‘Not yet.’ Jo looked down at her fingers, which were again twisting each other into knots.
‘Why not? Doesn’t he want kids? Surely you guys talked about the chance of getting pregnant after the condom broke.’ Amy remembered her own slip-up with Ben only a week before. Thankfully, her period had turned up like clockwork the next day so there had been no reason for panic, but it had never occurred to her not to have some sort of conversation about the potential of a baby.
‘Not really.’ Jo shrugged defensively. ‘It just never came up. We still haven’t got around to talking seriously about the wedding yet, let alone having a baby.’
Amy snorted. ‘You just don’t want a wedding because you hate to be the centre of attention.’
‘Yeah, maybe,’ Jo said in an uncharacteristically subdued tone.
‘You’re a wally. Talk to Stephen. He’s gonna be really upset if he finds out you’ve told me first. How far along are you?’
‘Almost three months. I went for a check-up yesterday that confirmed it.’
‘So tell Stephen.’
Jo pursed her lips and went quiet.
Amy knew it was time to change the topic. ‘Alright. I’ll let it go for now, m’love, but when you finally stop being a scaredy cat, tell me so I can celebrate properly.’
Jo just grunted at that, then pressed play on their movie.
After giving her sister another tight squeeze, Amy settled back on the couch. As much as she wanted to get up and do a little party dance over the thought of a niece or nephew to spoil, she knew that Jo would more than likely aim the TV remote at her head if she tried. Instead, she found herself doing something she never ever did. She talked about a boyfriend with her sister.
‘Did I tell you that I’m taking Ben down south next weekend?’ she asked casually, leaning down to give Gerald, who’d ambled into the lounge room, a pat on the head. He uttered a loud groan at the attention but otherwise didn’t move.
‘Serious?’ Jo asked, both eyebrows raised, her expression changing from brooding to incredulous.
‘Yep,’ Amy said with a wide smile. ‘I’m really looking forward to it.’
‘Hmph.’ Jo ran her hand over her still-flat stomach with a pensive expression. Amy waited for her to say more, but when nothing was forthcoming, she turned back to the movie.
It wasn’t until another half-hour had passed that Jo spoke again.
‘Looked up your boyfriend online the other day.’
‘What?’ Amy’s head spun around. An unfamiliar angry sensation welled up in her chest. Of course anyone could Google Ben’s name, but the fact that Jo had looked him up before asking Amy’s opinion of him hurt. ‘Jo, you had no right to do that.’
‘Yeah, I did,’ Jo replied curtly. ‘It was worth it, too. From what his ex-girlfriend is saying, he’s a colossal bastard.’
‘I don’t want to hear this.’ Amy was already calling herself an idiot. She should have known better than to bring Ben up.
‘No? Well, you should already know about it. Have you looked him up yet?’
‘No.’ Amy raised her chin stubbornly, a look that usually told anyone who knew her well to back off. Jo however, wasn’t in the mood to take the hint.
‘Why not?’ Jo demanded. ‘I don’t get it. Sometimes I swear you don’t have a fucking brain in your head.’ The words felt like a slap.
‘Hey!’ Amy physically reeled backwards, completely unprepared for the intensity of Jo’s assault.
‘What? It’s true.’ Jo’s eyes flared, her body language screaming. ‘I don’t get it, Ames. You dumped the only decent guy you ever went out with and since then it’s been a downward spiral. I’ve never got that. Liam was great. He’s still great. He’s educated, nice, and from what I saw the other day, he’s still nuts about you. But do you take him back? No. Instead you waste your time with some half-arsed English celebrity who’s using you because he’s bored. There can’t be any other reason. The man could have anyone he wants – and by the sounds of it, he has – so why would he want a hairdresser from Perth? Tell me that. He’s using you, Amy. Why can’t you see that? Why don’t you want to see that? God! It pains me to say this, but when it comes to men, you’re so much like Mum it’s scary.’ Jo’s words punched through the air, angry, frustrated and hurtful.
Clutching at her stomach, Amy tried to speak around the solid lump in her throat. Nothing came out. There were no words. Never mind that Jo had no idea of what had happened with Liam or what Amy had gone through to protect her years ago, knowing that the truth would hurt Jo so much more than even a year of silence. And now Jo was saying Amy was just like their mum . . . No. No, she couldn’t have meant that. Their mum had spent years being abused by their dad, ultimately choosing him over her daughters, not caring how much she hurt them in the process. Amy was trying to protect Jo.
Jo couldn’t have meant it. There was no way she could have meant it.
Amy took a deep shaky breath and stood up.
Pregnancy hormones, that’s what this had to be. Jo was just upset about being pregnant and looking for a way to vent. She wasn’t meaning to be this hurtful.
‘You know, I think I gotta go,’ Amy managed to say, while frantically searching for her shoes then retrieving Gerald’s leash from the dining table. Clipping it onto her mutt’s collar, she snatched up her handbag and made it to the door, barely holding back the tears that were burning behind her eyes. Darting a look back, Amy saw her sister was now standing next to the sofa, her face pale as the reality of what she’d just said sunk in.
‘Ames . . .’ Jo began huskily, but Amy shook her head. She didn’t want an apology. She didn’t want to feel obliged to forgive when she was still hurting this badly.
By the time Amy got herself and Gerald settled in the car, she was shaking, Jo’s words playing over and over in her mind. She couldn’t process them. She couldn’t believe Jo had said them. There’s no way she could have meant them. No way.
Jo’s distressed expression flashed across her mind and, despite her upset, Amy found herself reaching for her phone.
AMY HURRIED THROUGH the dense crowd packing out the Subiaco hotel feeling underdressed and overexposed. She never, never went out in public dressed this casually. In her old pale pink tracksuit, minimal make-up and hair in a loose, messy ponytail, she felt naked. She wasn’t even wearing her contacts, instead settling for her black rectangular-framed glasses.
She’d tried to call Stephen three times already but he hadn’t answered once. If she couldn’t find him in the next few minutes—
‘Amy.’
Amy turned to see Stephen standing just behind her, big, blond and handsome in a soft grey pullover and old faded jeans, a pint of dark ale in each hand.
‘Hey.’ He gave her a warm smile. ‘You girls decide to keep us company this arvo? Where’s Jo?’ He looked over her head, scanning the crowd.
‘At home.’ Amy had to yell over the noise. ‘I tried to call you. You need to go home.’
‘Home?’ Stephen’s expression quickly changed to a frown as he took in her appearance. ‘Why?’
Amy shook her head abruptly, struggling to keep her emotions in check. She’d come intending to tell Stephen that Jo needed him then leaving immediately, but the minute she’d started talking, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it together long enough to get back out the door. ‘Where’s Scott?’
Some of her desperation must have carried because Stephen looked over her shoulder. ‘Over there. Follow me.’ His baritone carried easily over the noise of the crowd. Sidling past her, he cleared a way to a window table where Scott was perched on a bar stool, people-watching. His lean body was dressed in green cargos and a loose black knit top, his hair in a long plait down his back.
‘Scott,’ Stephen boomed and Scott swivelled around to catch sight of Amy’s casual dress and distraught expression, his warm brown eyes widening.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, automatically accepting the pint Stephen handed him and setting i
t down on the table.
That was all it took. Eyes tearing up and breath hitching, Amy walked straight into his stunned embrace.
‘Oh shit, this must be serious,’ she heard Scott utter to Stephen. ‘Babe? Talk to me, what’s going on?’
Amy’s throat was choked up with tears and instead of answering she burrowed herself against the comforting warmth of his chest.
‘Amy? You said something about me needing to go home. What’s wrong with Jo? Is she alright? Is she sick?’ Stephen demanded.
‘I can’t tell you. She has to. If I talk any more, I’m going to lose it,’ she managed to get out, her voice strangled.
‘I’m gone,’ Stephen said abruptly.
‘Yeah.’ Scott’s hand came up to rub her back while speaking to Stephen. ‘I don’t know what this is all about, but it must be pretty bad. Message or call me when you work out what’s up.’
‘Yeah.’
Amy was vaguely aware of the noise of the crowd surrounding them before Scott murmured in her ear. ‘Alright, squirt. Out with it. What’s happened?’
‘Not here. I’m embarrassing myself enough as it is,’ Amy mumbled against his shoulder. ‘Can we go somewhere else?’
‘Yeah sure, but at least let me know how bad this is, eh? I’m getting worried here. Not to mention what you just did to poor Stephen.’
‘Jo and I had a fight.’ Amy’s lip quivered despite her best efforts to maintain her dignity.
‘Seriously?’ Scott’s incredulous expression said it all. Jo and Amy never fought. ‘What about?’
‘Can’t talk about it now or I’ll start crying again. Worse than I am now.’ She reached up and swiped at her eyes behind her glasses. ‘I need to get out of here. Did you drive?’
‘No, I walked.’ Scott frowned. ‘But—’
‘I’ll drive you.’
She stayed silent on the short trip back to Scott’s townhouse, deliberately ignoring his incredulous exclamation about the dog on the back seat, while she clenched and unclenched her hands on the steering wheel, keeping her eyes on the road. She managed to keep her composure until he opened his front door, gesturing for her to enter.
Uncharacteristically, Gerald didn’t need any encouragement to follow her. He looked positively lively as he trotted through the door. That lasted all of three seconds until he located a small Persian rug in front of the stairs and collapsed with a huffing grunt, obviously exhausted with all the emotion crackling through the air.
‘You gonna talk to me now?’ Scott asked, closing the front door and leaning back against it, his arms crossed over his chest.
‘I don’t know where to begin.’ Amy ran her hands over her gritty eyes. ‘Jo said some stuff. Really hurtful stuff. She’s keeping something from Stephen and . . .’
‘This about her being pregnant?’
Amy’s eyes opened to huge circles. ‘You know?’
‘Yeah. Stephen was wondering why she’s been green around the gills lately and let slip he was worried about her. I put two and two together.’ Scott shrugged. ‘It wasn’t hard. Not a lot rattles her, you gotta admit. That was the only thing that I could think of. Well, there’s that, and the fact she wouldn’t have a beer with me the other day, or a few weeks before that. Have you ever known Jo to turn down a drink?’
‘No.’ Amy shook her head, dazed. ‘Stephen knows already then?’
‘Nope.’
‘But you do.’
‘Guessed it.’ Scott tilted his head and studied Amy’s alarmed expression. ‘Stephen hasn’t yet. Ya think I should make up the spare bed here tonight? Am I expecting him?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Amy leaned against a banister at the bottom of the stairs and put her hands around her waist. ‘This wasn’t really about that.’
‘Then save me from the suspense. Either that or come help me make us some coffee. I just got back from a nightmare trip to Sydney for a fashion shoot. I haven’t slept for a week. I swear I must have been insane to agree to it. Give me a war zone any day. You women are enough to send a guy mental.’ Scott gently manhandled Amy to the kitchen.
Amy tried to get her thoughts together while Scott went about the comforting ritual of slamming cupboard doors, muttering to himself about forgetting to buy coffee and declaring that they’d be having tea instead. When there was a brewing pot on the table between them, she finally found her voice.
‘I’m going to see the police about Liam tomorrow,’ she said, avoiding Scott’s eyes, adding two sugar lumps to her tea and stirring.
There was an excruciating silence, then Scott spoke in a deathly calm voice. ‘By Liam, you don’t mean the bastard who beat the shit out of you when you were eighteen, do you?’
Amy bit her lip and nodded, watching tea swirl around her cup. ‘Yeah. He’s been coming to the salon now every few weeks since we broke up—’
‘And you didn’t tell me this why?’
‘Because I was worried you’d try and get involved or you’d tell Jo and she’d get involved.’
‘So you thought you had to handle him on your own?’ The words were a whiplash.
‘I have handled him on my own.’ She drew in a shaky breath.
‘Yeah and how’s that worked for you?’ he growled. ‘Jesus, Amy! Between you and Jo . . . first it was your insane parents and now this.’ He threw his hands up in the air, then focused on her like a hawk. ‘Do you think Liam’s dangerous?’
‘No.’ Amy hoped to God she was right. ‘He’s just annoying. He comes by every month and slips the odd nasty letter under my door. It’s a control thing. For some reason, he doesn’t want to let me go and I’ve let him get away with it until now because I was worried about him creating a drama and Jo finding out. But he came into the salon the other day while she was there and they were like long-lost friends and it was too much. And today . . . today Jo had a go at me for not being with him still . . . I can’t do it any more, Scott. It’s gotta stop.’
‘You should have told her years ago.’
Amy gave him a level look. ‘You know I couldn’t have. Remember what she was like before she introduced me to Liam? She was so thin because she was always too worried to eat, she spent all her time stressing she’d screwed up in convincing me to leave home, she didn’t sleep. All that changed after she introduced me to Liam. Even when we were fighting about me breaking up with him she wasn’t as stressed out. Angry, yeah, but not stressed out and worrying all the time. Remember?’
‘That was ages ago. Things are different now.’
‘Yes? Now she’s pregnant, and she’ll blame herself for leaving me while she worked overseas for all those years. She’d be devastated that she was the matchmaker and that she’s been nice to him all these years. Remember your reaction when you found out?’
Devastated wasn’t quite the word. Scott had been homicidal when he’d dropped in to see Amy one afternoon and found her nursing a couple of bruised ribs and a split lip. He’d tried to pressure her into filing charges or telling Jo at the very least, but Amy had refused every time. In the end he’d let it go for her sake, but she knew the memory still upset him.
‘Yeah,’ Scott said heavily, pouring himself a cup of tea. ‘Still doesn’t mean I’m not right though. So keep talking. You told Jo about Liam and . . .’
‘No, it wasn’t that.’
He paused with his cup in mid-air. ‘Then what was it? You mean there’s more?’
‘Yeah, we fought over Ben too.’
‘Martindale? Why?’ Scott was on full alert again.
Amy relayed the rest of the story, her voice thickening with tears as she came to the worst bit. ‘She said I was like Mum, Scott.’
Her words were met with a stunned silence.
‘No,’ Scott said finally, shaking his head vehemently. ‘Nah, Ames, you must have heard her wrong. Jo would never say anything like that. Fuck no.’
‘She did.’ Much to her frustration, she felt her eyes tearing up again and sent Scott on a search for a box of tissues. She had t
o settle for a roll of toilet paper and his apology because he hadn’t had a chance to get to the shops.
He sat silently across from her, staring intently out his kitchen window, giving her the space she needed to pull herself together before speaking again. ‘You want me to come help out with the police?’
‘No.’ Amy dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a square of toilet paper before putting her glasses back on, collecting their cups and taking them to the sink. ‘I can take care of that.’
‘You want me to kill him?’
‘No!’
‘Alright. So what are you going to do about Jo?’ he asked. ‘She needs to know about Liam and I reckon after the way she just behaved, you can step back a bit from worrying about her feelings and just tell her what happened.’
‘I don’t know, Scott. Like I said, she’s pregnant and—’
‘Yeah, and she’ll deal. She’s got Stephen to help her out, and we both know she’ll be a fantastic mum so there’s no worries there.’
‘Yeah.’ Amy nodded reluctantly.
‘You trust Martindale?’ Scott asked, abruptly changing the topic.
Amy considered this. Did she trust Ben? She thought she did. He was naughty, funny and sarcastic. More importantly, despite her initial wrong impression, he’d never once been cruel or mean. ‘Yeah, I do.’
‘You sure? Because you’ve made some pretty bloody awful decisions with men over the years. Remember that short, skinny guy? Keith, the arteest.’ Scott rolled his eyes. ‘You still owe me for the time he bailed me up in your bathroom and offered himself as a nude model for my portfolio.’
Amy’s jaw dropped. ‘He didn’t! You never told me that!’
‘I’m sure I did, and what about that other one – Clive, was it? The one that used to do all those self-help courses to find himself but got lost when he came bushwalking with us two years ago.’
Amy pressed her lips together and nodded. ‘Okay, yeah. They were pretty atrocious.’
‘Hell, yeah. Seriously weird shit, Ames.’ Scott glanced sideways at her. ‘At least the one you’re with now looks like a real bloke. Sounds like one too.’
The Barbershop Girl Page 16
