by Tara Moss
‘Wow, great champagne! I can’t believe the Crown is splurging on us like this!’ Loulou gushed.
Neither can I, Andy thought.
‘Oh yeah,’ Gerry said and flashed a gold card proudly. ‘This one is on us.’ With that he gave Makedde an awkward smile and squared his shoulders.
Andy knew all too well that this was beyond the Crown’s budget. He guessed that the solicitor was trying to impress Mak and her friend. For her part, Mak wasn’t taking any notice. If Gerry wanted to show off at his own expense, let him.
Fool.
It had been a big night of celebration. Jimmy and Angie Cassimatis had enjoyed their now rare experience of dining out. Andy knew they didn’t get out much at all, let alone together, and he doubted they had ever dined in an expensive restaurant like this. Watching the budget had been one constant in their many tumultuous years of marriage. Now that they were thinking of trying for another child, Angie would probably start pulling the leash tighter.
Gerry, too, was the most relaxed Andy had seen him. The young solicitor had loosened his tie and was sipping gingerly at his champagne, grinning from time to time, mostly at Makedde. It was probably way past his bedtime, Andy thought—or hoped. He shook his head.
Karen Mahoney, Makedde and her odd-looking friend, Loulou, sat close together across a long leather lounge against one wall, laughing and carrying on like sisters in crime. Andy could not help but smile at the sight of the trio elbowing each other and exchanging jokes, some of which were spoken in low voices that Andy couldn’t make out. Some complex form of female bonding was going on. The sense of relief at the table was palpable, and for most of them this celebration had been a long time coming.
‘I’ve got another one…’ Mahoney said, loudly enough for anyone to hear. She seemed barely able to stop laughing long enough to share one more of her strange Celtic sayings. ‘Okay…Go n-ithe an cat thu, is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat!’
‘What the?’
‘May the cat eat you, and may the devil eat the cat!’
Aren’t women supposed to chat about shoes and stuff? Makedde laughed, shaking her head. ‘I’m kicking myself for not knowing any good Dutch curses. Um…rukker! That’s one! It means wanker, I think.’
Loulou let out another squeal of laughter.
To Andy’s relief, Mak seemed happy, unburdened by what she had just been through. Her cheeks were flushed from the champagne, giving her a delectable glow, and her grin was so big that at times he could practically see every one of her perfect white teeth. Andy had not seen her smile like that since she had arrived in Australia, or perhaps ever. He had only ever known her through her struggles, and she through his. Andy revelled in being able to watch her from across the table. Her happiness was beautiful to observe, and it reminded him of why he had fallen for her in the first place. Although part of him worried that the night would end in headache and heartache, for the moment he did not care.
‘Tell us another one of your stories, Andy,’ Mak said, grinning. She turned to Loulou. ‘He always has the best stories.’
Andy needed little encouragement. He leaned forward, shifting into full storytelling gear for the amusement of his small audience. ‘This one should qualify for the Darwin Awards,’ he said. ‘One night, years ago, Jimmy and I end up in this stupid foot chase with a car-jacker, a teenager, who’d taken off like a shot through all these damned backyards. We’re jumping over fences, there are dogs barking at us, this goon is sprinting like a rabbit, the whole catastrophe. And it goes on forever. God this kid can run. I start getting winded, and I don’t know if you noticed, but Jimmy’s no Cathy Freeman. I’m thinking this moron is going to give him a heart attack,’ Andy added, poking his laughing partner hard in his ample gut. ‘He’s wheezing and lagging behind like an old man—’
‘Skata! I was the one waiting for you!’
‘Eventually we hop this fence and come onto a residential street and he’s gone. We’ve lost the guy, we’re thinking, and man, Jimmy is pissed. Fuckin’ this, fuckin’ that, and breathing so hard I think he’s gonna drop dead right there. And then, as Jimmy and I stand panting on the road trying to catch our breath, a gunshot goes off out of nowhere and the guy falls out of a tree right in front of us like manna from heaven. The idiot had climbed the tree and shot himself in the groin by accident!’
Angie Cassimatis dragged her husband away soon afterwards. Jimmy looked a little disappointed, and drunk, but at least he’d had a few hours of fun. Their departure left Andy and Gerry to share the company of the three boisterous women who seemed content to swear at each other in exotic languages when they weren’t rapt, listening to Andy’s cop stories. As a senior constable in training to become a detective, Mahoney didn’t have nearly as many juicy tales to tell. And Gerry’s dry legal anecdotes certainly didn’t have the same cachet, which was just fine by Andy. He was rather relishing the female attention.
Makedde had begun looking at him from time to time with a warm, open smile. Andy savoured her affectionate look and wondered how long he could make it last.
It was after one in the morning when the five of them stood by the doorway of the restaurant, blinking in the light of the lamppost beaming down on them from across the road. The air was crisp and salty, the roar of the ocean so much louder outside.
Now that the trial was over and they no longer needed her testimony in court, Andy knew that Makedde could fly back to Canada at any time. Soon she would be gone, but he couldn’t let her leave without at least trying.
Desperation made him bold.
‘Would you like a lift?’ he asked.
Andy clutched his keys in his hand, directing his words to Makedde alone, and purposely avoiding the gaze of anyone else who might have taken up his offer, particularly Gerry. If she accepted, he could talk with her at last. It might be his only chance.
Andy’s throat tightened, waiting for a response. He felt Mahoney’s eyes on him. Even twelve hours ago she would have dragged him away from Makedde, but now that the case was closed, the guilty verdict locked in, she seemed less determined to babysit. She simply waited for Makedde’s response.
‘Um, that would be nice, Andy,’ she replied, much to his relief. She nodded. ‘Thanks for that.’
‘I would be happy to drive you back to the hotel, Make-eddie,’ Gerry Hartwell said, pronouncing her name incorrectly again. He was a real irritation, Andy thought, standing close to Mak and trying to look casual. Andy didn’t know how much longer his patience would last.
That’s it. I’m blowing this guy off.
‘Gerry, let me help you get you a cab.’ The words practically exploded out of him. Andy jabbed an arm in the air and tried to wave down a taxi that was cruising past. Unfortunately the vacancy light was not on and it did not stop.
Damn.
‘My car is right there.’ Gerry pointed to his sedan, irritatingly thick about being in the way. Or perhaps he knew but didn’t care. ‘I’m safe to drive. Would you like me to give you a lift, Mak-a-dee?’ He looked at Makedde expectantly.
Oh, Christ…
‘That’s okay.’ Mak took one encouraging step towards Andy and then stood awkwardly between them while neither man budged. ‘I’ll be fine.’
Mahoney offered Loulou a ride, and she accepted. ‘Come on, Gerry,’ she said, trying to get him to budge as well, but he had not yet taken the hint to make himself disappear.
‘Are you sure you are safe to drive, Mr Flynn?’ Gerry challenged.
Mr Flynn? Oh man…
‘At least as safe as you are,’ Andy snapped.
The prick.
‘Um, we’re going now…’ Mahoney said, grinning knowingly. She could see exactly what was going on. ‘See ya.’ The girls left, but Gerry was still hanging on.
Andy was ready to take the solicitor aside when Makedde made a move. She turned and gave Gerry a firm handshake. ‘Good night. Thanks for everything,’ she said in a devastatingly formal tone. It seemed to cut off any possibility of his sticking
around. And then, best of all, she grabbed Andy’s arm and pulled him with her up the street. ‘Let’s go,’ she said in his ear.
Mak led him along the road away from Gerry. It was in the opposite direction from his car, but he didn’t stop her. When they reached the end of the street, they stopped and looked towards the dark waves below. Andy knew Gerry would be watching.
‘That was a little weird,’ Mak whispered, observing Gerry over her shoulder.
As they waited, he finally marched to his car and drove off.
‘I think he might be jealous,’ Andy said, by way of explanation for the stand-off. ‘Of our…past…um, relationship,’ he added, not wanting to sound presumptuous.
You sound like an arse, Andy.
‘Yeah, well…’ she began, but didn’t finish her sentence.
Yeah, well what? Yeah, well he has no reason to be jealous because I hate you, Andy? Yeah, well our relationship can never be saved?
‘That dinner was all about Gerry Hartwell, not the Crown, wasn’t it?’ she asked.
He nodded.
They stared at the lights on the shore for a while, watching the distant traffic on Campbell Parade that curved along the boardwalk and the near-empty beach of pale sand that was now dark and quiet. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Makedde said. ‘I never got to really enjoy it, I guess.’
She had lived at Bondi for only a week or two, her stay marred from the second day by the discovery of Catherine’s mutilated body. Her every moment in Australia had been tainted by her friend’s tragic murder and the events that followed. That was no holiday.
‘That trip didn’t bring you what you expected,’ Andy replied, stupidly, he thought. Of course she didn’t expect to find her friend murdered, you idiot. He was unable to find anything profound or even sensible to say.
‘Are you in a rush to get home, Andy?’
‘No.’ Home to what?
‘Do you want to walk with me for a bit? Now that all this is over, I’d like to…I don’t know, breathe the air or something.’ She chuckled. ‘Or maybe I’m just afraid you’re drunk too and shouldn’t be driving yet.’
He laughed. ‘No, I’m fine. But I’d be happy to walk with you.’
They made their way down a set of concrete stairs that led to a roughly paved path. The path would take them along the edge of the coast all the way to Bronte Beach, several coves away. Joggers, tourists and dog-walkers frequented the track, especially on sunny weekends, but at this hour they were alone. Although he could hear sand crunch faintly under their feet, Andy could barely even see his own shoes. There were no lampposts to illuminate their way. The only glow of light was in the distance behind them.
‘You know, I saw you driving yesterday. You were stopped at an intersection on Elizabeth Street,’ Mak said. ‘I was with Loulou at a café on the corner. It was funny to just look up and see you there.’ She sighed quietly. ‘I can’t believe that was only yesterday. So much has happened since then.’
Andy was unsure of what to say. There were many things he wanted to tell her, but none of it seemed important now. All that time spent missing her and thinking about her, and now he found himself tongue-tied.
They continued for a time in silence, Andy’s thoughts growing calm as they walked. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, he could make out the white caps of the distant waves, the shapes of rocks and tree branches at the side of the path, some writing on the concrete under their feet. The music and laughter of the restaurant had faded behind them, the noise replaced by the ocean’s timeless crashing rhythm. They strolled in the faint moonlight side by side, a strangely comforting experience. They did not touch, or speak. Andy kept his hands in his pockets, his eyes focused variously on the uneven path or on the dark horizon across the water. He did not want to look at Mak. He thought it might make him crazy if he did. He didn’t want to ruin the moment with talk of what had gone wrong, whose fault it was, what they had lost. There was no need to add the pressure of his longing for her.
‘Keep walking?’ Makedde asked.
They had reached the base of a steep set of stairs that would take them further along the path to McKenzie’s Beach and Tamarama. Andy knew of a great lookout about five minutes’ walk past the top of the stairs where they would be able to admire the winding coastline in both directions. Mak was eager to continue, and they forged on in silence. He noticed that she had no trouble bounding up the steep steps, even when his own breathing had started to come hard, a faint ache growing in his thigh muscles.
Mak’s voice floated down from above him. ‘Oh, how exhilarating!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s even better than I remember!’
He smiled at her enthusiasm and climbed the last few steps, feeling like an old man. He briefly caught sight of her several metres away, then she disappeared behind some shrubs as the path turned.
Mak was waiting for him at the base of another set of stairs. Her cheeks looked rosy, her breath visible in the cold night air. She smiled broadly as she took in the view, hands on hips and standing tall. Andy resisted the urge to bundle her into his arms and lift her off the ground. She used to love that. She had said that he made her feel as light as a feather.
Oh fuck it. I want to kiss her.
But he didn’t. He didn’t pick her up, either. Andy kept his hands firmly in his jeans’ pockets and stared in the direction of the ocean. The view from where they stood was breathtaking, but he could hardly focus on it. He had begun to feel regret that they were not truly sharing the moment—the unexpected confession and swift court victory, the end of the Ed Brown saga—the way they once would have, the way he had imagined they would when Ed was finally locked away for life. The whole experience had brought them together, but eventually pulled them apart. They should have been kissing, laughing, enjoying the victory together. We should be making love, he thought. He could barely think or breathe for all the restraint it took to stop himself embracing her. It didn’t feel right to be so impersonal with her like this.
Andy felt a fingertip on his wrist, and jumped. It was Makedde’s hand searching for his. She had moved closer. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and squeezed hers, unsure whether it was safe to be even that intimate. Her hand felt smooth and cool in his. For a while they stayed that way, holding hands and looking out to sea.
‘My God, Andy. What happened with us?’ she said with a tremor in her voice. ‘Was it a mistake from the start? All of it?’
Andy didn’t reply. He pulled her in front of him and gazed into her face in the low light. It was lovely to see her up close. The wind blew her hair back, and the distant lights of Bondi glowed like a halo around her head. Her eyes looked into his, speaking silent emotions that he could not read. He wanted to tell her all the things he had felt in the past few months, but could not find the words. It didn’t matter. In the dark, Makedde leaned into him until her lips met his. Her kiss was a shock of cold from the wind, then warm and welcoming inside her mouth. The surprise of it jolted him into arousal. There she was, her fingers touching his arms, her tongue running slowly across his lips. He parted his lips further and kissed her deeper. Harder. He felt her exhale and melt into him. Her fingers slid across the back of his neck, gently pulling him into her. Andy bent to meet her, allowing himself the pleasure of her kiss, unsure how long it might last. Now she was pressed firmly against him, her body like a puzzle piece filling every gap between them seamlessly, knee to knee, groin to groin, the swell of her breasts crushed against him. His blood surged at the feel of her, and some part of himself let go. He cradled her in his arms as he had always loved to. It felt so damn good. It felt right. He wanted to swallow her up with his rage and pleasure and anger and love. He loved her so damn much and nothing ever seemed to work between them.
Was it worth it to allow themselves this? Was it worth the gamble?
Yes.
Andy had no choice. He picked Mak up and carried her. She clung to him, kissing, squeezing, encouraging. He didn’t put her back down until they were
near the edge of the tall cliffs, metres away, by the entrance to a rocky nook. Nothing but raging seas and whipping wind surrounded them. There was no one to see. With unspoken understanding, they crawled into the small shelter together, not even registering the cold, uncomfortable rock beneath them. Guarded from the elements, they kneeled torso to torso and began a slow ritual of sensual reacquaintance, hands reaching eagerly for every part of one another. He slid his grateful hands under Makedde’s coat and the soft fabric of her knitted top. Her skin felt warm and silky to his touch, his fingers seeming far too rough to be permitted such a pleasure. Makedde’s mouth felt hot and willing on his, her writhing form pushing him to a point of carnal urgency. He was painfully hard, his body eager. She squeezed his buttocks and ground his stiffness into her. Her fingers found him, caressing the shape of him through the restraints of his clothing.
‘Fuck me, Andy,’ she whispered. ‘Please.’
Andy pushed her down without hesitation. She gave welcomingly under his weight, wrapping her long legs tightly around his hips. Eagerly, she pulled at his belt buckle, tugging until he was free and pressed rigid against her thighs.
In the dark they came together, trembling and holding tight, bodies arching and sighing as they pleased one another, blissfully unconcerned about their numbing knees and elbows, and the biting cold of the whistling autumn wind. It was over an hour before they ventured from their rocky bed to find another, more private place to continue their renewed passions unhindered.