“I’ve had my hair in this style for at least ten years,” Meg said dryly. “I’m over it.”
“Nuff said,” the hairdresser replied, picking up her scissors.
* * *
When Meg surveyed the end result in the mirror, she decided it wasn’t half bad. It was cropped short at the nape with a jagged, tousled fringe. Meg couldn’t decide if it made her look younger or older, but it was certainly different.
“You know, red highlights would look great.”
“One thing at a time,” Meg smiled.
She stood up and walked through to the waiting area, where Jamie sat stretched out in an armchair. His face broke into a broad grin when he saw her.
“Hey, look at you.”
“Is it alright?”
“It’s great. Suits you,” he said, getting to his feet.
Meg paid the woman, and they stepped out onto the street.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” said Meg.
“Come on then.”
They walked up to a doner kebab stand and bought two with the lot. Meg didn’t want to sit and eat. She was in a different place, and she felt like a different person with her new hairstyle. She wanted to wander along, look at the shops and the people. It was unlikely that anyone she knew would see them.
However, eating a doner kebab and walking was not the easiest thing to do. The hoummos turned liquid and leaked out of the bag. It dripped up Meg’s arms while she tried to eat, and left a trail of white dots down the front of her top. The flimsy paper napkin the vendor supplied was next to useless.
“Do you know if there are any toilets about?” she asked Jamie. “I can’t go back to work looking like this. I have to clean up.”
“I’ll take you to my place,” he offered.
“What, in Bondi? I may as well go home.”
“No, I’m staying here now, just a block back that way.”
“Another friend?” Meg asked, lifting an eyebrow.
He nodded. “I like to spread myself around, don’t want to outstay my welcome anywhere.”
They walked around the corner to a row of rundown terraces. Meg followed Jamie to the last one. The door was wide open, leading to a hall that ran through the center of the house. A pungent, musty odor hit Meg as soon as she stepped over the threshold.
“Thommo!” Jamie called. “Anyone home?”
“In here.”
“The bathroom’s at the end of the hall upstairs,” Jamie told Meg.
She climbed the staircase, mindful of not actually touching anything. The walls were stained yellow, a mixture of damp and nicotine, she suspected, and the carpet was rotten, at least it smelled rotten. The place was like the worst student digs she’d ever laid eyes on when she was at college.
Meg walked gingerly down the hallway. She shuddered to think what the bathroom was like. The first door on her left was closed. The next one was open. There was a bed in the center she assumed, under a pile of clothes. More clothes and shoes were strewn over the floor, as well as empty bottles, an overflowing ashtray, and what she suspected was a bong.
She came to the door at the end of the hall. Opening it, Meg physically blanched. At least she had expected it to be filthy. There was no soap in the handbasin, though there was plenty of soap scum. Meg splashed water on her face, and washed the sticky residue off her hands and up her arms. She didn’t dare touch either of the two towels hanging over the shower rail, and she averted her eyes from the toilet bowl as she reached for some toilet paper. She dried her hands and face, and then wet some more paper, dabbing at the white splotches on her top.
Meg came back down the stairs and followed the sounds of music playing on a stereo. She peered in through a doorway coming off the downstairs hall.
“Here she is,” said Jamie. “Come in and meet everyone.”
A man and two women were lounging around a low coffee table. There were no chairs in the room, just two mattresses covered in batik fabric, piles of tatty cushions and a purple corduroy beanbag. An old television sat in the corner, and a sound system stretched across one wall, with speakers that were taller than Harrison. Meg didn’t recognize the music playing, but then she only tended to listen to the Wiggles these days.
“Everyone, this is Meg. Meg, this is Thommo, Annie and Kez.”
“Hiya Meg,” they chorused.
“Hi.” She smiled feebly. She’d just noticed what was on the middle of the table, the reason for the gathering. There was an ashtray, various implements, including a bong, and a fat plastic bag full of shredded green leaves. Meg sighed, she was too old for this.
“Take a load off,” said Jamie, whacking the mattress next to him.
She went to protest that she really ought to get going, but she didn’t want Jamie to start preaching to her about loosening up. She’d join them for a while, and quietly leave once they were too stoned to notice.
Meg sat on the mattress next to Jamie and crossed her legs, glad she’d worn trousers today.
“How long’s it been, Meg?” he asked.
“What?”
“Since you got stoned?”
“Who says I ever did?”
“Come on, you went to art college. Everybody’s permanently stoned at art college.”
“Or else how do you explain some of those paintings,” added Thommo with a grin.
Meg didn’t want to tell them that she actually took college seriously and rarely joined in any of the extracurricular activities, so to speak. The one time she shared a joint, it had little effect on her, and she couldn’t understand what the big deal was. She’d rather have a drink.
Thommo was preparing the bong. Meg had seen people do this before, but had never paid much attention. He lit the end of the glass tube protruding at an angle from the side of the bottle. Then he passed it to Meg. “Visitors first.”
“Oh no, that’s okay.”
“Come on, for old times’ sake,” said Jamie.
Meg felt stupid. She realized she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. “You go first, Jamie.”
He took it from her and drew in the smoke from the neck of the bottle, then he passed it back to her.
“Just take it easy at first,” he said quietly. He must have sensed her lack of experience. Meg inhaled a little smoke and drew it back into her lungs. So far so good. She passed it on to Annie. When she looked back at Jamie he was watching her, an odd look on his face. He rested his hand on her thigh and leaned over, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
“I like your hair,” he said close to her ear, his breath tingling on her neck. Meg felt suddenly hot. She wondered how long it would take for the bong to come back around.
* * *
Meg opened her eyes slowly, blinking. There was a window just above her, and she stared through the dirty pane at the streetlight outside.
Her head was buzzing. She turned onto her back and peered around the gloomy room, taking in her surroundings. Yellowed, faded wallpaper, an old brown wardrobe in the corner: she could just make out a motorbike helmet sitting on top.
Shit! Meg sat bolt upright, and then had to wait for a moment until her brain caught up. She was somewhere in Newtown. The last thing she remembered was … Oh Christ!
She looked down at herself. She was a little crumpled but she was fully clothed, except for her shoes. Surely nothing had happened? She tried to check her watch, but she couldn’t see the hands in the half-light. She stumbled out of the room into the hallway. The whole house seemed to be in darkness, except for light coming from the television in the room opposite. She stuck her head in the doorway. Jamie was sitting in the purple beanbag staring at the screen, clutching a huge bag of cornchips and giggling like a teenage girl.
“Jamie, do you know what the time is?”
“Oh, hiya Meg!”
She felt for the light switch on the doorjamb and turned it on.
“Jeez Meg!” he said, shielding his eyes. “What are you doing?”
Meg was starin
g at her watch. “Oh shit, it’s after seven!”
“Yeah, The Simpsons has started,” Jamie confirmed. “Now, turn the light off, would you?”
Meg ignored him, searching among the cushions for her handbag. She pulled out her mobile phone and pressed a series of digits. “Oh fuck!”
“What’s up?” said Jamie through a mouthful of corn chips.
“Didn’t you hear my phone ringing?”
“Yeah, maybe. I don’t know how to work those things.”
Moron, Meg thought to herself. He would have to be the only person in Sydney without a mobile phone. It appeared that both Simon and Chris had tried to ring her at least twice each. She found her shoes and slipped them on. Jamie was still giggling at the television. “That Homer. He cracks me up.”
Meg picked up her bag and walked out, disgusted.
“Hey, aren’t you going to say goodbye?” he called, but she was already out the door.
Oh no! Where was the car? Meg hurried up the street and turned at the first corner, coming to the main road. She spotted her car, sitting under a streetlight, a gold envelope under the windscreen wiper.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck! What else?” she said under her breath, snatching the parking ticket and shoving it into her bag. She unlocked the door and got in. She sat there, breathing heavily. She realized she was trembling.
Meg took out her phone and pressed auto dial, her heart in her mouth.
“Hello?”
“Simon, is that you?”
She heard him sigh at the other end. “Meg, are you alright?”
“Yes, has Chris—?”
“Don’t worry, I covered for you.”
Meg breathed out, relieved. “I’m so sorry. I owe you for this.”
“I’m just glad to hear you’re okay. No one knew where on earth you were. Donna said you were taking a long lunch, and somebody else thought you had an appointment with the hairdresser, but when we checked, they said you canceled. I’ve been worried sick about you, Meg.”
She felt like crying. “I’m sorry I put you through that, Simon.”
“Are you going to tell me where you’ve been?”
“You won’t believe this, I fell asleep…”
“Meg! I thought you weren’t going to take it any further?”
“No, it wasn’t like that. I swear, nothing happened.” She hoped that was true. “I really did fall asleep at his place, he was too stupid to realize he should have woken me.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“What did you tell Chris?”
“Well, the first time he rang—”
“There’s been more than once?”
“Yes. Anyway, Donna just said you were out to lunch. But when he rang again later, that’s when we started looking for you.”
“So what did you tell him?”
“I said you were up at the studios, and that’s why you weren’t answering your mobile. I told him I’d get a message to you. When we still hadn’t heard anything after another hour, I rang him and said you were working back.”
Meg rested her head on the steering wheel, sighing heavily.
“So he said not to worry, he’d pick up Harrison and see you at home. And not to work too hard.”
“I’m sorry, Simon.”
“You’ve got to pull yourself together, Meg. You can’t just go AWOL like that.”
“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Really. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s over now.” His voice softened. “Are you alright?”
She felt tears rising in her throat.
“Meg?”
“I’m fine,” she sniffed. “I’d better get home.”
“Take it easy, okay?”
* * *
Meg unlocked the front door and stepped wearily into the hall. It was warm and dry inside, and she could smell dinner cooking. The tears stuck in her throat threatened to well again.
“Honey, is that you?”
Chris came into the hall from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a tea-towel. She was never so happy to see him.
“Hi,” she said, stepping forward under the light.
“You’ve had your hair cut.”
Meg had almost forgotten. “Oh, yes,” she paused, looking at the expression on his face. “Don’t worry, it’ll grow back.”
He smiled. “No, it’s … nice, I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Meg walked into his arms, hugging him tight.
“Heavy day?”
“Mm,” she murmured into his chest. “Is Harrison in bed already?”
“Well, I didn’t know when you’d be home…”
“It’s okay.”
“Dinner’s ready. Are you hungry?”
She pulled back from him, nodding. “What did I do to deserve you?” she said, her voice trembling.
“Hey,” he stroked her cheek, his eyes concerned. “Meg, you look exhausted. Even your eyes are bloodshot. You’re working too hard.”
She swallowed. “I’m okay, really. Just glad to be home.” She hugged him tightly again. “I love you, Chris.”
“I love you too.”
A week later
“Why aren’t you taking my calls?”
Meg jumped, swiveling around in her chair. Jamie stood leaning against the doorway to her office.
“We’ve been flat out around here, Jamie.”
He looked unconvinced. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
“You’ve got the shits with me.”
Meg shrugged, pretending to focus back on her work. She shuffled some papers around, avoiding his gaze.
Jamie walked around the desk, dragging a chair with him. He sat down and leaned across her, taking hold of the arms of her chair and swiveling it around so she had to face him.
“You can act like a spoilt teenager, or we can talk like adults. It’s up to you.” He looked directly into her eyes.
“I wasn’t the one acting like a teenager,” she retorted.
“Oh, I see,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Weren’t we mature enough for you, Meg? It didn’t seem to bother you at the time.”
The color drained from her face. “That’s the whole thing,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t even remember what happened.”
He considered her for a moment, then leaned forward in his chair again. “Nothing happened, Meg. You were fine at first, and then you started to pass out. I put you in my room so you could sleep it off.”
Meg sighed, relieved. “I’ve tried it before, it never had that effect.”
“It was probably stronger than the stuff you’ve had. You have to get used to it.”
“Well, I won’t be doing that,” she said flatly.
“Look, I’m not a pusher, Meg. You don’t like it, we don’t have to do it.”
“Don’t talk about ‘we,’ Jamie. There is no ‘we.’”
His eyes narrowed, considering her.
“I can’t see you anymore,” said Meg. “It was a mistake from the start. I should never have said yes when you asked me out for a drink that day.”
“So why did you?”
She breathed out heavily. “I was bored.”
“Just filling in time, eh?”
“Look, I don’t mean to offend you…”
“It’s okay, Meg,” he interrupted. He seemed to be thinking about what he wanted to say. “Look, I was never trying to steal you away from your husband. I just wanted to show you a good time.”
“I wish it was as simple and innocent as that,” she sighed. “But I don’t want to skulk around, waking up in strange places, worrying my husband because he doesn’t know where I am, and then lying to him.”
“Okay, I should have woken you when you got a call. I just don’t think like that.”
“And that’s fine for you, Jamie, you haven’t got a care in the world. Good luck to you. But we’re not the same, and I can’t do this anymore.”
He stared at her intently. Meg wasn’t sure wh
at was in his eyes. Disappointment maybe. Or was he just annoyed? Whatever, she couldn’t meet his gaze any longer. Those eyes were almost her undoing.
“I have to get back to work,” she said quietly.
He nodded, getting to his feet. “Can I at least have a kiss goodbye?”
He put his hand out to her. She considered it for a moment, before gingerly taking his hand and rising slowly out of her chair. They stood barely apart. Meg stared at her shoes, too nervous to look up at him. Then she felt his hands cupping her face, drawing her closer as he brought his lips down on hers. She was rocked by the force of it. This wasn’t a gentle kiss goodbye, this was a kiss to say “see what you’re missing.” Meg felt her heart pounding hard, sending a bloodrush through her body.
He pulled back slowly. “Goodbye Meg.”
She stood rooted to the spot. He must have left her office, she realized as she heard the sound of the door closing. She sank down into the chair, catching her breath.
Late in May
Circle’s End had promptly sold to the first buyer, though he’d requested an extended settlement. Everybody assumed Ally would stay at the property in the meantime, after she’d finished up at the guesthouse, but she couldn’t do it. She did try. She drove down the day she left Birchgrove, brought her bags in from the car, and then it started to rain. She was stricken with fear. What if she got rained in? For days? The walls seemed to close in around her, and Ally felt trapped again. She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out.
So she packed up enough clothes for a few days and headed back up the mountain. Stopping at a camping supply place in Mittagong, she bought a sleeping bag and one of those thin foam mattresses. And she also bought a cooler and a heavy-duty torch.
Nic usually didn’t arrive at the restaurant till at least nine in the morning, having late shifts at the hotel. And she had to leave again around four in the afternoon, to get ready for work each night. Rob was in and out at various times of the day, as was Matt, so they didn’t suspect she had set up camp. Really, why would they? Why would anybody? One of the men working on the kitchen asked her one day if she ever went home, but he was only joking.
And she had taken to using her mobile phone again, after Nic commented she could never catch her at Circle’s End.
Call Waiting Page 24
