?’ she appealed to umpires Annie and Meredith, who were sitting at the table, not moving an inch.
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Meredith.
‘And did she . . . ?’
‘Looks like it,’ said Annie.
‘The bitch!’ declared Nina. ‘The absolute lying . . . Oh hell! Brad will have a heart attack!’
‘We should keep watching to see if she comes on,’ said Annie.
‘Of course she won’t,’ scoffed Meredith. ‘Not the esteemed Miss Corinne Jacobsen. She’ll have traded that juicy information, and I wouldn’t mind betting she turns up on Channel 6 some time soon. She’s handed them the scoop of the year.’
After advertisements for carpets, air conditioners and spa baths, the news resumed. The three women watched, wide-eyed, as Emma Pang’s former best friend, Cheyenne Neck, appeared. She was overjoyed to be on the telly. Nina identified her from her diamanté heart-shaped nose-stud. Miss Neck had been a regular attendee at the wives’ and girlfriends’ lounge all last season. No doubt station management had thrown enough money at Cheyenne to compensate for the loss of her friendship with Emma. She was a good little performer. It was easy to imagine Cheyenne and Emma trading fluoro-wrapped tampons, nose candy and filthy secrets in the ladies’ at the MCG.
There was the further promise that more of the grubby saga would be aired on In Depth, in its no-holds-barred entirety. The whole, complete story. The full, total, absolute, uncensored truth—coming up, right after the weather.
Nina had seen enough. She scrambled for the off-switch. The bag of frozen peas fell to the floor. With the heat coming from her body, Nina wouldn’t have been surprised to find that she’d cooked an entrée of pea soup.
‘Brad will have seen it,’ she moaned, head in hands. ‘He’ll already be on the warpath, trying to find the idiot who leaked the story. Someone will get sacked. I’ll have to ring him. Oh my God, he’ll go ballistic!’
Annie and Meredith couldn’t bring themselves to offer any sympathy for her predicament. It was Nina’s well-documented lack of discretion—helped on by a bottle and a half of champagne—that had got her into trouble. It was a cruel way for her to learn the lesson.
‘You can get phone reception up near the office,’ was Annie’s only offer of help.
Nina trudged up the grassy hill in the dark. She was shivering—whether from the chill wind blowing in from the South Pacific Ocean, or at the thought of what Brad would say, she couldn’t tell. She huddled against the cold weatherboards of the wooden shack, the only light coming from the illuminated face of her mobile phone. As it rang, she prayed she would be put through to message bank. No such luck.
‘Babe! How’s the trip going? I’ve been trying to call you. I can’t talk long, I’ve got a crap situation happening here.’
‘I know. That’s why I’m ringing.’
‘I’m on the Gold Coast. You’ve probably read—I’m in the middle of a total shit-fight. It’s just hit national television in the worst way.’
‘I know. It was me.’
‘Sorry?’
‘The story on the TV tonight about Tabby. It was my fault.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know how it happened, Brad, honestly. It just came out, and I didn’t mean—’
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
‘I told Corinne Jacobsen.’
‘You did WHAT?! What did you tell her?’
‘You know—about what you found in his locker and everything.’
‘YOU ARE KIDDING ME! YOU ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME . . .’
‘Like I said, I didn’t mean to, it . . . just . . .’ Nina’s tears fell like hailstones on a corrugated-iron roof.
‘Stop it! Stop crying! I can’t stand it when you cry. Corinne Jacobsen?! You cannot be serious! What did you tell her . . . exactly?’
‘That you found coke and ecstasy in his locker. That he wanted the money for Emma’s implants.’
‘Did you tell her about the gambling?’
‘What?’
‘Or the greyhound race-fixing stuff?’
‘No, I didn’t know about . . .’
‘So, it was just the drug stuff then?’
‘I don’t know why I even said it.’
‘YOU ARE AN IDIOT, NINA! YOU KNOW THAT? I can’t believe that even you could be so stupid. This could cost me my job. You realise that, don’t you? How’ll we afford the boys’ school fees if I haven’t got a job?’
Nina couldn’t form a single word. The thought that the boys might have to be taken out of school was just—
‘So, you spilled your guts to Corinne Jacobsen. Anyone else?’