Long Game

by Catherine Evans

  Quin’s gaze went cold. His body stiffened and he straightened. ‘Cress and I aren’t playing, Hayley. You may as well give up now.’ His tone matched his eyes. Frigid with fury.

  It was that coldness Cress clung to, even though her heart was aching.

  He didn’t mean the words. He was using her as protection. They were still friends. She was a means to an end.

  ‘Same time tomorrow?’ Petra’s voice intruded on Cress’s thoughts.

  Everyone seemed to agree, and Cress went along with it even if she didn’t think she could bear to be here again. Hayley had done something to Cress, and Cress hadn’t a clue what it was or how to fix it.

  Chapter 6

  ‘Will you sit still.’ Cress went to squeeze his bouncing knee but pulled her hand back before she could grip him. ‘Anyone’d think you were more excited than me.’

  He rolled his eyes because that’s what she’d expect him to do, but this is what she’d done all week—pulled back from him. She’d always been relaxed around him. She was his best mate’s little sister and he got no different treatment to her brothers … until this week.

  He’d made a right mess of things at yoga. In protecting himself, he’d inadvertently hurt her. It was the kiss. The kiss had taken them from the ‘friend zone’ into somewhere else. He had to get them back.

  He hadn’t thought. Not at the time. He’d just seen her bright blue eyes, like a safe harbour in a storm, and anchored himself. He hadn’t thought about the depths beneath that gaze. He hadn’t thought that his kiss was using her. Abusing her trust, protectiveness and friendship.

  She’d been awesome about it, on the surface. No one would know anything was wrong. He did. He’d thought about it all week and today he was going to fix it.

  Sunday was their sightseeing day and he’d organised a surprise before they went to Taronga Zoo. He was pretty sure she’d love it but that tiny bit of doubt had him more jittery than he expected.

  They were on public transport because driving would have given away the surprise. Getting Cress used to the Sydney transport system was a great excuse, and a ferry ride extra incentive. Chatting was easy. He explained where they were, what was in the area to see, or any other snippets of information he knew. She soaked up the information, stared at everything, asked questions, made comments, and tried to keep her reactions to city life under wraps.

  He saw her shock when she spied the old houses with backyards adjoining the train tracks. More surprising was her horror at the large apartment blocks that were even closer to the line. When a crowd of people got on at Strathfield with their groceries, all talking loudly, he tried not to smile at her physical recoil to the noise. Between Croydon and Ashfield, he had her waiting to see the swimming centre. At Central, they needed to change trains and while they waited, he pointed out the country train lines. On the next train, he waited for her reaction to being underground through the city.

  ‘You could have told me I’d be in tunnels,’ she hissed at him.

  ‘Would you have come?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have had a choice, would I?’ She scrunched her nose. In the past she would have given his arm a shove, or elbowed him. She did neither.

  ‘We’ll be out soon,’ he whispered, just before they arrived at Circular Quay. It was worth it to watch her staring at the window waiting for the glinting hint of sunlight. When it came, she beamed almost as brightly, and let out a sigh.

  They went through the ticket machines that swiped their travel cards, and Quin slipped his hand inside her elbow, steering her away from the ferries. Stiffening at his touch was something she’d never done and it gave him an ill-settled stomach. After today, he hoped, she’d stop doing it. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle this constant reminder of his stupidity.

  ‘Don’t we need to catch a ferry?’ she asked with the hint of snappiness.

  ‘It’s quicker to walk this side and then duck into the wharf.’ Not exactly a lie because he wasn’t quite answering her question.

  They walked towards the Opera House and then cut through to the water. Cress stopped. ‘The ferries are back that way.’ There was more than a hint of attitude this time. She tried to turn him around and she was strong.

  He had to tell her because he wasn’t going to be able to manhandle her, or trick her as he’d done to date. ‘I, ummm …’ He stopped and stared at her. Why on earth was this so hard? ‘I thought we might do something else first.’

  ‘Before the zoo?’ Her disappointment and confusion stabbed.

  ‘We’ll have plenty of time at the zoo, I promise.’

  She looked at him as if his promises were meaningless but she followed him towards the Opera House. He waited for her to see the sign and get excited but she didn’t seem to be noticing anything, even though her head was swivelling as she took everything in. He’d imagined that she’d see the sign, get excited, and then he could say, ‘let’s do it’. That would seem more spontaneous, and less like he’d wracked his brains trying to think of a way to regain their easy camaraderie. She seemed focused on the sails of the Opera House. He halted her near the sign.

  ‘I thought you might be keen on doing this.’ He waved a hand. The sign was for jet boats screaming around the harbour, and the pictures made it look awesome. Watercress had always been a speed demon, and he hoped that hadn’t changed.

  ‘Quin.’ His name had never quite been said in that way ever before, and he figured Cress had said his name every way possible over the years. The way she spoke had skitters sliding down his spine and he rolled his shoulders to rid himself of the effect.

  Friend zone. Aiming for friend zone.

  ‘Better than the zoo?’

  ‘Totally and completely different.’ She sucked in a breath. Her head shook. ‘Incomparable.’

  It was worth the subterfuge. The morning was spectacular. Azure sky, hot sun, light breeze, a scattering of high cloud, and warm sea spray that dotted crystals over Cress’s beaming face. Her mouth, open and screaming pleasure, was sprayed with droplets and Quin wondered if her throat was scratchy with salt. Not that he’d ask. Not that he should even be thinking of her mouth or throat or what they might taste like, or how she was affected by salt on the back of her throat.

  As they skimmed across the bouncing swell at the Heads, it was like being on the sharpest, fastest roller-coaster. Emotion surged within him. Not only from the speed, the ocean, the ride, but Cress’s sheer enjoyment made his heart pound. Not because she was a girl, but because they were friends, sharing something they loved. Enjoying something they’d never dreamed of doing while growing up in Grong Grong.

  It had nothing to do with her being a girl and him being a guy. Nothing at all.

  The speed was addictive and Quin didn’t want it to stop. That was something they always had on the farm—motorbikes for hooning. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d hooned. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done more than run fast. This was exhilarating. They were powering across the water, air pushing against his face, and concerns flew from his mind as fast as the air whooshing past. That suited him. Lingering thoughts were a lot of trouble.

  ‘That was amazing.’ Cress’s words as the boat slowed and they came back to the Quay were filled with the same exhilaration, he felt. Like bubbles were inside his bloodstream.

  He grinned. ‘I thought you’d like it.’

  She nodded vigorously. ‘I miss that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Speed. Getting on the bike and fanging it up the paddock to blow off steam.’ She was curled to his side, in a Watercress way, staring across the harbour as if it were the dry dusty tracks around Grong Grong. ‘Do you miss that?’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe.’ The longing in his voice caught him by surprise. But it was honest. It had been years since he’d gone home and been reckless. He couldn’t afford to be injured, and riding bikes fast was an injury waiting to happen.

  Yet … he hadn’t been hurt by them as a kid.

  ‘
Why don’t you come home with me at Christmas?’ Cress’s question hit pause on his thoughts. He glanced at her. ‘You have a break, don’t you, same as me?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘Yeah, I do.’

  She grinned, a pure Watercress grin that hit him right in the belly.

  ‘Let’s do that. Cancel your train ticket and I’ll drive us home.’ He grinned back at her. They were there. Back to normal.

  She slugged his shoulder with a fist. ‘Tell me we’re still going to the zoo even if we’re wet.’

  He lifted his shoulder, flicking away the minor pain her knuckles caused. ‘I figured we’d dry.’

  ‘Yes.’ Even without her fist-pump, it was a cheer and a victory all in one word.

  ***

  A few hours later, Cress sipped her water and waved her hand around the seats. ‘I never thought we’d be able to find somewhere out of the crowds.’ They were in the empty area where patrons sat for the seal show. Since the shows were over, no one was around.

  ‘Are the crowds bothering you?’ He hadn’t paid a lot of attention to them. Sydney was always crowded, and it was something you expected when you went to places like the zoo, especially on a weekend in summer when the weather was perfect.

  ‘Yes. More than I thought.’ She frowned and looked away before turning back to him. ‘It’s because it’s so constant. There are bodies rubbing against me all the time, people talking sometimes in languages I can’t even understand, there’s perfume or aftershave and other scents that are sometimes an abuse on my nostrils.’

  Quin laughed. ‘More abusive than a rotting sheep carcass?’ As he said the words he could almost smell the rotten, sweet, overpowering stench, even though it had been years since he’d come across a dead sheep. It had been not long before he left town, during the drought, when they’d all gone down to the dam to see if they could swim or if the water level had dropped too low. There’d been half a dozen sheep stuck in the mud. A few were dead but Cress had insisted they save the ones still living. She was the tiniest of them, yet the fiercest, even then. She’d hauled an ungrateful ewe from the mud and had copped a kick in the stomach as thanks. Even that didn’t stop her for long. She’d wanted to haul the dead sheep out so the water wasn’t contaminated.

  ‘It’s different,’ she said, drawing his mind back to the present day and the discussion of perfume. ‘Farm smells seem so natural and normal and earthy. Perfume seems so manufactured and overpowering and wrong.’ She hesitated. ‘That’s dumb, isn’t it?’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s what you’re used to, Watercress. If you grew up here, farm smells would probably make you vomit. You aren’t that bad with the city stink.’

  She laughed, like he’d hoped she would. ‘I haven’t seen too many people vomiting today.’

  He lifted a brow. ‘You’ve seen them run away from water.’ She nodded. He added, ‘Ever noticed that there are a lot of glass-cased exhibits?’

  ‘Isn’t that so people can see the animals?’

  He shrugged. ‘It could also keep in the smells.’

  She laughed and elbowed him. He almost rejoiced but instead he just laughed and jostled her back.

  When they’d sobered, which seemed to happen too quickly for Quin, Cress sipped her water and then waved the bottle at him. ‘Do you get used to the crowds?’

  He must have because he hadn’t really noticed them today. He’d been aware of Cress beside him, and noticed an emptiness when she walked away, but he hadn’t felt anyone rub against him except for the three occasions she’d bumped him as she moved. In the Reptile House when people pushed past, she’d brushed his hand and arm before grabbing them to steady herself, and then apologising. The giraffes coming close to be fed had caused a crowd surge and she’d been plastered to his side. Another crowd surge away from the elephants, when they’d sprayed water at the gawking people, had Cress moving closer to him and he’d found himself tucking her in front of him to stop them both being pinned to the enclosure.

  ‘You will,’ he assured her, even though he wasn’t sure she would. Cress was a country girl with a country heart. Would she adapt? ‘Do you want to stay, or should we head home?’

  She’d been staring at the map, but she shot him a hard glare. ‘We haven’t seen it all. We don’t have to go, do we?’

  ‘No, Watercress. I was worried the crowds might have been too much for you.’

  She pursed her lips, stared at the sky and then said, ‘Seeing the zoo that I’ve wanted to see for years and years … versus crowds of people.’ She grinned. ‘It’s a tough choice, but we aren’t leaving.’

  He would have been shocked by any other decision. They sat in the sunshine and quiet for a while longer, then Cress began to fidget. ‘We better face the crowds again.’ She pointed at the map. ‘It’s mostly Australian animals, so if you don’t want to stay—’

  ‘No way.’ He poked a finger into her ribs. ‘Trying to get rid of me?’ He deliberately kept the grin on his face, but inside, he was asking the question seriously, and about so much more than just the zoo. He wanted to know that they were back to normal, that things were okay, that his monumental screw-up had been rectified.

  ‘Never, Quin.’ That was exactly what he needed to hear, but there was a thread of something intense he didn’t want to notice, so he shoved it from his mind. She glanced up with a cheeky look. ‘I need a lift home for Christmas.’ That was pure Watercress.

  He mock-huffed. ‘And I thought you wanted to be around me for my scintillating company.’

  She laughed and slipped her hand into his outstretched hand. ‘Well …’ She let him pull her to her feet and they walked up the stairs away from the open-air theatre. She dropped his hand as she skipped across to see the gorillas, leaving Quin grinning, and breathing much easier than he had all week.

  He wasn’t going to mess with Watercress’s friendship again, no matter what protection he might need. Something joyous was exploding inside him and in ten days, he’d be home. Home. Away from the pressures of Sydney, even if only for a week. Maybe he could reclaim some of the simple joy of life that Watercress had. The joy he’d lost.

  Chapter 7

  ‘Cress.’ Dad’s greeting, with arms open wide, had her flinging herself against his chest in a huge hug. He was warm and smelled of sweat, dusty earth and grain. She sniffed again, filling her nostrils with the hint of biscuits.

  ‘Wheat almost done?’ she asked as Dad released her and Tris caught her in a quick hug.

  ‘Yep, should be done in a few hours, God and machinery willing.’ Dad looked to the heavens and patted the header.

  ‘All going well?’

  Tris chuckled. ‘You can come home and not start working right away, you know.’

  Dad grinned and brushed his hand against her shoulder. ‘It’s been going well. We’ll probably average four tonnes per hectare and eleven per cent protein.’

  ‘Not bad, Dad.’

  ‘How about me?’ Tris patted his chest and beamed at her.

  She shook her head. ‘You’re driving grain to the silo. What’d you do to grow it?’

  Tris snorted and whacked her lightly over the head. ‘Sydney hasn’t make you any kinder.’

  Cress grinned. ‘Surely you didn’t expect that?’

  ‘I live in hope.’

  Dad laughed and then the background noise changed. ‘Gotta go.’ He moved towards the header to stop the auger, which had emptied the seed into the truck.

  ‘Can I come for a lap?’ Cress asked Dad’s back as he climbed the steps. He waved his hand in acknowledgment, focused now on the task ahead, and Cress’s heart gave a squeeze.

  ‘You’ve missed this, hey?’ Tris gave her shoulder a nudge with his fist. After her nod, he continued, ‘Is it worth it?’

  She nodded, slowly, lips pressed together. ‘It’s different, so very different, but it’s the most incredible chance. Coaches are amazing. I’m learning heaps. The girls are good. So yeah, it’s worth it. It’s tough but.’

  A whistl
e broke her thoughts. ‘Coming,’ she yelled. Dad was ready to go and knowing he only had a few hours until he finished, he’d be busting to get it done. ‘See you soon, Tris.’ Cress ran over and climbed aboard. Before her stretched an expanse of quivering gold. Wheat heads stretching up to the sunshine, nodding in the slightest puff of air. A beautiful golden expanse. Rich not only in colour, this was their livelihood: harvesting the plump grains.

  As the header moved, Cress watched the golden stalks being swept up in to the comb and sliced so the top of the stalk and the head full of grain could be caught up and fed into the machine. Once inside, she knew the grain would be stripped out of the plant and trapped into the bin, while the remains were thrown out the back in a stream of warm air. If anything went wrong in this process and the machine blocked up with the plant material, then it was a hot and uncomfortable task cleaning the blockage out. If it wasn’t cleared out quickly, a fire could start and that was a farmer’s worst nightmare at harvest. Dry plants, hot machinery, hot weather and hot winds were a fire catastrophe waiting to explode. But she wasn’t going to think about that.

  She’d missed harvest, even if it was full of long hours, hot days, and dirty, dusty conditions. Cress loved this time of year like a grand final. It was when all the hard work paid off. All those hours of sowing in the damp and cool, the hard work of spraying to minimise weeds, and the hoping and praying for rain at the right moments in the crop’s growth, paid off at harvest.

  ‘My favourite time on the farm. Sorry I missed it, Dad.’

  ‘You’re right. The boys have been good. You must have read them the riot act.’ Dad winked when he glanced across to her.

  ‘I didn’t.’ Her words were quiet because she hadn’t said a thing to them. They’d pitched in to allow her the chance at her dreams, and that made her choke up when she thought of it.

  ‘They’ve done okay.’ Dad’s voice was gruff and abrupt, and it seemed he was as affected as she was.

  Needing to think of something neutral to say to take her mind off the love she had for her family, Cress blurted, ‘Quin’s been really good looking after me.’