by C. J. Duggan
“Yeah, well, you’re no lady with a mouth like that.”
My eyes flicked down to where his hand held my arm. “Let. Me. Go.” I was getting really tired of Sean flinging me around like a rag doll.
“No, not until I say I’m sorry.”
I started to demand again that he let go when … Wait, what?
“Unlike you, Amy Henderson, I’m not too pig-headed or proud to say I’m sorry.”
“Is that your version of an apology, is it?”
He studied the lines of my face, lines that were no doubt still etched with dread; I couldn’t help it. The thought of being plunged into the water was so debilitating I could feel my hands trembling in a mixture of anger and fear.
Sean gently released my arm and leaned one arm on the passenger car door beside me. It was almost as though I could hear the cogs of speculation turning in his head.
“Amy, you can’t live in Onslow and not swim.” He paused. “Can you swim?”
“Of course I can swim!” I snapped. “I just don’t swim … here.”
A sudden realisation lit Sean’s face as if he had read the uneasiness in me.
I brushed my hair back into place, feeling a nauseated twist in the pit of my stomach. “I haven’t been swimming since that night,” I said lowly, looking down at my bare feet. More silence – I knew what was to come. He would offer me words of comfort, as the realisation slowly dawned on Sean why I had been so terrified of the water. He would comfort me, tell me how he had been frightened that night, too. I could see it in his eyes as he towered over me. The fear in his vivid, blue eyes was the first thing I’d seen; it was the one thing I remembered clearly from that night.
I fidgeted under his silent scrutiny, the anger slowly lifting in me, as he was no doubt thinking of something to say, pitying me.
“You were thrashing around like a piranha from memory,” he said, breaking the silence.
I glared up from my feet. “You paint such a vivid picture.”
Sean moved forward, causing me to shift back against the car.
His boyish grin sobered as he looked at me side on. “Come out with me, on the boat.”
“I’ve swum,” I said defensively, “in pools and stuff. Just not … here.”
“What about the Falls? I could take you there. I think there’s this log lying across a ravine; I could dance across it for you, Swayze-style!” Sean started jiggling side to side, singing, “Hey, Baby, I want to know-o-o, will you be my girl …?”
A wry smile broke across my face.
“Now that I would like to see.”
I envisioned Sean plummeting into the ravine and I giggled at the thought.
“Or we could go swimming here and I could lift you over my head.”
“At the risk of me kneeing you in the face and drowning you, I think not.”
“Just saying. Nobody puts my piranha in the corner.”
Pushing myself off from the car, I said, “One: I am not your anything, and two: seriously, what’s with the Dirty Dancing references?”
Sean looked out over the lake, squinting against the sunlight. He turned to me, his expression sobering as his eyes flicked over my face in silent study.
“Come on, Amy, I saved you once, I’ll save you again.”
I met his stare unflinchingly. “I don’t need saving.”
A wicked grin formed slowly on his face. “Don’t you?
***
I decided against the land expedition with Sean and thought I would just trek home instead. I went to retrieve my thongs but they were gone, along with the fence-sitting delinquents …
“Great! Just great!” I said, throwing up my hands.
I limped my way across the spiky grass – my baby-smooth city feet were not exactly accustomed to traipsing around the outdoors. Sean leaned against the car, his arms folded, attempting not to smile.
“It’s not funny,” I yelled out to him.
His lips twitched. “I never said a word.”
I made a final sweep of the area before hobbling my way back onto the pavement. Sean fired up his ute and reversed, pulling up beside me. Without a word he leaned over and pushed the door open in a non-negotiable ‘get in’ way. I might have argued the point if my feet weren’t on fire, but instead I quickly hopped in, lifting my legs onto the dashboard and sighing in relief. Sean eyed my legs and I could see the look of unease as I rested my feet on his polished black dash. I took a chance to peer around the interior, which was so clean you could eat off the floor. If you really, really wanted to.
I was used to the empty food containers, crumbs, and drink bottles of Dad’s car or even Chris’s. A smile tugged at my mouth. It brought a new meaning to Sean’s apparent unease at getting footprints on his dash.
Well, too bad.
I planted the soles of my feet firmly on the dash. I adjusted my seat back and settled myself in. He would soon wish he’d helped me find my thongs. Sean’s jaw clenched with tension in his attempt to not be agitated by my feet. He pulled into gear and headed for the car park exit and onto the main road. I flipped the sun visor down, flinching as a catalogue landed in my lap.
A paint catalogue?
I tilted my head to study the writing. Dulux interior.
“Brainstorming, are we?” I asked. I picked up the brochure and flipped through the tiny little squares of colour.
“I’m trying to pick something to bring the lake house back from circa 1977.”
“Let me guess – mission brown and avocado?” I teased.
“What’s wrong with my mission brown trimmings?” Sean asked.
“Nothing, I think brown is seriously underrated.”
Sean’s eyes flashed from the road to the brochure momentarily. “So what would you choose then?”
My eyes landed on a colour before Sean had even finished the question.
“Portland Stone.” I pointed. “It’s warm and light and exactly the same colour I want to paint the dining room at the Onslow. It could work for modern or traditional interiors.”
Sean eyed the sample sceptically. “Portland Stone,” he repeated.
I chucked the book aside with a sigh. We came to an intersection; Sean flicked his indicator to turn right towards the main street of town.
“Ready for your life-altering adventure?”
I gave him a bored look. “I can hardly contain my excitement,” I said in an unenthusiastic, monotone drawl. All I wanted was to go back home, but Sean obviously had his own agenda.
Typical.
He flashed a winning grin. “Good. Let’s go!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I was thankful for small mercies.
Sean’s little adventure involved nothing more than stopping off at the local hardware store to pick up a tube of Space Filler.
Utterly thrilling.
He took the scenic route from town to the hotel. I insisted he drop me at the bottom of Coronary Hill. Barefoot or not, I could hobble along as best I could. I would just have to suck it up.
Sean pulled over at the bottom of the incline. “Ashamed to be seen with me, huh?” he asked, curving his brow.
“It’s called preserving your life; you want to grow old, don’t you? Because, trust me, the last thing I want is to be lectured to death by Chris about you. Seriously, between him and Mum I don’t think I could …”
“Whoa, hang on. What has your mum said?” he asked, confusion lining his face.
Fuck!
“What? Oh, no – nothing.”
“Amy, you couldn’t lie straight in bed.”
“I told you, it’s nothing.”
“Amy?”
“Just drop it, okay?” I snapped.
“Right, fair enough.” In one fluid motion, Sean leaned over and pushed the passenger door open and unclicked my seatbelt. It happened so fast I was looking at the open door and back at him, mouth agape, as I struggled to think what to say.
“Sean …”
“You better get going before someo
ne sees you.” He wasn’t being nasty, he just said it in a matter-of-fact way. I knew enough to know that all of Sean’s good humour had slipped away.
It made me feel stupid and embarrassed. I didn’t want to argue the point because if he asked again what Mum had said …
He doesn’t look at you like a friend.
Well, I could never voice that; it was just too mortifying to repeat.
So I opted for some humility instead.
“Thanks for not throwing me in. The lake, I mean.”
Sean nodded in acknowledgement, but he didn’t look at me. Why was his coldness annoying me so much? Usually I would give anything to have a moment’s silence around him. No smug, smart-arse innuendoes, no cheesy punchlines, no smile; basically, no Sean.
Far out, why is this getting to me?
“You better go,” he said, starting the car back up, still not looking at me.
Well, screw you, buddy. I was the queen of the tantrums and no one was going to take my title. I slammed the door shut, which finally made his eyes snap towards me. I still sat beside him.
He curved his brow in silent question.
“Just drive me up the bloody hill.”
Big baby!
Sean took immense joy in speeding up the hill, making a long, grand, unnecessary sweep around the drive at a hundred miles an hour, before coming to a violent jolt directly outside the Onslow’s entrance and sounding the horn several times with a winning smile.
“See ya, honey!” he shouted.
I glared at him. Suddenly, the silent, broody Sean of before seemed oh, so appealing. I opened the door and paused mid-climb as my eyes fixed on an audience watching my arrival. There they were, sitting at the picnic table: Toby, Tess, and Stan all staring on with guarded amusement. It was Chris’s open scowl that caused me to look away and shoot dagger eyes back towards Sean before slamming the car door again.
“Aw, is this our first fight?” he asked, clutching his heart.
I gripped the edge of the window glass and leaned my head in, plastering on a sinister smile. “Oh, you don’t want to fight with me.”
“Sure I do.” He puffed out his chest.
“Really?”
“Haven’t you heard? Making up is half the fun,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Hey, Sean, you stopping in for a cold one?” called Stan.
“Nah, mate, I’ll catch ya later. I’ve got a few things to do,” he yelled before he set his eyes back on me. Lowering his voice, he said, “I’ll leave you to deal with Chris’s lecture, shall I?”
I stepped back from the car, glowering. “Coward!”
Sean laughed. “Say ‘hi’ to your mum for me.” And with that, he tore off out of the drive, churning up stones and leaving a trail of dust to settle behind.
“No wonder our fucking driveway needs re-stoning,” Chris bit out. He was obviously already pissed and I so wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, especially with an audience. I knew as soon as I turned around it would begin.
“When I said have a break, I didn’t mean an all-day expedition with— Where’re your shoes?” His eyes fell to my dirty, bare feet, confusion spreading across his brow.
“Chris, not now!” I said, cutting him off and padding inside. I felt like a defiant teenager acting out against my parents. It was not too far from the truth, seeing that Chris always treated me like a child.
I swung open the un-oiled hinges of the front bar door and stomped into the main bar. I managed to stub my toe on a bar stool that hadn’t been pushed in by some lazy customer.
“Son of a—!” I shouted, shoving the bar stool in as best I could, hopping on one foot. “Bloody, lazy, stupid—” I was cut off mid-rant by a voice from behind me.
“You better not let Melba hear that come out of your mouth; she’ll take to you with a bar of soap.”
I spun around to see a grinning Ellie Parker lingering in the doorway of the ladies’ room.
“Oh my God! Ellie?” I limped towards her wrapping my arms around her.
“Hey, Chook.” Ellie squeezed me hard before letting go and standing back to look at me. “Look at you! Bloody hell, what did they feed you at boarding school?”
I laughed, the full weight of Ellie’s words resonating as I realised I had actually grown taller than her.
The last time I had seen Ellie was, at a guess, two years ago. I ran into her and her mum shopping at Northland Plaza in the city. At the time it had taken me completely by surprise to see someone from Onslow – it had filled me with a familiar nostalgia for a place I had been banished from.
Ellie was as I remembered her: bright, perky and confident. Her straight, honey blonde hair fell over her shoulders, her skin was tanned a golden brown; she always looked like she belonged in a Sportsgirl catalogue. She was effortlessly beautiful.
My attention was momentarily swayed from her to the loud banging on the window. I turned to see Chris holding up two fingers in a peace sign. At first, I thought he was apologising until he yelled, “Two more beers.”
I sneered, almost tempted to hold up my version of two more beers but thought better of it.
“Didn’t he give you the afternoon off?” Ellie piped up. “That’s what I heard …”
I limped around behind the bar, grabbing two fresh pot glasses on my way. “Guess I will never live it down.”
Before Ellie could start a girl-power, feminism-infused rant, Tess pushed through the front bar door, dismissing the dilemma. “Oh, don’t worry about him; we have much more important things to discuss.” Tess delved into her bag, barely able to contain her excitement. Ellie looked on with less enthusiasm, like a child half expecting a B-grade magician to pull a stuffed bunny out of their hat.
Tess located a notepad and pen, placing them on the bar so she could delve back into the recess to grab her berry bliss lip smacker.
“Let’s talk working bee,” Tess beamed.
***
In typical Tess fashion we spent several hours discussing tactics for the fundraiser, and the best way to organise a working bee. Our in-depth conversations seemed to appease Chris. When he, Toby and Stan came in from outside due to the fading light, he dragged up a stool next to Ellie. He glanced over at Tess’s serial-killer-like handwriting and said, “Looks good.”
Coming from Chris, this was high praise indeed.
As the sun went down, the bar didn’t see much more action which was usual for a Sunday shift. Just a few drop-ins for takeaway slabs and a handful of disappointed tourists who had wandered in from the caravan park looking for a feed. It really bothered me that the restaurant was not operational at such a vital time. Luckily, Tess was full of ideas.
“Your parents would honestly do that?” My heart swelled.
“Not only would they, but they would be happy to help.”
“What have I missed?” Stan’s voice called as he entered the bar from the men’s room.
“Only the fact that Tess’s amazing parents are coming tomorrow to help work out a menu for the restaurant.”
Stan leaned against the bar, reaching for his beer. “Sa-weet! Go Mr and Mrs McGee – you should construct a giant golden M on a pole out front in their honour.”
“Hmm, a giant golden M. I’m not a hundred percent certain but I have a feeling that might be trademarked, somehow,” I mused.
“Oh, right. Bugger.” Stan shook his head.
“Such an ideas man,” quipped Toby, giving his mate a pat on the back. “Not just a pretty face.”
Stan worked in an impromptu series of muscle flexes.
Tess rolled her eyes as she closed her notepad, and turned to Ellie.
“You used to date him.” Tess laughed.
Ellie smiled as she chewed on her straw. “Hey, Stan, you never flexed your muscles for me, though,” she teased.
Toby reached out to grip Stan’s biceps. “What muscles?”
“Right! That’s it.” Stan grabbed Toby in a headlock, their stools screeching against the floorboards
as they roughhoused.
Tess blew out a deep breath as she turned away from the wrestling match. “So, Ellie, you can organise the flyers for the working bee and barbecue; Chris, are you going to call up Eric’s mates and get them on board?”
Chris nodded. “I’ll also handle the stock, make sure we have plenty of stuff ready for the day and set up a few eskies in the beer garden.”
“Dad’s got an industrial pressure washer I’m going to grab tomorrow and start working on the front,” Toby added, hunched over, catching his breath from his battle with Stan.
“And Ringer’s going to be here with his ute – said he’d do a dump run for us,” Chris chucked in.
“Where is Ringer, anyway?” Ellie frowned.
“Right where we should be.” Toby eyed his watch. “We better go,” Toby announced before spinning Tess around on her swivel stool and placing his hands on the bar, caging her in. She squealed at the unexpectedness of it and playfully slapped at him, but her surprise was gone in an instant when he kissed her goodbye.
Chris looked on in distaste. “Ugh, nice to see you guys are as stomach churning as ever.”
“Shut up! I think they’re adorable,” I said.
Toby wrapped Tess in a bear hug and grinned at Chris and Stan. “See? She thinks we’re adorable.”
“I had forgotten you were headed to Sean’s tonight.” Tess did her best not to sound disappointed, but wasn’t quite pulling it off.
“You sure you don’t want to come?” Toby rubbed her upper arms.
“No, you go and have your male bonding thing. Thank him for the invite, though.”
“And from me,” Ellie added. “Tell him we’ll come out soon.”
I glared into the ice bucket as they talked – my effort not to react at the mention of Sean’s name and the fact that he was having some sort of gathering and had failed to mention it to me.
Not that I cared; it would be a nice change not to have him darken my doorstep. The sheer amount of useful discussion we had got through tonight had been massively productive without his sarcastic quips and smart-arse innuendoes. In fact, it was bloody blissful. I smashed the ice with my spoon.