“Do you really enjoy cleaning toilets?” chimes in someone else, snapping a camera in my face. “What brand of toilet cleaner do you use?”
“Stop it!” I say, flustered. “Leave me alone!” I haul at the iron gates until they’re closed, then turn and run up the drive, into the house and into the kitchen.
What am I going to do? What?
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored fridge. My face is flushed and my expression wild. I’m also still wearing Tanya’s floppy straw hat.
I grab it off my head and dump it on the table, just as Tanya comes into the kitchen. She’s holding a book called Your Elegant Luncheon Party and an empty coffee cup.
“Do you know what’s going on, Olivia?” she says. “There seems a bit of a commotion outside in the road.”
“Is there?” I say. “I … I hadn’t noticed.”
“It l
