He came out after about twenty minutes, looking shaken.
‘I’ll get you a beer,’ said Joe.
‘Thanks.’
They sat out on the verandah, drinking their beers. Joe waited for Will to speak first.
‘He hasn’t got long, has he?’ he said finally.
‘I don’t know. Not long, no.’
Will sighed heavily. ‘I should have come sooner.’
‘You’re here now. That’s all that matters.’
‘I’ve been so angry with him for so long, thinking I didn’t care if he lived or . . . then you see him like that.’ Will took another long swig, draining the bottle. ‘Silly old bugger.’
‘What did he say to you?’
‘Not much. He mostly just cried.’ Will’s voice caught in his throat with the last word, and he bowed his head.
‘I’ll get you another beer,’ said Joe, standing up. Will didn’t move, didn’t lift his head. Joe walked into the kitchen and stood for a moment leaning against the sink, staring out the window. He took deep breaths as his throat tightened uncomfortably. Then it passed. He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hands and went to the fridge. He picked up another two beers and walked over to the back door. Will was standing now, leaning against a verandah post. It was coming on dusk, the insistent chirp of cicadas filled the air. Joe pushed open the wire door and walked out to join him.
He passed him a beer and Will clinked his bottle against Joe’s.
‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘I’ve just been thinking about when we used to go down to the creek to catch yabbies, but I don’t remember if I ever went with you. Crinny used to take me down. Mim came a couple of times, but she just sat on the bank. She was probably making up poems in her head.’ He smiled then, glancing at Joe.
‘I think I might have taken you down to the creek, but you were only little. I carried you on my shoulders. I don’t think we fished for yabbies.’
‘We have different memories, you and I,’ said Will.
Joe nodded. ‘I think I owe you an apology.’
‘What for?’
‘Dad’s said some things.’
‘Such as?’
‘Just stuff,’ he shrugged. ‘We do have different memories, you and I.’
Will turned to face him. ‘You were a good brother, Joe.’
‘I was hardly even around while you were growing up.’
‘But I could idolise you from afar, boast about you to my friends.’
‘I don’t know what good that would have done you around high-schoolers.’
‘Helped me pull some chicks, I reckon.’
Joe grinned then, shaking his head. ‘I don’t think you needed me for that.’
‘That’s true,’ said Will, his voice finally lifting. ‘I got all the looks, brother, you were just an early prototype.’
‘And then they broke the mould,’ said Joe, stepping back to sit down.
Will turned around to face him, still propped against the post. ‘Speaking of women. How’s it going with Jo?’
‘Well, you’ll be pleased to know I took your advice, little brother.’
‘The grand romantic gesture?’
He nodded, smiling now as he thought of it.
‘So,’ Will urged him, ‘what did you do?’
‘I kissed her.’
Will regarded him curiously. ‘Okay, that’s romantic, sure, don’t know that it could be considered all that grand.’
‘Ah, but it’s all in the context,’ Joe explained. ‘She wasn’t expecting it, in fact she was a bit annoyed with me because I’d just told her that I was coming up to stay here for the week –’
‘So this just happened?’
‘Last Sunday,’ Joe nodded. ‘We spent the day together, it was a date, you could say. A date date,’ he added, glancing at Will. ‘And things were going well, and I was pretty sure she was going to ask me up to her place when we got back, but I couldn’t because I had to come up here. When I told her, she walked off in a huff into her building. So I followed her, and then I did this little speech about how I’d always regretted not doing something, then I just took her in my arms and kissed her.’
Will was smiling, nodding his head slowly. ‘Nice. So it worked?’
‘I think so. I haven’t seen her since.’
‘But you’ve called her?’
Joe hesitated. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Are you shitting me?’ said Will, pushing himself off the post. ‘You have to call, Joe, women want to be called. She’ll be reading all kinds of things into why you haven’t called, that’s what they do. They invent these scenarios in their heads and it makes them crazy. You have to call.’
Joe sighed, contemplating his beer.
Will was shaking his head. ‘Honestly, Joe, how the hell did you ever get any women in the past?’
‘This is different.’
‘How?’
‘I dunno,’ he said, thinking about it. ‘I get nervous about approaching her, or calling her, but then when I’m with her, I’m more at ease than I am with anyone. How does that make any sense?’
‘It doesn’t, but I don’t think falling in love is exactly rational,’ said Will. ‘Call her, you big tool. If you don’t know what to say, tell her you’ve been thinking about her – they like that.’
He nodded vaguely. ‘Okay. I’ll call her.’
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow. I’ll call her tomorrow.’
Tomorrow
Jo had just checked her messages again, on her landline, her mobile, her computer. Still nothing from Bannister. She had, however, received an email from Lachlan; he’d touched down at the RAAF base at Richmond only late last night and he’d managed to email already. It was Friday, what did Bannister mean by the end of the week? Did he think it was not until Saturday because that was still a work day for them? Nothing like leaving it till the last minute.
She tried to think of reasonable excuses as to why he hadn’t called. Worst-case scenario was that his dad wasn’t doing well. To be honest, for Jo, the worst-case scenario was that he was avoiding her and he had no intention of taking that kiss any further. But selfish concerns aside, his father’s condition was the most important factor, and the most valid reason for him not calling. If not, what else could it be? He’d been snowed under with visitors? Catching up on odd jobs around the house? An old school friend had knocked on the door one day . . . she’d had braces and knock-knees when he’d last seen her, he hardly recognised her now. She was tall and lithe and brunette, no – she had red hair, flaming tresses of gorgeous auburn hair cascading over her shoulders. And she played cello for the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. She spoke two or three languages, fluently, from her time living in Europe. They clicked immediately, spent their days walking along tree-lined avenues, dropping into cafes, bookshops, antique stores, their nights in intimate restaurants, talking about old times . . . till one evening, when she least expected it, he took her in his arms . . .
Oh, Christ! Why was she doing this to herself? But why hadn’t he called? Why did men do this? Why couldn’t they simply communicate? Bannister was a communicator by profession, yet he still couldn’t manage it in his personal life. It was going to drive her nuts. She could see problems already. This was a bad idea. Really, when he was back in the office, Jo was just going to have to tell him that it wasn’t going to work, that they should cut their losses now.
But then she’d remember that kiss, and dwell on that kiss, and picture him every time she closed her eyes. And it was not just that she pictured him, it was the way she pictured him. It was like her imagination had crossed over some arbitrary line in the sand, and now it was running free, frolicking in the surf, rolling in . . .
No, stop! Don’t go there!
But it was too late. Now all she could see was her and Joe writhing around on the shoreline, like in that old black and white movie, Angie would know which one she mean
t, where the couple kissed as the surf frothed over them, ravaging, hungry, animalistic –
‘Penny for your thoughts.’
Jo screamed and lurched back, butting her head fair square into the head behind her.
‘Ow, Jo.’ She swivelled around in her chair. Lachlan was standing there, cupping his nose with his hands.
‘Lachlan, what are you doing here?’
‘I wanted to surprise you,’ he winced, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ‘I didn’t think you’d get such a fright. You must have been a million miles away.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ She stood up. ‘Are you all right? Can I get you anything?’
He shook his head, perching himself on the edge of the desk.
‘But really, what are you doing here?’ Jo repeated. ‘You only got back last night. No one expected you in till next week.’
‘I came to see you,’ he said, gingerly feeling around his nose.
Jo brushed over that, coming closer to check out the damage. ‘Take your hand away, let me see.’ She gently prodded his nose; it was a little red, but she didn’t seem to have done any serious damage. Lachlan was staring at her, she could feel his eyes, and now she could feel his hand slipping under her skirt and creeping around her thigh. She jumped. ‘Lachlan!’
‘You’re very skittish today,’ he murmured, leaning in close to her neck, so close she could feel his breath on her skin.
‘What are you doing?’ she whispered frantically. ‘Have you forgotten where we are?’
‘There’s no one around,’ he said. ‘Everyone’s gone home.’ Now both hands had found their way underneath her skirt to grasp her backside and pull her up against him.
‘Not everyone’s gone, someone could walk past any minute.’
He brushed his lips fleetingly against hers. ‘So, I’m getting used to living dangerously,’ he murmured.
He had hardly been living dangerously. From all reports, he hadn’t come anywhere near live combat, they’d been heavily guarded, whisked in and out of safe locations, and kept well clear of any hotspots. But still, he was acting weird, this wasn’t like him at all, showing his hand in public.
‘Lachlan,’ Jo demurred, gently but determinedly easing his arms away and drawing back from him. He released her, looking a little forlorn, which was not like him either.
‘Let’s go back to your place,’ he suggested. ‘I can stay a couple of hours. Sandra thinks I’ve come into the office to catch up on some work.’
‘Uhmm . . .’ Jo backed away from him to lean against the filing cabinet. She wasn’t prepared for this. She thought she wouldn’t see him till next week, till after Joe was back, till she knew where things stood. She was going to break it off anyway, but that was how she’d figured it in her head. And this was throwing her off course.
Lachlan was frowning curiously at her. ‘Are you all right, Jo?’
‘I’m fine,’ she dismissed. ‘What about you, how’s the nose?’
He touched it again. ‘I’ll survive.’ He stood up, coming over to her and propping his elbow on the cabinet beside her, hemming her in. ‘So what do you say?’
‘About what?’ she swallowed.
‘Going to your place.’
‘What will you tell Sandra?’ Jo didn’t know where that came from. She never asked him those kinds of questions. She didn’t want to know.
He was clearly puzzled. ‘I told you, she doesn’t expect me back for a few hours, she thinks I’m working.’
So he lied. Of course, what else did she think he did? She knew the deal perfectly well. It was a bit late to play the innocent. She really needed to end it, but she couldn’t do it now, here, like this. But she couldn’t sleep with him again either.
‘Tonight’s no good, actually, Lach,’ she said. ‘I’ve still got work to do.’
‘Really?’ he frowned.
‘Uhuh, what do you think I’m doing here so late?’ Filling in time actually, but he didn’t need to know that. She got antsy at home, waiting for Bannister to call; it was better to keep busy.
‘What are you working on?’
‘Sorry?’
‘You’re working late, it must be important.’
‘It’s just been a busy week and I have a whole lot of loose ends to tie up. Haven’t even finished my column yet,’ she lied.
He sighed deeply, stroking her arm as she shrank further back against the filing cabinet. ‘I don’t know when we’re going to get any time alone, there’s the auction tomorrow night.’
‘That’s right,’ she nodded. ‘Of course, the auction’s tomorrow night.’
‘You’re going?’ He sounded surprised.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t have much of a choice.’
‘You usually manage to get out of it,’ he said. ‘It’s not really your thing, is it?’
No, swanning about with people who seemed to have little else to do with their time than dress up in designer labels and ‘be seen’ was not Jo’s idea of a good time. Tomorrow’s folly was for charity of course, that made it noble. Auctioning off worthless bits of junk that suddenly had value because they had been signed, worn or somehow touched by a celebrity. The Trib was one of the major sponsors and employees were encouraged, if not expected to attend. Jo usually managed to have a passable excuse, and she was barely missed in the rush of wannabes and gonnabes and Queen bees that thronged to these events.
However, she wasn’t going to sit at home on a Saturday night waiting for Bannister to call.
‘I think I’ve used up my nine lives on that one,’ said Jo. ‘You and Sandra will be there, I assume?’
Lachlan nodded, nuzzling in closer to her. Even the mention of his wife’s name wasn’t cooling him off.
‘Then you should spend some time with your kids tonight,’ said Jo. ‘They must have missed you.’
He sighed. ‘You’re determined to throw a bucket of cold water on me, aren’t you?’
‘Look,’ she said as she slipped out of the arc of his arms and went to stand by her desk, ‘it’s just that I really do have work to do, Lach.’
He was staring at her, his eyes wandering down the length of her body and back up to her face again. He sighed regretfully.
‘See you tomorrow night,’ he said.
She nodded. Out in public with his wife in tow. Safest place to be.
Leura
‘Of course it’s okay.’
‘Are you sure, Joe?’ said Mim down the phone line from Melbourne.
He smiled. ‘Why don’t you tell me how many times I have to say okay before you’re convinced?’
She was having a ball, clearly, and Joe was happy to hear the animation in her voice. After the symposium, Corinne had talked her into staying on a couple of extra days with her. Mim hadn’t had a break in so long, he wasn’t going to be the one to drag her back. But he couldn’t deny his heart had sunk with the news. He had planned to call Jo, ask her out Sunday, but now he wasn’t likely to be back until early next week, when she would be back at work. He had to rethink his approach.
‘You won’t be missed at work?’ Mim was asking.
‘Leo wasn’t expecting me this week anyway, and things don’t start up again till Tuesday,’ he told her. ‘And it wouldn’t matter anyway, Mim. I can work from here if I have to. Just forget about it and have a good time.’
After more assurances that their dad was fine, Joe eventually hung up. He had to call Jo now, right away, he’d put it off long enough. But he wasn’t sure what kind of reception he was going to get.
He grabbed his mobile and walked out to the back verandah as he scrolled for her number. He hesitated, thinking about what to say. It all depended on the tone of her voice. Would she be frosty, or pleased to hear from him? And what was the best way to avoid the former, and ensure the latter? Bugger it, he was just going to have to wing it. He pressed call and held the phone to his ear.
‘Jo Liddell.’ His heart skipped a beat just hearing her voice.
‘Hi,’ he croaked. He cleared h
is throat. ‘Jo, it’s me, Joe . . . Bannister.’
There was a slight pause before she answered. ‘Oh, hi.’
‘How are you?’
‘Fine.’ Definitely frosty. Or at least curt. ‘How are things with you?’
‘Okay. Dad’s been up and down.’
‘Uhuh.’
‘Will, my brother, you know Will, he came up a couple of days ago.’
She didn’t respond.
‘So that’s been good.’
‘Uhuh.’
‘So . . . how are things going there?’
‘Fine. Busy, you know, it’s Saturday.’
‘Okay, so I won’t keep you.’
He thought he heard a sigh.
‘Anyway, the thing is, my sister . . . you’ve met Mim, well, Mim’s coming back a little later than planned.’
‘I see.’
‘She probably won’t be home till Monday. So . . .’
‘Okay then. Well, you have a nice weekend.’
‘You too.’ Shit, she was going to hang up. ‘Jo?’
‘Yes?’
He didn’t know what to say. ‘So what are you doing?’
‘I’m at work, I said.’
‘I meant for the weekend?’ Why was he asking pointless questions? Winging it was not turning out to be the best strategy.
‘I’m busy actually. I’m going to the auction tonight.’
‘Auction?’
‘The charity thing, the Trib’s a major sponsor. You must have got an email about it.’
‘Oh, sure, I think I remember.’ He’d ignored it, it didn’t interest him. He didn’t imagine it’d be Jo’s kind of thing either.
‘So, I better go,’ she went on. ‘We’re trying to get the paper to bed early, they’ll only have a skeleton staff on tonight, everyone’ll be at the auction. It’s a big deal around here.’
‘Okay, I’ll let you go then. Have a good night.’
‘I intend to.’
‘See you next week, Tuesday probably.’
‘Whatever.’
And she hung up. Whatever? Frosty was putting it mildly.
‘Hey.’
Joe turned around as Will came through the screen door.
‘Who was that?’
Crossing Paths Page 32
