by Judy Nunn
'Me too. Bit of a culture shock, eh?'
She nodded again. She found his easy manner relaxing – he didn't seem to be chatting her up at all. She'd expected that he would, and she didn't like the routine form of chat-up. When she sensed someone was about to come on strong, she always presented a challenging front, which usually disconcerted them.
'So why don't you drink then?' He gave a mock frown. 'It's a mandatory element of student culture, you know.'
'Did I say I didn't drink?'
'Yes.'
'I lied.'
'Oh.'
'I just can't stand beer.'
He laughed. 'My God, you really are out of step, aren't you?'
'I know, but I can't help it, I hate the stuff.'
'So what'll it be?' He stood. 'I insist. It's my round.'
'Port and lemonade.'
He pulled a terrible face and she shrugged apologetically. She didn't actually like alcohol, but it was her way of joining the brigade – port and lemonade tasted very much like a soft drink.
Johanna, aware of the venomous sidelong glances from Sophia, watched him as he went off to the bar. Well, if this is a chat-up, she thought, which it probably is, then he's very good at it. No wonder they're all mad about Mike McAllister.
'I'm off now,' she said half an hour later, when another two jugs had arrived at the table. She'd enjoyed chatting to Mike. Indeed, she was amazed at the ease with which he'd milked information from her. She came from Manjimup, to the south – 'Karri country,' she'd said, 'a timber town.' And she shared a flat with another girl, also a student, in Kingsway just a quick walk west of the university.
'It must be tough,' he'd said, 'living away from your family.'
It wasn't at all but she hadn't been about to tell him that.
'I'm going too,' Mike said, and he stood. 'Can I give you a lift?'
'No, thanks.' It was a fine autumn day and the flat was barely ten minutes away. Besides, Sophia was staring balefully at her. If looks could kill, Jo thought, I'd be dead as a maggot. 'I feel like a bit of a walk,' she said, not wishing to seem rude.
Johanna had overheard the exchange between Mike and Sophia – she hadn't been able to avoid it. Although Mike had kept his voice down, she'd been right beside him. She'd respected him for his honesty, and she probably would have accepted the lift home, but it simply wasn't worth incurring Sophia's wrath. They were doing the same course and in the same year, and Sophia could be an absolute bitch.
'Bye, everyone.' She gave a general wave to the gang as she left the beer garden, and there were responses of 'See you, Jo'.
Curbing the desire to race after her, Mike called a goodbye to Muzza at the far end of the table and flashed Sophia a friendly smile. 'See you, Sophe.'
'Sure, see you around.' Sophia gave a nonchalant shrug, although inside she was seething. She knew he'd set his sights on Jo. So much for study being top priority, she thought. It was a bloody insult – she'd been given the flick.
Mike sauntered out of Steve's, then leapt on his bike and kick-started the engine. He could see Jo barely thirty yards down the street.
'You sure you don't want a lift?'
She halted as he pulled up abreast of her, the bike's engine idling.
'Oh my God!' She laughed. She'd presumed he'd been offering to drive her, but of course she'd seen him arriving at uni on his bike. 'I must say I'm tempted.' She'd never ridden on a motorbike.
'Great.' He revved up the engine. 'Climb aboard,' he yelled above its roar, 'and hang on to me.'
They took off, Johanna initially clinging to the belt of his jeans, then, as they rounded a sharp corner, putting her arms around his waist and hanging on for all she was worth.
'Lean into the corners,' he shouted back to her. 'Don't try and fight it – go with the bike.'
She did, suddenly loving it. But her flat was nearby and all too soon it was over.
'The brick building ahead there on the left,' she yelled into his ear, and they pulled up out the front of the squat little block of flats.
She climbed from the bike, running a hand through her windblown hair and laughing with breathless exhilaration.
'That was fantastic! Absolutely fantastic!'
'Want to go to North Cott for a swim?'
'What? Now?'
'Why not? Grab your bathers, I've got mine in the back.' He always carried a pair of bathers and a towel on the bike.
'It's a bit cold, isn't it?' It wasn't cold at all, but swimming to Jo usually meant cooling off on a very hot day.
'Come on,' he urged, 'don't be a wimp.' She remained hesitant, but he could tell she was attracted by the prospect of another ride on the bike. 'All right then,' he bargained, 'no swim. Just the run to Cottesloe and back, what do you say?'
'No.'
He was disappointed, until, after a moment's thoughtful pause, she added, 'We'll do the swim. I'll get my bathers.'
When she reappeared, he took the safety helmet from the compartment under the pillion seat and handed it to her. 'Passenger wears the helmet,' he said, 'that's the rule.'
He helped buckle the strap under her chin, then straddled the bike, kick-started the engine and she climbed aboard. By the time they arrived at North Cott, Johanna was riding pillion like a seasoned professional.
They donned their bathing costumes in the public changing rooms and walked down to the beach where the westerly was fierce and the surf rough. She was not a particularly strong swimmer, Mike noted, but she was certainly game. Twice she was dumped, and both times she came up spluttering and laughing. He liked her for it.
They didn't stay long at the beach, and when they were back in their clothes and preparing for the trip home he suggested a beer at the OBH.
'Sorry,' he corrected himself. 'A port and lemonade.'
'Only if it's my shout,' she said.
'You're on.'
They stayed for just the one drink, although Mike could have remained in the beer garden all afternoon. His well-intentioned plans to study had gone out the window, as had his resolution to stop chasing girls. He'd well and truly set his sights on Johanna Whitely, she was irresistible. But when he offered a second round, Jo refused to be in it.
'I think it's home time,' she said firmly.
Twenty minutes later, he dropped her off at the Kingsway flat.
'Do you want to go out tonight?' he asked, as she handed him the helmet. 'There's some good jazz on at –'
'Can't, sorry, I have a date.' She didn't.
'How about tomorrow?'
She shook her head. 'Tied up, I'm afraid.' She wasn't.
She seemed very eager to knock him back – perhaps she was in a relationship, he thought, although he hadn't seen her around with anyone in particular.
'Next week? The week after?' He grinned cheekily. 'You can tell me to piss off if you like.'
She laughed. 'Piss off, Mike.'
'Why?' he asked, the grin disappearing. 'Why don't you want to go out with me? Have you got a steady bloke or something?'
'No.'
'Then ...?' He left the question hanging. He was bewildered – they'd had such a good time together.
'Actually,' she said, 'I'm keeping pretty much to myself these days – concentrating on my studies. You know how it is.'
It was word for word what he'd said to Sophia. 'You heard?'
'I couldn't help it,' she said. 'I was right next to you, remember?'
'Yeah, well, I meant it ...' She'd left-footed him a little and he was flummoxed. 'I wasn't bunging on ...'
'Nor am I.'
It was the truth. Johanna was committed to her studies – she didn't want the distraction of an affair. And to go out with the likes of Mike McAllister would be inviting an affair, she knew it. Platonic friendships were of no interest to him; it was conquests he was after, and she'd simply be another notch on his belt.
'So it's a definite no then?'
His boyishly hopeful last bid was very beguiling, and she wasn't falling for it.
'My pleasure.' He straddled the bike. 'See you around, Jo.'
'See you, Mike.'
As he revved up the engine, he watched her walk to the ground-floor unit on the right. Flat three, he noted.
At the door, she turned and waved. He waved back, then roared off down the street.
The following weekend, Jo returned with her bags of groceries – she always did her shopping on a Saturday morning – to discover the bike parked outside her flat and Mike leaning against the wall.
'Your flatmate told me you were out shopping,' he said. 'She seems very nice, Kathy – she asked me in for a coffee, but I said no.'
'What do you want, Mike?'
'I thought you might like to go for a spin,' he said. Then before she could answer, he held his hands up in protest. 'It's not a date. Just a quick run down to North Cott and back, that's all.'
She gave in. What was the point of saying no? She'd love a ride on the bike.
'I'll just put these inside,' she said, indicating the groceries.
'Grab your bathers while you're there.' When she gave him a look that suggested he might be pushing things a bit far, he added in all innocence, 'It's a great day for it. The sea breeze isn't in yet, it won't be too rough, and you could do with a few lessons in body-surfing.'
They spent three hours at the beach, Jo stretched it to two ports and lemonade at the OBH, and when he dropped her back at the Kingsway flat, he didn't ask her out.
Mike pursued Johanna Whitely in much the same manner throughout the whole of second term. When the weather became too cold for swimming, they'd rug up and lair down to North Cott anyway, where they'd sit in a milk bar drinking hot chocolate and endlessly talking. They never seemed to run out of conversation, frivolous or serious, but they didn't speak intimately. Jo invited no discussion of her past, nor did she enquire after his – the exchange of personal secrets was reserved for lovers in her opinion, and she didn't wish to encourage him. Instead, they agreed and disagreed on movies, books and music, and they discussed university and their studies with passion, often continuing over a coffee at her flat when he dropped her home. It appeared that perhaps Mike McAllister might be capable of a platonic relationship with a woman, after all.
But he wasn't. Mike found his friendship with Jo frustrating. Much as he liked being with her, and much as he was stimulated by her conversation, to him their relation-ship lacked the key ingredient – sex. But she'd laid down the rules, and he was determined not to cripple his chances by rushing her. She was the greatest challenge he'd ever come up against.
As the months passed, his obsession with the conquest of Johanna proved surprisingly beneficial to his studies. He didn't chase after other women – although he had the occasional one-night stand – most evenings he devoted to study. And he found Jo's fierce intelligence inspiring – so much so that his plans for seduction gradually took a back seat. Frustrating as the situation was, he didn't want to risk losing her friendship.
It was the beginning of third term, and Johanna Whitely was forced to face the fact that she was head over heels in love and had been for some time. She was angry with herself. How could she have let it happen? During the holidays she'd vowed she'd stop seeing Mike. She'd call the whole thing off, she'd told herself. But what was there to call off? How could she tell him she didn't want to go for a ride on the bike, or have a coffee and a chat? What possible reason could she give? She'd steeled herself nonetheless. She'd tell him that as it was third term, she'd decided to devote every single hour of every single weekend to study. It didn't sound plausible, but she'd give it her best shot. She'd be firm, she told herself – firm and resolute.
But the moment she heard the bike pull up outside, she knew she'd say nothing. She'd continue to play the 'friends' game because she wanted to be with him. In fact, she ached to be with him in every sense of the word – she longed for him to make love to her. But that was a no-win situation too. She'd made the rules quite clear from the outset – friendship only – and it was her non-availability that now kept him intrigued. If she slept with him, she'd become just another conquest and he'd move on. It was a bloody awful mess all round, she thought, and she cursed herself for having allowed it to happen.
'Hi, Mike. How were your holidays?' She greeted him casually at the front door.
'Great. Missed you. How was Manjimup?' he asked as they crossed to the bike.
'Great.'
It had been hideous. She'd hated being under the same roof again with the stepfather she detested, and the stalemate that had developed between her and her mother had been as awkward and uncomfortable as ever.
'Good to be back though,' she said, buckling the chin strap of the helmet.
'There's an open-air jazz festival on at Scarborough, do you want to give it a burl?' he asked as he kick-started the bike.
'Sounds fab,' she yelled back over the engine's roar. Then she climbed on, wrapped her arms around him and they took off.
It was just one month later that the inevitable finally happened, and it took them both by surprise – even Mike. He hadn't planned it at all.
'Guess what?' he said as he killed the engine and leapt off the bike. She'd heard him pulling up and had come outside, bathers and towel in hand. It was spring now. 'Great news!' He spread his arms wide in triumph. 'Guess. Go on. Guess.'
'What?' She grinned, she had no idea what he was on about.
'I'm going to the Abrolhos. Pembo and Muzza and me. We're going to catch tammars.'
'I think you'd better come in,' she said. 'I'll make us a coffee.'
'During the Christmas holidays, they're doing a ten-day study on the water metabolism of tammars,' he said, talking nineteen to the dozen as he followed her to the door. 'And it's a dual-purpose trip – they're also taking a cray census. I'll be able to tie it in with advance research for my PhD. What do you think of that!'
'It's wonderful, that's what I think.' She was happy because he was.
'It's more than wonderful, Jo.' The moment they were inside the door, he picked her up and whirled her about the poky little lounge room. 'It's fan-bloody-tastic!' he yelled. They careered crazily around the room together, bumping into the furniture and threatening havoc to the place. 'It's the chance of a bloody lifetime, that's what it is.'
She was clinging to him, dizzy, shrieking with laughter and telling him to put her down. Then, suddenly, they stopped whirling and she stopped laughing. Suddenly, they were kissing. Neither knew who had initiated the kiss, nor did they care – both had been waiting for far too long.
When he started to ease her towards the sofa, she could have stopped it right there and then, but she didn't. She led the way to her bedroom instead.
After they'd made love, and she lay naked in his arms, her head on his shoulder, her leg draped over his, she wondered how on earth to play out the scene. Just as she wondered, with a sense of dread, how long it would be before he moved on.
'What the hell's a tammar?' she asked lightly.
BOOK TWO
