by Paige Toon
Craziness, but what the hell. ‘Count me in,’ I say with a grin. ‘Who’s going to do your photos?’ I ask, flashing Rachel a look. She grins back at me.
‘We were sort of hoping you guys might consider doing the photos as a wedding present.’ Maria glances sheepishly between us.
I laugh. ‘Definitely.’
‘I think that’s about the one weekend I’m not doing a wedding,’ Rachel replies.
‘I know,’ Maria says with a cheeky grin. ‘I checked your wedding diary.’
Rachel laughs. Then Maria smiles hopefully at Lachie, who’s sitting to her right. ‘And we also wondered, if we paid for your flights, and of course we’ll cover yours too,’ she quickly says to Rachel and me, continuing before I can tell her no, ‘would you consider doing the entertainment?’
Lachie chuckles. ‘Yeah, why not. I’ll ask for the time off work.’
‘We’ll all have to ask for the time off work,’ Alex says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table beside me.
Alex will come?
‘It’s only one day, and it’s a Friday, so most of the issue will have gone to press. Hopefully Simon won’t mind,’ Russ says. I hope he’s right. ‘And obviously partners are invited, too,’ he says to Alex and the others.
Maria lets out a little squeal of delight and eagerly claps her hands as she sees her plan coming together.
‘Who’s going to do your make-up?’ I ask her teasingly. She rolls her eyes at me and then collapses into giggles. It’s hard not to get swept up in her excitement.
By the time Polly and Grant join us, we’ve moved on to talk about something other than babies and weddings. I get up to give them both hugs and kisses, cringing slightly as I smell the alcohol on Polly’s breath. They must’ve gone for drinks beforehand.
Polly hasn’t met Lachie or my colleagues, although she does know Rachel and Maria. I make the introductions, everyone shifts along so they can squeeze a couple of chairs between Lachie and Rachel, and I sit back down without thinking much more about it. And then I see Polly frowning at Alex.
‘Have we met before?’ she asks him.
Oh no, I forgot to warn her not to say anything!
‘You were at my hen night!’ she squeals, suddenly placing him.
‘Steady on,’ Russ interrupts, confused. ‘Alex was at your hen night?’
‘I wasn’t at her hen night,’ Alex brushes him off. ‘It was my sister’s husband’s stag do.’
‘Were you there, too?’ Lisa asks me directly.
‘Mmm-hmm.’
‘I didn’t know you guys had met before you started working at Hebe,’ she says with a frown. Trust the person from the newsdesk to cotton on.
‘Yeah,’ I reply casually. ‘Weird, hey?’
I can sense Alex’s tension beside me. Someone kicks me under the table and my eyes shoot up to meet Lachie’s. He leans forward.
‘I’ve just booked my ticket back home.’
My stomach falls. ‘Have you? For when?’
‘December. Back in time for Christmas.’
‘Oh, right.’ This doesn’t feel like happy news.
‘Are you going back for Christmas?’ he asks me.
‘No, my visa doesn’t expire until March.’
‘Not that she’d go home for Christmas anyway,’ Polly says with a smirk.
‘Why not?’ Alex asks casually as I take a large gulp of my wine and start to cough it back up. He pats my back.
‘Are you going to Perth?’ I ask Lachie, my eyes watering from the effort of speaking. I want to get the question in before Polly can speak again.
‘Yep,’ he replies, crossing his arms.
‘Are you from Perth?’ Polly asks him with surprise. Her eyes shoot towards mine and her expression turns mischievous as she looks back at him. ‘Do you know anyone called Jason?’
‘No, I don’t know any Jasons,’ Lachie replies, confused.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Polly,’ I snap, wishing she’d never come. ‘Perth is a big city.’
‘Who’s Jason?’ Lachie asks.
‘He was my—’
‘Fiancé,’ Polly finishes my sentence with an impish grin.
‘Fiancé?’ Maria asks me with amazement as Alex turns sharply to look at me. I can feel Lachie’s eyes on me from across the table, too, although luckily, the rest of my colleagues are deep in conversation about something else at the other end of the table.
‘He wasn’t my fiancé,’ I wave her away, my face burning as Alex’s eyes bore into me.
‘He wanted to be, though,’ Polly says, seemingly enjoying my discomfort as she polishes off her drink in record time. Grant shifts beside her.
‘Thanks for that, Polly,’ I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Now the whole world knows about my disastrous love life.’ I slide out from the bench seat and stand up. ‘Anyone for a drink?’ I ask through gritted teeth.
‘Ooh, yes please,’ Polly says.
I ignore her and stalk over to the bar, hearing the sound of a chair scraping across the floorboards behind me. Lachie joins me.
‘Your mate’s a bit of a handful,’ he comments drily.
‘She pisses me off sometimes,’ I mutter, unable to keep a lid on my anger.
‘I kind of got that feeling,’ he says. ‘And she’s the one you flew halfway around the world for to come to her wedding?’
My face softens slightly. ‘Yeah. I don’t know why.’
He purses his lips together as the bartender comes over. ‘Three beers,’ he says. ‘Russ and Alex are empty,’ he tells me. I didn’t wait to find that out. ‘What are you having?’ he asks me.
I need something strong. ‘Vodka, lemonade and lime,’ I tell the bartender. ‘Actually, make it a double.’
‘Anything for Polly?’ Lachie asks drily.
‘And a lemonade and lime,’ I call after the bartender. ‘No vodka!’
‘So why did you come to her wedding?’ Lachie asks, bringing my attention back to him.
I sigh. ‘Some bizarre, weird sense of loyalty coupled together with the fact that I had always wanted to come to the UK. It was the excuse I needed, and she said she really wanted me to be there.’
We walk back to the table together. I wink at Grant as I give Polly her glass. He looks confused. ‘No alcohol,’ I mouth. He just looks more confused. I give up. If he can’t lip-read, that’s his problem.
Alex shifts in his seat as I squeeze back past the others to sit down next to him again. Everyone is chatting amongst themselves. Polly and Grant are reminiscing with Rachel about their big day, Lachie joins in on a conversation between Maria and Russ, and to Alex’s right, Lisa, Esther and Tim are discussing work. Normality seems to have resumed at our table. My relief is short-lived.
‘You were engaged?’ Alex murmurs under his breath. He gives me a freaked-out look.
‘No,’ I say determinedly. ‘We weren’t.’
‘But he proposed to you?’
‘Yes, and like I told you, I don’t believe in marriage.’
‘But he proposed to you. He obviously thought you did. You must’ve been close.’
‘Why does this matter to you?’
‘I’m sorry, I just... I didn’t realise it was that serious. I thought you were only together for a year.’
‘We were.’ He fell... fast.
‘Was I a rebound thing?’
I cannot believe he just asked me that. Here. With all of these people around. I stare at him in shock before answering his question with a question. ‘Was I?’
He shakes his head resolutely. ‘No.’
‘That makes two of us, then,’ I whisper. His eyes sear into mine, like they’re carving their way right into my soul. A shiver rockets down my spine and I know I should look away but I can’t. We hold eye contact for only a few seconds but it feels like minutes. It physically hurts to snap myself out of it. Shaken, I reach for my drink and take a large gulp.
Wait. Something’s not right. I take another sip. Oh no. I�
��ve given Polly the double vodka. I stare with dismay as she takes a massive gulp.
Lisa, oblivious to my inner turmoil, uses her small-talk skills on Polly and me. ‘How long have you two known each other?’ she asks.
‘God, forever,’ Polly replies, her voice ramping up a notch. She’s well on her way to being off her face and deeply unpleasant. Grant looks awkward beside her and my heart goes out to him.
‘Since primary school, right?’ I come in on the conversation, hoping to defuse it.
‘So you lived just outside of Adelaide too?’ Lachie asks Polly.
‘Yep! But I followed Bronte to Sydney as soon as I could.’
‘When did you go to Sydney?’ Lachie asks me. Alex, beside me, is staying very quiet, but I’m as aware of his presence as I would be of a furnace.
‘When she was seventeen,’ Polly says with a grin before I can get the words out.
‘Almost eighteen,’ I point out.
‘That was young,’ Lisa comments.
‘She couldn’t wait to get away from her parents.’
‘Polly!’ I say sharply.
‘Oh, stop being so touchy,’ she belittles me. ‘You’re thirty. So what about your dad? Get over it!’
I feel sick. She’s made me feel sick. Why am I even friends with this person?
‘I couldn’t wait to get away from my family, either,’ Lachie says, coming to my rescue. ‘But that was because I have four older sisters.’
‘No way?’ Maria turns to him, but not before shooting me a perplexed look. ‘How did you survive?’
The focus moves away from me, as I’m sure was Lachie’s intention. I feel Alex shift beside me, and a moment later his hand is on my lower back. I instinctively tense up, but as his thumb moves up and down, I know he’s trying to comfort me. I take a deep breath and shakily exhale.
‘Did you know your mum has a boyfriend?’ Polly’s words spear my moment of peace and I’m instantly racked with tension again. Alex’s hand stills.
I shake my head at her, confused. ‘I don’t... What do you mean?’
She continues in her too-loud voice. ‘My mum said she’s got a man.’
‘She can’t... She wouldn’t...’ I stutter as the blood drains from my face. Everyone around the table is listening now and it’s excruciating.
‘She takes him to church and everything.’
My stomach lurches. ‘You can’t... You must have that wrong. My mum wouldn’t... He must be a friend.’
‘Nope,’ Polly says definitively. ‘Mum said they’re way more than friends. Everyone is talking about it,’ she adds pointedly.
‘Maybe this is a conversation you should be having with Bronte in private.’ Alex’s authoritative tone cuts through the silence. His hand is flat against my back, pressing firmly.
Polly looks a little shocked. She wobbles slightly on her chair as she regards him. Then she laughs as though she’s absolutely outraged.
‘I think we should go,’ Grant says quietly.
‘What?’ she screeches at her husband, before turning her accusing stare back to Alex. ‘What are you doing here anyway?’ She waggles her finger between the two of us. ‘Are you two fucking each other?’
There’s a collective gasp around the table as everyone stares at her in disbelief.
‘Right, that’s it,’ Grant says, angrily pushing his chair out from the table. ‘We’re going.’
He hauls her to her feet but she smacks his hand away. ‘I’m not going anywhere!’ she snaps.
‘I’m leaving. And you’re coming with me,’ he says firmly.
‘I’m not leaving,’ she slurs drunkenly, sitting back down again. ‘If you want to be a party pooper, be a party pooper. I’m staying here with my friends.’
I slide out from the bench seat position and stand up, squeezing past Rachel.
‘Come on,’ I bark, tapping her shoulder.
Lachie also stands up. Polly looks over her shoulder at me as if I’m from another planet.
‘Get up,’ I raise my voice at her while Grant turns away from us and rakes his hands through his hair in a despairing gesture.
Polly shakily gets to her feet. I grab her arm and try to march her towards the door, but she furiously wrenches away from me. ‘What are you doing?’ she hisses.
‘Come on, Polly,’ Lachie says calmly, his hand on her back. ‘We’re all going home now anyway.’
‘What?’
‘It’s late,’ he says.
‘It’s early!’ she screeches. ‘You’re all a bunch of wusses!’
By now, we’re outside the pub. I flag down a passing black cab. The driver regards Polly warily as Grant tells him their address and I almost think he’s going to reconsider, but Lachie opens the back door and ushers Polly inside.
‘You okay, mate?’ he asks Grant, who nods tersely and makes to climb into the car. But Lachie puts his hand on his chest to hold him back. ‘Do you need some help getting her home?’
‘No, no, it’s fine,’ Grant replies curtly, while I fight back tears.
‘Maybe you two should speak tomorrow?’ Lachie suggests to both of us.
Grant hesitates, not meeting my eyes as he nods again. Lachie lets him go and he climbs into the cab.
Alex comes out of the pub doors, just as the car is pulling away from the kerb. ‘Are you alright?’ he asks me with concern.
I nod quickly, but there’s a lump in my throat now. ‘Sorry,’ I mutter, looking away. I really, really need to cry. ‘I’m going to go home.’ I see a cab’s yellow light through blurry vision and impulsively flag it down.
‘Hey,’ Alex says gently, his hand on my forearm. ‘Don’t go yet.’
I shake my head quickly. He shouldn’t be touching me. He should be keeping his distance, not being kind and making me like him too much. Lachie crosses his arms over his chest, but keeps a safe distance. ‘I have to,’ I say in a croaky voice. ‘Will you tell Bridget I’m sorry I missed her when she arrives? Chalk Farm, please,’ I say to the cab driver through his open window. I open the door and climb in, pulling it shut behind me. I scoot across the seat and look out of the opposite window as tears start to roll down my face. I can’t bear to look at either of the men standing on the pavement as I hurriedly brush them away.
As the driver sets off around the corner towards the tall, concrete and glass office building that is Centre Point, anger mixes with my grief. At that very moment, I despise Polly. She never makes me feel good about myself. She’s a taker, never a giver. I feel bound to her because she’s one of a very few links to my childhood. Sometimes I wish I could smash those links with a sledgehammer and set myself free. My anger dissolves as my bottom lip wobbles dangerously.
Then someone pounds on the window on the opposite side of the car and I nearly jump out of my skin. I whip my head around and stare in shock at Lachie. He holds my bag up and I suddenly realise I have no money on me whatsoever.
‘Is he with you?’ the cab driver asks acerbically. We’re waiting at the traffic lights near Centre Point.
‘Yes!’ I exclaim, leaning across the car to open the door. ‘Thank you!’ I try to take the bag from him, but he slides into the car beside me and shuts the door.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Hitching a ride,’ he says, out of breath. He must have run like Usain Bolt to catch up with me. ‘Can we go via Camden, mate?’ he says to the cab driver.
‘Thank you,’ I say quietly, taking the bag from him, but not meeting his eyes as the cab sets off again.
He hesitates before speaking. ‘Alex wanted to come.’
My heart soars, but the feeling is short-lived.
‘Did he?’ I ask with a wavering voice.
‘Yeah.’
‘Why... didn’t he?’ I ask.
‘I didn’t think it would be a very good idea,’ he says in a monotone.
I stare down at my hands. ‘No, probably not.’ Lachie knows that I have feelings for Alex. I told him myself. He swivels to face me, but I can’t
meet his eyes. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do about her,’ I murmur, steering the conversation towards Polly.
‘You need to host an intervention,’ he says matter-of-factly.
I look at him with a frown. I’m not sure I know what he means.
‘You need to get Polly’s friends and Grant together to convince her that she’s got a drink problem. She needs professional help.’ He shrugs. ‘A mate of mine back in Oz was the same. Binge-drinking, laying into everyone, never remembering it in the morning.’
‘She doesn’t remember anything in the morning, either,’ I say. ‘But whenever I say anything to her, she shoots me down.’
‘That’s why you do it with others. Bridgie, Grant, anyone else she’s close to.’
‘Michelle,’ I say aloud, thinking of her bridesmaid. I wonder if she and Polly are still close? I could call the hotel and ask her. The thought makes me feel exhausted.
‘She’ll be okay,’ Lachie assures me. ‘I’m not saying she’ll be instantly cured. In fact, she’s almost certain to carry on drinking, but it’s the first step to convincing her she’s got a problem. She’ll probably start to recognise the signs in herself.’
I sigh heavily. I don’t feel like I’ve got the energy for Polly after what she said tonight.
Lachie slips his arm behind my shoulders. ‘Come here.’
I shuffle against him and rest my head on his shoulder as his arm encircles me, but I don’t find the gesture as comforting as I have done in the past. I think of Alex putting his hand on my back and the look in his eyes when he asked me if he was a rebound thing. The thought makes my heart flutter. I squeeze my eyes shut, but the memory intensifies. I sit up straight again, not wanting to be consoled by Lachie. I bite my lip and stare out of the window. Lachie doesn’t seem to know what to say so we ride the rest of the journey to Camden in silence.
‘Just up at the traffic lights, mate,’ Lachie says to the cab driver, getting a note out of his wallet. He looks at me. ‘Come for a drink with me?’
I shake my head. ‘I can’t.’
‘If you want help, I can help you,’ he says. ‘I’ll even call Grant for you if you like.’
