Still, my mind was working reasonably efficiently. I was engrossed in it all and, dare I say, beginning to enjoy it. That is, until a break in proceedings, when Lily came and plonked herself down in the seat beside me.
‘Whew!’ she said, stretching her legs out in front of her and pretend-fanning herself with her script. ‘Full-on, eh?’
I laughed. ‘Yeah . . .’
Except that there’d already been quite a bit of clowning around and sidetracking, from guess-who and others. I thought I’d die laughing, for example, when during one sketch featuring Andy and Milly – about a twitty woman taking her dog to the vet – Andy the straitlaced, deep-voiced professional suddenly morphed unscripted into a drag queen, rendering us all helpless with giggles, with further funny contributions from all sides. When the hilarity had finally died down, Chet called over his shoulder, ‘Script change, Al – vet now gender-challenged,’ and that’s how it stayed. Most of the items got embellished and/or changed during rehearsals; hardly any of them stayed as they had been in the beginning.
Now I glanced at Lily.
‘You look nice. Going somewhere special – afterwards?’
There had been talk of everyone going to the pub, but she’d gone the extra mile, with proper make-up, dangly earrings and a beautiful cable-knit cream jumper which showed off her dark hair to perfection.
She laughed, flushing slightly.
‘To the airport, actually, to meet my boyfriend. He’s been away for six months, in the States, on exchange.’
So, what kind of dumb bunny was I? Later on I tried to think about how it was I’d come to assume that she and Andy were an item, even after I knew that it was Lil, his grandmother, he lived with, not Lily, his old and very dear friend.
Because that’s what Andy and Lily were, and always had been – practically best mates since primary school.
I was still trying to hide my shock while she filled me in on the boyfriend. His name was Rob and he’d been finishing off his engineering degree at a university in Chicago.
‘I . . .’ I trailed off, then cleared my throat. ‘For a while I thought you and Andy –’
She stared at me.
‘Andy?’
We both glanced across to where he was, explaining something to one of the actors. He said something; they both laughed.
‘Him?’ she went on, rolling her eyes and scoffing fondly. ‘I can’t think of anything worse! It’d be like . . . incest – like going out with some crazy brother!’ She laughed again and shook her head. ‘Much as I love him, he’s just not my type. Give me solid and dependable, any day!’
I envisaged solid, dependable engineer Rob, big and bearlike, with blond hair and a surfie tan, lifting Lily off the ground with his hug. The complete opposite of her.
Then I pictured my type. Though I didn’t dare look his way. Excitement and a kind of panic was starting to fizz in me – like coke in a shaken bottle.
I was suddenly desperate to keep a cap on it. I hoped I wasn’t going pink. I shrugged and made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a grunt.
‘Anyway,’ I mumbled finally, looking down at my notebook, ‘what scene are we doing after this?’
‘Wouldn’t have a clue – you’re the stage manager!’ Her laughing, teasing eyes on me suddenly felt uncomfortably sharp.
‘You still going out with your boyfriend?’ she asked, after a moment.
I stared at her blankly. I couldn’t remember mentioning Dunc in her presence. Had she and Andy been talking about me?
I shook my head.
‘Nup.’
‘Oh, that’s too bad . . .’
It was more of another query than a comment, the bright gaze still pinning me like a helpless, upturned beetle.
I gave another little shrug and swallowed – what felt like a tennis ball.
‘We . . . we’d kind of outgrown each other, really.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Been going out since school, after all!’
Now I really was going pink.
Lily grinned.
‘Well, well,’ she said. ‘That is interesting!’
You can imagine how good a job I did for the rest of the rehearsal. I apparently did take more notes, because they were there when I looked later. Though some of them I couldn’t make head nor tail of at all.
I’d suddenly become hyper-aware of someone else – what he was doing and who he was talking to. It must have been the old eyes-in-the-back-of-the-head thing, because I could barely bring myself to actually look at him, even when he called out a note to me. He was carrying on just the same, completely absorbed in what he was doing – watching and listening to the actors, scratching his head, making wisecracks, taking part in a couple of sketches himself . . .
And then it was over and, as planned, everyone repaired to the pub. Except Lily, who’d peeled off to the airport.
We wandered up to King Street in the usual big straggle, me near the front with Chet, Milly and a couple of the others. I don’t know if I looked as distracted and tense as I felt, but I barely took in the talk going on around me. Something about comedy writing and humour, which I normally would have been interested in. I did register that Milly seemed very relaxed and into it; not at all in Silly Milly mode.
But my attention was mostly elsewhere. Two or three metres behind, in fact, trying to catch the odd snatch of conversation that came floating forward.
Once or twice I glanced back over my shoulder. He was walking beside Tess, one of the actors. I felt an instant, massive lurch of anxiety – did he fancy her? She was quite pretty, after all, with a roundish, sweet face and a good figure. And a good actress . . .
I marched along, my armpits growing clammy, my heart going at about ten times the rate of my feet. Trying to remember the rehearsal – had he singled her out for special attention?
But when we got into the pub, he came and sat with me.
He pulled up a stool right next to mine and turned to face me, our knees almost brushing as we perched our feet on the foot rests. I barely noticed someone passing us our drinks. I was suddenly floating, bobbing on some bright and lovely sea.
He grinned at me; I felt myself grinning stupidly back.
‘So Alice,’ he said, taking my little finger in his fingers, his eyes still teasing mine. ‘I’m not going out with Lily, and never have been, and you’ve broken up with Lover Boy–’
‘Oh, what?’ I gasped, laughing. ‘That Lily –’
The end of rehearsals – she must’ve made a beeline for his ear.
‘That’s what friends are for,’ he said, ‘aren’t they?’
‘I guess . . .’
I don’t remember how the conversation went after that, since conversation wasn’t really the point. We’d put our drinks down by now, practically untasted, and had started playing handies – fingers intertwining, hands clasping and unclasping, which made me feel as though I was going to melt, right there and then. Laughing into one another’s eyes and talking nonsense, the chatter going on around us just a hum of background noise.
At one point I glanced vaguely in Milly’s direction, to spy her positively beaming at us. I smiled vaguely back and she gave me a tiny thumbs up, but I did register that she was sitting next to Chet. I was, however, too tied up to worry about her. Milly was a big girl; she’d just have to look after herself.
After a couple of rounds – though I think our drinking speed was about half that of everyone else – Andy put his hands on my knees.
‘So,’ he asked with a little smile, ‘wanna split?’
I smiled back. ‘Yeah, why not . . .’
I slid off my stool and hoisted my bag over my shoulder. Andy turned to everyone; raised a hand.
‘Bye all,’ he called cheerfully. ‘We’re off.’
Various faces turned towards us, registering my hand in his.
‘Oh, bye–’
‘See ya . . .’
‘Remember, same time tomorrow for rehearsals,’ I chirped, making a feeble stab at my official role
. Though right at that moment I really couldn’t have given a rat’s about the revue.
It was only later that I remembered about poor Milly and her ride home. And true friend that she was, she certainly hadn’t reminded me.
We walked out the door and up the street, through the Saturday evening throng, faces looming up and ducking past. Usually I love taking in all the Newtown crowd, but this time I barely registered any of them. I was only conscious of the boy beside me, and the warmth of his body as we slipped our arms around one another.
We swung into the first side street we came to, took about three steps, and then we were kissing. And kissing, arms entwined around one another’s necks and waists and hips, bodies pressed together against a graffitied wall. Passers-by ducked around us on the narrow footpath; some wit telling us to get a room.
When we finally drew breath, our foreheads touching, our eyes smiling into one another in the shadows, Andy murmured:
‘Well, Miss Alice, what d’you wanna do now?’
We looked at one another and laughed. Silly question!
‘I mean,’ he said, ‘are you hungry? D’you want a pizza or something . . .’
I shrugged. ‘OK, if you do . . .’ Though food was actually the last thing on my mind.
We hit King Street again and wandered along, arms wrapped around one another, smiling and laughing, until we found a rather unappetising joint that had some free tables.
‘This looks unpromising,’ he said, ‘but it’ll do.’
Luckily we discovered before we ordered that we only had $14 left between us, as the place was cash only. Anyway, our shared small Matriciana turned out to be pretty disgusting – no wonder the place wasn’t full. Not that we could really have cared less by that stage.
‘Come on,’ said Andy, smiling, pushing the half-empty plate towards me. ‘Eat up!’
I shook my head and made a silly face, unable to drag my gaze from his. Our knees touching lightly under the table.
‘Not hungry,’ I laughed.
‘Me either, really . . .’
There was a pause; I took a breath.
‘We could get the car and go back to my place,’ I murmured, smiling down at his fingers as I touched them on the table. Our palms automatically moved up against one another, as though in prayer. I looked up again, into his eyes. ‘Mum and Dad have gone out, I think.’
So forward! came a faint voice from inner, rational Alice. On your first date . . .
Then the voice went dead. Because, I have to say, I didn’t feel one skerrick of guilt – not with him.
Andy’s other hand met mine; our eyes did a blissful little dance.
‘What a good idea,’ he murmured, smiling. ‘But it’ll have to be a cab, remember? We don’t wanna be picked up by the breathalyser; spend our first night together in the clink.’
Needless to say, we didn’t get much sleep that wonderful night. And between everything else, we lay in one another’s arms and talked. And talked. About everything and anything. About our childhoods, things we loved and hated, our parents . . .
I discovered, for example, that I hadn’t imagined the shadow that had crossed his eyes that night at their house when Lil had mentioned his mother. Since Andy was little his mum had suffered from severe schizophrenia, her condition getting progressively worse. After a great many attempts at taking her own life she now more or less lived permanently in a psychiatric hospital, under heavy medication. She mostly didn’t even recognise Andy when he came to see her, or else imagined him to be someone else.
‘I’m so ashamed,’ he cried, burying his face in my neck. ‘These days I only go and see her about four or five times a year. It’s just too . . . painful.’
I put my arms around him; kissed the top of his head. ‘Poor baby,’ I murmured. ‘Poor baby . . .’
I thought about his clowning around; how easily he made everyone laugh. Marvelled at it, in fact, considering.
Then again . . .
‘So . . . how old were you,’ I asked, ‘when she first . . . became ill?’
Andy sighed and lay back against the pillow, his eyes suddenly without their sparkle. He shrugged.
‘Lil says the signs of it were always there, though they didn’t realise at the time. It was only after having me that she had her first full-blown episode.’ He gave a small, mirthless laugh. ‘Guess I was just too much for her.’
‘Hey,’ I cried, my heart giving a little lurch of love and sympathy, ‘it wasn’t your fault!’
And from somewhere in my brain that echo sounded, yet again. Dad’s words that day.
‘I know.’ Andy sighed again, then added in a more normal voice: ‘Anyway, Dad was great, and Lil. Between the two of them they dragged me up.’
‘So,’ I said, ‘your dad–’
‘Dad finally married again.’ Another half-laugh. ‘You could hardly blame him. To Sandy, my step-mum.’ He smiled. ‘They’re great. They live on the Central Coast. I’ve got two little sisters, aged five and three. Bella and Chloe.’ He gave a big grin. ‘Full-on!’
I laughed, picturing two excited little girls jumping on him as he walked through the door.
‘Hey,’ he said, smiling, propping his head in his hand and running his finger lightly down my cheek, ‘you’ll have to meet them.’
‘Yeah . . .’
I put my arms around his neck and kissed him again, feeling so happy it was scary.
‘So,’ he said drowsily, about an hour later, ‘when am I going to meet your twin – the famous . . . weird-named one? Wilda.’
I shrugged; smiled up at him playfully.
‘Dunno whether I want you to meet her,’ I said, only half-jokingly. ‘If she’s so much like me. You might fall in love with her instead!’
Then I realised how this sounded. ‘I mean–’ I stopped, feeling myself going pink. ‘I can’t believe I just said that!’
He laughed. ‘I don’t think,’ he said, giving me a squeeze, ‘there’s much danger of that!’ Adding, deadpan: ‘I could never fall for anyone called Wilda.’
I giggled, giving him a tiny punch. Suddenly remembering Dunc saying something similar, right here in this bed. It seemed like such a long time ago.
Nonetheless, I felt a tiny twinge of anxiety. Would Andy think I was like Milly, sleeping with him the very first night we got together?
‘She can actually carry it off,’ I murmured. ‘It kind of suits her – there is something a bit . . . wild about her.’
‘Mmm, a feral, eh? Sounds intriguing!’
‘No-o–’ As I laughed I breathed in the lovely smell of him. I buried my face in his neck again. ‘It’s just that . . . well she’s had to cope with a pretty hard life in some ways – not like me!’
‘Yeah,’ he said, grinning, ‘you’re such a princess.’
‘Well compared to her I am! She’s had a really hard life . . .’ And I told him about Wilda’s being shunted around between various relatives.
‘God,’ said Andy, ‘at least I always had Dad, and Lil . . .’
‘Well, what about sheltered little me?’ I cried. ‘A doting mummy and daddy all to myself, all my life!’ I snorted. ‘Well, doting when it comes to Dad, at least. Mum can be a bit . . . critical sometimes.’
He was silent, waiting for me to go on. I shrugged and added:
‘I know she loves me and everything, but . . .’ I sighed and yawned, my eyelids starting to droop. ‘Somehow she always expects me to be Miss Perfect. Which,’ I added in a bimboish tone, ‘I’m actually not?’
Andy laughed. ‘Really?’
‘Anyway, she expects herself to be perfect. Some of my friends,’ I added, thinking of Dunc again, ‘find her a bit scary. Though you mightn’t . . .’
‘So,’ he said yawning, ‘reckon I’ll have to brave her this morning?’
I laughed, getting another twist of nervousness.
‘’Fraid you probably will.’
We fell asleep properly soon after that and when I opened my eyes again my clock sa
id 11.40.
I lay there, quite still, barely game to check if it hadn’t all been a lovely dream. But the boy next to me was real enough, sprawled half on his stomach, tousled head facing me on the pillow, one arm flung across me. So I snuggled into him and he opened his eyes and smiled, murmuring, ‘Good morning . . .’
A little while later we both realised, having had practically no dinner, that we were starving; I said I’d go and start rustling up some brekkie. Plus, although I didn’t say so, Prepare the Fossils. After all, I hadn’t even mentioned Andy to them, let alone having him emerge from my bedroom at midday. Dunc had been my first and only real boyfriend.
My bathroom is right next door to my room, but if I thought I could hustle Andy in there unseen, I was sadly mistaken. Just as I was grabbing a towel out of the linen cupboard, we heard a ‘Hullo . . .’
We both spun around to spy Dad, emerging from their bedroom, eyes and mouth in round Os of amazement.
In a second I was scarlet. And Andy, standing there in just the tattered jeans he’d pulled on, with rumpled hair and bare feet, wasn’t exactly a picture of relaxation either. We both stared at Dad, who stared back at us. Or rather, at Andy.
‘Oh, hey, Dad,’ I mumbled. ‘This is Andy. Andy, Dad; Dad, Andy.’ Adding: ‘He’s just having a shower.’ And I pushed the towel into Andy’s arms, shoved him into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, as though he was some rare, newly captured wild animal.
Then I turned and faced Dad again.
‘Well,’ he started, obviously still in shock, but I was seizing him by the elbow and marching him towards the stairs.
‘That’s Andy,’ I murmured needlessly, through gritted teeth. Adding in a growl as we started down the steps: ‘And I really, really like him.’
Dad was slowly collecting his wits. He slipped an arm around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze.
‘Well, darling, that’s . . . great!’
Poor old thing – it can’t be easy when your child suddenly emerges from his or her bedroom with a total stranger.
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