by Lindy Dale
Cole swiped the tear away. “It’s like a little girl’s paradise in here. Phoebe would have loved this.”
*****
“Oh Alice, you should have seen his face. I wanted to hug him. He’s in so much pain.”
Alice, who was in the throes of a war between herself, Ethan and a nappy, looked up. “I thought you weren’t interested in Cole. I thought he was out of bounds because he’s married.”
“I’m not and he is but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel sympathy for the guy. He was crying over his dead daughter.”
“And you felt the need to comfort him in a non-sympathy sort of way?”
“Don’t be so gross.”
“But you did, didn’t you?”
“No!” I felt my cheeks beginning to get warm. She was making me sound like a bunny-boiling tramp. I felt incredibly guilty and nothing had even happened. I’d only wanted to make him feel better.
“But you like him all the same. I knew it, I just knew it,” Alice exclaimed. “You don’t care that he’s married. You like him.” Having finally got the nappy on, she pulled Ethan into a standing position on the change table and bounced him up and down, laughing as he made happy baby noises. “Ma-ma-ma-ma.”
“Okay, I’ll admit the whole vulnerability thing made him more than merely physically attractive but I’d never knowingly be with a married man. You know I wouldn’t. That thing with Richard wasn’t my fault. I’d never be able to have an affair. I’d spend the whole time we were in bed imagining the hurt of being the one who was being cheated on. It’d be awful. I could never put anyone through such trauma deliberately and you shouldn’t joke about it.” I hoped I was making my point clear. I needed to make it super clear. “Cole Anderson is off limits.”
Alice handed Ethan to me while she tidied up. I put him on my knee, where he proceeded to reach up and pull a handful of my hair. Carefully, I extracted his fingers and blew a raspberry on them. He giggled. I blew some more. He laughed harder.
“So, moving on. The party. Is Sean still single?” Alice asked.
“You sound like my mother but, yes. As far as I know. This is not a date, though. It’s a friend thing.”
And a get Connor back thing.
“Any aversions to cellulite or push up bras?”
“Unsure. You could ask him if you like.”
“Good-o. And what are you wearing? Dress to impress, I say.”
“It’s only Sean. You know, that guy who got us grounded because we were caught drinking cider under the railway bridge?”
“Yes, but I hear he’s way hotter than when we were sixteen.”
Oh for Pete’s sake. What was it with these people trying to fix me up with the doctor?
“In that case, you’d best give me a lift home. It’s going to take me at least three hours to find something that hides this thing on my foot.”
“You could hollow out a watermelon and fashion it into a shoe. It’d go with that red dress.”
“Or I could bonk you on the head with it and knock a bit of sense into you.” I reached over the baby and picked up my house keys, shoving them into my pocket before Ethan could use them as a teething ring. “Your mummy’s a nutcase Ethan, I don’t know how you put up with her.”
“Ma-ma-ma-ma.”
“See, Al? He agrees with me.”
“Mama’s the only word he can say.”
“Da-da-da-da.”
*****
Alice pulled into my drive a few minutes later and I hopped out of the car, promising to send her a photo of the outfit I’d decided on for her approval. First things first though, I brewed a pot of tea and limp-stepping into the bedroom, I put it on the chest of drawers. It was possible that it could take the rest of the evening before I decided what to wear. I might as well be well hydrated.
A fit of madness coming over me, I decided to try on the jeans I’d got off the Internet again, the ones that hadn’t made it past my knees without the assistance of a crowbar. Tentatively, I unstrapped my foot and slipped into the jeans. One leg then the other. While still sitting, I pulled the jeans to my knees, then my thighs.
This was going remarkably well.
And it only got better when I discovered the jeans went up over my hips. Okay, so they were still very tight and I had to wriggle but there was no sign of a coat hanger during the zipping.
I looked in the mirror. There had to be a mistake. I’d only been doing Weight Watchers for two weeks and though I’d stuck to my eating plan, I’d had no time to get back to a meeting to weigh in. I swivelled from side to side, catching my profile in the mirror. I looked way better — the cake shelf was still there, but it had shrunk to more of a muffin top. Which could only mean one thing. I’d lost weight. I’d freakin’ lost weight. I could almost hear the alleluia chorus from above.
Lying back on the bed, I pushed the jeans to the ground and stepped out of them. Then, I went to the bathroom and with a deep breath — and eyes firmly shut — stepped on the scales. It was strange that I felt anxious about it, even though my brain was telling me I should be excited, but that was it.
I opened my eyes.
Whoa!
I looked again. The weight stayed the same. I jiggled to make the weight re-adjust but it went straight back to where it had been before. I’d lost 6.1 kilos — crazy considering I hadn’t done a scrap of exercise.
My heart began to pump in excitement making me almost giddy. The adrenalin surged through my body. I wanted to shout with joy. This was amazing. I’d lost weight. I felt so good that suddenly the idea of an itty-bitty cake smothered in lashings of icing sounded like a great reward. It couldn’t do any harm, right? Not after I’d lost six kilos. And I did have a few points left in my tally for the day, plus my ‘extras’. One cake would do no harm at all. I could start my diet again tomorrow.
I stepped off the scales ready to head for the door and it was as I did, I caught sight of my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I stopped. Who was I kidding? One cake always meant five. I couldn’t undo the work I’d done by shoving cake into my face. It would lead to guilt and then I’d eat more to squash that feeling. I couldn’t have a cake.
But I really wanted one. I wanted one so badly, I could almost taste it.
I’d have to find another way to reward myself.
Hopping back to the bedroom, I began to pull out clothes I’d been secretly avoiding for the longest time. Jeans, t-shirts and skirts came flying out of the wardrobe until the floor was covered. I began to try things on and while a few of them were snug and some went nowhere near to doing up — I told myself that this was because these were the teeny tiny clothes I hadn’t worn since I left Perth — there was a definite shift. If I kept going, I’d be back to my old self in no time. And imagine what might happen if I exercised? God, I could be wearing booty shorts by the New Year.
Okay, so that was a bit of an exaggeration but you get the drift and the motivation was enough to make me forget my craving.
I sat down on the bed. Was this a turning point? If I were being honest, I hadn’t felt good about myself for years. Everything was an effort. Even having a relationship was an effort, which might have gone a long way to explaining why I ended up with such manky boyfriends. I had no confidence, so I’d become an easy target for the worst type of men. Well, not any more. Starting tomorrow, I was going to be the new, improved Olivia — thinner, more confident and in control of every aspect of my life.
After I found a top to match those jeans, that was. Which could take all night. I probably wouldn’t even have time for dinner. Woohoo!
Chapter 12
“I’m on my way from misery to happiness today… uh ha uh ha…”
The cover band, comprising Jim the Butcher and a few of his cronies, were playing up a storm by the time Cole and Adelaide opened the double doors on the party the following Saturday and stood taking in the scene before them.
This was not your typical young person’s birthday. In fact, Cole reckoned he could safely say t
his was like no event he had ever been to in his life. He had a feeling he’d been thrown into a time-travel machine and warped back to 1972. Not that he’d been alive in the seventies but he’d seen plenty of TV shows.
Along one side of the room, a large buffet table was set with plates of delicacies he’d only ever heard mention of by his mother and grandmother. Cocktail sticks spiked with cheese, gherkin and cabana sausage stood proudly poking up from an upturned watermelon half, prawns hung over the side of martini glasses filled with an orange dipping sauce and mini saveloys wrapped in pastry were piled high on a platter next to another containing marshmallows, strawberries and what he thought to be French onion dip or was it a fondue?
Jesus, he hadn’t seen a fondue since he was five. Ella had gotten rid of hers after he tried to stab the cat with one of the mini forks. What he’d wanted was to see how fast Smokey could run. He hadn’t been a psychopath in the making.
The room had been decorated too. At least Cole thought it had — on second glance maybe it simply hadn’t been redecorated since the seventies. There was a timber veneer feature wall and some hideous yellow bubble glass in the window behind the bar. The look was completed with burnt orange laminate tables, brown floor tiles and a massive artwork that vaguely resembled Bob Marley.
As Cole and Adelaide made their way around the side of the dance floor to the bar, the space surged and ebbed like waves on the beach, every able-bodied person in Merrifield, bopping along to the music. Fist pumping, hip wiggling grannies were bobbing and dipping — quite a scary sight if you weren’t prepared for it — but necessary to pass if they wanted to reach their host.
On the other side of the room, Shannon-down-from-Perth was perched on a corner of the bar — pride of place — unwrapping birthday presents. She was wearing a large pink and purple felt hat in the shape of a birthday cake. Its candles were flopping in her eyes and she kept blowing them away or flicking them with her finger. Shannon’s top was so tight it was easy to see she no longer fitted into her jeans and had left the fly undone. It made Cole a little uncomfortable to be greeted by such a sight, but hey, if she was happy, who was he to argue? From what he’d heard she was a bit of a wag. She probably didn’t care.
“Hello!” she called, beckoning them towards her. “You must be Cole and Adelaide. I’m so pleased you could come. I like to make new people in town welcome, like everyone welcomed me when I first arrived.” She put a half opened gift on the bar beside her and leant over gathering both of them into her rather large bosom for a hug. Cole felt as if a huge, pink, feather pillow was smothering him.
“Now how about a drink? Jane!”
Jane from Your Dream Kitchen, who was moonlighting as a bar wench, bustled along the bar.
“Get these two out-of-towners a drink will you, sweets? And pick your mouth up off the carpet. We’re perfectly aware how hot the man is without your drooling. Oh and PS, I just got a hug so I win the bet.”
Jane blushed. “There’s no need to advertise it, Shannon. You’ll embarrass the man, not to mention me.”
“Why on earth would he be embarrassed?” Shannon turn to Cole, who had found — for the first time in as long as he could remember — that he was, indeed, blushing. “You’re not embarrassed, are you Cole? It’s a compliment having half the town in love with you. We had a book running on who was going to get a hug first, so I guess I’ve won that. Beth will be pissed off. Her and Maggie have been planning ways to bump into you all week.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad! Haven’t you seen my friends?” She pointed to the dance floor where a group of girls he hadn’t noticed stood giggling and waving like he was Bradley bloody Cooper or something.
Right. So maybe it was that bad.
“You’re the talk of the town, honey. Maggie withdrew five hundred in cash from the ATM instead of fifty because she was so busy looking at your behind,” Shannon continued. “And Lucille from the real estate office nearly got run down by a car when you bent over to tie your shoelace. You should send out a warning before you go round wearing those blue shorts.” She let out a guffaw at her own joke.
“In our defence we’re not exactly flooded with good looking blokes round here,” Jane added, as she handed Cole and Adelaide their drinks. “Last time we saw a nice looking specimen was in 1992 when that guy from that movie drove through town. Looked a bit like Robert Redford. Now there was a hottie.”
“Sam Worthington was here last year, wasn’t he? You know when he was shooting that Indie film over at Margaret River?”
“Oh, he’s hot. Smokin’.” Jane put a finger to her bottom and made a sizzling noise.
Cole took a sip of his drink. He had no idea whether he was meant to be a part of this conversation or they were merely talking about him but whatever, it was clear that Ella hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told him about the newsagents. Suddenly, he wished the he could find the coatroom to hide in. The place was old enough; surely it’d have one. He was used to people talking about him because of the ad but this was ridiculous.
Adelaide, on the other hand was in fits. “You poor things. Lucky we arrived, then.”
“I know, you can’t imagine our delight when Cole began his daily jaunts to the coffee shop. It’s not every girl who can nab a man like him, you’re so lucky.”
“Oh, he’s not—”
Cole squeezed Adelaide’s hand so hard, she almost dropped her drink. “Time to move on. There’s only so much praise a man can handle before it starts going to his head.”
“Yeah, right.” Shannon laughed. “Help yourselves to the buffet. Maggie’s made the most divine fondue.”
The pair made a move towards the buffet. “I’m not hungry,” Adelaide said, picking up a cocktail saveloy and inspecting it before biting the end off.
“Me neither, but it might keep the wolves at bay if we stand here for a bit.”
A distinct sound of tittering could be heard over the music. A couple of fingers were pointed in his direction and a few not-so-furtive glances were cast.
“Oh Cole,” one of them sing-songed. “Come and dance with us, Cole.”
Cole dipped his gaze, instantly intent on choosing the perfect party pie. Why was it that everywhere he went women wanted to attack him? It would have been great if he were that sort of bloke but Jesus, he was getting over the death of his daughter. Couldn’t they leave him alone?
Adelaide put her lips to his ear. “You have admirers.”
“Geez, you think?”
“Maybe you should ask one of them to dance.”
“Maybe you should mind your own business.” Cole had no intention of going anywhere near those piranhas. Those women were behaving like they were marooned on a desert island with him the only male alive. Or he was George Clooney.
“How’s it going, guys?”
“Great thanks.”
Olivia had sidled up beside him, thumping him in the shin with her crutch. Thank God. At last, a normal, sensible female. Well, fairly normal. She did seem to have a bit of a problem with him touching her or saying anything that was even one step above friendly. He wondered what her deal was. Clearly, some bloke had done the dirty on her. Even he — and he wasn’t the most astute guy in the world when it came to chicks — could see she’d been wounded.
“I see you’re making yourself known to the netball girls.”
“Not by choice,” Cole replied, tilting his head towards one of the girls who was grinding against a pillar and beckoning for him to join her. “They started that behaviour as soon as we walked in the door. I feel like a piece of meat.”
“Lord knows why,” Olivia joked. “It’s not like you’re George Clooney.”
Was she reading his mind?
“My thoughts exactly,” Adelaide added, joining the conversation. “Hey, thanks for the little coat for Lulu by the way. She looks adorable in it.”
“I knew she would.”
“So how’s the foot?” Cole asked.
/>
“On the mend. I’m trying to figure out if I can dance on crutches without doing any more damage.”
“You should be careful.”
“I wasn’t talking about damage to me, silly. I meant the other people on the dance floor. I’m a hideous dancer when I’m not on crutches.” She gave a delightful giggle that sent shots of electricity into his groin. Great. That was all he needed.
“How long till you get them off?”
“A couple of days. The healing process has been a bit longer than expected but I should be good to go next week. I can’t wait. It’s not easy navigating life with these. I keep crashing into things.”
“So you won’t be Zumba-ing again?”
“I don’t think it’s my thing, I’m too un-co. But I’m going to start jogging again. At least that’s only one foot in front of the other. Or I might try Pilates. You can’t fall over if you’re already on the ground.”
“Sounds like a safer option.”
At that moment, Sean appeared.
“I wondered where you were.” He handed Olivia a drink, in to which he’d conveniently put a straw. The fact that his hand lingered on hers was not lost on Cole. Neither was the fact that the guy was bloody enormous. Cole, being a couple of inches over six feet, was usually the tallest in a crowd but this guy made him feel like Tattoo from Fantasy Island.
“Oh, a straw! That’s so thoughtful. Thank you Sean.”
Anyone could put a straw in a drink. Who did this guy think he was, Superman?
“It might make it easier, if you’re standing up. You have enough to worry about with balancing on those crutches.”
Next he’d be whipping a fold up stool out of his jacket for her to sit on. Tosser.
“It will. Gosh, I’m sooo parched.” Olivia flashed a cheeky smile at the other man and gave him an affectionate nudge with her shoulder. He grinned back, eyes shining. Clearly, this was some sort of ‘in’ joke. Cole decided he didn’t like those sort of jokes... unless he was ‘in’ on them too.
