Page 16 of What Did I Miss?

High tea at Cloverhill Estate is in full swing when Makayla tiptoes into the dining room twenty minutes late.

The round tables are covered in French linen and white rose centrepieces.

It’s easy to spot Trish – nobody could miss the wide-brimmed fascinator perched on the side of her head.

No doubt she had it hand-crafted by a milliner for this special occasion.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ Warren’s voice cuts through the tranquil melody coming from a harpist playing in the corner.

Trish and Diamond turn to see why Warren’s on his feet. Makayla slows her stride as she approaches the group, where one out of three has a welcoming grin.

‘I thought you said you uninvited her,’ Warren grumbles to his mother.

‘Did I? Ever since I had that nasty fall, I can’t remember a thing.’

‘You didn’t bump your head, Ma. You hurt your ankle.’

Shrugging off the accusation, Trish pats the empty chair beside her. ‘Now that you’re here, petal, you might as well join us.’

Makayla slumps into the spare seat, groaning inwardly. This was always going to be awkward, and her ex-mother-in-law has made it a hundred times worse.

‘Don’t you look lovely? A vision.’ Trish smooths the wrinkled pleats of Makayla’s dress.

Trish gifted it to Makayla forever ago after she failed to get the hint about suitable attire for this venue.

It’s the only clothing she owns with a flower pattern.

Every year, she pulls it from the back of the wardrobe to appease Trish.

She fiddles with the ridiculous puffy sleeves and swears people are staring at her as if she’s wearing a unicorn onesie.

Diamond, however, is nailing the dress code and looks effervescent in a floral ensemble. Looping a dark strand behind her ear, she reveals a dainty sparkly earring that matches her name.

‘It’s nice to meet you.’ Diamond breaks the ice, extending a manicured hand. ‘I’ve heard lots of wonderful things.’

Must’ve been from Trish, because it’s highly unlikely Warren would have a nice word to say. Despite what he clearly thinks, judging by the death stare he’s giving her, Makayla isn’t here to ruin Diamond’s experience. She’s happy to play nice.

‘Thank you.’ Makayla draws a smile that hurts her cheeks. Unable to recall any of the conversation starters she rehearsed on the way over, she stutters, ‘I’m assuming you two met at the cricket club.’

‘Correct, but we barely spoke until early this year.’

Diamond stresses the timeframe, clearly anxious to prove they weren’t fooling around until after the divorce application was lodged. She needn’t bother. Warren’s many things, but he’s far too lazy to have an affair. The man struggles to match his socks, let alone juggle two women.

‘It must be interesting to work behind a bar,’ Makayla says as Trish summons a waiter carrying flutes of champagne.

No one says a word when the birthday girl finishes her glass in one sip and chases it down with another.

‘It’s only a weekend job to get by until I finish my degree,’ Diamond replies.

Warren butts in, ‘She’s doing her doctoring in psychology.’

‘Doctorate,’ she corrects him, blushing.

What’s a woman that smart doing with Warren? Maybe it’s some kind of social experiment.

‘Makayla is an educator.’ Trish finally enters the chat. ‘Shaping the minds of our future leaders.’

Makayla cringes. It’s highly unlikely the kid who got a pen stuck up his nose yesterday is going to be the next prime minister.

While Trish continues her gush-fest, servers in formal suits, white gloves and all, glide out of the kitchen carrying four-tier stands. The aroma of mini quiches and arancini spreads throughout the room. They place the ant-sized portions on the table.

As usual, Warren gets in first, only he doesn’t shove the food straight into his gob this time.

Instead, he drops the morsels onto Diamond’s plate.

What’s going on? He was never that considerate with Makayla.

Nibbling on a smoked salmon tartlet, she studies him as he opens the tiny sandwiches to inspect the fillings and eliminates some based on whatever weird criteria he’s applying.

‘I didn’t poison the food,’ Makayla jokes.

Warren doesn’t find the comment funny, but Trish, who hasn’t taken a single bite because she’s too full from her liquid lunch, bursts out laughing.

Swaying like she’s at an Ed Sheeran concert, she ‘Yoo-hoos’ to catch the drink waiter’s attention again.

Makayla gives Warren a look that says, ‘Your mum is pissed as a fart. Are you going to do something about it?’ He doesn’t catch it though, because he’s too busy fussing over his girlfriend, who keeps insisting she’s fine.

‘Trish, you need to try this chicken and zucchini thingy,’ Makayla says; she needs to line her stomach before she drinks much more.

‘Can you please pass the salt, darling?’ Trish directs the question to Makayla, even though the shaker is in Diamond’s hand.

Makayla wobbles her head, hoping Diamond understands it’s code for ‘don’t take it personally’, and Warren gives her an encouraging squeeze around the waist. Diamond places her cutlery in the centre of her plate and stares down at her napkin.

To lighten the mood, Makayla says, ‘I wouldn’t have a break if I were you. If you’re not quick enough, Warren will eat it all.’

‘Ha ha.’ Warren rolls his eyes. ‘Says the chick who eats like a horse.’

‘That’s okay, Diamond.’ Trish speaks directly to her, taking everyone by surprise. ‘Not all women have a fast metabolism like my Makayla. She’s always been this slim. In fact, she looks the best she ever has. Wouldn’t you agree, Warren?’

‘What the hell are you doing, Ma?’ Warren uses a prickly tone that only blood relations can get away with.

‘Enjoying my birthday.’ Trish raises her glass to toast to herself and skolls it like an eighteen-year-old at Schoolies.

Makayla excuses herself and retreats to the bathroom; the soap-opera drama is making her dizzy.

The all-marble restroom is just as grand as the dining room, and the space is lit by crystal chandeliers and candles that emit a subtle vanilla and pear aroma.

Makayla scoffs at her reflection in an antique mirror, wishing she wasn’t wearing two layers of make-up that’s suffocating her skin.

As she attempts to scrub it off, her phone dances on the vanity as a text comes through from Beau.

Hey, Mentor Makayla! What are you up to? I’m at Larry’s Beer Garden. Want to join me and impart all your wisdom? x

Makayla’s cheeks burn as she re-reads the message.

The kiss at the end, in particular, turns her insides into mush.

Is there meaning behind it or is he like Cece, who signs off like that to everyone?

It’s hard to gauge, because all week he hasn’t mentioned what happened in his back seat.

Then again, Makayla threatened to egg his car if he did.

A thumping on the door draws her away from her thoughts and out of the bathroom. She finds Warren hovering outside.

‘You have to leave,’ he says. ‘How’s Mum supposed to get to know Diamond if you’re hanging around like a bad smell?’

‘You’re a real charmer, you know that?’

Makayla assumes her go-to defence position – arms folded across her chest like a nightclub bouncer – and blocks out Warrant’s rant so she can think.

Deep down, she knows he’s right. Trish isn’t giving Diamond a chance, which is silly because she’s the daughter-in-law Trish has spent years trying to mould Makayla into.

The problem is, if Makayla leaves, she’s afraid she’ll drive to a certain place to meet up with a certain someone, and then who knows what might happen?

Makayla knows, that’s who. Taking a second bite of the forbidden fruit has opened a floodgate of hormones.

She needs a longer break to flush Beau out of her system.

With that in mind, Makayla says, ‘I can’t leave. It’s Trish’s birthday, and she invited me. You know how she is about manners and stuff.’ A quality that Warren lacks. ‘I’m sure your mum will be more chill after her massage.’

Warren storms off, muttering to himself and spends the rest of the meal blocking Makayla out of the conversation.

When they finish, the group wanders through the sprawling gardens on their way to the onsite day spa.

Trish hooks arms with Makayla for balance, and nearly takes them both down when her heel gets stuck in the damp grass.

Usually, Trish bores her with facts about the different flower species and name-drops the president of the National Rose Society, but today, all she wants to do is gossip about Diamond.

Her drunken whisper is awful; Makayla has to remind her at least four times that Warren and Diamond are right behind them.

‘My oh my, that woman is quite the gold digger, isn’t she?’ Trish hisses, guiding the two of them behind a robust bush.

‘Huh?’ Makayla blinks at her. Were they sitting at the same table?

‘Did you hear what she said about working part-time as a barmaid? No wonder they moved in together. She’s using Warren to pay her way through university.

Don’t worry, love, I’ll be calling my solicitor on Monday to make sure my will is ironclad.

Half to you, half to Warren.’ Trish peers over her shoulder.

‘I’m afraid my boy is bewitched. The Fling must be using mind games to manipulate him, but she can’t fool me. ’

Trish is too juiced up to notice Makayla’s lengthy sigh. Hopefully, she’ll nap during her spa treatment and when the wine wears off, she’ll come to her senses – and be mortified, no doubt, because she’s always saying it’s unseemly to discuss money.

Makayla tugs at Trish to keep them moving across the six-acre property. They regroup inside the foyer of the Louisa Stone Sanctuary, which is named after the apricot bloom lining the entrance.