‘Mum’s proud of you,’ Sully says, always the peacemaker. ‘She’s just not very good at showing it.’
‘No kidding.’
Sully releases her and picks up the whisky bottle again, pours a shot into each of the remaining two glasses.
‘Imagine if she died tomorrow,’ he says. ‘Would you have any regrets?’ He picks up the glasses and returns to the lounge without waiting for an answer.
Molly stares into her whisky, then takes a large gulp and wanders onto the back balcony. After picking up a sandy towel and draping it next to the others, she props her elbows up on the railing. The boys have gone inside, or so she thinks, until she hears Noah’s voice.
‘You all right, Mum?’ He walks up the stairs and leans beside her. Molly can detect the scent of his sweat, intermingled with deodorant. A young man rather than a boy — oh hell, she wishes he weren’t growing up so fast.
‘I’m good,’ she says. ‘Are you having fun?’
‘Yeah, of course,’ Noah says.
‘I’m sorry about that argument before.’
Noah hesitates. ‘We’re not going to leave early, are we?’
‘No. No, of course not.’ She gives him a quick kiss. ‘It’ll blow over. It always does.’
Noah slides away. ‘I need a drink of water,’ he says and escapes inside before Molly can tell him she loves him.
‘Kids. Confucius say when they’re young, you can’t escape them, and when they’re older, all they want is to escape you.’
Molly turns around. Ants is standing in the doorway, holding his glass of whisky.
‘Confucius never said that,’ she says.
‘OK, Confucius say man who go through turnstile sideways going to Bangkok,’ he says, and she giggles.
‘Are you still telling those terrible jokes?’
‘Made you laugh, didn’t it?’ He walks to the railing. ‘Seen Lola?’
‘Yeah, we came back from the beach together. She went to bed, said she had a bit of a headache.’
‘Ah well, hope she checked her blood sugar.’
‘Sorry, I should have asked.’
‘No, I’m sure she did. She’s not silly. When she’s not jumping out of kayaks with her favourite cousin, that is.’
‘It’s nice to see them getting on so well.’
‘Nothing like hanging out with your cousins.’ Ants set the glass on the table behind them. ‘Might check up on her anyway.’
‘Sure, I’ll see you inside,’ Molly says, but she doesn’t move, not straight away. She’s wondering what it’s like to grow up with one’s father always present, to have comfortable rather than awkward silences. There were a lot of those when she was a teenager. No unrestrained hugs from Molly’s father, especially once she started growing boobs and having periods.
Sully’s voice comes back to her: Would you have any regrets?
And Molly thinks, Yes, I’d regret that I didn’t stand up to Mum sooner.
But still, the guilt splinters prick at her. They won’t go away.
And now it’s late, so late, and it’s just Molly and her twin left on the front balcony.
Joe tilts his wrist. ‘Look, it’s New Year’s Eve.’
Molly blinks at his watch. The short hand is on the twelve, the long hand on the one.
‘The witching hour,’ he says. ‘Do you want to go for a walk?’
‘I think I’m too drunk,’ she says, tipping her head back against the chair. ‘Sorry.’ In the distance, she hears a car backfiring. Every sound seems magnified here, resonating about the echo chamber of Tern Bay.
Wicked wicked wicked.
‘Come on,’ Joe says, touching the back of her neck. ‘How often do you get to go for a walk with me?’
Molly focuses on him. ‘Richard wants to leave tomorrow,’ she says.
Joe’s arm falls away, but his eyes remain on hers. ‘And are you?’
She shakes her head, but Joe doesn’t look away. The words rush out, as though he can’t keep them inside any longer. ‘Two years was too bloody long, Lolly.’
Molly can hardly stand to look at him anymore. She rises to her feet, ignoring the spinning in her head.
‘Fuck, Joe, I was trying to — I was trying to make a new start, OK? We both were.’
‘And has it worked?’ Joe is right behind her, following down the steps and across the front lawn. So much for not going for a walk.
‘In some ways yes, and other ways no.’ She sticks to the grass verge, her feet still city-soft. As kids, they’d go all summer without shoes. ‘I don’t think Noah’s forgiven me for taking him away from his girlfriend. Although she’s come to visit a couple of times, which is something.’
‘Long-distance relationships don’t last forever,’ Joe says, and she feels a plunging sensation in her gut.
‘What are you saying?’ The moon has washed the bay in shades of grey. She feels as if she has been transported back into one of the black-and-white photographs her grandparents stuck so carefully into their albums.
‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘I’m not saying anything.’ He speeds up ahead of her. Molly’s got half a mind to turn around and head back to the house, but then she’d have to go to bed, to Richard, and it’s the last thing she feels like doing. So she trails behind her twin, trying to breathe past the sandpaper sensation in her throat.
When they reach the beach, they stand with their feet in the water, listening to the metallic rasp of sea on shells.
‘So, tell me,’ Joe says, ‘has the move to Australia worked for you and Richard?’
Molly chews her bottom lip. ‘No,’ she says, after three more waves, ‘I don’t believe it has. But he wants — he wants us to go to Paris. For a, I don’t know, second honeymoon.’
‘And what do you want?’
‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘Why should you care anyway? You’ve always hated him.’
His voice cool, Joe says, ‘I don’t hate him,’ but she knows he’s lying.
‘What about you?’ Molly asks after a short silence. ‘What’s on the horizon for you this year?’ As soon as the words are out, she feels a mixture of hope and dread. She’s not sure she wants to hear the answer.
‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘My life seems stuck in a holding pattern.’
‘I just want you to be happy.’ Molly’s chest is so tight it hurts. If Joe isn’t happy, then how can she be happy? She’s not sure she even remembers what happiness feels like, a lot of the time.
Joe moves behind her, clasping her so tight she can barely breathe.
‘Do you remember what we did after Mum gave Dad a bleeding nose?’ He says in her ear. ‘When we were fourteen?’
‘I remember everything,’ Molly whispers.
‘No regrets,’ he says, and it makes her wonder if he heard what Sully said to her in the kitchen earlier. Everything seems to be reflecting back at her, reflecting and echoing. It’s as though her life were on a loop, spiralling in on itself.
‘No regrets,’ she says, her voice stronger now.
‘Are you still too drunk for that walk, Lolly?’
Molly looks down the beach, towards the pohutukawa tree.
‘No,’ she says. ‘No, I don’t believe I am.’
Chapter 17:
NOAH
The afternoon sun reflects off the sea and into his eyes, orange-blue. It’s New Year’s Eve, and the Mortimers are performing their usual family ritual. Noah takes a deep breath and dives down, his fingers scraping against the sandy seabed. After finding two, three, four shellfish, he powers back up. When his head breaks the surface, he sees Sully’s chunky feet wriggling in the air.
Beside him, he hears Joe say, ‘Want me to put those in my pockets?’ He’s standing between Lola and Noah.
‘Sure,’ Lola says, giving him three tuatua. Her hair is tied up high on her head, water droplets glistening at the base of her throat. She glances at Noah and away.
They haven’t spoken since last night, since she found out about Aimee. Noah’s stomach has been
churning ever since. He doesn’t know what to do. He thinks Lola might hate him, and he can hardly stand it.
Ducking his head, Noah moves away, swiping his feet through the sand until he feels hard shells bump up against his toes. Then he dives again and again, until his pockets are heavy with shellfish. Once his pockets are full, he heads in to shore and empties his bounty into the white bucket on the tideline.
The shellfish are immersed in salt water. They’ll feed them rolled oats, so they spit out the sand, then the tuatua will be cooked up before dinner with onions and garlic.
‘A feast fit for a king.’ Uncle Ants scoops more tuatua from his pockets. ‘Can’t wait to cook these babies up.’
‘Me neither.’ Looking up, Noah sees Lola sitting in the sand with his mother and Aunt Kiri, a towel wrapped around her shoulders. He can hear Aunt Kiri nagging from here.
‘Did you eat lunch, Lola?’
‘Yes.’ Lola stands up and walks towards the road. He looks at Uncle Ants.
‘Think I’ll head back — do you want me to take the bucket?’
‘Sure, I think those guys are done.’ Ants waves towards the end of the beach, where the others have started up a game of touch rugby that seems to involve lots of yelling and falling over in the water. ‘Sure you don’t want to play? The tuatua aren’t going anywhere.’
‘Nah, got a bit of headache. Think I’ll have a lie-down.’ Noah picks up the bucket and trudges up the sand, sticking at least twenty metres behind Lola. By the time she disappears around the corner, his arm is aching. He sets the bucket down, clenches and unclenches his fingers, then picks it up again.
Noah didn’t call Aimee this morning. He was worried she would hear all his secrets even if he said all the right words, I miss you and I can’t wait to see you.
He’s missing Lola, and she’s only half a street away.
‘Noah.’
He sets the bucket down again. Lola’s standing beneath a magnolia tree, tugging on the ends of her hair.
‘Hi,’ Noah says cautiously. He’s half-expecting her to whack him, like she did once when they were fighting over the last ice-cream in Nana’s freezer.
‘I need to talk to you.’
Taking a step closer, he says, ‘Yeah, I — I need to talk to you too.’
Lola leans against the tree, her gaze holding his. ‘What were you going to say?’
Noah wants to say you first, but he knows that’s not going to work.
He takes a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Aimee.’
‘Have you told her you cheated on her?’
‘Well, I — no.’ He rubs his forehead. ‘I just need time to think.’
Lola clenches her fists at her sides. ‘We don’t have any time. In four days you’ll be gone.’
‘So maybe we shouldn’t be wasting it by arguing then.’ After a quick glance behind to check no one else is around, Noah moves closer. ‘Do you wish this hadn’t happened? Should I have left you alone?’
‘I don’t know.’ Lola’s eyes are glistening.
‘I don’t want to hurt you, Lol. Can we just pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist for a few days? Can we do that?’ He’s so close he can feel her breath stirring over his face.
‘OK,’ she says, after an agonising silence. ‘But I need to know what you’re going to do before you leave. About me, and about her.’
‘OK,’ Noah says. ‘I will.’ Then he takes her hand and doesn’t let go, not until they’re nearly at the beach house.
That evening, the cousins build a bonfire down the end of the beach and share around the beers McKenzie bribed Tom into getting for them. It’s dark, so no one can see how Noah has planted his arm behind Lola, his fingertips just touching the curve of her butt.
They’d made up for lost time in the garage that afternoon, before everyone came back from the beach. Noah doesn’t remember ever feeling like this with Aimee, as if he’s teetering on the edge of a precipice — it’s thrilling and scary and he can’t move away.
‘Take it easy, girl,’ McKenzie says when Lola reaches for a second can of beer. ‘Or you’ll be spewing before eleven.’
‘Yeah, the olds will kill me if you coma on the beach,’ Tom says.
‘I’m not stupid,’ Lola says. It’s two hours until midnight, two hours until they can escape. Together.
Beckett, sitting on a pohutukawa branch about four feet off the ground, lets out a barking burp. ‘Can you get drunk off one can? I think I’m drunk.’
‘I don’t know, but that’s all you’re getting,’ Noah says. Tom’s right, their parents will kill them if they get the kids drunk.
‘Let’s play a game,’ McKenzie says.
‘Like what?’ Noah asks. Maybe they could play hide-and seek, so he and Lola can sneak off. He’s entertaining thoughts of rolling around between the sand dunes when McKenzie’s annoying voice intrudes.
‘Dare, Truth or Promise,’ she says. Oh great.
‘Yeah.’ Austin, sitting to Noah’s right, claps. ‘I’m in.’
‘I hate that game,’ Lola says.
‘Really?’ Tom says. ‘You liked it well enough last year. Wasn’t it you who dared me to wear one of Nana’s bras for the rest of the day last year?’
‘Yeah, man, you were ruthless,’ Austin says.
Lola holds her palms up to the flickering flames. ‘OK, fine, dare me all you want.’
Austin grins. ‘Awesome, who gets to start?’
McKenzie swipes Austin’s hat off and pulls it over her ears. ‘You do, cowboy.’
‘Sweet, I’m going to start with Beckett.’ Austin tips his head back. ‘Dare, Truth or Promise?’
Above them, Beckett groans and drops his empty beer can on top of Austin’s head. ‘Dare.’
‘OK,’ Austin says, lobbing the can back at him. ‘I dare you to … go for a skinny-dip.’
‘You’re so predictable.’ Beckett jumps into the sand. ‘No perving, OK? Especially from you, Aus.’
‘Piss off,’ Austin says, uncharacteristic venom in his voice.
‘Settle down, kids,’ McKenzie says, and Noah feels Lola tense. McKenzie’s so fucking patronising sometimes.
Beckett disappears into the darkness. A minute later, there’s a splash and a whoop.
‘How do we know he’s actually skinny-dipping?’ Noah asks. He could be throwing rocks in the water for all they know. Noah wouldn’t put it past him.
‘I’ll go check for his clothes.’ Tom jumps up and McKenzie follows him, saying, ‘Hey, you should nick them.’
Noah laughs. ‘Ooh, that’s harsh.’
‘I’m on it,’ Austin says, running ahead of them, and just like that, Lola and Noah are alone.
Noah sneaks an arm around Lola’s waist. ‘Who are you going to pick on?’
‘I don’t know yet. Careful,’ she says, when he kisses the side of her neck.
‘It’s dark,’ he murmurs, moving his lips to her ear. Her hair smells good, like strawberries, and she tastes of salt and sunblock and girl. Lola turns her head and they kiss for ten seconds, maybe less, before she pulls away.
‘Later,’ she says.
‘You’re killing me,’ he says, just before Austin runs back and clambers up the tree.
‘Oh, he is soooo pissed,’ he says.
Beckett’s whining yell drifts towards them. ‘Austin, you little shit, give my fucking clothes back.’
‘I don’t have your fucking clothes,’ Austin yells back.
‘Ah man.’ Tom bends to the chilly bin and opens a fresh can of beer. ‘This game is turning to pus already.’
Behind him, McKenzie says, ‘So Beckett’s done his dare, but he’s too naked to get his revenge.’ She giggles and the rest of them join in, even Lola.
Lola gulps on her beer. ‘I’ll go next. Tom?’
Tom leans against the rocks. ‘Truth,’ he says, which makes Noah think he’s either got nothing to hide, or he’s a really good liar.
‘OK,’ Lola says. ‘Have you ever
taken drugs?’
After a brief hesitation, Tom says, ‘Yeah.’
‘We need more details, Mortimer,’ Noah says, nudging Lola.
Lola smiles, ‘Yeah, that’s not enough of an answer.’
‘OK, I’ve smoked some weed. Who hasn’t?’ He digs his toes into the sand. ‘And I ate some magic mushrooms last summer.’
‘Magic mushrooms?’ Lola sounds surprised.
McKenzie throws a lump of driftwood onto the fire, sending sparks flying up into the starry sky. ‘Awesome. Did you like them?’
‘I dunno, I felt a bit out of control. How about you, Bas-tard, you ever done any drugs?’
Noah slips his hand beneath Lola’s t-shirt, his thumb dipping into the cleft at the top of her buttocks. ‘Cocaine, once.’ Jesus, he hopes none of this gets back to his folks. They’d probably send him to boarding school if they knew about the coke.
‘In Melbourne?’ McKenzie sounds delighted. Noah isn’t sure if the buzzing in his head is because of the beer, or because of where he’s touching Lola.
‘Yeah, a few months ago,’ he says.
‘How was it?’ Lola leans into him, and his heart speeds up again.
‘Better than sex,’ Noah says, and Lola’s muscles tense beneath his fingers. He’s not sure why he said that. It’s just a saying, and it’s not as if he’d know about the sex. ‘It’s so good I’m never taking it again. I can see why people get addicted.’
He can’t believe he did that now. New kid at a party in big-city Melbourne, maybe he was trying to prove something. All he proved was that he’s super paranoid about drugs. He knows if he took cocaine again, he’d never stop. Nothing has ever felt that good before, or since.
But this … this thing with Lola is starting to feel pretty good.
Austin’s voice floats out of the tree. ‘I’m never taking drugs.’
‘You already have,’ Tom says, holding up his beer can. ‘It just happens to be legal.’
‘Right, you arseholes, give me my clothes now.’ Beckett emerges from the shadows, a towel wrapped around his waist.
‘Did you go home for that?’ Noah asks, pointing at the towel.
‘No, I nicked it, you dick. Off someone’s washing line. What’s so funny?’
Moonlight Sonata Page 13
