by Paige Toon
I always wondered if our age gap would come back to bite us.
I think it just has.
‘I just… I don’t want to be an older mum. I’m already thirty-four. I thought I’d have children by now.’
‘I thought I’d get married one day, but you don’t believe in marriage, so that’s that, then…’ His slightly shirty voice trails off.
‘I’m not totally against it,’ I say with a frown. ‘I just don’t really see the point. Wait. Do you want to get married?’ I ask with surprise.
He doesn’t meet my eyes. ‘No. That’s not what I’m saying.’
His tone triggers a wave of nausea and I find myself sitting up in my sleeping bag.
‘But you do see a future with me, right?’ I ask cautiously.
‘Yeah. You know I love you. But…’ He’s not meeting my eyes.
‘What?’ I ask warily.
He sighs and my nausea ramps up a notch. ‘I guess I’ve felt a little… stifled lately.’
‘What?’
‘You never want to go out anymore,’ he says. ‘We’re becoming boring.’
‘You mean I’m becoming boring. You’ve been going out plenty,’ I snap.
‘I’m only twenty-eight, Bronte! We should be out every other night, having a laugh with our mates, not sitting at home relentlessly watching telly on the sofa.’
‘Do these mates include Fliss?’ I ask irately.
‘Don’t start that again,’ Lachie snaps.
A couple of weeks ago, I got a nasty surprise when I overheard Elliot asking Lachie if Fliss was okay.
‘What’s this?’ I interrupted, and it may have just been my imagination, but Lachie seemed to tense up.
‘Her ex has been harassing her,’ he divulged, reluctantly, I thought at the time.
‘Lachie’s been her knight in shining armour,’ Elliot teased.
‘It’s no big deal.’ Lachie brushed it off.
‘In what way?’ I persisted, forcing a smile, despite my unease.
‘He’s just been giving her a bit of shit, always ringing her, turning up at her flat uninvited, wanting her back. He rocked up at that wedding we were doing last weekend, so I told him where to go.’
‘Pow!’ Elliot interjected, smacking his fist against his other hand.
‘You punched him?’ I asked my boyfriend, shocked.
‘I didn’t punch him,’ he snapped infuriatedly, shooting Elliot a look. ‘I just gave him a bit of a shove.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I asked.
‘It wasn’t a big deal.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Elliot pulling a face, as though he’d belatedly realised he’d landed his mate in trouble. I chose to drop the subject, but couldn’t let it lie.
‘Why didn’t you tell me what was going on with Fliss?’ I asked later.
‘I told you, it wasn’t a big deal.’
‘Elliot knew. How was that, then?’
‘He came out that night with us, remember? You didn’t feel like it.’
‘Only because it was eleven o’clock by the time you finished that wedding!’ I exclaimed. ‘I was already in bed! I thought you were going to come home!’
It was not the first argument we’d had in recent months.
‘Do you find her attractive?’ I ask Lachie now. It’s time we got to the bottom of this.
‘Of course she’s attractive – any bloke would think so.’
‘No, do you find her attractive?’ I repeat.
‘What do you expect me to say?’ he responds eventually, his eyes glinting in the darkness.
‘Oh, shit,’ I mumble, fighting back tears as I unzip my sleeping bag.
‘What are you doing?’ he mutters, reaching for my arm.
I snatch it away from him. ‘Getting some fresh air.’
I sit on a garden bench in the damp night, staring up at the stars. Lachie is snoring lightly by the time I return half an hour later. At some point during the night, he tries to spoon me, but the distance between us is real, and not just because we’re in separate sleeping bags.
The next day, five children pile into our makeshift bedroom at seven in the morning and we manage to feign excitement as we vow to come straight in and open, or, rather, dish out our presents.
Once they’ve left us to get dressed, Lachie meets my eyes directly. ‘I don’t fancy Fliss,’ he states adamantly. ‘I fancy you. Only you. Just… chill out, okay?’
I try to, but the tension between us doesn’t dissipate.
A merry, merry Christmas it ain’t.
‘Say hello to Bronte!’
‘Hello, Bonty,’ a sweet little voice comes in reply before Bridget’s face is obscured by a small, chubby hand.
It’s a Saturday evening in late March and Bridget and I are FaceTiming.
‘Give that to me, you cheeky monkey,’ Bridget chides, wrestling her phone back. ‘I’ll get you one of these when you’re twelve and not a year younger.’
I smile at my friend’s face, lit up with love as she grins down at her daughter. It still feels surreal, but Bridget is, without a shadow of a doubt, this tiny person’s mummy, now. They haven’t quite completed the adoption process, but April has been using the moniker for months.
‘How are you?’ Bridget asks once April has run off to amuse herself with some toy or other.
‘I’m okay.’ I nod.
There’s sadness in her eyes, which I know mirrors mine.
Things haven’t been right between Lachie and me, not since Christmas, and, if I’m being honest, not for some time before that. Bridget is as clueless as I am about a solution.
‘So he definitely can’t make the wedding?’
I shake my head. ‘Aside from the fact that he refuses to let people down, we can’t afford to both fly over at the moment.’
‘Is today’s wedding with Fliss?’ she checks.
‘Yep. And the two in July when I’m over with you. She sees more of him than I do.’ I miserably put my feet up on the coffee table. ‘He reckons we should be thankful to her for getting him so much work.’
‘Yeah, I’m sure her heart is in the right place.’
I love it when Bridget is sarcastic.
I grin at her. ‘Miss you,’ I say.
‘I miss you, too,’ she replies seriously. Her expression suddenly becomes anxious. ‘Am I making a shitty mistake asking you to do the pics?’
Now I’m worried. I haven’t managed to line up any other weddings since she asked me to do hers. Lachie said Fliss could ask around – she is very well connected, apparently – but I decided to cut off my nose to spite my face, where that one was concerned.
I’ll probably live to regret it, but I can’t face her being involved in my career. It’s bad enough that she’s so entwined with Lachie’s, although I do know deep down that I should be more appreciative of all the work she gets him. He’d much rather be playing his music than working on a building site or behind a bar.
‘Are you having second thoughts?’ I ask apprehensively.
‘No!’ Bridget cries. ‘Of course I’m not! I just want you to kick back and enjoy yourself, not have to work.’
‘I will absolutely enjoy myself. Anyway, Rachel will be there, too.’
I was thrilled when Bridget managed to line up my former boss after I voiced concerns about my current lack of experience. Luckily, Bridget and Charlie are getting married midweek, so Rachel was free. She gave them a whopping great discount and was delighted to hear that I would be assisting her.
‘I spoke to her last week,’ I say with a smile. ‘I can’t wait to work with her again.’
‘I assure you, the feeling is mutual,’ she replies. ‘With Maria doing my make-up, it’ll be like old times.’
‘Any more thoughts on your hen night?’ I ask.
Last I heard, she still hadn’t made plans. Her friends have put forward so many suggestions – mostly involving European getaways – but so far, none of our ideas have been received with enthusiasm
from our bride-to-be.
Now our blushing bride-to-be, I notice.
‘I’m not sure I really want one,’ she reluctantly admits.
‘What?’ Bridget, turning down the chance to go out with her mates and get shitfaced?
‘I know this is really, really sad,’ she continues bashfully, ‘but I just don’t want to be away from Charlie and April, even for one night.’
‘What has he done to you?’ I cry.
Her cheeks brighten further and I can’t help but laugh.
‘How do you cope when you have to go away for work?’ I ask, genuinely curious.
‘Charlie and April come with me,’ she replies, still sheepish. ‘I know I’ll have to work away from them sometimes, but I wouldn’t choose it,’ she reveals.
I laugh again. ‘I never, ever thought I’d see the day.’
‘Me neither,’ she replies.
It’s Lachie’s twenty-ninth birthday a week later. He wants to go out in Sydney for a big night, but at the last minute he’s asked to do a gig at a popular Manly haunt after the booked artist drops out. His friends are only too happy to go to his gig first before carrying on locally, so I head home straight after work to get ready and join him at the venue. I find him having a beer with a couple of his former builder buddies.
When we settled in Sydney, Lachie lined up a stint on a building site to help pay the rent, but he has enough gigging work now to get by. He’s stayed in touch with the guys he liked the most, though, including his former boss, Nathan, who’s propping up the bar with him now.
‘I didn’t know you were back,’ I say to Nathan with a smile, after kissing the birthday boy hello. ‘Is Lucy coming?’
Lucy is Nathan’s wife and we became friendly almost instantly. She and Nathan have been over in the UK for the last few months, working and visiting Lucy’s family. They try to split their time between the two countries.
‘Yeah, as soon as she’s got Finn down,’ Nathan replies, referring to their not-quite-two-year-old son. ‘Jet lag is a bitch for toddlers. His sleep is all over the place.’
‘When did you get back?’
‘Only a few days ago. We’ll have to have you over to ours for a barbie soon.’
‘That would be great.’
We tend to go to theirs more, just because it’s easier with Finn. Plus, they have a really cool old house, just up the hill from here. It was pretty much derelict when they bought it, but now it has modern touches and loads of glass and natural light. Nathan did all of the work on it himself.
I turn to Lachie, pleased to see that he’s wearing the new watch I bought him. ‘How was your day?’
‘Pretty chilled,’ he replies with a warm smile.
‘When are your days not chilled,’ I tease, slipping one arm around his waist. He does the same to me, pulling me against his hip.
‘What do you want to drink?’ he asks.
‘I might get a glass of bubbles.’ I try to flag down the girl behind the bar, but she’s not looking my way.
‘Prosecco?’ he asks, raising an eyebrow.
‘Yes, please.’
He twists away and leans over the counter. The girl looks his way immediately and attends to him within seconds.
This always happens. Not that I’m complaining.
A few more friends arrive, including Fliss, who walks in, laughing, with Elliot.
‘Am I missing something?’ I ask in El’s ear when he comes over.
He brushes me off. ‘No. She was at her sister’s, so I offered to pick her up on my way from work. I had a meeting with a client this afty in Cremorne.’ That’s a suburb southwest from here, on the way to Sydney. Elliot’s a civil engineer.
‘Cool watch!’ I hear Fliss say to Lachie.
‘Bronnie got it for me,’ Lachie replies, and he’s already smiling at me when I turn to catch his eye.
‘She’s got good taste, your girlfriend.’ Fliss flashes me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
‘Too bloody right, she does,’ Lachie jokes, grabbing my hand and tugging me towards him. He loops his arms around my waist from behind and plants a kiss on my cheek.
‘Aw,’ Fliss says soppily, smiling at us both before calling out to Elliot. ‘Oi, El, are you buying me a drink or what?’ She steps away to join our friend.
Eventually, Lachie has to go and do his set. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him gig – obviously I can’t go to any of the weddings he does, but I miss the days when we used to work together. As he takes to the stage, the venue fills with deafening cheers and whoops – his mates have got some lungs on them. I feel a wave of pride. Lachie looks so right up there, so at ease and sexy with his ripped jeans, dark T-shirt and shaggy blond hair. With his short beard, he looks a lot like how he did when we first met, albeit with broader shoulders these days. He’s even more attractive, if that’s possible.
He casts his eyes over the audience with a lazy, delightful grin as he sits down on a stool. Then he leans towards the mic and says a simple, affectionate ‘Hi’ before launching into a stripped-back acoustic version of The Killers’ ‘When You Were Young’.
‘Ah, man!’ I hear Nathan exclaim with dismay.
I cast him a sideways look.
‘I can’t believe Lucy’s missing this. She loves this song,’ he explains.
‘Is she still coming?’ She’s pretty late. I hope she’s okay.
‘Finn was throwing a tantrum, but she’s on her way,’ he promises.
Lachie catches my eye during the first instrumental section and smiles, prompting a series of tiny shivers to spiral down my spine. I still fancy him. So much.
I remember the first time I saw Lachie on stage. It was at a wedding in Scotland and, when he appeared, both Rachel and I swooned. We couldn’t take our eyes off him.
‘The hottest wedding singer I’ve ever come across, period,’ were Rachel’s exact words.
He joined us for a beer during one of his breaks. He seemed so young and flirty to me at the time – not boyfriend material in the slightest. I was shocked when he later asked if he could come up to my room. He’d caught a cab back with us to our hotel and I’d naturally assumed he was staying there. We’d had a few drinks together and I thought he was sweet, but I wasn’t about to sleep with him, the cheeky git, or let him crash on my floor, which was his next question.
He ended up kipping in his car in the hotel car park, where he’d left it earlier – he didn’t have a hotel room booked, after all. I felt a little bad about that, but he didn’t seem fazed. That was just what he was like – free and easy.
Not long afterwards, he rocked up in London and sought me out – I’d told him where I worked. We became friends, although he later revealed he’d had the hots for me from the beginning. I was so caught up in Alex that I didn’t have room in my heart – or life – for anyone else, even though the situation with Alex was hopeless.
When Lachie and I eventually got together, it was after Alex had stepped right back. It’s not that I hadn’t been attracted to Lachie before, because I definitely had; I just hadn’t visualised a future for us.
Four and a half years later, here we are.
After a few more songs, Lachie does ‘Cocoon’ by Catfish and the Bottlemen, one of our favourite bands.
When he gets to the part in the lyric about his girl staying to outdrink him, he smirks to himself and looks down at his strumming hands on the guitar. But the next time he sings these words he grins out at the audience. Something makes me search for Fliss in the crowd and, from the look on her face, I know straightaway that they’re sharing a private joke.
My stomach turns over, and then a pair of hands land on my waist. I jump and twist around to see Lucy.
‘Hi!’ she shouts over the music.
‘Hey!’ I try to sound as enthusiastic as I would if I hadn’t just witnessed what I’d witnessed.
She tilts her face up to Nathan, who obligingly presses a kiss to her lips. ‘Hell?’ he asks.
‘Shocking.’
She casts her eyes heavenwards, shrugs and nods.
Distracted, my eyes return to the stage. Lachie isn’t looking at Fliss anymore, but another glance at her reveals that she’s still grinning at him, rapt.
‘Sorry I’m so late!’ Lucy says in my ear, chinking my beer bottle with what looks like vodka and cranberry.
‘No worries at all,’ I reply, trying to ignore the sick feeling roiling in my gut.
Am I losing Lachie?
Is he already lost?
‘Are you okay?’ Lucy asks with sudden concern.
Her empathy has a powerful effect on my emotions.
‘Bronte, what’s wrong?’ she asks with alarm as my eyes well up with tears. ‘Is it Lachie?’ she persists.
I’m mortified, but I nod as I swallow. I like Lucy too much to lie to her.
‘Who is that?’ she asks, following the line of my sight towards Fliss.
‘Fliss,’ I reply. ‘She’s the girl he’s been doing all his weddings with.’
‘You think there’s something going on?’ She’s startled.
I shake my head. ‘I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling.’
‘She looks young.’ Lucy casts Fliss another surreptitious glance.
‘She’s Lachie’s age,’ I reply.
My friend meets my eyes with understanding.
‘Sorry, this is not the time or the place.’ I’m shocked and embarrassed at how much I’ve said. I really don’t believe Lachie is cheating on me, but it hurts to think that his feelings may drift further than friendship.
‘What are you up to tomorrow?’ Lucy asks. ‘Is Lachie working?’
I nod miserably. ‘With her.’
‘Come over for a cuppa,’ she urges. ‘I’ll make sure Nathan’s out of the house and will put Finn down for his nap so we can chat properly.’
‘Okay,’ I reply. ‘Thanks.’
I know I’ll be very glad of the distraction.
‘Sorry I had to leave early last night,’ Lucy apologises the following day when our plan comes together.
Finn kindly obliged us by going down for his nap without any fuss. Flying halfway around the world to land in a completely different time zone used to knacker me out, but at least I knew why my body clock was all over the place. It must be very confusing for a toddler.
