by Paige Toon
She puts her hand over her mouth and suddenly looks a little pale. My eyes widen in shock and then she staggers out of the kitchen. The sound of her vomiting into the toilet reaches me before I reach her. I rub her hunched back and sigh heavily.
When she’s emptied the contents of her stomach, she slumps back on her heels, groaning miserably.
‘Can you take over?’ I ask Maria, who’s standing in the bathroom doorway.
She nods reluctantly. I go into the kitchen and set about making some coffee. We need to sober her up.
When I’m done, I swap places with Maria again. ‘Come on, let’s go back to the living room.’
‘Grant,’ she mumbles, not moving from her position in front of the toilet bowl.
‘Grant?’ Is she trying to tell me he’s the problem?
‘Get him,’ she adds.
Maybe not, if she wants him here. I give Maria a wary look, but Maria just shrugs uncomfortably, not really sure what to do.
‘Grant!’ Polly prompts, glaring at me.
I sigh and hunt out her phone, dialling Grant’s number. There’s no point arguing with her. I’ve been here with her before.
‘What is it now?’ Grant snaps as a greeting.
‘It’s Bronte,’ I say calmly.
‘Bronte?’ He sounds surprised. ‘What are you... Where’s Polly?’
‘I’m with Polly,’ I say.
‘Has she been drinking again?’ he asks in a monotone, before I can explain.
‘She’s pretty plastered. Are you far away?’
He groans. ‘I’ll come home now. I’ll be there in half an hour.’
I relay this to Polly.
‘He’s going to kill me.’ She staggers to her feet.
I follow her into the living room.
‘Polly, what’s wrong?’ I ask with concern, handing her a cup of coffee as we sit on the sofa. ‘Is everything okay with Grant?’
‘Nope.’ She hiccups. ‘Marriage is hard,’ she says loudly, hiccupping again. ‘Hard.’
‘Why? Has he done anything to hurt you?’
‘Hurt me?’ She scoffs. ‘Sorry, have you met my husband? He’s the sweetest guy that ever lived.’ Her sigh is broken up by another hiccup. ‘He’s just never here. And when he is, he’s always moaning at me. He doesn’t ask me to go out with him and his friends. He doesn’t find me funny any more.’
I’m not surprised, if she’s been regularly drinking herself into this state. ‘Have you talked to anyone about this? I mean, you know you can talk to me about Grant any time,’ I stress. ‘But do you think you should see someone about your drinking?’
She lets out a bitter laugh. ‘You’re acting like you don’t have any problems. My mum saw your mum up the mall the other day.’
My insides contract and my face burns like acid as she continues.
‘She said you never call her, never—’
‘Shut up!’ I cut her off, my body wracked with tension. She looks at me in a slight daze. ‘Just shut up,’ I say again, feeling the weight of Maria’s shock resting on me as I shoot to my feet.
A key in the lock distracts us. The door opens and Grant comes in, his face a picture of dismay.
‘For fuck’s sake, Polly,’ he mutters.
‘Don’t you speak to me like that!’ she erupts, her face contorting.
‘Shhh!’ he hisses. ‘The neighbours are going to go ballistic if you kick off again!’
‘Hey, hey,’ I say reasonably.
‘I think it would be best if you guys left,’ Grant says without taking his eyes off Polly.
Maria gets up, looking uneasy.
‘Sorry,’ he mutters as he waits by the door.
‘It’s okay,’ I reply, following Maria through it to the landing outside the flat. ‘Maybe she should just get some sleep,’ I suggest.
He nods. ‘I’ll put her to bed.’
‘I’m not a child!’ she snipes, overhearing us.
‘You’re tired, Pol, you’ve been doing the graveyard shift,’ I point out through the open door.
She seems to consider this a fair argument, even through her booze haze.
‘Thanks,’ Grant whispers.
‘Why don’t you give me a call?’ I reply in a low voice. ‘If she needs help, don’t try and do this on your own.’
He nods and I can hear his heavy sigh as he closes the door on us.
Chapter 10
The next day is Friday and I plan to catch up with Bridget over lunch. She has continued to freelance for Let’s Go! while they interview for a new features editor. She’s been asked to apply for the job, but she’s not sure she wants to be tied in to work at a magazine full-time after the freedom of freelancing. I’m trying to convince her it would be fun for us to commute in together every day.
I pick her up from her office and then we both walk downstairs. Alex comes out of the lift as we step into the vast, cream-marble-lined lobby.
‘Hey, Bridget,’ he says.
‘Howdy,’ she replies. ‘How’s it all going at Hebe?
He continues to join us for Friday night drinks, but he never stays late. I wonder if he’s coming out tonight.
‘Good. Sales are up.’
‘Must be your excellent art direction,’ she says with a teasing smile.
I lead the way out through the revolving doors and take in several things at once. Guitar music, singing, a small crowd of people on the pavement and... Lachie. Lachie standing there wearing a green jacket and a beanie hat pulled over his shaggy blond hair. His eyes light up when he sees me and his face breaks into a massive grin, then he stops his rendition of ‘You Can’t Always Get What You Want’ by The Stones and starts to play ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ by Wham. Bridget crashes into me.
‘Oof! Sorry!’ she says to me, then gasps as Alex, I assume, bumps into her. My attention is on Lachie. He sings the jaunty song with a look of sheer joy on his face. I mirror his expression and then I start to laugh because I can’t actually believe it. Bridget appears on my left and Alex on my right.
‘Phwoar,’ Bridget says, not yet realising that this is the Lachie I told her about.
‘Do you know him?’ Alex asks me with confusion as I start to bounce a little on the spot. Lachie is literally singing the song to me.
‘Yeah.’ I nod happily. ‘That’s Lachie. The wedding singer I told you about.’
The song is infectious and a few people start clapping along when Lachie really gets into the swing of it. I laugh with delight and applaud madly when he finishes. He lifts his guitar strap over his head and holds his guitar by the neck as he strides over his open, coin-spattered guitar case to get to me.
‘Hey!’ he says warmly, engulfing me in a hug.
‘What are you doing here?’ I pull back and beam up at him as his guitar bumps against me. He’s just as gorgeous as my memory had led me to believe.
‘Thought I’d stalk you,’ he replies with a cheeky look.
‘But how did you find me?’ I’m confused.
‘You told me you worked at Hebe.’ He nods past me to the building.
‘I can’t believe it.’ I shake my head in amazement. ‘Are you in London now, then?’
‘For now.’ He grins down at me.
Bridget nudges me and I come to with a start. ‘Sorry, this is Bridget.’
‘Hello,’ she says in a flirty voice that has me pursing my lips.
‘And this is Alex,’ I add.
‘G’day,’ Lachie says, warmly shaking both of their hands.
‘Catch you later,’ Alex says to me immediately afterwards with a slightly furrowed brow. He glances at Lachie once more.
‘Bye.’ I flash him a small smile then turn to Lachie as Alex crosses over the zebra crossing. The people around us have dispersed. ‘Bridget and I were just going for some lunch. You want to come?’
‘Sure.’
As he scoops up the coins from his case and packs his guitar away, Bridget mouths something thoroughly indecent to me. I bet she wouldn�
�t think twice about jumping into the sack with him. The thought is not an entirely pleasant one, which is a bit dumb considering I’ve had my chance and turned him down.
We go to a local brewpub in the heart of Covent Garden and traipse downstairs to the tables in the basement. Lachie entrusts me with his guitar while he and Bridget go to get the drinks and order our food. I’m reluctant to leave them alone together, but I know what I’m having and Bridget is yet to decide. I carry the guitar over to a table in the corner. It’s heavier than I thought it would be. The black case is scuffed and well-worn and I feel strangely on edge as I prop it against the wall. This guitar must mean a lot to him.
Bridget and Lachie laugh as they bring the drinks over.
‘I cannot believe you made him sleep in his car!’ Bridget exclaims as Lachie slides into a booth seat opposite me.
‘I told you that already,’ I brush her off with mild annoyance as she sits down next to him, rather than me. Duplicitous cow.
‘Yes, but that was before I saw him,’ she says, not appearing to feel self-conscious in the slightest.
Lachie looks thoroughly entertained by her praise, lifting up his pint glass and chinking it against my Diet Coke and Bridget’s cider. I wouldn’t dare drink during a work day, even if it is a Friday. I don’t need another reason to piss off Nicky. She was in a foul mood when she returned from her meeting with Simon and Clare, the publisher, earlier. Helen’s still off sick so I’ve been the bullseye in her dartboard of irritation.
‘Where are you staying in London?’ I ask Lachie.
‘Dunno. I’ve only just arrived.’
I stare at him. He has nowhere to stay?
‘I thought you might like to make up for past mistakes,’ he adds. Bridget’s eyes light up, my mouth falls open with disbelief, but before either of us can speak, he chuckles. ‘Just kidding. I’m crashing at a mate’s in Camden.’
‘Damn,’ Bridget says, looking disappointed.
‘As if we have room at ours anyway,’ I mutter at Bridget.
‘He could have had the sofa,’ she replies with a shrug, while Lachie grins. ‘Or mine’s a double,’ she adds, taking a casual mouthful of her cider.
‘So’s mine,’ I point out flippantly.
‘Finally we’re getting somewhere,’ Lachie chips in.
I roll my eyes at him. ‘When did you arrive?’
‘Yesterday.’
Yesterday and he decided to come and find me today? I’m strangely touched. ‘Have you got a job?’
‘Not yet. My mate says there’s something going at a pub in Camden where he works. I’m dropping by there later.’
‘Busking in the meantime?’
‘That’s the plan.’
The waitress brings our food over so we chat between mouthfuls until eventually it’s time for us to head back to work.
‘I’ve just got to nip to the chemist,’ Bridget says, peeling off. ‘See you soon, I hope,’ she says to Lachie. Thankfully her hormones have levelled out over the course of lunch.
‘For sure.’ He gives her a quick hug and I see her place her hand strategically on his chest. I inwardly sigh as she gives me an ecstatic smile.
‘I’ll walk you back to work,’ Lachie says.
‘See ya,’ I tell Bridget, turning away.
‘Hey, hang on a sec’ Lachie calls her back. ‘Have you got any plans for her birthday?’
Bridget looks confused. ‘What birthday?’
‘It’s your thirtieth next month, right?’ He looks down at me.
I nod, reluctantly. I wasn’t planning on making a fuss, let alone give an almost-stranger any say in the matter.
‘When?’ Bridget gasps.
‘The twelfth,’ I tell her. ‘I wasn’t planning on—’
‘Bloody hell, Bronte!’ she snaps, looking genuinely cross. ‘You know I’m not back from Key West until the fifteenth! How the hell could you have failed to mention this when I was booking my flights?’
‘It’s not a big deal,’ I say weakly. She’s going out to visit the friends who left last month – apparently they’ve set up a B&B – I was hardly going to put a spanner into her plans.
‘Of course it’s a big deal! It’s your thirtieth! It’s a HUGE deal!’
I was kind of hoping to turn thirty without anyone noticing...
‘We can celebrate when you get back,’ I say calmly. ‘It’s only a couple of days.’
‘We’ll celebrate next weekend,’ she decides.
‘Can’t. I’ve got a wedding in the Lake District.’
‘This weekend, then. Shit! There’s not enough time to organise anything! I can’t believe you are doing this to me.’
‘We’ll talk about this later,’ I say firmly. ‘Coming to the pub?’
She screws up her brow. ‘Of course.’
‘Silly question.’
‘Which pub?’ Lachie asks as we set off back towards my building, dodging the tourists.
‘The one across the road from work. Come if you like,’ I say without thinking, then instantly wonder if it’s such a good idea. I can’t see why it would be a problem.
‘Cool, yeah, I might do that.’
‘Well, here I am.’ I look up at the glass-clad building where Tetlan UK’s multiple magazines are housed.
‘Have a good arvo,’ he says.
‘Are you really coming out tonight?’ I check.
‘Why not? Got nothing better to do.’
‘Weren’t you going to drop in on the pub to see if they have any work?’
‘I’ll drop in on your pub across the road instead. I’m not fussy.’
Free and easy, just like he said.
I’m grinning that afternoon as I stand by the photocopier. Alex comes over to me. He’s wearing a dark blue denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the colour really brings out the blue in his eyes.
‘So what’s he doing here?’ he asks.
‘Who? Lachie?’ I ask casually. I know exactly who he’s talking about.
‘Yeah.’ He folds his arms while I muck around with the settings on the copier.
‘He said he was going to come to London,’ I reply. ‘And he did.’
‘What are you trying to do?’ he asks me with a frown, nodding at the machine in front of us.
‘Double-sided A3,’ I reply.
He moves closer and presses a couple of buttons, then hits the start button.
His aftershave drives me slightly insane. What can I do about that?
‘You coming for a drink tonight?’ I ask.
‘Yeah. Zara’s away this weekend.’
‘So you’re up for a big one?’ I tease.
‘Might be,’ he replies with a conspiratorial grin.
I don’t know if Lachie will turn up. I don’t actually know for certain if I’ll ever see him again. I have no way of contacting him if he doesn’t appear – no change there, of course. But I do know that he came to find me today, so I’m confident that he’ll stick to the pub plan.
And there he is, sitting on a stool and drinking a pint of beer when six of us wander across as a group after work.
‘Hey!’ he says cheerfully.
‘Not working behind the bar, then?’ I ask as he gives me a friendly hug.
‘Nah. Nothing going at the moment.’
‘Oh well, there’s still Camden.’
‘Exactly. Hi,’ he waves at my colleagues. I look over my shoulder to see pleased expressions on Lisa and Esther’s faces and slightly disgruntled ones on the faces of Russ, Tim, Pete and Alex.
‘Everyone, this is Lachie,’ I say, adding, ‘a fellow Aussie,’ as if that will do as an explanation. We Aussies stick together, and all that.
Bridget walks through the door before anyone can say another word.
‘Hello, Hebes!’ she shouts, to my amusement, then, ‘Lachie? What are you doing here?’
‘Bronte invited me.’
She gives him a hug. ‘Impressive work, flatmate.’ She punches me on my arm.
‘
Who wants a drink?’ Alex interrupts.
‘Hi!’ a bubbly voice calls from behind us.
I look over my shoulder to see that Maria has arrived.
‘Hello!’ I cry, turning around to give her a hug.
‘Hey, Maria,’ Russ says, putting his hand on her lower back. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘Hang on, I thought I was buying this round?’ Alex asks with confusion.
‘I’ll get mine and Maria’s, you and Bronte can do what you like,’ Russ decides.
I turn back to the bar, feeling Lachie’s knee against my leg.
I shift slightly towards Alex, but our elbows touch and I tense and instinctively move away again.
A couple of drinks later, I’ve lightened up considerably. We’ve all relocated to a table and Lachie is going down a storm with my female colleagues. He’s wedged in between Maria and Lisa, who switched seats when I went to the loo, leaving the chair beside Alex free.
‘I thought you said he didn’t play cheese,’ Alex comments, turning to look at me with his stupidly blue eyes.
‘Sorry?’ I give him a puzzled look, distracted by Maria playfully restyling Lachie’s hair.
‘You said he played cool stuff, not cheese.’
What’s he going on about? He hasn’t heard Lachie play. Oh, hang on. Wham at lunchtime. ‘Are you talking about “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go”?’
‘Yeah. Doesn’t come much cheesier than that.’
I laugh. ‘That was an insider joke.’
He regards me with uncertainty, and as his eyes widen slightly, I realise he might be jumping to conclusions. Oh well.
‘You guys need to help me here,’ Bridget says loudly, making everyone at the table turn to stare at her. ‘It’s Bronte’s thirtieth birthday in a few weeks.’
I interrupt with a groan, leaning back in my seat while several pairs of eyes land on me. ‘I’m going away the weekend after next for two weeks and I will miss it,’ Bridget says crossly, as though we’re all to blame. ‘So I’m thinking we’ll bring the celebrations forward. What’s everyone doing next weekend?’
‘I’ve already told you,’ I interject just as Maria starts to say that she can’t. ‘I’ve got a wedding in the Lake District then. Maria has, too.’ I smile across at her. ‘I don’t want a big bash.’ I turn back to Bridget.
‘That’s what I was thinking!’ Bridget says with worrying excitement. ‘How about a group of us go up to the Lake District with you? My aunt has a little cottage in Keswick, which is not far from where your wedding is taking place, right?’ She doesn’t wait for me to answer. She’s obviously done her research. ‘We could stay there, otherwise we could camp. There’s a campsite just across the lake.’