Chapter 12: Friday 16th December

Julian dragged Larissa out of the tent early to take Alison, Landon and Samson to the local airport - they were flying down to Sale to see Thomas and Jane and her family and farm, to get a sense of country Victoria. Alison and Landon were quite excited, and his dad ... it certainly wasn’t something he ever expected to happen in his life, but they’d decided that Linda could stay home and look after Jessica.

Once they’d got off for their flight, Larissa had time to scan the news on Friday morning. Plenty of people laughing at Clyde for the outcome of the protest, which she expected. Some more articles about the announcements after the national cabinet, but the ones that interested her, about the women’s policy package, and the joint announcement about negative gearing being reviewed from the national cabinet ... meh. That wasn’t really news, people seemed to be saying, it just made obvious sense to do that, and even the information that it was David Jones’ black money paying for the woman’s policy package hadn’t really raised more than a chuckle. Though there was a funny cartoon she found, two women standing over an empty grave with a tombstone called ‘DJ’ saying, ‘if he’d been buried, we’d dig him up and piss on him all over again’. The caption was ‘forever in ignominy’. She found another cartoon, Clyde up against a wall, a row of recognisable billionaires throwing tomatoes at him, with a caption, ‘went after our favourite girls: no mercy’. Yeah, that was certainly happening, and she wondered what other things were going on, and whether Clyde would even survive financially.

That journalist she’d tussled with on Saturday in Sydney ... he’d produced a timely little article saying that he’d spoken to all of the David Jones’ mistresses that he could find and every one of them had been coerced, and in their interest he wasn’t going to identify them. But he assured everyone they were victims as much as anyone else, and carried a very considerate apology from Anna. Then he said he found several women who’d been working with David in the past that had committed suicide suddenly. Right, Larissa said to herself, as she’d expected. He’d spoken to their families, and he wasn’t going to identify them out of concern for the families, but the families had found a little comfort in the knowledge that David Jones was most likely responsible. But he did want to thank the company and its new owners for looking after those women who were still alive properly. Nicely, he left it there. Sweet. Larissa looked him up on Twitter and sent him a nice note in public thanking him for not identifying the women, and then, privately, asked if there was anything that should be done for any of those families after all this time.

Oh. She found an op-ed written by a well-known women’s political activist, making the same point Larissa had about the jail term for Violet Coco, almost with identical words, and saying that yesterday’s decision was a good start, but there was far to go. Clearly she’d been briefed, no doubt by Deanna or Katy.

Then she found a column by their ‘favourite’ celebrity watcher, WhistleUp, the one with the flowery language. And wow, it was a long one. It started with the photo of her and Layna on the red carpet at that women’s night, and this time she really was in full flower mode as she praised herself for saying to watch Layna and Larissa through the year. Then she had a photo Larissa hadn’t seen before, of Layna, Larissa, Sarah and Cornelia, heads together on that original night planning their island holiday retreat. Then she ran with the photo of them all hugging on the beach, the photo that they hadn’t released.

Now she set out to check in on all the girls who’d been there at the weekend.

For Layna, she ran with photos from the European meeting dinner, the North Pole, and the song, and reviewed Layna’s amazing and stunning year, semi-official Australia climate envoy, and compared media headlines about the climate from the start of the year and the end of year, and they really emphasised how much things had changed. How much of that was due to Layna and her team? At least some of it.

For Larissa, she had three photos: Larissa unconscious in a tearful Julian’s arms after being attacked, Larissa in uniform and boots with her high-vis vest on walking on that busy road from a couple of days before, her rifle on her back, and Larissa in that painting. What a year, WhistleUp said, ending as Bob’s heir, and repeatedly demonstrating she was both the toughest and most compassionate woman in Australia. But in what world did you see a billionaire working as a first responder on a busy road with a gun on her back? That was the ultimate power move right there. Also, she pointed out, she’d consulted all the males in her family to pick the photo of Larissa that made her most desirable, including plenty of photos in bikinis or less, and this photo of her working in uniform with a gun was hands down the winner. The painting was definitely second.

Interesting. She briefly diverted to wondering how it would go when she showed Julian the gun photo at bed time. A very fun idea, she decided.

Next was Isla. Photos of Isla singing in the big song from behind the camera, Larissa’s big party, and singing at the grand final. In each of the photos, Isla looked genuinely happy. What more to say, WhistleUp asked, Isla had made her perfect future, making good music for a good cause, and indeed she was the Voice of Australia.

Then Patti. A photo of Patti at a glam party smooching with Stacey, and a photo of Patti holding a mother and child in a hospital bed, all of them crying. The little boy was dying from cancer, that was obvious. She quoted some words Patti had said in her keynote at the charity’s Christmas dinner, that Layna and Larissa had challenged her to get off the bench and into the fray, and how she’d decided to visit sick children and their families for her fray, and how richly she’d been rewarded for that.

What a photo, that one of Patti in the hospital; Larissa had tears just from looking at it.

Harper’s turn. WhistleUp showed a photo of Harper in business attire, attending a school board meeting, and Harper sitting in a university lecture room. Harper hadn’t done anything as obvious as the others, but she was making a name for herself for fiery defence of being compassionate to students for multiple causes at her schools’ boards while also ensuring all student’s safety, and doing psychology at university, with a declared intent to get involved in public advocacy for fixing Australia’s dreadful mental health system. Watch this space, WhistleUp declared, with friends like this, she’s going far.

Kayla now, and WhistleUp ran with a photo of Kayla dancing at Larissa’s big party in her underwear, and in her business dress speaking to the National Cabinet the day before with Larissa in the background. Kayla had cemented herself on both her boards, and was very active funding women’s events, and also Larissa’s campaign, and presenting to the National Cabinet, though the outcomes weren’t clear from that as yet. Still, unprecedented.

Cornelia had been quieter than the others. For Cornelia, WhistleUp had a photo of Cornelia playing volleyball for her university, and another of Cornelia being filmed, covered in dirty grease. Cornelia was doing post-graduate science at university, a focus on biotechnology, and had declared her interest in devices aimed at helping people disabled in various ways, and the photo of her on camera was part of a documentary her department was making about that.

Then it was Sienna’s turn: three photos for Sienna. Sienna interviewing a banker on the street, Sienna standing next to the prime minister, and Sienna and Larissa topless on the beach, tits pixelated out. What the fuck - that was the blackmail photo! Really? How on earth? When it came to Sienna: not much needed to say, every Australian had seen what she was up to, shaking the nation just as much as Layna or Larissa. WhistleUp had to admire her discipline; so far as WhistleUp knew, Sienna had only ever answered questions once in public. What would Sienna do next? And when would she unveil the rest of her man?

As for Sarah ... WhistleUp noted that all the other families had made strong statements about ending carbon, and walked the walk. Even Sienna’s family, when they’d moved, they’d really moved. But Sarah ... no such luck. Sarah’s photos were a photo of her putting the boot into Clyde on Friday night, and Sarah driving the tractor this week. Right, Sarah might not be doing much, but she’d obviously given up trying to work within her family, and she was laying the gauntlet down to her father, which was quoted in full. As for her father ... definite candidate for loser of the year, up there with former Prime Minister Morrison, there really wasn’t any other way to put it after the protest debacle this week, just embarrassing.

Last of all, Alison. Another photo of Alison sitting at a campfire in the snow with a bunch of homeless people, including Edna. And a photo of Alison, perfectly dressed for show-jumping, final jump of winning her state showjumping finals, qualifying for the nationals - the olympic qualifying rounds. And a photo of Alison, helping a very sick Jessica into the hospital, sharing a private smile. The fire photo was taken outside a barn Alison had paid to build for the homeless, to give them shelter for the winter. And of course, she’d qualified for the olympic trials, but what really stood out about Alison was that rather than living with her family, she was living with Landon, and taking his mum to the hospital. Then WhistleUp quoted Alison’s line about living with a big heart rather than a big house. The homeless people had more space to sleep in than she did.

Finally, WhistleUp concluded: if you were one of the families whose girls didn’t go on that weekend, weren’t allowed to go, would you be happy? Or worried about next time (because the girls were planning another)? After that, she had one final photo: Layna and Larissa kissing on the back of that fishing boat back at the start of the year. And then she said that however you looked at it, Layna and Larissa were definitely the power women in Australia right now, right as WhistleUp predicted all those months ago. Nailed it.

Larissa laughed for that self-referential conclusion, and fired a message off to Sienna: what was the story with that photo? Then she went and got ready for work, and briefed Jade about what was involved in being her security while she worked.

Work was normal. Fur balls. Nail clippers. Cats that had been in fights. Diabetic dogs. Customers that were astonished that it was Larissa who turned up. Routine stuff. Where was her daily dose of crazy?

She did get one little dose of crazy, something she’d heard about from her peers, but not seen herself before: a bunch of Cockies had ganged up on a cat and bullied it into falling off a tree, and it had landed on its side on a wall and broken its front leg. Larissa had seen the damn Cockatiels flapping their wings and screeching, and working together, and she could imagine them scaring a domestic cat. A dangerous game for them to play though; often enough she heard about local cats killing cockies, and this cat was in a suburb where the local council said they were no longer allowed outside because of the bird life. She gave the owner a lecture about keeping the cat inside she knew they’d ignore and moved on.

As she was leaving that call, she got a response from the journalist who’d been investigating David Jones’s mistresses, and she messaged him at red lights:

✉ Journalist: Thanks for your concern - it’s good to see you’re real. The families have long moved on, though the grief remains

✉ Larissa: OK Thanks. Great work on your part to chase them down

✉ Journalist: Some of them had already made the connection

✉ Journalist: The families were impressed by your resolute resistance to him

✉ Larissa: There was a point at which I wanted to do what those women did

✉ Journalist: Wow, that hasn’t been reported

✉ Larissa: It’s in public - see [link to church service]

✉ Journalist [an hour later]: Thanks for that. That service has a lot of views

✉ Journalist: I’d like to interview you about the mistresses

✉ Larissa: Sorry, I said I wouldn’t talk about that

✉ Journalist: What about talking about the National Cabinet meeting?

✉ Larissa: On the record: I confirm that I was there. Other questions to Minister Gallagher

✉ Journalist: Off the record? Any comment about the NSW Premier?

✉ Larissa: Off the record: Kayla was awesome. It was nice to meet all the Premiers. No further comment about anything

✉ Journalist: Thanks for your help!

✉ Larissa: NP. I love helping people

✉ Journalist::-( Journalists are people too

✉ Larissa: Then why do you work for Murdoch?

He didn’t answer that, not to her surprise. She had another thread going.

✉ Sienna: About that picture. The minister made her report. The police chased the source down

✉ Sienna: He’ll be charged for blackmail

✉ Sienna: That picture in the gossip column: I got it from mum, Emily pixelated it and sent it to her

✉ Larissa: Emily was in on that ... makes sense

She was looking at her watch thinking that she might only have one or two jobs left before finishing up at lunch time so she could focus on the wedding, when Jess called her, and sent her off to a traffic accident she was quite close to. When she got there, she knew immediately that this very recent incident was nasty: a high-speed crash.

The police let her through the perimeter and explained once she got out - a young male had taken the corner she’d just come around way too fast, and his car had rolled a couple of times before hitting a tree pretty hard. He was wedged in, seriously injured and not expected to live. There was a dog in the car, also stuck. The fire department were on the way with the jaws of life to get them both out. He was drunk, the policeman said, and explained that he’d done a dangerous u-turn to avoid a random breath test, and then he’d tried to outrun the police car that followed him.

Larissa grimaced, grabbed her emergency kit and made her way to the wreckage, leaving Jade in the van. This old car was a total wreck, twisted and smashed, though it had ended up on its wheels. Well, right side up, anyway. She was surprised the driver was still in one piece, let alone alive. The policeman attending the driver pointed her around to the passenger side, so she went around to that side and looked inside. The dashboard was pressing against the driver, and the steering wheel was crushed into his chest. No question about his chances - his ribs were crushed and there’d be plenty of internal damage and bleeding. He was still alive though, covered in blood and gasping and moaning quietly. Then she looked at the dog. What she could see of it; it’d been on the floor in front of the passenger seat, and the car had folded around it. Sadly, she reached through the broken window to the little dog and patted its nose. It whimpered, obviously in a great deal of pain, but didn’t do anything else. Carefully, she ran her hand along its back as far as she could reach and then felt something sharp, torn metal, poking her hand. She couldn’t go any further, or see any better, but there was a pretty good chance this dog had a crushed pelvis; if so, she’d be most likely be putting it down, since it was just too much to recover from multiple trauma. She grimaced again, and looked up at the policeman with the man who was dying.