by Emily Madden
‘Yeah, but they’re newlyweds,’ Brie said. ‘They’re in love. It’s all fun and exciting early on.’ Not that she would know; Brie had only been in love once in her life—and it was with the man sitting next to her.
Josh snorted. ‘If I know my sister, hell would freeze over before she allows anything not to be fun.’
Brie chuckled in agreement as she sipped her champagne, the bubbles tickling her nose.
‘You going to light that thing?’ Josh asked, nodding to the cigar she was absently twirling in her hands.
‘I, ah, don’t know how to smoke it,’ she admitted. She waited for Josh to make some sort of smart comment, but instead he reached over for a torch-flame lighter on the table.
‘Hold it up like this,’ he directed, demonstrating with his own cigar. ‘Now, I’m going to light it, but you’re not going to put it in your mouth just yet. We’re going to start by placing the tip above the flame. Aficionados will tell you that sticking it directly in the flame ruins the flavour, but as a beginner, you probably won’t notice the difference.’
‘Okay.’ Brie watched as Josh lit the flame.
‘Before you put it in your mouth, you want to burn the end to sort of “prime” the tobacco. Now spin it around, yes, just like that.’ He nodded as she followed his instructions. ‘You want to make sure you get an even burn.’
Brie was about to ask how long she needed to twirl when an orange glow appeared on the tip.
‘Ah, there she is. Once you can see a bit of an orange glow, you’re ready to puff. Now here’s one last tip—don’t inhale the smoke, don’t draw in air with your diaphragm, pretend you’re sucking something through a straw. Just fill your mouth up with smoke and then blow it out. Like this.’ He demonstrated with his own cigar and Brie wondered how he could make something so wrong look so sexy.
‘Right,’ she said, slowly lifting the stogie to her mouth, trying to remember all that he had said. Nervously, she puffed a number of times before thick white smoke appeared in the velvet night air. It tasted woody and earthy and surprisingly not as unpleasant as she’d imagined.
‘Here,’ Josh said as he lifted his drink towards her. ‘Champagne won’t do anything to enhance the flavour; try this. Trust me.’
‘What is it?’
‘Cognac. Top shelf,’ he said as the toffee-coloured liquid swirled in the crystal tumbler.
She took a sip and then a puff. God—he was right, the drink really magnified the flavour. Along with the woodiness she could taste fruity and earthy hints.
‘When did you become such an aficionado?’ Brie asked as she sank back into the chair, her body abuzz from the combination of cognac, cigar and Josh.
‘My dad walked in on Max and me smoking a bong once. I think we must’ve been about nineteen? Anyway, he said if we were going to smoke anything, it would be a cigar. So he took us into his study and showed us how. Told us both that if he caught us smoking anything but, he would give us a good kick up the arse.’
Brie’s mind went back ten years to that summer night when they were in Max’s parents’ pool house all sharing a joint. It was also the night she and Josh had first slept together.
‘Hey, you remember that night at Max’s?’ Josh said quietly as they both stared out onto the twinkling city lights. In the distance, a plane’s beacon flashed as it climbed into the black heavens and the sound of fruit bats filled the air. Brie tried to casually puff on her cigar, very much conscious that his gaze was on her. Was it coincidence they both were thinking of the same memory?
‘The night we shared a joint?’ She turned to meet his gaze and saw his grey eyes twinkling against the faint glow of the ambient light.
‘That’s not what I was thinking about, Brie.’ He gave her a lopsided smile and it made her pulse flip.
The doorbell chimed. ‘That’ll be the pizza.’ Harry leapt up and the mention of food had Brie’s tummy rumbling. She needed food. The champagne and cognac had totally gone to her head. Except when Harry returned, not only did he not have pizza, he robbed Brie of her appetite.
‘Look who’s here!’ Harry announced, full of fake enthusiasm.
‘Hi, guys!’ Lauren appeared, looking a thousand times more glamorous than Brie. Her long hair flowed like waves of delectable chocolate down her shoulders, skimming her perfectly shaped breasts, which were spilling over her skin-tight body suit. Her eyes immediately flashed towards Josh then to Brie, her lips curling as if to indicate she was about to swoop in and win.
‘Harry, be a love and get me a glass of champers,’ she said with an expert flick of her hair.
She took Harry’s seat, somehow seamlessly sliding it right next to Josh.
‘Aren’t you going to say hello, Joshie?’ she asked, leaning over and literally thrusting her assets in Josh’s face.
To his credit, Josh barely batted an eyelid. ‘Hey, Lauren,’ he said drily, hardly glancing in her direction, but his obvious lack of interest didn’t seem to perturb her in the slightest.
‘Oh hello, I didn’t see you there,’ Lauren addressed Brie. ‘Bridie, isn’t it?’
‘Brie.’ She smiled politely as she deliberately took a sip of Josh’s cognac and handed it over to him. Lauren’s shrewd eyes didn’t miss a thing.
‘Oh yes, Brie, Josh’s friend from high school.’ She pursed her lips as if to say I know all about you. No doubt she did, but if Lauren thought she could intimidate her, she had another think coming. Brie had just dealt with Debbie, and Lauren was no match.
‘Yep, that’s me,’ she said with a grin as she took a puff of her cigar.
Lauren screwed up her nose and fake-coughed, waving her hand about offensively. She was a piece of work. What the hell had Josh seen in her? She was drop-dead gorgeous, that was for sure, but was Josh that shallow?
‘Lauren, what are you doing here?’ Josh sighed.
‘What do you mean?’ Lauren’s toffee-coloured eyes became as wide as saucers as she played Little Miss Innocent. ‘Sylvie and Harry are my friends, too. I was there when Sylvie announced she was pregnant, don’t you remember? And I distinctly remember predicting it would be a boy, and I was right!’ she said with an air of triumph. ‘So, when I saw Harry’s post on Facebook, I called to congratulate him and he told me about the party.’
Brie followed Josh’s line of sight as he glared at Harry, who gave an apologetic shrug.
Lauren sipped her champagne smugly. This was obviously a woman who got what she wanted, and right now it seemed her sights were on Josh.
Josh leaned back, draining the rest of his drink. ‘Hey, Harold, hit me with another!’ he yelled, holding up his empty tumbler.
Harry sent Josh a dirty look; they all knew he hated being called that. It was in Year Eight that Max discovered Harry was short for Harold and not Harrison, as he had led them to believe.
‘Make that two, Harold,’ Brie added and both Max and Avery burst out in hysterics. As Harry stormed off in a huff, grumbling about them all being sons of bitches, Brie snuck a glance at Lauren, who was staring at them all, mouth agape, fuming that she was not aware of their in joke, and it was Brie’s turn to be smug.
‘Oh my God,’ Avery said, wiping tears from her eyes. ‘I’d forgotten about the whole Harold thing.’
Harry returned carrying a tray of drinks in one hand and the pizzas in the other. ‘You’re lucky I love you all,’ he warned as he handed over their drinks. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t be getting these.’ He held the boxes high before placing them on the table. ‘Amore’s Special, one without pineapple for our overseas guest here.’
‘Aww, thanks,’ Brie said as she flipped the lid and grabbed a piping-hot slice. ‘I almost feel bad for calling you Harold.’ She gave Harry a cheeky grin before sliding the pizza into her mouth. She couldn’t help but moan at the cheesy goodness. ‘God, I miss this.’
‘You had it a couple of weeks ago,’ Josh reminded her, reaching over for a slice. ‘And as I recall, you still have one of my bottles of wine.’
B
rie could see Lauren was now livid. She was also the only one not demolishing a piece of pizza. ‘You’re not hungry, Lauren?’
‘Lauren doesn’t do carbs,’ Josh answered flippantly.
Brie suspected as much, although right now she was salivating more than one of Pavlov’s dogs.
‘Josh knows me so well.’ She gave a fake smile. ‘But they don’t seem to be doing you any harm. What’s your secret?’ There was more than a hint of envy in her voice.
Brie paused, chewing the last of her slice before grabbing another without hesitation. ‘It’s called the Debbie Diet,’ she said with the straightest face possible. She could see Lauren’s brain working overtime, wondering why she hadn’t heard of it. For a brief moment, Brie felt like a mean girl, until she saw Josh grinning like a fool.
‘I’ve just spent the past week up in Queensland covering Cyclone Debbie. Days without electricity and not a lot of food or clean water.’
‘How awful,’ Lauren gushed as if it was the first she’d heard of the cyclone.
‘Yes, it was pretty harrowing.’
‘I couldn’t bear to go a day without electricity. Remember the black-out that time in Rome, Joshie?’
‘Lauren, it was during the day and it barely lasted a few hours.’
‘Still,’ she pouted, ‘so many places were closed, we couldn’t even go to the Colosseum and we had to resort to … entertaining ourselves.’ She laughed like a minx.
Next to her, Josh shifted uncomfortably and Brie felt like she needed to stretch her legs and get away from Lauren and Josh’s obvious past. Maybe Brie was wrong. Maybe Lauren was more of a force than Debbie.
‘Hey, Harry, where do you want these?’ she asked, gathering the empty pizza boxes.
‘Here, let me.’ Harry took them out of her hands so she busied herself with empty plates.
‘I’ll help.’ Josh leapt up.
‘I’m fine, there’s not much to do.’
‘No, I insist.’
‘Seriously, Josh, I’m fine.’ The words came out more harshly than she’d intended and Brie immediately felt bad. It wasn’t his fault Lauren was getting on her nerves.
‘You heard the girl, Josh, she’s got it. I’m sure if she could live in the jungle for a week she can handle a few plates.’
‘She wasn’t in the jungle, Lauren, it was North Queensland,’ she heard Josh say as she walked into the kitchen, slid open the dishwasher and slotted in the dishes.
‘There’s a difference?’
‘Lauren, what the hell are you doing?’
‘What do you mean?’ Even without seeing her face, Brie could tell Lauren was doing the Little Miss Innocent act.
She didn’t hear what Josh replied, and with good reason.
‘I’m sorry.’ Josh’s voice came from behind her.
‘Jesus Christ!’ She dropped the plate in her hand and clutched at her chest. ‘You scared the bejesus out of me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated, this time with a lopsided smile. ‘And I’m sorry about Lauren.’
Brie shrugged. ‘You don’t need to apologise for sharing memories with other people.’ But for the first time since she’d left, it really hit her that Josh had moved on, and even though he and Lauren were no longer together, there would be other Laurens. Brie was replaceable. It hurt.
‘We share memories, too, Brie,’ he said quietly.
But their memories didn’t compare, did they? Brie dropped her gaze.
‘Have dinner with me.’
‘What?’
‘Dinner, Saturday night.’
‘I can’t.’ She shook her head. ‘I have plans.’
‘Hot date?’
She had to chuckle. He seriously looked a little jealous. ‘No—I’m having dinner with Tam and her family.’
‘You could ask me to come along.’
‘Or you could ask me out on Friday night.’ Why was she encouraging him? It must’ve been all that cognac.
He smiled and it sent her pulse racing. ‘Will you have dinner with me on Friday night, Brie?’
Brie couldn’t help matching his grin. She also couldn’t remember the last time she had been asked out on a date. Was it dangerous that she really wanted to go out with Josh? Probably. Would she regret it? Perhaps. Was she going to do it anyway? Absolutely.
Twenty-six
Maggie
Bondi Beach, January 1984
The last few bars of Dragon’s ‘April Sun in Cuba’ blared out of the radio as Sharon navigated her Datsun Bluebird through the midmorning traffic. Maggie toed off her thongs, her feet already slick with sweat, as was every other part of her.
‘Good morning, Sydney! Only a week into the new year and already we’re in a heat wave. My sources are telling me the beaches are going to be choc-a-block, so if you’re heading to the coast to cool off, you’d better get your skates on!’
‘We’re bloody trying,’ Sharon grumbled. The DJ was right about one thing—they were in for a scorcher and they were in bumper-to-bumper traffic as far as the eye could see. Sharon had picked her up more than half an hour ago and what was normally a fifteen-minute drive was turning into a mammoth road trip. Even with the windows down, there was no reprieve.
‘Come on!’ Sharon honked impatiently as the light turned green and the driver in front failed to move. ‘Move, you moron!’ Sharon’s protests were to no avail. The light turned red again without the driver budging. ‘Seriously! Did this guy get his licence from a Coco Pops box?’
Maggie shifted uncomfortably, her bum sticking to the vinyl seat covers. ‘I think the heat is getting to everyone.’
‘Speaking of which, what was up Rosie’s bum this morning?’
Maggie sighed. What wasn’t up her mother’s bum? Every week there appeared to be something new Rosie was angry about. It seemed that no matter what Maggie did, it was never good enough for Rosie. Even though her mother was an expert at plastering on a fake smile, Sharon knew Rosie well enough to recognise when something was amiss. ‘She’s on my back about school.’
‘Far out, don’t tell me she’s making a song and dance about you leaving?’ Sharon pulled a packet of cigarettes from the centre console. Maggie shook her head as Sharon offered her one. ‘Does she realise that you’re old enough to make that decision on your own?’
‘Yeah, but you know Rosie.’
‘Jesus, for a hippy mum Rosie is a bloody stick in the mud sometimes.’
Maggie grunted her reply. Sharon was right on the money with that one. Maggie couldn’t understand how her worldly, progressive mother who was up in arms about the way Vietnam veterans were being treated, passionate about the whole AIDS movement, Indigenous issues and was a regular at peace rallies, was as strict and straight-laced as could be when it came to Maggie. Rosie often said it’s because she had to be both a mother and a father.
Maggie had never known her father. In fact, she didn’t even know who he was. Rosie had never been forthcoming with that information. Every time Maggie tried to ask about him, Rosie would clamp down. She knew nothing except the colour of his eyes. Rosie’s were blue and hers green—she could only assume she’d inherited them from her father.
‘You know what you have to do, don’t you?’ Sharon said as she took a drag of her cigarette.
Maggie sighed, regretting the harsh exchange of words with her mother. Reaching over, she helped herself to an Alpine Menthol.
‘I can’t tell her to shove it, Shaz. She’s all I’ve got.’ As much as she loved her best friend, Sharon was the youngest of four and came from a large family. Telling people to shove it wasn’t a big deal as far as she was concerned.
Sharon gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Suit yourself, but the sooner you leave school and start working, the sooner you can start saving money for our trip to London. You do want to go to London with me, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do,’ she said defensively, not sure whom she was trying to convince more—Sharon or herself.
‘Well, you’re not going to ea
rn enough by staying in school or working at your mum’s café. You’ll be twenty by the time you have the money. Is that what you want?’
The truth was, Maggie wasn’t sure what she wanted. When Sharon had come up with the idea of the London trip, Maggie had gone along with it because she never thought her friend would follow through. Sharon had a habit of coming up with a fabulous idea one day, only to completely drop it the next.
As much as she hated to admit it, Rosie had raised some valid points that morning. Maggie had no issues listening to her mother, but it seemed that Rosie wasn’t willing to negotiate—not in the slightest, ever. And that’s what annoyed her the most.
‘Finally!’ Sharon cheered as the light turned green and traffic slowly moved. It took another fifteen minutes until they reached Bondi Beach and another ten to find parking. By the time they made it onto the sand, the sun was high in the cloudless sky. Maggie felt sweat pooling between her breasts in her bikini top.
‘Come off it, Shaz, just pick a spot already.’
Sharon had been trudging around for what seemed like forever, hunting out just the right spot. By the time she decided where she wanted to sit, they would be fried to a crisp.
‘Hang on,’ Sharon mumbled as she cast her eye across the wide expanse of beach.
‘Who are you looking for?’ Maggie asked, but before Sharon could reply, she had her answer.
‘Bloody hell,’ Maggie muttered under her breath when she spotted Sharon waving to her cousin Val. ‘Why didn’t you tell me we were meeting Val and her gang?’
‘Didn’t I? I thought I mentioned it earlier when I picked you up,’ Sharon said in a way that told Maggie she’d deliberately misled her.
‘No, you didn’t.’ Maggie didn’t bother masking her annoyance.
‘Don’t be such a dag, Maggie. I don’t know what your problem is with Val.’
The problem was that Val didn’t like her. Probably because unlike her cousin, Maggie didn’t agree with everything Val said, nor did she hang off her every word. Valarie Morgan was only eighteen months older than Sharon, but the way she acted you would think it was years.
