Flashback Read online

  ‘Points?’

  ‘Yeah, you know, different foods have different points. Chocolate uses heaps of points but a carrot for example has hardly any. So you have a maximum number of points for the week and you use them how you like.’

  ‘Sounds complicated.’

  ‘It’s not that hard, and there’s a phone app. She’s always got her phone with her.’

  Josie either didn’t know or didn’t care that her voice carried into the surrounding offices quite clearly. Despite her amusement Beth was mildly insulted. Being tall meant she could get away with carrying a few extra kilos and like every woman she did want to lose two or three. But she wasn’t quite ready for weigh ins or the points system yet.

  Besides Josie was hardly one to talk. Everybody knew that while she publicly filled in her uniform order form as size 12, she secretly faxed the clothing company later amending it to size 16.

  Leanne nodded. ‘Could be I guess, but don’t you have to be kind of uh, fat, to go there? She has a nice enough figure.’

  Josie busied herself putting some reports in sequence to hide her blush. ‘I really wouldn’t know, I’m just going by what I’ve heard other people say about it.’

  Leanne nodded and let it rest. She didn’t have the energy to be harangued yet again about the thin genes she had been blessed with.

  * * * * *

  As the fourth Saturday of the month approached, Beth began working on her speech. Gordon had jokingly called it her “initiation” to the group and she was determined to get it right. She even started eating lunch at her desk so she could spend more time on it.

  Gordon had told her not to stress – that it was not make or break – but she didn’t see it like that. Beth had done enough public speaking to be able to gauge audience reaction quickly and she couldn’t bear the thought of pouring her heart out only to receive blank stares of disinterest or worse still looks of pity because it was so bad.

  Merrily typing away one lunch time, Beth finally understood the saying “in the zone”. It was like nothing around her mattered – the traffic noise outside, the constant hum of the printer just outside her door or the squeal of the fax machine. All she cared about were the words in front of her.

  So, it was a rude shock when her computer screen suddenly froze. She paused for a moment, waiting for it to come back to life. Maybe she had just been typing too fast, she thought wryly.

  After thirty seconds with no response, she started shaking her mouse. Still nothing. Getting a little more desperate she hit the home key and got the same result.

  Bloody hell!

  She had deliberately set the document to save only on her memory stick because she didn’t want any evidence of it on her work computer. But that was neither here nor there when said document was displayed on her monitor in a 16 point font for all to see.

  After five nerve-wracking minutes Beth yanked the memory stick out of the USB drive. There was still no response and her words remained stuck on the screen. Drumming her fingers on the desk she pondered her next move. IT had a strict policy that any computer problems had to be referred to them and under no circumstances were you supposed to reset your own machine.

  Peering out her office door Beth could see Josie approaching. Still miffed about the whole gym thing, of late she had been even more nasty than usual. Beth’s heart started to pound at the thought of the other woman discovering her secret and blabbing it to the rest of the staff.

  Too bad about IT policy she decided, and reached down and hit the power switch. Her screen went blank just as Josie reached her doorway, where she paused to direct a cool stare at Beth, before continuing down the hallway.

  Although she feigned innocence, the computer blip that caused the office server to crash was eventually traced back to Beth’s computer. All the staff watched as Adam strode down towards her office and closed the door with a resounding click.

  Beth met his eyes briefly then looked down again. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled.

  Adam shook his head. ‘I’m supposed to be reading you the riot act you know,’ he said in a mock stern voice. ‘We could have lost vital client files and other office documents, not to mention the hour of wasted productivity.’

  Beth nodded. ‘Sorry,’ she said again.

  ‘As luck would have it, the backup had just finished so no real harm was done.’

  ‘That’s good to hear.’

  ‘I guess that Word document must be something confidential then.’

  Startled, Beth looked up again, then nodded slowly.

  ‘I didn’t look at it,’ he assured her, ‘and I binned it before anybody else did.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Beth whispered.

  ‘Look I’m not sure what’s going on with you Beth, but people are starting to talk. You’ve always been well respected around here so whatever it is I just hope it’s worth it. You don’t want to mess up all your hard work.’

  Beth met his gaze for a long moment before replying. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘to me it’s definitely worth it.’

  ‘Well in that case, consider yourself officially chastised.’

  Beth nodded. ‘I’m self-flagellating on the inside.’

  They both laughed and Adam stood to leave. He had his hand on the doorknob when he suddenly turned back around. ‘So, how about that drink you’ve been rain-checking me for months?’ he murmured as colour flushed his neck and face. ‘I reckon you owe met at least a light beer.’

  Beth’s eyes met his for a moment. He really was kind of cute in a nerdy way and he’d just saved her skin. Why not?

  ‘Sure. Friday after work?’

  Adam couldn’t contain his grin. ‘Yeah, you bet!’

  Beth was startled by the sound of applause.

  Looking up she smiled shyly and was greeted with grins of encouragement in return as well as many compliments.

  ‘Great piece,’ Gordon said warmly. ‘We’re so glad you took the leap of faith and joined us here.

  ‘Fantastic,’ agreed Jeannie. ‘You’ve got a real knack with humour.’

  ‘You’re a writer all right,’ added Larry. ‘Don’t let them accountants drum it out of you any longer.’

  ‘Thank you!’ she said, still a little stunned.

  Clutching her sheaf of papers, she sat down and grinned again.

  Sure, it was just a small step. After all the Westlands Writers Group was hardly the breeding ground for the Pulitzer Prize. But it was the small step that just might lead her somewhere.

  The meeting had been a good reality check too, Beth acknowledged as she drove home. She knew now that writing was a tough gig and that beyond an absolute miracle she had no hope of earning anywhere near what she did in her current job. She would have to rethink her bold plans to immediately quit Lloyd and Morgan and leave the corporate world behind. But she was willing to make a start and dedicate at least a small part of her energy to the creative side she had locked away for so long.

  In just two hours today she had been energised by the ideas and tips that had flowed around her, the most important of which was to make time to write. She wasn’t sure yet which she would sacrifice – her lunch hour, gym visits, TV viewing or even sleep – but she was going to find half an hour a day to put pen to paper.

  Starting tomorrow.

  Because tonight she had her first official date with Adam.

  Pseudo

  Thanks to the timer on her De’Longhi, Isabelle woke each morning to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Stretching leisurely, she inhaled the decadent aroma and snuggled under the covers for a few minutes longer, safe in the knowledge her first lecture for the day wasn’t until ten o’clock.

  Ah, the luxury of student life!

  As always, Isabelle began her day by looking up at her image hanging on the wall at the opposite end of her bed. Her purchase, and subsequent framing, of an official print of her first and only front page article hung there as a constant reminder of just what she had managed to pull off.

  Even though she’d kn
own it was coming, seeing her image splashed across the front page of The Courier Mail had still taken Isabelle by surprise. Not only was it a much bigger picture than she had expected but she had also made the Saturday edition, with its much larger circulation!

  Isabelle could imagine her old school teachers and former classmates picking up the paper and their eyes widening in amazement as they read the headline ‘The Face of UQ’. They must certainly have wondered how Isabelle Mathers, a below average student with an OP in the twenties teamed with zero ambition, had managed such a feat.

  According to the article it was by way of hard work and soul searching. Isabelle had described herself as a ‘late bloomer’ who took some time out to explore the working world and ‘took the alternative scenic route’ to bolster her school results to gain entry to the institution of her choice.

  In reality it had been much easier than that and Isabelle still couldn’t quite fathom she had gotten away with it.

  The tiny township of Blue Moon Lake was dark and silent as Isabelle drove along the dirt road to her grandparent’s holiday shack. It was looking tired now – being almost 50 years old – but to Isabelle it would always be a magic place, filled with memories of idyllic childhood summer holidays. Grandpa was dead now and Gran had recently moved into a retirement village, but she refused to let the old place be sold – for which Isabelle was very grateful.

  During this, her twenty-first year, Isabelle found herself visiting the shack on a depressingly regular basis. Not that it was an awful place to go, rather it was depressing because she had so little else to do with her time. Using reasoning she had borrowed from an episode of Seinfeld, Isabelle theorised that if she went to the lake at least she was out of her flat. So while she may do as little at the shack as she would at home, she was ‘away for the weekend’ and thus not as much of a loser.

  The trip to Blue Moon Lake took two hours and twenty minutes door to door, so if she left Brisbane by seven Isabelle was at the house by nine thirty, just in time to open a bottle of wine and watch a DVD on her laptop. Gran and Grandpa had always had an iron clad rule there was to be no TV in the house and Isabelle couldn’t bring herself to break it.

  By the time Saturday afternoon rolled around, Isabelle had worked her way through two seasons of Seinfeld and all her food rations. Quiet even in the summer months, Blue Moon Lake was like a tomb in winter, especially on bleak, rainy days like today.

  Shifting her position on the sagging armchair, she unwrapped the last Mintie from the bag and popped it in her mouth, pondering just how she’d ended up here – pathetic and lonely.

  Having no interest in school, she had attended for social rather than academic reasons. Her boyfriend Nick and best friend Gina were of the same mindset and all three had exited the school gates with little more than signed uniforms and a class photo.

  They hadn’t let it hold them back though. Leaving their small home town and sharing a flat in Brisbane had been a blast. They soon realised there were entry-level jobs out there that didn’t require great school results or even good results.

  Totally wrapped up in their own little world, the trio rarely socialised with their workmates or old school friends who had also made the move to Brissie. Instead they were content to spend their evenings and weekends ensconced on the couch watching movies, spending time on-line and playing video games. Eating out meant a trip to Maccas or KFC, so there was no need to worry about how little they earnt.

  Sure they moaned about their horrible jobs, but it was just what people did. They didn’t care enough to do anything about it.

  Caught up in her reverie Isabella jumped when her mobile phone rang. Checking the screen before she connected, she rolled her eyes and shook her head. Her boss Edward – perfect! She could just ignore the call, but past experience told her he would just keep ringing at increasingly frequent intervals until she answered.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Yes, Isabelle I really need to speak to you. Can you come into the office in one hour?’

  ‘No, I’m away for the weekend Edward. Is there a problem?’

  ‘No, not one problem specifically – more like a range of them. Come and see me immediately when you arrive on Monday.’

  ‘Yes Edward,’ Isabelle murmured, before disconnecting the call. Tentacles of panic blossomed in her gut, reaching up to encircle her chest and throat. As much as she hated her office job in the small bathroom supply business, she needed it.

  Isabelle had been the last man standing when Nick and then Gina decided to get more serious about life. She had ignored the TAFE brochures and laughed when they started applying for better jobs and encouraged her to do the same. She had also ignored the signs that Nick and Gina had become a couple, right until the day they announced they were moving out, together.

  ‘You’re never going to amount to anything Isabelle,’ Nick had told her as he hauled boxes of his belongings out the front door.

  After she’d gotten over the devastation of being betrayed by the two people closest to her, Isabelle realised what a flow on effect this created. Her social life as she knew it had evaporated in an instant and she was suddenly very much alone, with a horrible job and a massive weekly rent bill.

  Thus began her regular pilgrimages to Blue Moon Lake.

  It was getting dark by the time Isabelle trudged down to the general store/newsagent for more supplies. The cosy temperature inside the shop was enticing and, having plenty of time to kill, she took her time flipping through the magazine display and dawdling over her meal selection. Should she get nacho cheese or salsa flavoured corn chips? Caramel chocolate or peppermint? Cookies ‘n’ cream ice cream or a Vienetta?

  Elsie, the elderly shopkeeper, eyed Isabelle suspiciously. They had always had a somewhat hostile association, although Isabelle couldn’t put her finger on why. No unpleasant words had ever been exchanged, yet it was clear to both of them that they didn’t like each other. Realising it was almost closing time Isabelle finally made her way to the cash register and dumped her magazines and junk food on the counter.

  Elsie rang up the purchases briskly, as if she had far more important things to be doing than serving the likes of a young woman in trackie dacks and thongs. Isabelle had always thought Elsie harboured a secret fantasy that somebody important was going to walk through the shop door one day and she didn’t want to be seen associating with the riff raff.

  ‘Anything else then?’ Elsie asked, with a tight smile.

  Isabelle flashed an insincere grin in return. ‘Uh, yes actually. I’ll have a two dollar scratchie thanks. One of those new Rainbow ones.’

  Elsie eyed the younger woman for a second, apparently fighting the desire to refuse service. ‘You’re sure you wouldn’t prefer one of these Easter Egg ones?’ she asked, indicating the rolls of tickets under the counter. ‘They’re still perfectly valid even though Easter has been and gone.’

  ‘No, I’d really like a rainbow one, thanks,’ Isabelle replied, with another insincere smile. The rainbow tickets were a new promotion with higher jackpots and Elsie had shoved them over to the side, obviously to discourage people buying them until the older stock had gone.

  ‘Right,’ Elsie snapped. Leaning over she ripped a ticket off with much more force than necessary and shoved it into the too-small bag she had crammed the rest of Isabelle’s purchases in. ‘That’ll be twenty-three dollars, forty-three thanks.’

  Isabelle fought the urge to roll her eyes. Almost two decades after the demise of copper coins, Elsie still insisted on pricing in one and two cent increments and only rounded up, never down. Pulling a fifty dollar note out of her purse, she slapped it down on the counter.

  Elsie slapped the change down in much the same way and Isabelle departed without either of them uttering another word.

  It wasn’t until several hours, and a bottle of wine, later that Isabelle remembered the scratchie. Rummaging through the discarded food wrappings and magazines, she finally came across the ticket. Using her thumbnail, an
d destroying an expensive acrylic nail in the process, she scratched the silver coating away to reveal three little sailboats. Cool, she thought, I’ve probably won two bucks and I’ll have to go and annoy Elsie a little more by cashing it in tomorrow.

  After scratching the prize panel, Isabelle’s heart lurched. She must be drunker than she thought! According to the legend, three boats equalled a prize of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

  Rubbing her eyes and pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, Isabelle checked the ticket again. Yes, it was definitely right.

  She had just become a wealthy young woman!

  Not sure of what else to do Isabelle collapsed onto the floor and began to laugh hysterically.

  * * * * * *

  It took a few weeks for the idea to fully form. Although Isabella immediately resigned from her job – just before being sacked she suspected – and went to the Golden Casket office in Woolloongabba in person to pick up her prize cheque, she put off telling anybody about her win. She needed time to think and plan…

  Naturally enough her first thoughts were of the exotic travel she could do, the new car and wardrobe…and maybe even a deposit on a unit of her own. But amidst all these materialistic thoughts, Nick’s words about her never amounting to anything kept replaying in her head.

  Sure the money would let her do anything she wanted for now, but she would still be unqualified, unemployed and lonely. Holidays were not much fun by yourself and who could she invite over to her new place?

  The old saying was right – money by itself did not make you happy. No, it would have to be what she did with the money. But what?