by Bill Condon
Tiffany,
I like you but you mightn’t feel the same about me, and I wouldn’t blame you. To save us both from any awkward moments I’ve figured out an easy way to do this. Nod if you’re even slightly interested in getting to know me. Write me a ten page explanation if you’re not.
Davey.
‘I spent hours trying to get that right and it still sucks,’ he says.
The note is brimming with confidence but I don’t see that on his face or hear it in his voice.
‘It’s hard telling a girl you like her, because you could be making a complete idiot of yourself, as well as embarrassing her. So . . . you don’t owe me any explanations, Tiffany, just tell me “no” and I’m out of here. No questions, no hard feelings – gone.’
He goes to take the note back, but I pull it away from him.
‘Only ten pages?’ I raise my eyebrows. ‘That’s nowhere near enough. I couldn’t cover it in just ten pages. I’d need a lot more space to express myself. I could probably fill up a book.’
‘You might as well nod then,’ he says.
And that’s what I do.
We walk inside and find Reggie and Zoe looking normal enough, but Kayla greets me with a wide and taunting smiley face. I shoot her a look that plainly says: Stop gawking. I know it’s hard to believe – I’m having trouble with it myself – but it’s true. A guy is here to see me. So get your eyes back in your head before you scare him away!
Bull does the intros.
‘This is Zoe, Reggie and–’ Kayla gets in before he can introduce her.
‘We’ve met. Hey, Davey. I was hoping you might turn up one day. Tiff talks about you all the time. “Davey this, Davey that” – she just won’t stop!’
I’m going to kill her!
‘I do not!’
He looks disappointed.
‘Well, I might have mentioned you once – by accident.’
Bull takes over again. ‘You remember him, Reggie? He’s the one who took a poke at me at the last Gunners’ game.’
‘You couldn’t have hurt him,’ Reggie tells Davey.
Bull takes it as a compliment; puffs out his chest and stands a little bit taller.
‘Got a head on him like a block of concrete – nothin’ gets in or out.’
Zoe laughs first and loudest. ‘Good one, Reggie.’
I’m certain Bull thinks it’s funny too, but he doesn’t let it show.
‘Thanks for the support, old bloke,’ he grunts.
‘No worries.’
I hold up my book like I’m showing off a gold medal I’ve just won.
‘Breakfast At Tiffany’s – that’s why Davey came over – he wanted to give me this.’
Zoe: ‘That’s nice.’
Kayla: ‘Awwww.’
Bull: ‘Should have posted it, son. Would have been cheaper than the petrol.’
Reggie looks longingly at the frozen image of John Wayne on the tv screen, the movie still paused.
Davey bends down to pat Wolfie. ‘So is this your dog?’
Please Bull, no smart remarks. But he just can’t stop himself.
‘Was it the tail that tipped you off?’
Davey grins, gives Wolfie one last rub, and hops back to his feet.
‘Is there anything around here to do?’ he says.
He must be kidding. It’s eight-thirty. Nothing is open. Most people are asleep. Even the lobsters at Chans have been tucked in to bed by now. This is Gungee Creek – the land that time forgot.
‘Not really,’ I say, apologetically.
‘But it’s a good night for a walk,’ pipes up Kayla.
‘Yeah,’ says Zoe. ‘Top night. It’s beautiful out.’
They both look at Davey, and I do too.
‘I just got an idea,’ he says. ‘You want to go for a walk, Tiffany?’
I gaze back at the house expecting to see Bull setting up a spotlight on the verandah. No sign of him, or the others. That doesn’t mean they’re not peeking out from behind the curtains. And why not? If it was Kayla out here instead of me, I’d be peeking for sure. How can you tease someone later unless you’ve got all the grisly details? I bet the only one who isn’t looking is Reggie. He’ll be too busy pressing every button on the remote so he can get back to the movie. John Wayne will end up riding his horse backwards, and Reggie will still love it.
We head up the road side-by-side, but apart in every other way. It’s so dark I can’t even see Davey’s face. Surreal, that’s what this is. All we need is some fog swirling around our feet and this could be a scene from a creaky old horror movie.
A young girl wanders down a lonely country road with a vampire – a fairly cute one. We see the fear in her eyes, not because she’s with an undead dead guy, but because she’s terrified she’ll trip over her clunky feet and headbutt him as she’s falling. If there’s a way to screw up a promising scene, this girl will find it.
The movie in my head stops, when Davey speaks.
‘I’ve been thinking about you, Tiffany.’ His words are soft, but more certain than before. ‘That time you came and talked to me on the bus, you didn’t know what kind of trouble you might be walking into. I was in a bad way that day, but it didn’t stop you. I don’t know anyone who would have done what you did.’
‘Nahhh,’ I drawl. ‘It was no big deal. Besides, I couldn’t help myself. I’m always doing wildlife rescues – it’s kind of a hobby. When I saw you run off the field, all stressed out like you were, I just clicked into injured wombat mode. Reflex action.’
My words are met by a silence. Somehow I’ve managed to plant both feet in my mouth, again. Now what? Do I try to explain that he doesn’t really remind me of a wombat? Or do I say nothing and just hope a semi comes along and squashes me?
Before I can decide, he takes hold of my hand.
‘You don’t mind, do you, Tiffany?’
A shock runs through me, being so close to him, so suddenly, but it only lasts a second. It’s been a while since a boy held my hand. The previous one would have been Jeremy Thomas in Year Four. I’d just bought him a muffin at the tuckshop, so I was his best friend, for all of ten minutes.
‘No,’ I murmur. ‘It’s okay.’
As we walk on he asks me about my life, because, ‘I really want to get to know you.’
I break off bits and pieces for him: about Reggie being sick, and Kayla moving to Perth, and books, and poetry . . .
‘You’ve really never heard of Sylvia Plath?’
‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll tell you all about her.’
And working at the paper – loving it and hating it – and Bull being really nice when you get to know him, and Zoe, who’s going to make him even nicer.
He listens intently, asks questions.
We keep on going, way past Kayla’s house, up to the highway. That semi I’d hoped for a few minutes ago roars out of the night. It shudders by and the wind drags at me. At the same instant Davey curls an arm around my waist, anchoring me to him. I’m no delicate flower; I’m strong and capable and I don’t need his help, but I like being so close to him.
He tells me about his three older brothers – two lawyers and a teacher – and how he tried to be like them.
‘More to please my mum than anything else, but I couldn’t do it. I messed up bad before I moved to Tarwyn. Couldn’t handle uni, so I quit. Had a fight with my dad and got kicked out of home. I was drinking back then. My girlfriend came to her senses and dumped me. She said I was immature. Can you believe that?’
I’m not sure how to answer, but his grin tips me off.
‘Oh yeah,’ I say. ‘I can believe it. It sounds like you were hopeless!’
‘I was,’ he says, shaking his head, and smiling. ‘I w
as a pain in the butt – to everyone. But all that bad stuff was a year ago. I’m better now – promise. I left Adelaide and went feral for a while; lived rough and wandered; took any job I could get, stayed in lots of country towns before I finally ended up in Tarwyn. I’m a Stop-and-Go guy for the council these days.’
‘What? You mean you hold up those traffic signs?’
‘Yeah. It’s a no-stress job, gives me time to think. Might do something else one day but right now I’m happy with it. But you mightn’t be . . .’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘It’s not real classy.’
‘So? What makes you think I care about classy?’ I turn and look at him even though I can’t make out his features. ‘I’m not into class, I’m into people.’
He doesn’t say a word.
‘I’ve always wondered about Stop-and-Go guys. Do you like it if drivers wave and say thanks as they go past? Or is it better if they ignore you? Most times when I’m out in the car with Bull, I give a wave and a “thanks”. Usually the guy with the sign stares at me as if I’ve just escaped from an asylum. So what’s the right thing to do?’
‘I’ve never met anyone like you before, Tiffany.’
‘Really?’
‘No – never.’
‘Then you just haven’t been to enough asylums.’
Now even in the darkness I see his face, because it’s so very near to mine.
I fit neatly up against him.
Our arms hold us together.
He has the softest lips.
Later, when he drives off, he honks the horn all the way till he gets to the corner. Even after he turns onto the highway, I stand in the middle of the road waving, knowing he can’t see me, but just wanting to be close to him for a few seconds more.
I only have to knock once and the door is whisked open by Bull.
‘Get lost, did ya? I was about to send a chopper out looking for you.’
Another half hour and he probably would have, too.
‘Thanks for caring, Bull.’
‘Who said anything about carin’? Your turn to wash up, that’s all.’
Back in the lounge room, Kayla hits me with questions, just as I’d expected.
‘Well? What happened? Tell me! Don’t leave out a thing – I’ll know if you do!’
‘Nothing to tell. A walk’s a walk.’
‘Tiffff! You can’t do that to me!’
I’m driving her mad. And loving it.
Zoe sits beside Reggie in front of the tv, both looking relaxed. It occurs to me that at last she might have won him over. She smiles at me, most probably appreciating the fun I’m having, as Kayla tries again.
‘Aw, come on, Tiff. I’d tell you. Play fair. You gotta give me something!’
‘Oh all right then . . .’
The kiss is not for sharing. I’ve got it locked away. Saving it for days when everything goes wrong, for nights when I’m lonely, and for old age, when I can barely remember what a kiss is like. Call me greedy, I don’t care. It’s my one piece of magic.
But I do have some news I can tell Kayla.
‘Davey’s taking me out on a date. On Saturday.’
‘Where to?’
‘Rifle range.’
I’m not sure who laughs first. Is it Zoe or Bull? Kayla isn’t far behind them. Only Reggie keeps a straight face.
‘Don’t take any notice of ’em, Tiffy. They’re only jealous.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Kayla grins. ‘Wish I could get a guy to take me to the rifle range. That’s always been my ambition. Woo-hoo.’
‘Sorry to laugh, Tiff,’ Zoe says, ‘but it does seem like a strange place to go for a first date. Why there of all places?’
‘It’s not a bit strange,’ I tell her. ‘Davey’s thinking of taking up shooting as a hobby, so he wants to check out the rifle range and he asked me if I’d like to go with him.’
Kayla snorts. ‘Are you kidding me? He should be checking you out – not a rifle range! No way is that a date.’
I go to the one person I know I can depend on.
‘It is a date, isn’t it, Reggie?’
‘S’pose it all depends on how it goes,’ he says. ‘If you have a good time, come home happy, then it was a date.’
‘Okay.’
‘But if he shoots yer, it wasn’t a date – it was an ambush.’
‘Reggie! That’s mean!’
‘You know I’m only kiddin’, Tiffy.’ He puts his arms out and I gladly fall into them. ‘Don’t worry about what anyone says, luv. It’s a date.’
I feel the storm coming from the time I leave Gungee to when the bus grinds to a halt one street away from the Eagle. The first drops whack against me as Nancy opens the office door. Just as I step inside, rain tumbles down behind me, louder by the second. Everyone in our office stands at the front window and watches. It’s like we’ve never seen rain. Outside, drivers switch on headlights in the gloom and slow to a crawl as gutters overflow and water courses across the road.
When my mobile rings I only just hear it. I move away from the others to answer. It’s Reggie. He hardly ever calls me, so my mind is instantly crowded with all the things that could be wrong.
‘Reggie. Are you okay? Is everything . . . Hello?’
We can’t hear each other so I make my way towards the kitchen where I know it won’t be as noisy. Halfway there his voice comes through, clear and strong.
‘Yeah, Tiffy. All good with me. I was worried about you. Heard on the radio there’s been a few accidents with all the rain. Just wanted to make sure you got to the paper in one piece.’
I smile at the phone, wishing Reggie could see me.
‘You’re all right then, luv? No dramas?’
‘Not a one.’ I reach the kitchen. ‘Thanks for thinking about me.’
‘Gotta look after my girl. Only one I got.’
My smile gets even bigger.
‘Wanted to talk to you anyway. You got a minute or are you busy? You just say if you are, it’s not important.’
As he says that, the rain eases. With nothing more to see everyone will head back into the office and I’ll have to be there too. But not yet.
‘Never too busy for you, Reggie.’ I ease down against the rogues’ gallery wall. My photo is up there now. ‘I’m all yours. Talk to me.’
‘Well, I got some good news for you. Believe it or not, I’ve almost got the old girl up and runnin’ again.’
The Falcon. I never really thought he’d do it.
‘Good for you, Reggie! That’s excellent!’
‘Ta, luv. By gee, I put in some hours on her lately. Worked till late last night. Got up early for once and had another go this mornin’. The Wolf almost drove me mad wantin’ me to throw the ball for her, but I still got a fair bit of work done.’
‘I hope you didn’t overdo it.’
‘Nah. I’m feelin’ good today; fit as a fiddle. Had to give it up when it rained but that doesn’t matter. I know exactly what needs to be done now. Reckon another ten or fifteen minutes, half hour tops. That’s all. Finished. Done. She’ll be tickin’ over like a clock.’
‘Fannn-tastic! We’ll get some photos of you in the car to go with your interview – you still up to doing it tonight?’
‘What interview’s that, Tiffy?’
I feel miserable that he’s forgotten so quickly, but I’ve learnt not to show it.
‘Your life story. I’m going to interview . . . hang on, Reggie.’
I stand up when the Shark comes into the kitchen.
‘Wondered where you got to.’
He’s got his cup with him.
‘I’m just finishing this call.’ I show him the mobile. ‘It’s kind of important. Can you give me an
other minute? I’ll make your tea and bring it in to you. I’ll be quick.’
He puts his cup down and holds up his hands, palms towards me. ‘No rush – not if it’s important. You carry on. I’ll fix this.’
I can’t believe it – he’s making his own tea! Miracle!
‘You want me to get you a brew while I’m here?’
Double miracle!
‘No, I’m good. But thanks, Shark.’
He nods, drops in a tea bag, fills his cup with hot water and a drop of milk, and traipses off again.
‘Sorry, Reggie. That was my boss. I have to get to work.’
‘Aw, right. Of course. You go, luv.’
I can read Reggie’s thoughts, just like he can read mine. There’s something going on with him. It’s there, written in his voice, plain as. He must be bored today, or lonely, or maybe he’s worried about those test results. Whatever the reason, I know he doesn’t want to get off the phone.
‘It’s okay, Reggie, the job can survive without me for just a little bit longer.’ I head back to my desk. ‘What were you saying before?’
He has to think a moment to pick up the thread. I usually let him find his way, but now I haven’t got the time.
‘It was about the Falcon, Reggie. You almost got it going and then it rained–’
‘Yeah, I know all that. I wanted to tell yer somethin’ else. I’ve been thinkin’ about it for a good while.’
As I turn into the office I find that the Shark is looking directly at me.
Please, Reggie, get to the point, finish the story.
‘Tell me.’
‘All right . . . for a long time I had this idea that I’d get the Falcon goin’ and then I’d take off for a big drive – get out of everyone’s way for a while – didn’t want to weigh anyone down, if I got sick, yer know?’
‘Reggie, what are you talking about? That is such–’
‘It’s hard to work out sometimes . . . the right thing to do.’
‘Just ask me! Running away is wrong! You’ve always taught me that!’
