by C. J. Duggan
“Don’t cut yourself.”
I froze, suddenly aware of him touching me, and then all too quickly he removed his hand from my skin and I looked away.
“I’ll get a dustpan,” I said under my breath. I also wanted to get away from them, from Angela, who I could hear laughing behind me. I was so determined to get away from the shrill sound that I nearly collided straight into Chris, who was holding a broom and dustpan.
“Thanks.” I reached to take it from him, but he moved them from my reach.
“No, it’s okay, I’ll take care of it.”
“No, it’s fine, I can–”
“Why don’t you go and take over from Amy for a bit?”
I did a double take. In other words: you have made enough of a mess, Tess, get back to the kitchen where you belong. It felt like a physical blow.
I nodded and pushed passed him. Ellie gave me a smile and a little wave from across the restaurant but I just made my way to the kitchen.
When I informed Amy I was there to take over for her, she hooted joyously and ripped off her apron with lightning speed.
With a “See ya later, losers,” she pushed open the door and was gone.
“What a little shit she is,” Rosanna said.
I surveyed the sink area and my new work zone. It appeared that Amy had made more mess in her attempt to clean. There was water all over the floor, and the dishes still had remnants of half-chewed food and sauces on them. I had visions of her furiously dunking them in the putrid water, fantasising it was my head as she slammed them onto the dish rack in a rage. I couldn’t blame her. I was about to do the same; instead, I would be imagining someone else. I would be dunking Angela.
Chapter Nine
I stole a moment in the ladies’ room, perched on a closed toilet lid for a bit of chin-trembling.
Even Rosanna and Melba must have sensed the change as, for once, they weren’t taking their anger out on me. Ellie definitely knew something was wrong when I declined the end-of-shift staff drink from Chris. The Onslow Boys and Angela were still in the poolroom, and I just wanted a discreet exit out the back way. Ellie also knew me well enough not to question me about it, at least not just yet. We made our way down the sloping stretch of road where we would wait for my mum to pick us up.
“Hey, do you wanna go for a ride tomorrow?” Ellie said. “We can pick up our pays and go and blow it all at Carter’s. There’s this cute little skirt that would look great on you.”
This was Ellie trying to cheer me up.
“Sounds good!” I faked a smile.
After I completed my nightly routine, peeling off my half-drenched, smoke-infused clothes to have a long, hot shower, I fired up my computer and found an email from Adam.
To: tessmcgee
Bad news I’m afraid! There is a Magnum P.I marathon on and guess who is front and centre?
ME! Under sufferance of course.
Although don’t jump to any conclusions if I return home with a handle bar moustache.
It doesn’t mean a thing.
How’s things in O town? Hope you’re having fun without me.
Sender: Adam I can jump puddles Henderson.
I was so emotionally exhausted even Adam’s email did little to perk me up. I couldn’t help but think back to Angela’s arms draped over Toby, her sardonic smile as she belittled me in front of everyone. The smashing of the glass replayed in slow motion, the brush of Toby’s fingers as he helped me pick up the shards.
I felt like such an idiot. I should have insisted with Chris that I’d clean it up. I could only imagine Angela’s snide remarks as Chris swept up the mess.
“Ha! I wish someone would clean up after me. That’s what you get for hiring twelve-year-olds”, she would have said. And then everyone would have laughed with her.
I groaned and cupped my head in my hands.
To: Adam I can jump puddles Henderson
Do it! Moustaches are hot!
O Town is just peachy!
Sender: tessmcgee
To: ellieparker
All good. I am looking forward to our bike ride tomorrow. X
Sender: tessmcgee
***
I pumped the pedals and pressed forward over the handlebars to surge myself over McLean’s Bridge. On and on it went, a never-ending mass of concrete overshadowing Lake Onslow. Up the footpath then around the curb, I peddled like a mad thing. The hot summer wind threatened to burn my skin as I boldly sailed down Macquarie Avenue, riding with no hands.
This was the freedom I had yearned for and never in my life would I have believed I would have found it on a Monday. But it was the holidays now and things had been switched up. I would meet up with Ellie after lunch as planned. In an attempt to still my overactive mind and get the most I could from the day, I had grabbed my bike and headed around the back roads of Onslow. The Mitchum bike trail had some of the best bushland scenery around. Luckily, being Australia, I didn’t have to worry about mountain lions, grizzly bears or wolves … just poisonous snakes, deadly spiders and the odd wayward wallaby that wandered down from the foothills of the Perry Ranges.
As I glided along the isolated road, I sought refuge amidst the trees that edged my way, blocking the searing sun in intervals of shade-light-shade. I had circled this area a hundred, maybe a thousand, times and each time there were new sounds, new scenes. It made me forget the mundane existence of all that troubled me. I stood straight up on the peddles, lifting my face to the sky and breathing deeply, feeling the flashes of the changing shades flicker spots under my closed eyelids. This was living. In a space that seemed like nowhere, there were no worries, nothing could touch me here. Nothing!
And that’s when I heard a snap.
Remember the never-ending stretch of the McLean’s Bridge? The one I just had to leave behind me? Well, that was nothing compared to the long, barren stretch of bitumen that faced me now. This seriously had no end, I was going to die here! Suddenly all the wonder and the beauty of my surroundings lost its lustre for me as I limped my bike back down the road. I stopped every few steps to survey the damage to my skinned knee that had already started scabbing over, thanks to the heat of the day.
As I stopped for the hundredth time, I was surprised and a little disappointed that there wasn’t more blood flowing from my gaping wound. It stung like a bitch! I took my anger out on my bike by giving it a good kick.
“Stupid bloody chain.”
It had snapped clean in half, causing it to make an infuriating clanking sound with every rotation of the wheels. I clenched my jaw and limped on.
Nature sucked. I hated nature; I hated the now seemingly blistering sun that threatened to burn my skin. I hated the trees, the lake views, the birdsong and, most of all, I hated my carelessness. No phone, no water, no sunscreen. From now on, I would pack a survival kit that would consist of my dad’s Swiss Army Knife. For what? So I could clip my toenails and open a bottle of wine?
Real smart, Tess.
My God, the heat was frying my brain, maybe I was losing too much blood? I might need a transfusion by the time I made it around the sweep of the Horseshoe Bend, my next landmark that was still nowhere in sight. After that, there was a bit of a declining slope, nothing too major and then the caravan park, owned by the Remingtons – Stan’s parents. Perhaps they would let me dial triple zero by the time I stumbled through their gates. Or my mum.
Failing that, the next stop was the Onslow Hotel, where I could seek shelter and water and be nursed back to health by Melba, Rosanna and Chris.
Yeah, I think I would pass on that one.
I had a better chance of backstroking across Lake Onslow. But even though it weighed me down and I was seriously pissed with it, I wouldn’t leave my bike. She was last year’s Christmas present, a deep midnight purple with a tan cane basket on the front, very Jessica Lansbury circa Murder She Wrote. In the beginning, Adam and Ellie ribbed me about it constantly, but guess who wanted their swimming gear carted when it was too awkward t
o hook onto their handlebars? Oh, how they loved the Grandma basket then. Not that it served me much good now, it housed nothing more than a beach bag with my purse which held a whole $15 and my student ID.
Each time the cool breeze flowed through the trees it whipped around me, fluttering my loose peach singlet and refreshing my skin that was slick with a light sheen of perspiration. I stopped in the shade of a towering gum tree. Letting the bike rest on my hip, I pulled my hair up off my neck and closed my eyes, allowing myself to cool and rest for five.
The serenity was disturbed by the distant sound of kookaburras mocking me with their laughter. I peeked one eye open and listened closer. A sound was slowly closing in with a murmur that became louder and louder. What was that … a car? Possible salvation? Oh, please don’t be a serial killer. I was desperate, but not desperate enough to hitchhike with a scary local who liked to play the banjo. I grabbed my bike and continued to walk, cool, calm and collected, instead of sweaty, bloody damsel in distress. I would politely decline any invitation and rough it alone, surely it wasn’t much further?
The thudding of a burly vehicle and sound of music closed in behind me. The engine slowed, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to raise. The music volume lowered.
Oh no, no, no. Please keep going.
I walked faster, looking straight ahead, my bike chain rattling more insistently.
Leave me alone, it’s a nice summer’s day, can’t a girl take her bike for a walk?
The car crawled now, it could be a creepy white van with a hooded deviant behind the wheel, I just knew it. I had watched enough late-night horror movies with Adam and Ellie to know all about stranger danger. My heart was leaping out of my chest. I know I said I would never leave my bike, but, honestly, I was getting to the point of ditching the sucker and heading for the hills screaming MURDERER.
That’s when I heard my name.
Chapter Ten
“Tess?”
I stopped abruptly, before I spun to see a navy Ford crawling along beside me. I tilted my head slightly and found a mystified expression peering out at me through the open window.
“What are you doing out here?” said Toby.
Toby? Toby was behind the wheel. It wasn’t a serial killer, it was Toby.
I inhaled a deep breath of relief. “Oh, thank God it’s you! I thought you were a murderer.”
His brows raised in surprise.
“Are you alright?”
No, I wanted to pout, I am suffering from sunstroke, dehydration, starvation. And I was all of a sudden keenly aware of how sweaty and awful I must have looked. I discreetly pushed my fingers through my hair and smiled in good humour, my eyes flicking to my bike.
“I’m afraid she has given up the ghost.”
Ugh! That would be something my dad would say.
Toby pulled over and got out of his vehicle in one fluid movement. He was in his work pants and work shirt that had Tobias embroidered in yellow on his pocket. The little detail made me smile. I had only ever heard Sean call him that, and I was pretty sure it was to deliberately hit a nerve.
He gave me a coy smile as he made a direct line to crouch and examine my bike. I was mesmerised by his swiftly moving hands; he had beautiful hands. I had often wondered how they always seemed so amazingly clean, considering his job was to be covered in grease and oil all day, every day. He must have some heavy duty industrial cleaner to wash his hands with every night. This thought led me to visions of him at home, showering, getting ready for a night out with the boys at the Onslow for dinner and pool. His hair was always slightly damp, with just the slightest touch of hair product. He wouldn’t do much more than that, he didn’t need to; he was naturally perfect. Whenever I brushed past him in the crowded poolroom, there was always a hint of a fresh, clean, crisp aftershave. It made me want to be close to him, to bask in all that was Toby.
I snapped myself out of my daydream when he looked back up at me.
“This chain’s history. Where are you headed?”
I didn’t want to confess I was just goofing around on my summer holidays, giving little thought to much else. That was the beauty of it. It was meant to be a voyage to forget all my troubles, all thoughts of him and Angela last night. And then here he was straightening up in front of me, looking down at me with those questioning brown eyes.
“Oh, I should be getting home, I hadn’t planned on being out so long.”
Ugh! God, that sounded like I had a curfew; that I would be in trouble if I didn’t scurry home to Mum and Dad. Why didn’t I just say I was headed to the Onslow to pick up my pay, because I was a responsible working woman? I could have even asked if he wanted to join me for a drink? Like grownups do. Have a friendly chat.
About what exactly? Cars? School? His girlfriend?
“If you want, I can give you a lift home,” he said.
I tried not to look so overjoyed, but the thought of being rescued by Toby was an even better outcome than I could have ever hoped for.
“Yes, please! I don’t want to die out here, not like this.”
He smirked. “Murderers, death; you have a dark mind, Tess.”
And before I could hide my smile, he grabbed my bike and lifted it onto the bed of his ute. The very same one I saw parked in his drive, or occasionally at the Onslow Hotel. Deep navy, big and bulky, this was a man’s vehicle. A vehicle I was about to climb into.
I fought to overcome my nerves as I opened the passenger door. I hoisted myself up inside. Toby was busy securing my bike in the back. On the passenger floor was a lunch box and thermos. I slid my feet away from the items, which wasn’t difficult considering the ample room inside. There weren’t individual seats but a light cream bench seat, with nothing dividing me from Toby. I leaned my arm on the open windowsill and pondered. You could fit three bodies in for a ride with ease if someone was pressed up next to the driver. I wondered who had ridden in this car with him. Sean? Stan? Angela?
Okay, let’s not think about that.
Toby pulled open the driver’s door, and he filled the rest of the cab’s interior. He fired up the beast of an engine and pulled into gear, gloriously tearing up the bitumen. I stole a quick glance in the side view mirror and grabbed my hair that was flailing around from the open window. I held it back at the base of my neck, and my wispy fringe momentarily blinded me. I stole a sideways glance at Toby. He met my eyes briefly and smiled. I looked quickly out the window. In my peripheral vision, I watched as Toby’s suntanned arm rested on top of the wheel, his other arm leaning casually on the open window. He was relaxed and confident behind the wheel. It was of little wonder; if he got his learner’s at sixteen he would have been driving for six years by now. I calculated it in my mind. I would have been 11 when he started driving. I tried not to think too much about that.
An awkward silence swept over us, only to be broken by Toby’s cough before he spoke.
“So, where did you go last night?”
I tried not to shift in my seat at his question. I was hoping that my sudden disappearance after the glass-breaking episode would go unnoticed. I guess not.
“Oh, you know, kitchen duties beckoned.”
“Oh?” He seemed surprised.
“Yeah, whenever a crisis breaks out they shine a giant K in the sky, and I hightail it.”
“So you head to the phone booth and change into your apron and rubber gloves?” Toby’s mouth turned up at the corners. Just a little.
“Isn’t that Superman?”
“Oh right, sorry. My bad, giant K in the sky: you’re rocking it Batman style.”
“Exactly. Except if I was Batman, I wouldn’t be needed in the kitchen full stop. Bruce Wayne doesn’t do kitchens.”
“You could serve customers like the speed of a bullet.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Again, Superman. Why don’t you know this stuff? What did you do as a kid, spend it outdoors or something?”
“Misspent youth, clearly. I obviously don’t know my superheroes a
t all.” He frowned as if deeply distressed. “I must look into that.”
“I would if I were you, that’s kind of embarrassing.”
He flashed a smile my way, before turning his gaze back to the road. There was more silence, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. I turned to peer at my bike rattling away in the back.
“So, the old girl,” I tilted my head backwards, “will she ride again?”
Toby glanced at me then back to the road; that elusive upward tilt of his lips reappeared as if he was fighting not to smile.
“Let me put it this way. I thought I’d have to surround it with some sheets and bring out the 22 to put it out of its misery.”
My eyebrows rose. “You carry a 22?”
“You think carrying sheets isn’t weird?”
“Yeah, but sheets aren’t deadly.”
“You haven’t been to an all-boys boarding school.”
“Ew! Okay, give me a gun.”
There it was, that smile. He made no effort to hide it now. It shone brightly, lighting up his entire face.
“Are we talking about guns and dirty boys’ sheets?” Toby frowned.
“You started it,” I said. “Sheets aside, which I really don’t want to know about, did you really go to boarding school?”
“Yep, my parents shipped me off in Year 7. The longest year of my life. I ended up just mucking up until they had no choice but to bring me home.”
I stared at him for the longest time. Trying to imagine Toby ever being bad, I just couldn’t picture it.
“So the sheets were that bad, huh?”
He burst out laughing; it was a wonderful sound, rich and warm. It made my skin tingle.
He shook his head as he refocused on the road.
“You have no idea!”
It was a bizarre conversation, our first formed sentences alone together. Well, there was the party but that doesn’t count. How would I tell Ellie about my bonding session in Toby’s ute?