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Archive for the 'Season 3' Category

Season 3: Episode 3

June 21, 2011

Mia pulled the door to the Pilates studio closed behind her and double-checked to make sure it was locked. She let the winter sunlight melt over her skin, closing her eyes for a second to bask in it. Originally from Singapore, Mia felt the cold much more than native Melbournians. She often wondered why she had chosen this city as her home, given that most of the year she spent hunched inside a huge jacket waiting for when it was going to defrost enough to wear a t-shirt. Still, she did love this place, and occasionally – like today – Melbourne would surprise her with a day of glorious winter sunshine.

She walked slowly down the back streets, avoiding the Saturday throng of people meandering from one coffee shop to another. She had no plans for the rest of the afternoon or evening and was planning on keeping it that way. She thought she might sit in their back garden with a book to soak up some of the late afternoon rays, then perhaps a gin and tonic, DVD and sleep?

Perfect, thought Mia, stretching like a contented cat as she walked home.

Pondering over which movie she felt like watching, she didn’t notice the man dressed in dark denim and sunglasses round the corner. He was concentrating intently on his phone and wasn’t looking where he was going either. Mia yelped in surprise as she walked headlong into him, almost tripping over. He was carrying a Tupperware container, which looked as though it may topple out of his hands, but he managed to save it with a skilful balancing manoeuvre.

“Oh I’m sorry… Mia?”

Mia blinked, the sunlight momentarily blinding her. She knew that voice.

“Johnny?”

He laughed. “Yeah, sorry, wasn’t looking where I was going.”

As one does, they exchanged pleasantries about the weather and life in general before an awkward silence kicked in. Johnny looked about nervously and Mia chewed her lip.

“What are you doing now?” asked Johnny suddenly.

Mia blinked. “Um, nothing. I’m just on my way home.”

“Come to a party with me.”

“What? Now?”

Johnny grinned. “Yeah, the house is just there.”

He pointed to a gorgeous weatherboard cottage a few doors down. Creeping foliage coiled around the front porch posts and hung lusciously over the entrance.

“But I’m not invited,” Mia protested.

“Trust me, it’ll be fine. The more the merrier.”

“Whose party is it? Someone I know?”

“No,” said Johnny simply. He wasn’t giving anything away.

Mia realised that she didn’t know any of Johnny’s other friends outside of Willow and Ana. She had images of bikini clad girls stoking a barbeque and splashing in a paddling pool, even though it was winter; Ageing hispters standing around and looking bored, drinking obscure Scandinavian larger.

“It’s going to be filled with girls young enough to be my daughter, isn’t it?” said Mia sarcastically.

Johnny winked. “Oh, you have no idea. Come on, it’ll be a blast.”

He grabbed her hand before she could protest and pulled her along. Mia groaned inwardly. Why did she do this to herself?

Johnny rang the doorbell and waited, flashing another smile at Mia. She heard footsteps barrelling down the hall and the door swung open.

“Uncle Johnnyyyyyyyyyy!”

At first Mia didn’t see who had spoken, but she dropped her gaze a few feet and was greeted by the site of a little girl who was dressed in a purple tutu, purple tights and sparkly purple shoes. A purple and silver tiara rested crookedly atop her chestnut curls and she brandished a wand that was, predictably, purple.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” said Johnny, leaning down and scooping the small child up with his free arm.

She giggled, shouting “Put me down! Put me down!” and beating him with her wand.

“Ivy, this is my friend Mia,” he said, resting her on the ground again. “Today is Ivy’s fifth birthday,” he explained to Mia.

“I’m grown up now,” said Ivy seriously, gracing Mia with a deep curtsey. She turned back to Johnny. “Today you have to call me princess Ivy, because I’m a princess.” She indicated to her outfit. “See?”

“Johnny! You made it,” a beautiful, tall woman who Mia took to be Ivy’s mother came striding down the hall, swooping to clear the balloons out of the way.

“You told me you would never bring a date to a five year olds birthday party,” she scolded, kissing Johnny’s cheek then holding out her hand warmly to Mia. “I’m Helen, Johnny’s sister.”

“Oh, I’m not…”

Johnny interrupted. “This is Mia, an old friend.”

He handed the Tupperware box he was carrying to Helen, who looked inside and chuckled.

“Ivy, come and look what Johnny made for you.”

Ivy charged down the hall again, squealing and clapping her hands in delight as her mother lowered the box for her to look at. Nestled inside were little tiny edible teacups – marshmallows resting on cookies, with tiny sugar handles. Mia’s mouth almost fell open in surprise and she glanced at Johnny, who winked at her again.

“I’m pretty handy in the kitchen,” he said as he led her towards the back of the house, stopping briefly to procure two glasses of champagne on the way through.

There were about fifty people gathered in the back garden, all laughing and talking. Children were running wild everywhere, screams of delight and occasionally a few tears breaking up the adult conversation. Johnny was greeted warmly by everyone, and introduced Mia to groups of people whose names she promptly forgot. After Johnny had done the rounds and played the requisite games with the birthday girl, he steered Mia towards a quiet corner, snaffling two chocolate crackles on the way.

“I didn’t even know you had any siblings,” said Mia, in between bites of the rice bubbles and chocolate. She hadn’t had one of these for probably fifteen years.

Johnny shrugged. “I guess you never asked.”

Mia nodded slowly. She was beginning to think there were plenty of things she didn’t know about Johnny.

The rest of the afternoon passed in beautiful blur of sunshine, champagne and birthday cake. The edible teacups were a hit with the kids and Johnny had already given out the recipe to at least six other people. Johnny made Mia feel so at ease and she could barely believe this was the same womanising heartbreaker she knew.

Or, thought she knew. She gazed intently at his profile, wondering if she actually knew this man at all. He looked over and caught her staring. Mia didn’t drop her eyes. A sexy smile spread slowly over his face.

He leant forward and put his mouth close to her ear. “Want to get out of here?”

Mia felt shivers of anticipation run down her spine and nodded wordlessly. She didn’t trust her voice to behave.

“Let me just say goodbye to Helen and we can disappear,” he said.

Mia took the opportunity to go into the kitchen and get a glass of water. The champagne had made her lightheaded. She could hear two people in the living room, talking.

“Did you see the girl with Johnny,” a voice said, disdainfully. “I wonder if she knows he’s slept with most of the women here. Even the married ones.”

The other women gasped. “No!”

“It’s true. He’s even tried his charms on me. I said no, of course.”

“Of course!”

“I mean, I’m happily married, but you know what people like him are like. They’ll try it on with anyone.”

Suddenly the wonderful giddiness of the champagne dissipated and Mia came crashing back to reality. Of course. That was the Johnny she knew.

“Ready?” she spun around and saw Johnny waiting, their jackets over his arm.

“I’m… um… I have to go.”

Mia grabbed her coat from him and rushed out the front door.

Johnny stood there staring after her. Two women peered their heads through the door of the living room. He recognised one of them as a horrible friend of Helen’s who flirted outrageously with him whenever she saw him. He’d had to firmly turn her down on several separate occasions. Obviously in a terrible marriage and looking for some kind of escape. She eyed Johnny coolly and looked pointedly at her friend, before they withdrew their faces from the doorway.

Johnny took out his phone to call Mia, but hesitated.

That’s it, thought Johnny. That’s enough. This is too exhausting.

He pushed his phone back into his pocket, frustrated. If they couldn’t even hang out together without having a fight it was never going to work. His shoulders sagged and he started the long walk home, pulling the collar of his jacket up to shield himself from the cool evening air.

Season 3: Episode 2

June 14, 2011

There was no light peeping through the cracks between curtain and wall as Willow opened her eyes. This meant one of two things: It was either still really early and she could go back to sleep or it was a miserable day and there was no sunshine. A quick check of her alarm clock informed her it was the latter. Eight am and miserably overcast. Sitting up in bed, wrapped in her warm covers, Willow peeked behind the curtain to ascertain just how wintery it actually was out there. The trees that lined the street were furiously licking the grey sky and the ground was sodden. She could hear the swoosh of cars as they drove through the puddles of water that had formed on the road overnight. She groaned and lay back in bed, pulling the covers closer around her. It was just so typical that the weather was like this on her day off.

When Willow padded downstairs a little while later the house was empty and quiet, the others having already gone out. She opened the fridge and surveyed the contents for breakfast options. She salivated at the thought of poached eggs with wilted spinach on fresh sourdough. Perhaps with homemade hash browns on the side. Sighing, she realised that this dream would only eventuate if she actually went to the markets. She made herself a coffee and sat at the kitchen bench, weighing up the pros and cons of this venture.

Pro: Fresh eggs.

Con: Possibility of seeing The Italian.

Pro: Handmade butter on still-warm sourdough.

Con: Possibility of still being attracted to The Italian.

Pro: Necessary ingredients gathered that would enable a day of cooking, undoubtedly a favourite pastime in weather such as this.

Con: Possibility of being charmed yet again by The Italian and ending up in bed with him. (in different circumstances definitely not a con, but she did have her pride to think of!)

Her stomach grumbled. She drained the last of her coffee and, in a moment of intoxicating bravado, made the executive decision that today was the day to face her demons. She couldn’t hide from The Italian forever, after all.

In an out and out display of how completely over Carlo she was, she deliberately put on her least sexy outfit: Jeans that were fashionable around the time that Will Smith was still known as the Fresh Prince and a jumper that Madonna, pre revival, would have been proud of. Catching a glimpse of herself on the way out, however, made her scurry back inside and get changed. There was really no excuse for those jeans. Finally, settling on the Melbourne uniform of skinny black jeans, jumper and coat, she left the house, umbrella under arm.

***

The sun had managed to peek through the ominous storm clouds and small shafts of light were ricocheting off the tops of buildings as she strode from her car to the entrance of the markets. She walked with purpose, shopping trolley bouncing haphazardly off the uneven paving stones, daring anyone to mess with her. Although she felt calm and confident, she conceded it might be wise to keep to the sections she knew there was little chance of running into him. His father’s stall was in the far left corner, so Willow stuck to the top right. All the stall owners there still knew her, and she was met with cries of “Where have you been?” and “We’ve missed you” and offered gifts of silverbeet, oranges and fresh herbs tied up with string. These were, of course, a few of her favourite things.

She was deep in discussion with one of the fruiters about the perfect picking time for granny smith apples when he saw her.

“Willow?”

His face broke into a wide grin. “I thought it was you. I would recognise you anywhere.”

Willow’s knees went a little weak and her heart started beating a bit faster. This is exactly what she’d been afraid of. He looked as good as ever. Better even, if that was possible. His thick, dark hair had grown and fell casually over his forehead. Long lashes framed his eyes, which were set off by the navy jumper he was wearing, the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular, tanned forearms. How he managed to get a tan during Melbourne winter was beyond her. She murmured a greeting, unsure of exactly what her voice was going to do, as he leant in to kiss her cheek. She couldn’t help but inhale his spicy, warm scent.

“Can I talk to you?” He took her by the hand and pulled her away from the crowd. “In private?”

Once again, Willow found herself powerless in the presence of this man, and allowed herself to be dragged along to a quiet corner of the markets.

“I have been a fool,” he said to her, clasping both her hands and looking deep into her eyes. “I realised after you left that day that I’ve never met anyone like you.”

He paused to gauge her reaction, pulling her closer when she made no move to escape.

“I want to start again, to make amends for everything that happened. Will you let me do that beautiful Willow?”

His voice had dropped to a throaty whisper and she could feel his warm breath on her face. Maybe they could start again? Maybe she could make him as happy as he’d made her? Maybe…

Someone bumped into Willow from behind and she was awoken from her daydream. What the hell was she thinking? This guy was a skeeze who had used her in the worst possible way. And why, all of a sudden, had he decided that she was the one for him? Unless…

“She left you,” Willow said, a smirk slowly forming on her lips.

Carlo looked uncomfortable. “No, we… I… decided that…”

Willow extracted herself from his grasp.

“You’ve had to move out of her house, which doesn’t suit you because you can’t exactly take girls back to your parents place, can you?”

Carlo was shifting from one foot to the other, his eyes darting around looking for an escape. “No Willow, you know that is not true. What we had…”

She cut him off, her voice calm but sharp. “What we had was a night of sex at your girlfriend’s house while she was out of town on business. That’s all.” She took her trolley and smiled at him, pityingly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have shopping to do.”

Carlo watched bewildered as she melted into the crowd, her shopping trolley bobbing merrily behind her, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

***

Willow stood in the kitchen triumphantly slicing granny smith apples and pears, still relishing in her newfound power. Almost predictably, Destiny’s Child’s Independent Women had shuffled its way on her iPod and was blaring through the speakers at the moment that Ana and Mia walked through the door. They could smell melted butter, caramelised sugar and baking fruit, which meant only one thing: Willow was making crumble.

“How was your day?” asked Ana, uncorking a bottle of Italian wine that she was astonished to find in the fridge. For months now there had been a moratorium on all things Italian, so she was pleasantly surprised that it seemed to have been lifted overnight.

Willow smiled and her eyes twinkled. She got out the glasses and, over piping hot bowls of apple and pear crumble with custard, regaled her friends with a wonderful tale of one woman kicking butt.

Season 3: Episode 1

June 7, 2011

It was Saturday afternoon and Ana was sitting in the kitchen, consumed by her thoughts. She absently took a sip of the tea in front of her only to realise that she had neglected it for too long and it was now stone cold. She grimaced as she swallowed the mouthful and tipped the rest down the sink. She felt restless and anxious. Couldn’t focus. The tight knot in her stomach was so disturbingly familiar, that she couldn’t even remember how it was to feel Normal. Whatever that meant.

Tom was being weird and distant. Had been for days. Since the night of the function, he wouldn’t look directly at her when he spoke and he was spending too many nights at the office. Ana was sure that it was so he could avoid her, but when she’d tried to talk to him about it – to explain for the hundredth time that she didn’t know Marc had hired her – he brushed her off, saying that she was reading too much into things.

“I’m busy with work,” he’d said. “Just chill out. Everything’s fine.”

Chill out? How on earth she was meant to chill out, Ana didn’t know. She felt as though the best thing that had ever happened to her was slipping through her fingers, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop it. If she didn’t know better, Ana would have suspected he was having an affair.

There’s no way though, she thought, her anxiety peaking again. Not Tom.

She glanced at the clock, glad that Mia and Willow were due any minute, hoping that they would arrive brimming with culinary inspiration. In an attempt to draw Tom out of his shell, Ana had decided it would be a good idea to throw an informal dinner party tonight. But, best laid plans… Johnny had phoned earlier with an incredibly obtuse reason for why he couldn’t make it, and Ana still hadn’t gotten a straight answer from Tom as to whether he was even going to turn up.

She sighed and put the kettle on again, more for something to do than the desire for another cup of tea, before deciding that 5:30pm was a perfectly reasonable hour to open a bottle of wine.

Half a bottle of a delicious Pinot Gris later and still no sign of the others, she decided that cooking was perfect way to occupy her mind. She surveyed the contents of the kitchen sceptically: A few tins of beans, miso paste, some limp celery, potatoes that had seen better days, and something in a bowl that resembled a green hedgehog. Willow usually did the grocery shopping – she knew about little tucked away places that the others didn’t even realise existed – but since the Italian grocer had broken her heart, the poor kitchen cupboards had been seriously neglected.

After some deliberation, she discarded the furry mammal carefully, topped up her glass, and set to work creating something from, literally, all the other food they had in the house. By the time Mia and Willow arrived home the house was filled with the smell of hearty vegetable and bean soup, and Ana was full of Pinot Gris.

***

Much to Ana’s surprise, Tom turned up about half an hour later, full of warm smiles and hugs for the other two girls. He turned his cheek when Ana leant in to kiss him so that she ended up smooching the air and nearly falling forward.

“I don’t think you need any of this,” he said jokingly, holding up the bottle of Chablis that he had bought.

She looked at him, hurt, but he was already busy asking Willow about how her school term was shaping up and what she thought of the new state government’s approach to education. Ana fumed silently, but dedicated herself to final dinner preparations. Now wasn’t the time.

“Let’s eat!” she said, more brightly than she felt.

Tom’s phone rang as he sat at the table and he jumped up to answer it, moving immediately to the other room and pulling the door behind him. She could hear muffled laughter as he spoke to whoever was on the other end. He returned a few moments later and didn’t meet her eye.

“Who was that?” she said, not meaning for her voice to sound as accusing as it did.

He reached for a piece of bread. “Work.”

“On a Saturday night?”

“Yes.”

“What did they want?”

Tom stared at her.

What am I doing? thought Ana. The filter between her brain and her mouth had diminished significantly with the third glass of Pinot and she knew better than to get into such a stupid fight after she’d had a few drinks.

“Why?” he asked after a long pause.

Ana shrugged and picked up her figurative shovel. “It just sounded awfully friendly for a work call.”

He put down his spoon and rolled his eyes. “What, you think it’s another woman? That I’m having an affair?”

Ana dropped her gaze. “No.”

“Because really, Ana, I think you’ve got the charter on affairs in this relationship, don’t you?”

The room was silent. Willow and Mia shifted uncomfortably in their seats, keeping their eyes well averted from the duelling couple. Ana gently folded her napkin and stood up from the table.

She spoke to Tom quietly, her voice trembling, close to tears. “Decide how long you want to punish me, Tom, and let me know. I can’t keep doing this forever.”

She turned and left the room, walking slowly upstairs. Tom hung his head and made no move to follow her.