‘What?’
‘Lac Compt. The bridal show. All I’ve been able to think about since we got back is . . .’ Apple met her gaze. ‘Is your wedding dress.’
Poppy frowned and blinked.
‘Fabric is filling my thoughts, wrapping itself around your silly little frame, my mind sewing things onto you, dressing you all day long. That night on Myrtle, something seeded in me, or reignited, I don’t know, but your dress is all I can think about.’
Poppy sat up, suddenly wide awake. At the sight of her sister’s smile, Apple felt joy begin to trickle in, a forgotten excitement, a desire.
‘I hope you’re pleased with yourself,’ she said, trying to conceal her pleasure.
‘Are you saying . . .?’
‘That I’ll make your wedding dress?’
Poppy clutched Apple’s arm. ‘Are you?’
‘Do I have a choice? My mind has already started making it, my hands might as well join in.’
Poppy’s eyes began to fill with tears, making Apple’s do the same.
‘Don’t,’ she said, but Poppy laughed, tears escaping as she reached for her sister, pulling her close.
‘Yes.’ Poppy’s breath was heavy on Apple’s neck. ‘Yes, yes, yes.’
Apple wiped away tears as she drew back to take hold of her sister’s hands. ‘I don’t want to promise anything. My old machine is hopeless, but I want to try to do this for you. And—’ She swallowed, another tear fell and she sighed. ‘And I guess I want to do it for me too.’
‘Oh my God,’ Poppy said, breathlessly. ‘I’m going to have the most incredible wedding dress.’
8
‘I think they’re here.’ Poppy was peering through the drapes. ‘Either that or it’s a luxury car club.’
Her fiancé came to join her at the window. A once-was farm boy, Lachie had a kind, ruddy face that was youthful despite premature frown lines – a symptom of his dislike of the city, Poppy often said.
‘What on earth do these guys do for a living?’ He peered out through the glass.
‘Are you jealous?’
‘Of a vintage MG? A 911? A Rangey? Is that a fucking DB9 . . .? Who are these guys?’
‘Apple’s friends.’
Apple was collecting her canvas bag from the living room. She’d accepted Noah’s offer of the weekend in Daylesford under the proviso that she could bring Poppy, and he’d told her to expect pick-up on Good Friday afternoon.
‘Why are there so many?’ Poppy said as Apple peered out.
‘I don’t know.’
‘You look too . . . attractive.’ Lachie fumbled with Poppy’s hair, kissing her. ‘Did you say you were going to a spa? What bathers did you pack? Take that high-neck diver’s thing you like.’
‘That you hate.’
‘That every guy hates.’ He grinned sheepishly and Poppy drew him close.
‘You’re never jealous. It’s so sexy.’
Lachie glanced out the window. ‘Do they have girlfriends?’
‘Charlie’s girlfriend is coming.’
‘One has a girlfriend? How many are there?’
‘Just come!’ Poppy said. ‘You’re the one who wanted to study.’
‘I hardly want to. And now I want to make you stay, but how can I when you could be riding low and fast instead of bringing me tea all day?’
‘Who said I’d bring you tea?’ Poppy kissed him. ‘But honestly, I’d probably prefer that over letting some rich guy fondle me in his fancy car.’
‘Shut up.’ Lachie swung her around. ‘Now get out, go, I can’t take it.’
The men were milling around the takeaway window of the neighbouring cafe – merino cardigans over check shirts, cotton trenches cropped, twill pants narrow.
‘Jesus, royal family’s day off?’ Poppy murmured.
Charlie strolled over – slim jeans cuffed above leather derby shoes.
‘Dang, that boy though . . .’
‘Poppy, Apple-Pie.’ His hand went to Apple’s waist, lips to cheek. ‘You know, you honestly smell like cinnamon.’
‘Grilled hot cross buns.’
‘Where’s mine?’
‘I ate them all.’
‘Cruel.’
Apple glanced up the small street at the line of cars mounted on the kerb. ‘Six of you, two of us, four cars?’
‘This is no picnic, Apple, this is a serious expedition to the country. We need a fleet.’
‘How ridiculous.’ Poppy started towards them. ‘But look at that vintage red one.’
Charlie headed for the takeaway window. ‘Coffee?’
The owner smiled at Apple. ‘She wants an almond chai with half a teaspoon of honey.’
‘Thanks, Steve.’
‘Almond chai, half a teaspoon of honey,’ Charlie echoed, looking amused.
‘Hey.’ Noah was suddenly there, pressing close to Apple. ‘What’s happening?’
‘I’m getting a drink.’ Apple looked up at him and he pecked her cheek, lingering.
‘Here you go.’ Steve placed Apple’s cup on the counter, and three people fished in their pockets.
‘Buy your own woman a drink,’ Noah told Charlie.
‘God, I can buy my own tea.’ Apple gave Steve a fiver. ‘Keep the change.’ She turned to Charlie. ‘Where is your woman? I can’t wait to meet her.’
They were interrupted by the other boys jostling to join them. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
‘Apple,’ Charlie said, ‘Kurt you’ve met. This is Will, and twins Joel and Tom. FYI, Tom’s the good guy, Joel’s the cad. You’ll learn soon enough.’
‘And this is Charlie.’ Joel flipped his collar. ‘Utterly full of himself.’
‘And that’s Poppy over there.’
‘Poppy, Apple? Is this The Magic Faraway Tree?’ Joel laughed.
‘Can I get you a coffee, Poppy?’ Charlie called.
‘No, thanks.’ Poppy raised her flask. ‘BYO.’
‘I’m going to get Heidi.’ Charlie eyed Apple. ‘Are you okay to—’
‘I’ll ride with one of the others.’
‘Are you sure? Noah seemed keen but he can get boisterous and—’
‘Of course, see you there.’
Noah was strolling back from the boot of the four-wheel drive, dangling a set of keys in Charlie’s face. ‘Switch.’
Charlie grinned. ‘You want to take the Aston?’
‘You’ve been promising for a while. Go on, test the four-wheel drive, see how it feels to be a big boy for once.’
Charlie took the keys, calling as he strolled away, ‘Try the pedals. See if you can handle velocity for once.’
‘Velocity,’ Noah huffed, picking up Apple’s bag and strolling to Charlie’s car. ‘Do you like velocity?’
Apple shrugged. He handed her the keys.
‘I’m not driving,’ she said, looking down at them.
Noah leaned against the car. ‘Why not? It’d be cute.’
‘Why would I want to be cute?’
‘Why wouldn’t you?’ He laughed. ‘Come on, you’ll like it.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Let’s find out.’
Poppy was gathering her bag from the footpath and Apple reached out. ‘Want to come with us?’
‘No, thanks. You’re already arguing.’
‘We’re not.’
‘Flirting then.’
‘Wouldn’t your sister be cute driving this?’ Noah called to Poppy.
‘I think you’d be cute driving it.’ Poppy winked. ‘I’m going in the vintage one.’
‘I like her.’ Noah watched Poppy go, then climbed in the passenger side.
Apple muttered to herself as she rounded the car to the driver’s side.
‘So you start the car by—’
‘I know how to drive.’ She bumped on the wipers and headlights, hunting for the ignition.
‘Press the button. There’s no key.’
‘There’s a bunch of them.’
‘None for the car.’ N
oah was enjoying himself as he pressed a button and the engine ignited.
‘Well, that’s just confusing.’
They drove out, following the convoy onto the freeway, heading towards the Goldfields. Twenty minutes on, the car ahead pulled into a service station.
‘Loo breaks already?’
Apple lowered the window and waved at Poppy in Will’s convertible behind.
Will came around and handed Noah a bottle of wine. ‘From my parent’s vineyard. We’ve already downed one. Passengers only, though.’ He pointed a stern finger, walking away.
‘Let’s switch.’ Noah turned to Apple.
‘No, I’m enjoying it now.’
Noah went around to the boot and returned with plastic champagne flutes.
‘Of course Beauchamp has a picnic hamper, that peacock.’ He filled a flute and offered it through the passenger window to Apple.
‘No thanks, I’m driving.’ Apple turned the radio on.
Noah disappeared before she heard him at the boot again. ‘Oh damn, I’ve spilled the wine. Any tissues?’
Apple grabbed a bunch and clambered out, and Noah cruised by to climb into the driver’s side. ‘That was too easy.’
‘You’re a child.’
‘Only way to be.’ He poked her in the ribs as she climbed in the other side and she elbowed him away, taking the flute of wine and tipping it down her throat.
Noah’s thigh flexed as they took off again. She watched him from the corner of her eye. She didn’t know if she liked that she was starting to like him. His energy made her want to flirt, but his gall made her want to resist.
She knocked back a second glass of wine.
‘Have I driven you to drink?’
‘Seems so.’ Apple poured a third.
‘Maybe that means you’ll laugh at my jokes.’
‘I doubt it.’
Apple put her feet up on the dash and his gaze traced her bare legs. She took them down again. Noah accelerated and her head swayed.
‘I spy.’
Apple didn’t respond.
‘I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with . . . S.’
She gazed out the window. ‘Sky.’
‘Nope.’
‘Sheep.’
‘No.’
‘Inside or outside?’
‘Inside.’
‘Steering wheel.’
‘Nope.’
‘Stereo.’
Noah shook his head.
‘Shoes, sat-nav, speedometer, screen, seat, seatbelt, sun-visor.’
‘You’re not going to guess it.’
‘I give up.’
‘I spy seriously sexy skin.’ Noah followed the line of Apple’s legs to her face.
‘That’s three words.’
‘On two legs.’
Apple swivelled to look at the view, hiding her smile.
‘Your turn.’
‘R.’
‘Say it properly.’
‘I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with R.’
‘River.’
‘No.’
With Noah beside her, Apple thought of Paul, his glamour and intensity, the way he’d been so attentive, eloquent, affectionate, the way this had made their love feel so real . . . how her naivety had made it so.
‘Inside or outside?’
‘Out.’
She remembered Paul’s duplicity, and realised that Noah’s transparency – the way she already felt like she knew exactly what was imperfect about him – was appealing to her.
She put her legs back up on the dash and didn’t take them down when she felt Noah’s gaze.
‘Road,’ he said.
‘Yep.’
‘That was too obvious.’
Apple lowered the seat and rolled the other way. ‘Wake me up when we get there.’
Apple was woken by the sound of the car door closing. She lay still, trying to get her bearings. It was almost dark, but someone was outside, moving around – the car bonnet up.
She rubbed her eyes then flicked the handle and pushed the door with her foot. The silence of the car became the soft sound of birds settling in the scrub. She gathered a blanket from the back and climbed out, wrapping it around her.
‘Should have taken the Rangey.’ Noah glanced up, grease on his T-shirt. ‘This thing’s always been a lemon.’
Apple looked about. ‘Where are the others?’
‘Lost them a while back. Dialled down the pace, let you sleep.’
Apple eyed him; his brow was furrowed, a streak of grease running from his cheek into his stubble. ‘That was . . . thoughtful.’
Noah stretched his neck both ways then leaned over the engine again.
‘What’s wrong with it?’
He sighed, poking reluctantly around. ‘Hate these cars, transmission’s awful. Don’t know what this is. Probably something electrical, beyond me.’
Apple came closer. ‘Looks fancy. So new.’
Noah smiled a little. ‘Guess so.’
She walked around the car, kicking gravel and stopped by the open boot to forage around. She went back to the front of the car, chewing a muesli bar and opening a bottle of mineral water.
‘Any revelations?’
‘Nope.’
‘Have you called roadside assistance?’
‘Reception’s out.’
She took the top off the water and drank, then perched on the edge of the bonnet, feet up on the bumper.
Noah reached for the bottle. ‘Has he got anything better?’
‘Nope.’
‘That teetotaller.’ He swigged, wiped his mouth and scratched his stubble before resting both hands on the front of the car.
‘Shall we walk to a farmhouse, or something?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘What else are we going to do?’
Noah took the half-eaten muesli bar from Apple’s hand and ate it, watching her. ‘Sleep here.’
‘We can’t sleep in the car.’
‘I don’t see why not.’ He came to rest beside her on the grille and her blanket fell open. Goosebumps spread.
Apple’s legs were bare below her cropped shorts, and her skin prickled as Noah stared, before he cleared his throat and covered her again with the rug.
Disappointment flickered. Apple wanted more of his raw and uncomplicated wanting that was so unlike her own.
She pulled her hair away from her face and looked around. ‘There’s a house there, lights.’
‘I know.’
‘How long do you think it would take?’
‘To walk? Twenty minutes.’
The cool air dried Apple’s lips and she licked them, sensing Noah’s hand by hers on the bonnet. She lifted a finger, then her hand – hovering it uncertainly before letting it descend. His fingers were warm, a little coarse.
She explored them tentatively and Noah briefly watched before gripping her waist. Her legs parted as Noah boosted her onto the bonnet and kissed her. She felt stunned before she clutched his arms, mouth opening, letting him in.
There were lights before they heard an engine and Noah drew back. A car was approaching from the direction they had come.
‘I’ll hail them.’ Apple began to move but there was no need – it was slowing, tyres grinding gravel as it came to a standstill.
‘Goddammit.’
‘We need help.’
‘I don’t want it.’ Noah still gripped her thigh.
‘Hey!’ The twins, Tom and Joel, got out of the car.
‘I thought I was bringing up the tail end.’ Noah frowned in the glare.
‘Stopped for a meal. What’s up?’
‘Just Beauchamp’s lump of junk.’
‘Always been a lemon.’ Tom gave a laugh. ‘Can I take a look?’
‘Just leave . . .’ Noah breathed, sliding his hand under the hem of Apple’s shorts but she slipped away as Tom walked up, smiling.
She got back in the car, then glanced up to see Joel peering dow
n at her in the passenger seat.
‘Car troubles?’ he said. A faint scar at the corner of his mouth was the only discernible difference between him and Tom.
‘Apparently.’ Apple pulled the blanket around her, and he waited a little too long before striding off to join the others.
‘There.’ Apple pointed at the illuminated sign: ‘St George’s Tavern’.
Noah made the turn, and the twins’ headlights bobbed in the rear-view mirror as they tailed them down the tree-lined drive to a grand old Tudor-style building, its dark ‘medieval’ framework making chevron patterns on the dimly lit facade.
The guesthouse sat on a small rise above Lake Daylesford. Its heavy, worn stairs led from a wide front door to a jetty, where rowboats bobbed under the light of lampposts.
There was a bang on the car roof before Joel yanked the car door wide. ‘Took it a bit slow on the turns there.’
‘At least one of us can drive.’ Noah got out and tossed their takeaway dinner boxes in a bin.
‘Lucky we found you. You would have been stranded otherwise.’
‘So you’ve said.’
‘Did I fix the car or what?’
‘I think we know you did.’
Joel banged the roof again before striding off up the path to the guesthouse.
‘We like Tom.’ Noah lifted Apple’s bag from the car. ‘Unfortunately he comes with Joel.’
Apple walked with him to the check-in counter, then up the stairs, and he placed her bags by the door of her room and lingered. She could still feel his touch, but the moment was gone.
‘Thanks for the ride.’ She slipped inside. ‘See you tomorrow.’
9
Apple woke to the distant sounds of laughter, hollow thudding on timber, and splashing.
Her gaze drifted over the dark timber room, the carved posts of her bed, the linen that was so thick it felt heavy.
A tray of coffee seemed to have arrived through a small servery hatch by the door, and a grandfather clock chimed in the hall. Feeling a faint thrill at the luxury of it all, she got up and knelt on a mahogany trunk by the latticed windows. Outside, Poppy jogged down the entry stairs onto the jetty and clattered into a boat, with others in tow.
Around the lake, trees were scarlet, amber, gold, old and sprawling. Shrubbery dotted the green lawns that led down to the water, and a thin mist dissipated in the morning sun.
Apple watched for a while then went to her bag and rifled through it for the once-faulty angora dress from Loom that Veronica had allowed her to mend and keep. She put it on, then stepped into flat leather mules and went out into the hall.
The Rules of Backyard Croquet Page 9
