by C. J. Duggan
I stopped to see Stan eyeing me, a speculative look on his face.
“All right,” he said, slowly turning his attention from me. “Better get this show on the road.”
I gathered up their empty pot glasses, then waited as Chris skulled the last of his and passed it to me.
“You right to lock up?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t know how late we’ll be,” he added.
“That’s all right, I’m not your keeper.” I couldn’t help but throw in that little jab.
He frowned. “I’m not yours, either.”
“Really?”
“I’m just looking out for you.”
“Chris, I swear, if you start giving me a talk about ‘the birds and the bees,’ I may be forced to stab you with this spoon.”
Chris’s mouth gaped. Is he blushing? I tried to stop my lips from pursing at the utter amusement of rendering Chris speechless.
“Don’t be stupid. Jesus, Amy.” He looked around him, making sure the others hadn’t overheard.
I loved embarrassing him. “Chris?”
“What?” he bit out.
“Just go!”
Chapter Twenty-Five
It became disturbingly apparent that I didn’t have one lethal weapon in my bedroom. Not one.
I knew this was a fact when I was woken at four a.m. by the slamming of the back hall door and the sound of footsteps. The sound of footsteps alone wouldn’t normally have evoked fear in me, but no one used that door – no one! Chris hadn’t returned from Sean’s because he had already drunk-dialled me at two a.m. saying he was crashing on Sean’s couch for the night.
I scrambled out of bed, my heart thumping, my pulse racing, as I searched for a weapon by the light of my mobile phone. If this was Chris’s idea of a joke I would kill him. I couldn’t imagine anyone even thinking of coming up the hotel’s back staircase. You had to access it from the beer garden and we’d roped that off – no one ever used it. Before I could wrench the door open to potentially yell at Chris, a coldness swept over me. I wondered if maybe Matt had used the back door?
I heard a crash and the sound of muffled swearing out in the hall and I flinched away from my bedroom door handle.
Oh, my God, someone is really in the hotel.
Did I check the back door when locking up? Why didn’t I check the back door?
I scurried over to my bookcase, wishing that I had a letter opener or a javelin or something; damn my lack of interest in pen pals and school sports. My heart lurched in my chest as the light in the hall flicked on, the luminous rays flooding under the crack of my door. I let out a series of shallow breaths as a new fear swept over me. I blindly grabbed at the first solid thing – a heavy, hardback book – and I carried it as a shield towards the door. I lifted the book above my head, but it wasn’t very threatening as my arms violently shook. I heard the footsteps coming up the hall towards my door. I was trapped. I had to think fast – once that door opened I had to do something. I grabbed for my pillow, a moment of new-found power surging through me. I worked quickly to pull the cover off, discarding the pillow and replacing it with my … I tilted my head as the faint strip of light highlighted the title: Macquarie’s Dictionary.
Yeah, I could spare it. I slipped it into the pillowcase, scrunching together the opening and swinging it over my shoulder like Santa would if he were Rambo. I took my place behind the door, slightly comforted by the weight I had at my back.
I wasn’t religious, but in that moment, as the shadow of two strips stood in front of my door and my handle slowly started to turn, I closed my eyes briefly and prayed for help, for some almighty saviour that I would confess all of my sins to if he had my back just this one time. That was right before I unleashed hell.
I grabbed the pillow case and swung with an almighty crack across the back of the dark figure’s skull. He clutched his head and fell over with a pained cry, before I swung again and whacked him directly in the shoulder. He crumpled to the floor with an “Oomph” as I danced around him like Muhammad Ali ready to take another jab. The stranger rolled onto his back and held up his arms protectively.
“Amy, stop! It’s me!”
I froze mid-swing, my eyes adjusting to the flood of light that filtered in from the hall now that my bedroom door was fully open. I could now make out the crumpled figure lying on his back, clutching the back of his skull, his face twisted in pain.
“Ahhh, Amy, what the fuck!” he cried.
I dropped my pillowcase in a thud, my hands covering my mouth in horror.
“Oh, my God,” I knelt down. “I am so, so sorry.” I tentatively reached out, but he flinched away.
“Not as sorry as I am! Jesus!” He let out a series of coughs. “Some bloody welcome party.”
My guilt soon channelled into annoyance as I stood, my hands on my hips. With a deep sigh, I stepped over the fallen body and flicked on my bedroom light.
“Honestly.” I turned to look at the sorry sight. “Adam Henderson, what the hell did you expect sneaking in the back door at four a.m.?”
Adam edged himself towards the wall to lean against the door jamb. “I didn’t want to wake anyone.” He cringed with every movement.
I crossed my arms. “Well, I heard you coming a mile away. You suck at being quiet.”
Adam wiped at his mouth and peered at his hand as if he expected to see blood.
Now he was just being overly dramatic.
“You’re just lucky I don’t own a javelin,” I said.
“I’ll let you know how lucky I feel in the morning.” He pressed his back against the door and closed his eyes as if he was trying to channel the pain.
“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, it is the morning – just really, really fracking early.”
Adam broke into a smile and momentarily peeked one eye open. “Still replacing your swear words, I see.”
“Shut up!”
“Just say it, Amy, say the word.”
“No.”
“Go on,” he teased.
“No.”
“You know you want to.” He smirked.
Yep, Adam was back. My annoying, unco, over-dramatic cousin was home and who even knew he was coming? I sure as hell didn’t.
He opened his eyes, squinting up at me. “Say it.”
“Adam?”
He looked at me pointedly now. “Yes, Amy?”
“Get the fuck out of my room!”
***
Come morning (the real morning where the sun is up in the sky kind of morning), I walked into the main bar and saw Adam perched there flicking through the pages of … Oh God.
“You know, it’s amazing,” he said.
I cringed at every page he turned of the Macquarie’s Dictionary that lay before him on the counter.
“What’s that?”
“I was hit in the head with a dictionary and all of a sudden I have all these words in my head. Like concussion, hallucination, malnutrition …” He slammed the dictionary shut. “Like, seriously, is there any food here? I’m starving.”
I flicked him with a tea towel. “Mind your manners, mister. We’re fixing that today, actually. The McGees are coming over to help us out with the menu.”
“McGees?” Adam straightened and rubbed his stomach.
“The McGees.” I said with a smile.
Adam’s brow furrowed as he looked over the dictionary again. “I haven’t seen them in ages.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you would have if you weren’t such a snob.”
Adam’s eyes snapped up, his face darkening. “Snob?”
“You’re the one who ran off and doesn’t keep in touch with anyone.”
“It’s called the army,” he said in his defence.
“So what? No phones or computers in the army?”
“You’re sounding more and more like Aunty Claire every time I see you.”
My grin fell. Adam’s words were like a slap in the face – I knew I hadn’t exactly been t
hrilled about being compared to my father but when it came to being compared to my mother (and not in a complimentary way), it didn’t sit well at all. Adam must have read it all over my face.
“Dis-tract: Verb. To draw away or divert the mind.” Adam nodded as if what he was reading was truly fascinating.
I gave him a bored look before I grabbed for the book and spun it around towards me. I read with intense concentration.
“Hmm.” I tapped my chin, and then honed in on one particular word and smiled.
“Uh-oh.” Adam said with a smirk.
I cleared my throat. “Dis-turb: Verb. To interrupt the quiet, rest or peace, to throw in commotion or agitate; disorder; unsettle: to disturb the working of a program or disturb someone’s sleep.”
“Does it say, ‘resulting in being clobbered to death by a dictionary’?” Adam asked.
“That’s exactly what it says.”
“Forgive me if I am rather dubious; you can look that up if you want. Du-bee-us.” Adam stood and pushed in his stool. “I’m heading down the street for something to eat. Do you want anything?”
“No thanks.”
He went to open the door, but moved aside as it swung open, nearly hitting him in the face as a rather dishevelled Chris slumped in the doorway. His clothes from yesterday were creased and he wore dark sunnies inside. He looked ten kinds of hungover and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Worst. Night’s. Sleep. Ever,” he said, groaning.
“With a side of hangover?” Adam looked over his older brother, revelling in his discomfort.
Chris flipped his sunnies onto his forehead and squinted his bloodshot eyes as if he had only just noticed Adam standing next to him.
“So, the prodigal son returns.” Chris half laughed before putting his sunnies back into place.
“In good time, I see.”
Chris scoffed and pushed Adam out of the way as he skulked his way inside.
“I wish my head hurt for the same reason yours does,” said Adam.
I threw him a dark look – the last thing I wanted to go through with Chris was another one of my recent bursts of violence. I seemed to be demonstrating them a lot lately.
Adam winked before opening the door. “Just going down the street, do you want anything, Chris? Cow tongue wrapped in tripe and dipped in beer batter?”
Chris, who by now was slumped with his forehead to the bar, managed to exert enough energy to flip Adam the finger.
Adam caught it and clutched it to his heart as if he had been blown a kiss. “God, I’ve missed this place.” And with the screech of the door and the sound of Adam’s animated whistling flowing into the distance, he was gone.
“Sean has an uncomfortable couch, then?” I asked.
Chris lifted his head with a groan. “What bloody couch?”
I giggled, reached for a pint glass and filled it with water. “How did you get home?”
With a shaky hand, Chris carefully concentrated as he gulped down a mouthful, before gasping his answer. “Sean dropped me off.”
I paused.
He didn’t come in?
My first reaction was disappointment, although I couldn’t think of it that way. It was just a response because I had wanted to talk to him about the working bee. That’s what it was. Tess hadn’t mentioned what part Sean had said he would play, even though he had done more than his fair share in helping and no doubt had other things to do – like actual paid work.
I then replayed yesterday in my head. Maybe I had offended him in some way? The invitation to hang at his house last night hadn’t been extended to me. The other girls had been invited so it obviously wasn’t a boys’ night, but not me. I tried to tell myself that I was grateful for the peace away from his smart-arse contributions, but maybe he felt the same way? Maybe he was glad to be away from the cranky, high-maintenance publican’s daughter? Maybe he had just wanted to give the working bee and me a wide berth? I was lost in my thoughts and none of them made me feel anything other than disappointed. I needed to get a grip – far too much energy was being spent thinking about Sean Murphy.
I shook the rambling thoughts from my mind and eyed Chris’s practically green complexion. I didn’t feel in the least bit sorry for him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Another full day spent in the kitchen at the Onslow didn’t seem so bad.
Melba, Ellie, Tess, and I were all scrubbing every nook and cranny of the kitchen, rewashing pots, pans, plates and cutlery. Bagging up linen for the dry cleaners and working together like a well-oiled machine. Our cleaning frenzy soon spilled over into the restaurant, where we opened the sliding door out into the beer garden to get some fresh air filtering through.
“Whoa! You’re going to need a machete to get through that.” Ellie grimaced at what had once been a beautiful, shady, well-kept beer garden, dotted with picnic tables and fairy lights, the perfect escape on a summer’s evening. It now stood overgrown with ivy, tables all dismantled and set against the wall, the paved courtyard littered with leaves and debris from the overgrown surroundings.
It was overwhelming.
Dad had really let this place go.
“It beats me how Adam managed to find his way to the stairs without injuring himself,” I said, shaking my head.
Ellie’s head snapped around to face me.
“What?”
“Adam actually navigated his way through this mess in the dark.” I said with a half laugh.
It wasn’t until I noticed Ellie’s big, blue eyes shift from me to Tess, who also stood frozen mid-wipe of her table, that the penny finally dropped.
“Oh, uh, yeah, Adam’s home.”
Ellie looked at Tess and then back at me.
“When?”
“Only last … Well, this morning actually. Scared the crap out of me too. Talk about a grand entrance.”
Tess laughed. “That’s Adam.”
“No, seriously, I thought it was someone breaking in. I attacked him with a hardback dictionary.”
Ellie finally broke into a smile. “Did you hit him really hard?”
“So hard.”
She nodded. “Good.”
“So where is he now?” Tess beamed.
“Good question. He went out this morning but he hasn’t come back yet – he’s probably avoiding Chris. He’s not in the greatest of moods.”
“Pfft, what else is new?” said Ellie.
I had never fully realised what Adam’s absence had meant to the likes of Tess and Ellie – he was always just my pesky cousin I would see in the holidays. For the last couple of family gatherings, Adam had been noticeably absent. He’d been off travelling and busy being an international man of mystery. I had emailed him a few times, telling him about what was going on, but his responses were always few and far between and pretty generic. I used to shrug and think whatever, but I couldn’t imagine how it would have felt being on the receiving end of his silence as a close friend. I knew how close Tess, Ellie, and Adam were. I could hear it even now as the three of us retold famous Adam stories, and there were plenty to choose from.
In the hours of dusting, polishing, vacuuming, and airing out the restaurant, we had pretty much recounted all of their high school years to the present in the Adam files. As I wiped the blackboard clean, I retold the story of last night’s events with great animated detail to Tess and Ellie. They listened intently and bent over in hysterics. I re-enacted Adam’s cries and head holding, trying not to lose it myself as I thought back to last night. I was about to finish in a grand finale when I was interrupted by an unexpected voice.
“That’s not very nice, Amy.”
I whipped around to see Adam leaning casually in the door frame of the restaurant.
Oops!
“I’m going to put a bell around your neck,” I said, placing my hands on my hips.
Adam walked past me, ruffling up my hair as he made his way over to Tess who was frozen as if she had seen a ghost. Without a word Adam smiled and pulled
her into a bear hug and within seconds she melted into his arms.
I stood awkwardly to the side – it seemed strange witnessing this reunion. It felt like it should be private, that I should discreetly step away and give them some space. I probably would have if I hadn’t looked at Ellie, and found, surprisingly, that she stood off to the side, glaring daggers into Adam’s back.
Adam’s arms fell away from Tess as she wiped away tears from her cheeks and laughed gently.
He playfully knocked her on the chin before turning to Ellie who still looked like she had laser beams shooting out of her eyes.
In true Adam style he ignored her rather obvious body language and broke into a broad smile.
“Hey, Pretty Parker.”
Tess and I cringed in unison at the nickname Ellie had always despised above all others; a nickname she was stuck with since her second placing at the Miss Onslow Showgirl in Year Nine. It was a sore point and Adam knew it.
Adam reached out for Ellie, but with lightning speed she uncrossed her arms and slapped his arm away.
“I’m still mad at you, Adam Henderson!” she bit out.
Adam’s brows rose in surprise, then relaxed in amusement as he noticed Ellie wringing her hand. Cursing under her breath because she had hurt it.
“Jesus, when did you get so buff?” she winced.
Adam laughed, looking at his arms, which had obviously beefed up – it was the first thing I had noticed. Adam had changed from a floppy-haired, wiry boy to … well, a bit of well-formed beefcake. If he wasn’t my cousin, of course, I’d guess he was hot. I cringed at even having thought that.
Adam opened his mouth to speak but Ellie soon cut him off.
“Two words – two words – you sent me.”
“Ellie, I—”
“You could have picked up a phone, written letters, sent smoke signals, anything!”
“Ellie …”
“I don’t want to hear it, Adam, I don’t want to hear it! You up and ditched me. There is no excuse.”
“You’re right,” Adam said.
“You … w-what?” Ellie stuttered.
“I’m a grade-A dickhead, who needs to be flogged with a dictionary.”
I let out an exacerbated sigh. “Oh, my God! I am never going to hear the end of that, am I?”
