‘Luke, what’s wrong with you? Why are you acting all weird?’
‘Am I acting weird, Fifi? Must be I’m tired after driving all day so I could be here to support my fiancée at this very emotional and traumatic time, only to find the two of you making music together.’
Noah piped up. ‘Listen, mate, you’ve got it all wrong. Fi and I are just friends hanging out while the oldies are at the reunion.’
‘That’s right,’ Fiona huffed, squaring her body up to Luke’s and slapping defiant arms across her chest. ‘And I think you should apologise to Noah for being such a jerk.’
‘You’re right,’ Luke said, his easy submission throwing Fiona. ‘If that’s what you want me to do, babe, then of course … I apologise, Noah.’ Luke turned back to Fiona with a wry smile and said, ‘Now Fifi, perhaps I can speak with you in private.’
Luke yanked on her arm and she tottered behind him to the pool table, his two strong hands grabbing her waist and hoisting her up onto the wooden surround.
‘What’s got into you, Luke?’ she said, her punch to his shoulder not even registering.
‘Forgive me, babe. Come on, enough with the being cross act,’ Luke purred, teasing her hair, tangling his fingers deep into the mass of curls and gripping the back of her neck with force.
Fiona relaxed. She recognised this situation. She knew Luke wanted her to give in, kiss him, let him know she was sorry, too. Fiona resisted the pressure; in a game of wills, with her body, she always won. Luke’s behaviour had displeased her and this was her way of letting him know.
She waited for his mouth to come to hers before jerking her face to one side to whisper in his ear. ‘I’m not acting. I am angry.’
Luke nuzzled her neck. ‘Well, I’m surprised, not to mention a little disappointed. I thought finding your father was important.’
‘It is important—sort of. I’ve been asking around and asking my Gran, but if I go gate crashing the reunion and causing a problem I won’t get any information from anyone. Besides, there’s no urgency and it’s my decision.’ With both hands flat on his chest Fiona shoved him off her. ‘So stop talking to me like I’m a naughty little girl.’
‘But you are. It’s what I love about you.’ He tried to move in, to kiss her again, but Fiona slipped under his arm and off the pool table.
‘Well, I don’t appreciate you barging in here and speaking to me like that in front of my friend.’
‘Speaking to you like what, Fifi?’
‘And don’t call me Fifi,’ she added haughtily. ‘I sound like a poodle.’
‘Since when? I thought you wanted people to call you Fifi.’
‘Stop telling me what I want. I’m not a kid.’ Fiona hadn’t recognised the indignation simmering away inside her until it started to boil over. ‘And as much as Granddad thinks I need someone to keep me in line, let me assure you that I definitely do not. So there.’
So there? Now she really did sound like a child.
‘Sorry, babe. Come here.’ Luke dragged her into his body, his hug tight, pinning her, his lips pressing against her ear and whispering. ‘I’ve embarrassed you and hurt your friend’s feelings. I’m an insensitive jerk. It’s just that I’ve missed you so much.’ He kissed his way to her mouth and Fiona felt herself giving in to him, her body returning to a slow simmer. She glanced over Luke’s shoulder and saw Noah lost in his music.
‘I have to get back to Noah.’
‘Come on, babe. I’m sorry. Give us a little reminder of what I’ve been missing.’
She nuzzled his neck in return, tempted to brand him with a quick love bite, knowing he’d be annoyed, but he pulled away and made her look at him.
‘I’m so in love with you, Fi. What’s a guy to do when he walks in and sees his girl with another bloke?’
Fiona wiggled out of his grasp and giggled. ‘You’re jealous? Of Noah?’
That was a first, and Fiona planned on milking it while she could.
‘Of course I’m jealous. Why would you find that funny?’
Fiona straightened her top, glanced across at Noah and with a hush finger at her lips whispered to Luke, ‘Because he’s gay, silly.’
‘Gay?’ Luke did a thing with his face, the same curious squint and knitted eyebrows she saw in her grandfather.
‘What’s that look for?’
Luke shrugged. ‘Look? Do I have a look?’
‘Please, don’t tell him I told you. It’s a secret. No one knows.’
Luke nodded. ‘Ah, I see. Best seal my lips with a kiss then, you gorgeous thing.’ He kissed her so hard she almost fell backwards. ‘Mmm, that’s more like it. Come on. We’re being a bit rude over here while your friend’s over there on his own.’
He led Fiona back to Noah in the main bar area.
‘Sorry, mate, put it here,’ Luke said. They shook hands again and Luke slapped Noah on the back. ‘You see, mate, Fi—I mean Fiona—is my special girl. But to show there’s no misunderstandings, let me shout drinks. I could do with a little something to loosen me up after that drive. Then I can hear this song of yours.’ Luke flashed the contents of the Pierre Cardin billfold Fiona had given him last Christmas, walking over and slapping a fifty on the counter.
‘Sorry, Luke, no can do,’ Noah said. ‘The pub’s closed and I’m not allowed—’
‘Not allowed? No worries. I happen to be experienced on both sides of the bar. I’m also a tad over eighteen. So, what’ll it be? Scotch? Tequila? Screaming Orgasm for you, babe—or will I save that for later?’
‘Luke!’ Fiona feigned shock, giggled and frisbee’d a drink coaster at him from across the room. She would have hit the target too had he not ducked his head below the bar. ‘Come on, Noah,’ she pleaded. ‘Can we? Just one?’
‘I can’t.’
‘Aw, pretty please. I’d love a Vodka Cruiser.’ Fiona pointed to the drinks fridge.
‘Too easy.’ Luke flicked open the door and took one Cruiser and two other cans. ‘I can be a can man when it’s called for. I’ll take it any way it’s offered,’ he said, snapping the ring-pulls on two Bundy and Coke cans to release a fine spray of fizz before walking over and passing one to Noah. ‘Here’s to new friends.’
‘To new friends.’ Fiona clinked cans with Luke, then Noah.
Fiona sat next to Noah and nudged him until he smiled, while Luke wandered around the bar, inspecting the pictures on the wall and some pub memorabilia.
‘This’ll be fun, Noah,’ Fiona whispered. ‘Don’t worry. He grows on you.’
‘Wouldn’t mind something to eat,’ Luke said, after having finished his Bundy and Coke. ‘Long time since breakfast. Think we can order in pizza or something?’
Noah spluttered into his drink can and mumbled to Fiona. ‘Aw, man, he just made me snort Bundy and Coke up my nose.’
Fiona giggled, the fizzy euphoria of the vodka kicking in. Having Luke and Noah all to herself tonight was perfect.
‘What’s so funny?’ Luke sounded miffed that he wasn’t in on the joke.
‘We can try ordering in if you don’t want your food hot.’ Noah was trying not to laugh. ‘Not sure about delivery time from Saddleton.’
‘Fucking hell!’ Luke fell onto a chair and kicked another one over for his feet. ‘So that was the black stump I saw on the way in.’
Fiona plonked herself sideways on Luke’s lap, draping one arm around his neck. ‘You’re cute when you’re being funny.’
Luke crushed the empty, then proceeded to burp through Fiona’s quick account of her stay. ‘Okay, one more can and then I want to hear this song of yours,’ he said.
‘We definitely shouldn’t have any more. Mum will know they’re missing.’
‘Aw, c’mon, mate. Thought they bred ’em tough out here in the boonies. You a mummy’s boy, or what?’
‘Quit it, Luke.’ Fiona’s warning was double-edged. ‘No more drinks, okay?’
Luke’s wink doused her earlier euphoria, unsettling her. He scooted Fiona off his lap and helped
himself to a second can, tossing one at Noah. ‘One more’ll put a bit of hair on your chest, mate.’
‘One more and that’s it, Luke.’ Fiona tried to sound like she meant it. ‘You don’t want to make me mad again, or else you know what you won’t be getting.’ Fiona’s provocative little dance over to her fiancé ended with a peck and a playful poke in the ribs. ‘I’m going to the loo. When I get back we can get out of this sweatbox and take a drive.’
‘In bloody big bird?’ Luke liked to joke about her yellow Saab. ‘I bet she flies along these country roads. You had a drive of her yet, mate?’
Noah shook his head. ‘No licence.’
‘So what? If you’re into hot and throbbing, you’ve got to get a gander under her bonnet.’
‘You two boys get the car talk out of your system,’ Fiona said with an extra sashay of the hips. ‘I’ll be right back.’
‘Take your time, gorgeous. Me and Noah are going to do a little bonding,’ Luke called out, and then in a low voice said, ‘and I’ve got just the thing.’
23
Maggie
One hour into the reunion and Maggie had one regret. She wished she’d pushed a little harder with Jennifer so she knew the names on the RSVP list. If she’d thought about it, she could have scanned the table of nametags as she collected hers. At least then she could have processed her disappointment. Maybe she should just go now, feign sickness. Better still, an unexpected trip to Saddleton Nursing Home to solve yet another missing clothes catastrophe would mean spending the time reminiscing with her dad, not watching every person walk into the school hall and wondering if the next one would be Dan Ireland.
Not all was lost. So far she’d managed to discover several things: her sixth-grade teacher was now shorter than she was and nowhere near as frightening; the boy with the glasses and big ears they’d nicknamed Wingnut had made a fortune in real estate and would now give Hugh Jackman a run for his money in the looks department; and Mitch Matheson, whose mother had described her twelve-year-old son as having ‘a good face for radio’, was in fact the high-rating Mitch Matheson from 2SC drive-time radio in Sydney.
She saw Sara making her way towards her wearing a grin that was broader than Ethne’s butt in orange overalls.
‘What do you think about the night? So far so good,’ she said. ‘Mind you, I’ve never been so annoyed that I can’t have a drink. But then again, never so happy either.’
Maggie smiled. ‘Looks as if Will might be drinking your share tonight.’
‘Wouldn’t surprise me. It’s taking all his strength to not tell. I’ve warned him, though. If he breaks the news to anyone without me, I’ll pull Big Bertha’s plug.’
Maggie loved how Sara and Will made her laugh. ‘My advice is to slow the drink down, then. If running a pub has taught me anything, it’s that alcohol loosens lips, and loose lips—’
‘Sink ships. I know. I know.’ Sara smiled. ‘It’s hard not to relax now the weekend is actually here, though.’
‘One minute I’m thinking the day would never come. The next I’m wishing it was over. Most of this week I’ve been wishing there was another week to go.’
‘That bad, huh?’
‘Argh! Between visits with Dad, the pub, Noah—’
‘What’s wrong with Noah? You never said anything.’
‘All of a sudden he’s asking questions about us going back to Sydney.’
‘Don’t tell me … Cyclone Fiona’s influence?’
‘Partly, I’m sure. Wish I could lump all the blame on her, but he’s been quiet and moody for a little while now.’
‘Are you really worried?’
Maggie shook her head, smiled. ‘Noah wouldn’t do anything silly. He’s going through one of about a hundred phases, that’s all.’
‘Teenage boys.’ Sara’s face glowed. ‘Will’s hoping for another boy. Just think about all the advice you’ll be able to give me—after the monster-in-law, of course.’
‘If I can get a word in.’
‘On the bright side, I’ll be drinking again by then. Speaking of drinks, I’m off for a top-up. This kid, whatever it is, will certainly be a good swimmer after all the water I’m drinking.’ Sara rubbed her belly and darted off, just as a rowdy rendition of ABBA’s ‘Ring Ring’ prompted someone to grab the old school bell from Fiona’s memorabilia display.
The party had definitely started.
With no waiter within cooee, Maggie took herself to the service bar where a young barman busily dispensed liquid confidence into tall flutes. Perfect to toast Sara and her baby, the woman’s happy ever after complete. Then Maggie would toast to surviving cyclone Fiona.
‘This makes a change. Me serving the publican,’ the young man said. Maggie recognised him, but couldn’t put a name to his face. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Champagne please. I’m celebrating.’
‘What are you celebrating?’
‘Me.’ She raised the glass, not feeling as awkward as she’d imagined. ‘I’ve made it this far.’
All she needed now, however, was for Tracy super-spunk Rose to turn up for all those gawky, high school, late bloomer nightmares to resurface.
‘I knew I’d find you here,’ a voice said from behind.
And there she was, right on cue. A rose resplendent in red. ‘You knew you’d find me at the bar?’ Maggie joked.
Tracy’s face was radiant, eyes wide and sparkly, grin spread from ear to ear lifting perfect cheekbones into place. Everything about her said Tracy was deliriously happy.
‘Not the bar, you dag, I meant at the reunion. Come here.’ No air kiss. Tracy’s hug was genuine, bittersweet nostalgia cutting through Maggie’s opening sarcasm, reminding her they’d been good friends.
‘Wild horses had to drag me,’ Maggie quipped.
‘Speaking of wild horses. Come see who I dragged along. Mind you, I had to use his handcuffs. Did you know I married me a top policeman?’ Tracy winked and tugged Maggie by the hand, leading her to the nearby photo display. ‘Dan, honey, told you I’d find her.’ With a yank on her husband’s shirtsleeve and another tug on Maggie’s arm, Tracy was suddenly like that interfering mother foisting a fellow on a wallflower at the school dance. ‘You remember Dan, of course.’
Maggie tottered into position and her mouth twitched into some sort of smile—at least she hoped it was more smile than grimace. ‘Sure, I remember Dan,’ she said with exaggerated gusto. ‘I especially remember the broken toe he gave me.’
‘The toe? Right.’ Dan’s and Maggie’s laugh melded beautifully into one as they locked eyes and Dan extended a hand.
‘Good to see you.’
‘And you,’ he responded predictably.
‘A corsage is customary for a school dance,’ Maggie added quickly, not giving him an opportunity to say something as perfunctory as ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’ That would be insincere and she so wanted that spark of recognition in his face right now to be genuine. ‘I got a broken toe, even though you did promise a corsage, as I recall.’
‘I totally forgot you two went to the school dance together,’ Tracy said. ‘Fancy us all being back here together. I’m so sad about Amber, but so glad she made this happen.’ Tracy’s eyes were suddenly everywhere else, like she couldn’t wait to get away. ‘Dan, honey, I can see Anne and … Oh, there’s Lizzie, too.’ Tracy’s face lit up. ‘Do you mind if I—?’
‘Go, go. That’s what you came for,’ Dan urged his wife and rolled his eyes to say ‘As if I could stop you’.
Suddenly, the two of them were alone—with a couple of hundred other guests. The way Maggie’s stomach fluttered—the awkwardness—she could have been sixteen again and at the school dance.
Dan Ireland. She said his name in her head, the moment too surreal to speak aloud. How differently things might have turned out.
Maggie shut off that part of her brain to make way for reality, her just be funny self-defence field firmly in place.
The DJ cranked up the volume in the a
uditorium, the hired mirror ball hypnotising a few eager couples into thinking they could dance.
‘So, here we are,’ Dan said, finally.
‘Here we are.’
‘How’s the toe these days?’
Maggie looked at him. God, he was nothing like Dan the teenager who had hung around with her brother, farting and burping and swearing, when showing off was the norm and unkempt hair hung over eyes in greasy strands.
Some things haven’t changed, Maggie thought, visualising her son’s pimple-covering fringe that obscured his eyes—beautiful bluebottle blue eyes, like the ones staring back at her now.
‘Did you hear me?’ Dan was asking, his voice raised, fighting the music. ‘I said you probably need reminding about my dancing prowess.’ This time he reached out a hand and took hold of Maggie’s, squeezing tight. ‘Shall we?’
She returned the squeeze, her hand feeling small but warm in his. ‘Should I have steel-cap boots?’
‘Come on.’ Laughing, he led her into the centre of the crowded dance floor where he immediately started gyrating and singing the words to ‘You Make Me Feel Like Dancing’.
The years hadn’t altered his dance technique—still like a Leo Sayer puppet on speed. Maggie was laughing so hard she struggled to keep in time with the music. The occasional familiar face would smile and shout a hello. There was the occasional hug and the predicted ‘You haven’t changed a bit’ remarks which Maggie waved off, happy to return her attention to her dance partner. The room was heating up. Sweaty bodies, disco lights and a stickiness suggested the forecasted storm was closing in on Calingarry Crossing.
After a little ‘Jive Talkin’, ‘Boogie Fever’, and some essential ABBA, Maggie clutched her parched throat to signal time out. Dan cupped a hand to his mouth and leaned into her ear, the buzz of warm breath causing a rush of goose bumps to her arms and neck—unexpected given the heat in the room. Not unexpected that it was Dan Ireland who made it happen, the man Maggie had never really stopped thinking about all these years.
‘I’ll get us some drinks and bring them outside,’ he yelled, pointing to the open fire exit by the assembly stage that led to the infants’ playground area.
Simmering Season Page 19
