by Paige Toon
‘Gosh, it’s only a few weeks away now,’ Michael replies.
So he is leaving. No, please, no.
‘We’ll miss him at work.’
‘His fiancée will be pleased though,’ Mum says, saving me from trying to formulate a response. ‘When are they getting married?’
‘As soon as possible, I think. Poor girl’s had to make all the arrangements herself.’
‘That’s no good,’ Mum says disapprovingly.
‘It’s not like they had a choice,’ Michael goes on. ‘Her visa ran out and she wanted to get married at home so she went back to the UK to wait for him to get his bits and pieces sorted.’
‘Can you guys shut it?’ Josh says rudely. ‘Or go into the other room. I’m trying to watch telly here.’
‘Sorry, son,’ Michael booms, nodding towards the TV screen. ‘What have we missed?’
I spend the next day in bed, and don’t even have to pretend to be ill. When Michael gets home that night, I’m wondering how I can stay off another day. I’m not ready to face Ben again. I plan to skip work just like I skipped school when all that Shannon/Dan stuff hit the pan.
‘I hope you’re feeling better, darl, because we’ve got some understaffing issues at the moment.’
My heart sinks. ‘Really?’
‘Yep. Two of the team have come down with a weird summer flu strain, another is on annual leave and even Ben’s got tomorrow off, so we could do with an extra pair of hands.’
I don’t hear the last ten words because ‘Ben’s got tomorrow off’ is all I need to know.
‘I am feeling a bit better, thank you,’ I say. ‘I’m sure I’ll make it in. I just hope I don’t relapse,’ I add, keeping all bases covered.
I’m on edge the next day at work, half-expecting to see Ben walk around the corner at any given moment. He doesn’t, and as the day progresses, I start to relax. At lunchtime I wander down to visit Roy the roo, and as I approach I see a family standing in the shade near a group of kangaroos. I smile as a girl of about twelve excitedly points to a joey’s foot poking out of the top of its mother’s pouch. And then I watch, horrified, as the little girl’s father creeps in and gives the foot a tug, trying to pull out the joey. The alarmed kangaroo mother jumps up and hops away, and the whole family bursts into laughter. I stare at them, disgusted. I hate people like this. They turn to go and spy me standing there.
‘You shouldn’t do that,’ I say, as the smiles drop from their faces.
‘Er, sorry.’ The father looks suitably ashamed of himself. At least that’s something.
‘Come on, let’s go and see the emus,’ the mum says, and the family scurry away from me in embarrassment.
I sigh and scan the paddock for Roy. As soon as I sit by his side in the shade of a tree my spirits lift. I’m so lucky to have this job. I don’t want to quit. I don’t want to run away this time.
Unsurprisingly, my bravado doesn’t last until the following morning when Michael and I set off for work. I’m trying to come up with ways to avoid Ben all day, but he’s right there in the staffroom when we arrive.
‘How was your day off?’ Michael asks him, leaving me to attend to our teas in peace. I’m grateful to have something to do.
‘Yeah, alright, thanks,’ Ben replies.
‘Do you want one?’ I find myself asking Ben. I will not be bowed by you! And then I nearly crack up giggling at the sound of my own melodrama.
‘Er, sure,’ Ben replies, looking taken aback at the sight of me on the verge of hysteria.
That’s right, buster, I say to myself. I will not be bowed by you! I’m still fighting off the urge to laugh when I pass him his tea.
‘Thanks.’
‘Cheers!’ I say chirpily and chink mugs with him and Michael. They look at each other like they think I’ve gone mad.
‘Might pop outside for some fresh air,’ I tell them, swiftly making an exit.
I take a deep breath and exhale loudly as I wander down the path away from the staffroom, my mug of hot tea still in my hand. I pause in front of some birdcages and stare through the wire at a Bush Stone-curlew. Its huge, inquisitive-looking eyes stare back at me. There’s something almost childlike about these birds.
Approaching footsteps make me turn my head towards the curve in the path and my hands begin to tremble as I see Ben round the corner. I quickly force myself to take a sip of my tea to give myself something to do.
‘Hey,’ he says.
‘Hello.’
‘How’s it going?’ To his credit, he’s trying to sound upbeat.
‘Fine.’
‘Are you coming to help out with the koalas today?’
‘Um, not sure.’
‘Okay.’ He presses his forehead with his thumb. ‘I could do with the help. Two of the koalas are on the Heinz diet at the moment.’
That means they’re underweight. We feed them pumpkin and sweetcorn baby food – the one in a can – when their weight continues to fall.
‘Oh, right.’
‘Lily, I—’
‘Yes, what the hell,’ I interrupt. ‘Count me in.’
He smiles with relief. ‘Cool. Good. See you there in a minute, yeah?’
‘As soon as I finish my tea.’ Slurp.
‘Cool,’ he repeats.
And then he’s gone. I sigh heavily.
As the day goes on, the awkwardness between us begins to fade. Humiliation had temporarily dulled my feelings for him, but as my embarrassment fades, the pain in my heart starts to return. I can’t believe he’s going to the other side of the world to get married to someone else. I must try harder not to think about it.
‘What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?’ Ben asks as we wander back to the staffroom at five o’clock.
‘I don’t know yet. Josh and his mates are going to a club in Adelaide, but I don’t want to risk getting asked for ID. They’re a bit tighter on that down in the city.’
‘Mmm, they are.’
I wonder how old his girlfriend is?
‘What about you?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know yet either, which is a bit crap considering this is the Millennium. My mates have all had their plans sorted for about a year, but I don’t know . . . I hate clubs.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yeah. They’re too smoky and crowded. Full of pricks,’ he says, and I laugh. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean Josh,’ he adds.
‘Yeah, you do.’
He smirks. Then tells me: ‘I’ll probably just climb up to Mount Lofty and watch the fireworks from there.’
‘On your own?’ I ask in disbelief.
‘Why not?’
‘On New Year’s Eve? To see in the year 2000? You can’t do that!’ I exclaim.
‘Yes, I can.’
‘Saddo.’
‘Maybe I’ll take Olivia with me.’
‘That’s even sadder.’
‘Oh, well.’ He shrugs.
We get through the next two days like this and before I know it, it’s Friday night and New Year’s Eve. I’ve reluctantly given up on the clubbing idea, and therefore I have to forgo seeing in the new millennium with people roughly my own age. The only option I have left is offered by Michael. He has some friends who live in the city, so the plan is to crash at theirs for the night so he and Mum can drink themselves silly, and then we’ll all wander over to the park to watch the fireworks at midnight. I can’t quite believe I’m going to spend the last night of 1999 with my mum, but I’m hardly going to climb up to Mount Lofty like some sad stalker in pursuit of Ben. However much I’d like to.
Michael’s friends, Pete and Gwen, turn out to be great fun. They live in College Park, not far from the Botanic Gardens, and their house is party central. The front and back gardens are lit with thousands of fairy lights and Pete has the cocktails going from the get-go while Gwen dishes out a vast array of mouthwatering canapés. The time flies by as I chat to all manner of wacky and wonderful people, and pretty soon Pete’s leading a gang of us out of the house and
down the street and I’m being caught up in the moment as I sing along drunkenly with the rest of them.
The park is packed – there’s barely space to put down a tissue, let alone a picnic blanket – so we stand where we can and look up as multi-coloured explosions light up the sky above us. When it’s over and everyone has given up hugging and kissing perfect strangers and has taken to dancing on the streets instead, I find myself in the middle of the throng, looking back up at the hills and thinking of Ben. I’d give anything to be with him right now. An ache starts up deep in the pit of my stomach and I look around for Pete to see if I can nab a swig of his vodka.
The next morning the whole house is dead to the world. These adults are unbelievable – they party harder than any teenager I’ve ever known. I make my way down the streamer-strewn corridor to the living room at the back of the house and turn on the television, keeping the sound down low so as not to bother the sleeping bodies of people who didn’t quite manage to make it home last night. My head is pounding as I collapse on the sofa and dig into a bowl of leftover peanuts. It’s almost midnight in England and I want to see what I missed out on. Fireworks burst off dozens of boats lined up along the River Thames, and the London Eye is lit up with explosion after glittering explosion. The banks of the river and bridges are absolutely heaving with hundreds of thousands of revellers.
It’s bizarre – but strangely addictive – to see people celebrating when we did all of that last night. I’m glued to the television as more countries see in the year 2000 and eventually the sleeping bodies around me begin to stir.
Later that morning I leave the hungover crowd on the sofas and take a walk through the park with my camera. I snap away as attendants clear up the mess from the night and I take close-ups of foil confetti sparkling in the hot sun. Eventually I find myself in the Botanic Gardens at the lily pond.
I haven’t allowed myself to properly dwell on Ben all week and I haven’t cried for days. He’s done the decent thing by me and has acted like business as usual so I’m hoping he’s on his way to forgetting about my strange behaviour at his house. I’ve tried to think of ways to explain it, but can’t come up with a decent enough lie so I know I have to leave it.
Now though, sitting here at his favourite place in the city, a wave of sadness and grief pulses through me. He’s the only person in this whole country who I really want to spend time with. When he goes, it’s all gone. I’m over Josh – that was just a fleeting attraction – and I have no friends of my own. Ben looked out for me, he listened to me, and now he’s leaving.
Tears well up in my eyes and I surreptitiously brush them away, aware of strangers lazing in the sun nearby. In my peripheral vision I see a man with sandy blond hair and my heart stops, but I realise almost immediately that it’s not Ben. What would I do if it were? If he sat down beside me now, would I be able to hide the pain I’m in? Would I tell him how I feel? I honestly don’t think I’d be able to stop myself and oh . . . that would be so humiliating. I wouldn’t have the strength of character to see out the rest of my summer at work – I’d have to quit immediately.
The thought of all this brings my tears to a halt and I suddenly feel full of determination to sort myself out. I can’t ever let him see what he means to me. Maybe I need to find someone else to take my mind off him. Shane is nice, but no, I don’t fancy him. I don’t fancy any of Josh’s friends. It would be good to meet Shane’s sister though. What was her name again? Sammy, or something like that? Tammy, that’s it. She’s just broken up with her boyfriend; perhaps we could go out on the town together and take our minds off our heartbreak. Not that I plan on telling her about Ben. I’ll never tell anyone about him.
I’m still full of resolve when Josh tells me he’s popping into Hahndorf that night for a couple of drinks. Michael and Mum are nursing hangovers and can’t quite believe we’d consider going out again, but it’s Saturday night and quite frankly, I think I need to spend at least a few hours of 1 January 2000 with people my own age.
‘Who else is going?’ I ask when he mentions it.
‘The usual gang,’ he replies. ‘Are you wondering about anyone in particular?’
‘No, not really.’
‘Good.’
My curiosity gets the better of me. ‘Why?’
‘Just checking,’ he says.
‘What are you checking about?’ I’m a little irritated now.
‘I’m making sure you’re not wanting anyone in particular to go tonight.’
‘Anyone in particular like whom?’ I demand to know.
‘Are you getting changed or what?’ He gives me a pointed stare.
I glance down at my shirt with its tomato ketchup stain on the front. ‘Er, yes.’
‘Wear something nice for me,’ he says with a look that would make most girls go weak at the knees. But it has no effect on me; I just ignore it and head down the corridor to my bedroom. I’m absentmindedly unbuttoning my shirt and removing a skirt from the cupboard when out of the corner of my eye I see Josh standing in the doorway.
‘Josh!’ I pull my shirt closed over my bra.
‘What? It’s not like I haven’t seen girls naked before,’ he says flippantly.
‘But you haven’t seen ME naked before! GET OUT!’ I storm over and slam the door in his face.
Despite that little episode, I do make an effort to get dressed up that night, putting on make-up and high heels so I look older than my years. I’m steeling myself for a night out socialising. I don’t really feel like it, but I need to get my head into making new friends and moving on.
We arrive in Hahndorf to find Shane, Brian and Alex sitting at a wooden bench table out the front.
‘Hey guys!’ I say brightly.
‘Happy New Year,’ Shane responds, patting the bench space next to him.
‘Lily,’ Josh snaps, grabbing hold of my arm. ‘Are you going to go to the bar?’
‘You go to the bar, mate!’ Brian exclaims. ‘Don’t be a cheapskate.’
Josh grudgingly lets go of my arm and I slide in next to Shane, bemused.
‘What’s everyone having?’ Josh asks.
Beer, beer, beer, cider.
He sets off to the bar with a foul look on his face. He doesn’t think I fancy Shane, does he? So what if I do? Obviously I don’t, but what’s Josh’s problem?
‘Did you all have a good time last night?’ I ask the three guys sitting around the table.
‘Yeah, it was cool,’ Alex replies.
‘How many girls did you snog?’
Brian sniggers, but it is Alex who replies. ‘Brian got his tongue down three.’
‘I beat Josh for a change,’ Brian comments.
‘What was it, a competition?’ I ask sarcastically.
‘Yeah, it was actually,’ Shane replies. ‘They each bet a tenner.’
‘Weren’t you in on it?’ I ask him.
‘Nah,’ he replies, giving me a meaningful look. ‘I’m not into that sort of thing.’
Oh, shit. Don’t fancy me. I’m not interested, I’m really not. Why do blokes have to complicate things?
Josh returns with our drinks and takes a seat next to me. He seems to have perked up from his earlier mood.
‘I’m hearing about your snogging competition,’ I tell him, raising my eyebrows.
He smirks. ‘Brian won. I wasn’t trying hard enough.’
‘What did you get up to last night?’ Shane asks me.
I fill them in and they can’t quite believe it when I say I enjoyed myself.
‘Don’t worry, you can make up for it now,’ Alex says, flashing a look at Shane.
Bollocks. How can I get out of this one?
Half an hour later of feeling Shane’s thigh and arm pressing into me, I decide to extricate myself and take a trip to the ladies.
The pub is heaving, full of people in high spirits, delighted that the world didn’t implode from the ludicrously over-hyped Millennium Bug. I almost feel a spring in my step as I weave through the
crowds to the toilets at the back. It’s impossible not to soak up the positive energy of those around me. Above the racket I hear my name being shouted and I glance over my shoulder towards the bar.
Who is that? It’s Dave the vet! I beam and wave – and then his companion spins around to see me and I realise that it’s Ben. My head goes fuzzy, my heart jumps, I almost trip over my own feet and then I’m turning in their direction, trying to keep the smile on my face and the confidence in my walk.
‘Hello,’ I beam.
‘Hi!’ Ben exclaims.
‘I thought it was you,’ Dave says.
‘You thought right.’ I keep my voice upbeat. ‘What are you guys doing here?’
‘Having a few drinks. Trying to make up for last night.’ Dave grins.
‘What happened last night?’ I ask.
‘Not a lot. This one spent it up at Mount Lofty all by himself.’ He indicates Ben. ‘And I spent it with the wifey in front of the telly.’
‘What a couple of losers,’ I joke.
‘We know,’ Dave replies. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m here with some friends,’ I say.
‘Josh?’ Ben asks.
‘Yep.’
‘Josh,’ he says tellingly to Dave.
‘Yep, Josh,’ I confirm. ‘And some others.’
‘Sit down.’ Dave reaches for a recently-vacated stool. ‘Have a drink with us.’
‘I was on my way to the loo,’ I reveal.
‘We’ll keep your seat warm for you until you get back.’ He puts his hand on the stool.
‘Okay.’ I cast a hesitant look at Ben. His deep-blue eyes flicker towards mine and away again, but he doesn’t say anything. ‘Back in a tick.’ I walk off, thoughts ricocheting around my head. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
Ben . . .
Oh, I fancy him.
No, you do not! I practically shout at myself. Enough! Move on! I sternly keep repeating this as I go to the toilet, but I reapply my lip-gloss before returning to the bar. I’m only human, right?
‘Here you go, nice and warm,’ Dave says, removing his large hand from the top of the padded stool.
‘Thanks.’ I sit down.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asks.