her in surprise. “Six years…that’s a long time to be alone.”

  “Ah, it’s the pot calling the kettle black, no?”

  “Come on, I’ve already bared my pathetic love life. This is about you. Wouldn’t you like to settle down again?”

  “Mais oui. I really would like to find a partner. I miss the closeness of having someone of my own, someone who will adore me for what I am, warts and all.”

  Victoria chuckled. “You sound like you think you’re over the hill. By the look of you, you’re in your prime. I’d bet women are falling all over themselves to attract your attention.”

  The lightness in Chantal’s voice faded. “I turned forty this year, Vic, and the grey hairs are beginning to appear at regular intervals. And my body, mon dieu, it has started to sag.”

  “I know how you feel. So if you’ve been looking, what’s the problem?”

  “Ah…it becomes harder, and I’ve become a little jaded. The posturing beauties in my social circles do not appeal anymore.” She snapped her fingers. “I would not give this for them. But the keepers are mostly all taken at my age,” she hesitated, “though…”

  “Sooo,” said Victoria, leaning forward with interest, “You have met someone.”

  A gleam appeared in Chantal’s eyes. “Oh, yes. Very recently. She’s…she’s rather interesting. I only hope I’m not too late. We shall see what happens.”

  Curious, Victoria studied her. “That’s very cryptic. I can’t imagine any woman able to resist you.”

  “It depends on what my competition does.”

  “You’ve got a rival?”

  “Maybe.”

  “God, Chantal, you haven’t changed. Always mysterious.” Victoria reached over and touched her hand. “I’m so glad you came to this dinner. I trust your intuition about women.”

  Chantal tipped forward in the chair. “I suppose we should get on to the business of choosing your companion. They all seem quite lovely, though there is one who wouldn’t suit you.”

  Victoria went rigid. “You mean Abby?”

  “Oui. The resourceful Mademoiselle Fiona made a gaffe there.”

  “Yes, she damn well did.”

  “She painted your portrait, I hear.”

  “She made me look like a damn harpy.”

  Sadness appeared in the Frenchwoman’s eyes. “Annabelle had great pleasure in showing me the picture. A Dorian Grey—is that who you’ve become, Vic? The face flawless, but the character—not so much?”


  Victoria slid her eyes away. “That was only her interpretation,”

  “Yes, but I have come to know her over the last few hours. She has an innocence about her that is rather rare. She also seems to be able to read people.”

  Victoria stared pensively into her glass. “We didn’t get on when I was posing for the portrait. It was mostly my fault, I guess—I was always on the phone. Then I said something without thinking, something I shouldn’t have. She burred up and it escalated from there.” She raised her eyes to Chantal. “How she depicted me in the painting wasn’t fair. There was no excuse for being so hurtful.”

  “Perhaps you both should, how do you Australians put it, bury the hatchet.”

  Victoria’s head shake was emphatic. “That won’t happen. She’s not going to get away with it so easily. As far as I’m concerned, she went too far.”

  “Come now. Surely you can be magnanimous; she only wounded your pride. Go in and make up with her.”

  “No way.” Victoria peered at Chantal, keeping her voice even. “What happened between Annabelle and her? I haven’t seen Annabelle so angry in years.”

  “Annabelle didn’t seem to have the wit to realize Abby wasn’t interested in going out and became a little too persistent in her attentions. Abby brushed her off, which didn’t sit too well. She’s used to getting what she wants. Is that not so?”

  “She’s a desirable woman and seems to be able to get anyone she pleases.”

  “If I were you, I would review your friendship with the woman. I don’t like her, Vic. She’s so…so bourgeoisie.”

  “She’d hate you for saying that,” said Victoria with a laugh. “Perhaps it is time, though, that she and I had a talk.”

  Chantal patted her arm. “Come, my friend, let’s discuss more pleasant things. Who would you like to go with you on the trip, Karen or Emily?”

  “Not Grace?”

  A red-nailed finger waggled. “She can kick butt.”

  “Yeah, probably mine before we even get out of the country.”

  Chantal studied her intently. “You haven’t answered my question?”

  “Um…I haven’t decided.”

  “You’re being very evasive. You’re not one to procrastinate over decisions. I think Karen would be the ideal companion. She’s bright and very personable.”

  “Well…oh, here’s Jan back. I think most people are ready to head home. I must say my goodbyes,” said Victoria and rose quickly.

  * * *

  Abby collected her purse to join the queue out the door and Chantal appeared at her side. “You have a lift home, chérie?”

  “I’ll ask the butler to ring for a cab. I didn’t bring my car.”

  “I would be most happy to drive you. Where do you live?”

  “Neutral Bay. It’s sure to be out of your way so I won’t put you out.”

  Chantal smiled. “I am not far away so it will be no trouble at all. Besides, I am not ready to part with your company. We will have more time to get to know each other.”

  Abby squeezed her arm. “I’d like that.”

  Their hosts and Victoria waited at the door to bid them goodbye. Jan winked as she slipped a piece of paper into Abby’s hand. “My mobile phone number. Give me a ring on Tuesday,” she murmured.

  Malcolm shook her hand with a mumble of farewell. He looked embarrassed. Victoria awkwardly thrust out her hand. Abby gazed at it for a long moment and instead of clasping it, leant forward to mutter in her ear. “Not everybody can be bought.”

  The dark eyes glinted and a whisper floated back, “Everyone’s got a price.”

  As Chantal helped her into the car, Abby looked back to see Victoria staring at them, a frown on her face. She resisted the urge to thrust a finger in the air before she clipped on the seat belt.

  “Well, that was an interesting night,” said Chantal as she manoeuvred the Jag into the traffic.

  “You can say that again,” said Abby. She snuggled back in the seat and savoured the scent of perfume mixed with new leather. “Nice car.”

  Chantal chuckled. “One of my vices. I adore fast cars.”

  “Me too. One day I’m going to get one like this. I may just be able to afford it now in a few years.”

  “Ah, you sound happy about something.”

  “Oh, yes. Jan’s commissioned me to do a portrait of Malcolm. My Archibald entry created quite a stir in a positive way. My art may just take off after all. It’ll be so good to be able to paint for a living.”

  “That’s simply wonderful news. Then Victoria didn’t ruin your reputation after all? She did in fact, do you a good turn.”

  Abby hesitated, tempted not to comment on the assertion, but was compelled to answer when Chantal added, “Is that not so?”

  “I guess,” she said with reluctance. “But that doesn’t excuse her behaviour.”

  “I think perhaps she regrets what she said.”

  “You can think that, but I’m more of a realist. Victoria considers me beneath her.”

  Chantal leaned gently on the brake to stop at the red light and turned to face Abby. “Ah, so that is the problem. You imagine Vic considers she’s better than you.”

  “She does look down on me.”

  “She may be arrogant in some ways, but she definitely isn’t a snob. Now, I have a question. You are passionate about your art, yes?”

  “It’s my life. I would wither away without it.”

  Chantal looked wistful. “I envy you. It has been a long time since I have felt such enthusiasm. I would like very much to see some of your canvases.”

  “You should come by my studio,” said Abby shyly.

  “You would perhaps allow me to take you to dinner next Friday night? Afterwards you can give me a private showing. Is it a date?”

  “Mais oui. I’d be delighted.”

  “I will look forward to it,” Chantal replied as she pressed down on the accelerator again.

  Abby leaned closer and voiced what she had wanted to all night, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “You want to hear about Victoria and me, of course.”

  “Um…I am a little curious. You seem more than friends. Were you ever lovers?”

  “We knew each other many years ago. In London, when we were both developing our careers. We had a short affair, oui, but were we ever in love? Non, only in lust. We were young and our hormones raged. The affair was fun while it lasted and we parted as friends. She is more complicated now, I think. And so in control!” A soft rain had begun to patter the windshield and Chantal clicked on the wipers. “It would be fascinating to see my friend tied up in knots by love, though it would take an extraordinary woman to do that. Now it is my turn to be personal. You prefer women?”

  Abby gave a little hop in her seat at the directness of the question. “Yes. I knew I liked girls when I was in high school, but…well, it was difficult.”

  “How so?”

  “The friends I knocked around with never mentioned anything like that. Then I had a giant crush on a year twelve girl when I was in year ten. It was huge deal to me. I used to go out of my way just to be near her. I think she liked me too, because she was always staring at me.”

  “You never spoke to her about it?”

  Abby gave a little sigh. “No. The end of the year came and I never saw her again. I still think about her occasionally.”

  Chantal turned her head from the road momentarily to look at Abby. “You haven’t been with a woman?”

  Abby shook her head, conscious the sophisticated woman must be finding her pitiful. “No, I never met anyone who was a lesbian when I left school, though I wouldn’t have recognized one if I fell over them. No one ever approached me and so I did what every other girl was doing, I dated boys. When I was twenty-three, I met Damian and we went out for two years, but eventually I couldn’t stand him touching me. It was a nightmare.”

  Chantal gave a murmur of sympathy. “Not a good situation to be in.”

  “Defini
tely not. I enjoyed the sex well enough at first, but I knew something wasn’t right, that there should be more to it than just a quick orgasm.” Abby gave a sniff, “When I was lucky enough to have one, that is.”

  “So what happened?”

  Abby shuddered in remembrance. “I eventually told him I wanted to break up, though I didn’t exactly pick a good time. It was while he was driving me home from the movies. He didn’t take it very well and carried on like a pork chop, so I got out of the car and walked the rest of the way.”

  “So…did you date much after that?”

  “Nope. I knew by then I’d never be happy with a man. The trouble was, Mum needed me more and more, and I was flat-out trying to paint and work as well. And where we lived, people didn’t exactly embrace gay people. There are lots of bigoted dickheads around, Chantal, and it’s certainly a deterrent to come out of the closet.”

  The older woman tapped her hand on the wheel briefly. “You poor love. You are comfortable with liking women now?”

  “Oh, yes. We moved to Sydney and I met a gay man at work. He taught me it was nothing to be ashamed of. Then I plucked up the courage and told Mum. She was great about it.” She gave a wry smile. “I started downloading lesbian books; I’ve accumulated quite a library. At least I know what to do—some authors certainly don’t hold back with the titillating bits. Not that it’s done me much good. I’m too busy, and shy, to go out and meet anyone.”

  Chantal laughed. “I suspect you will catch up soon enough. Now tell me more about your family.”

  Conversation flowed easily the rest of the way as they shared details of their lives. Abby loved the process of discovery in a fledgling friendship. They had formed a definite connection when, all too soon, they reached her house.

  “The drive was rather short, I’m afraid,” said Chantal with regret. “I will walk you to the door.”

  “Do you want to come in for coffee?”

  “Not tonight. It is very late.” She stroked her finger down Abby’s face before she kissed her, first on one cheek, then the other, letting her lips linger. “Goodbye, chérie. Until Friday.”