“Nicole! Where have you been?” she barked. “We’ve been waiting to take photos. Carol Lawson’s hands were planted firmly on her chubby hips. Her skin-tight mauve dress clung to every pudgy curve on her body. The silver belt around her waist was pulled in two notches too tight. I wondered if she could breathe but the way she was ranting at Nicole confirmed that she could. “This is your sister’s day. Remember that.” She pointed her finger as if she was hexing us.
“How could I forget?” asked Nicole.
“And you, Charlotte.” She said my name as if it was a swear word.
“Yes, Mrs Lawson?” I spoke sweetly. The last thing I wanted to experience was the wrath of Carol. I’d been there before and it wasn’t pretty.
“Make sure you’re on your best behaviour,” she warned.
Charlotte Blake, chief troublemaker. I wasn’t hearing it for the first time. At least I knew where I stood with Carol. She always let me know exactly how she felt. She was one of the most genuine people I knew on the inside, and yet every part of her appearance was fake – gaudy bleached hair, long acrylic nails and a fake tan in a strange shade of orange. The woman was a walking contradiction.
I crossed my heart. “Best behaviour. I promise.”
I doubt she believed me, but she let us on to the porch anyway.
The music was so loud that I could feel it pulsing through my feet as I walked inside. Nicole shrugged off her coat and tried to hang it on the crowded wooden hatstand in the hallway. Already overloaded, the extra weight was too much and sent it toppling towards her.
Moving quickly, she caught it.
“Hang your coat before it falls again,” she yelled, fighting to be heard over the music, still holding the stand upright. One more coat would have signalled the end.
Someone turned the music down and I was relieved not to have to scream my reply.
“I’ll keep my coat on.” I didn’t want to take it off. The neckline on my dress felt positively obscene at that point.
“Last chance,” she warned, preparing to let go.
I shook my head. “I’m good.”
Nicole released her grip, and we watched as the mound of coats began to fall.
Adam was walking out of the lounge room just as it fell. He stumbled as the pile of coats blindsided him.
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry!” gasped Nicole, reaching for the hatstand with both hands.
Adam slung the armful of coats he’d managed to catch back on the stand. “No harm done,” he replied.
He looked different – calmer maybe. His hair, no longer soaked by the rain, was a lighter shade of brown than I remembered, but his eyes remained dangerously bright.
Nicole extended her hand. “I’m glad you came. It’s Adam, right?” she asked, sounding falsely unsure.
I looked to the floor to hide my smirk. Her play at innocence was ridiculous.
Adam shook her hand. “That’s right. Thank you for the invitation. It’s shaping up to be quite a party.” Noticing my expression, he laughed. “Aren’t you having fun?”
I didn’t want to answer, and received a reprieve when Carol bustled through the door.
“The photographer’s still waiting, Nicole. Get outside, now!” Her mother brushed past her, shoving into the lounge room to round up other wayward members of the bridal party.
I could tell that Nicole was mortified. The colour of her cheeks now matched her lipstick. She excused herself from the conversation and for a split second, I considered reaching out and dragging her back.
My eyes darted in every direction but Adam’s. He said nothing until I turned and walked out the same door I’d come in only a few minutes earlier.
“Are you leaving so soon?” he asked, following me out.
The rain had stopped but the cold air felt thick. A few small groups were gathered along the veranda, chatting, laughing and sipping drinks from dodgy plastic cups. I was glad that we weren’t the only ones out there.
He put his hands in his pockets. “I hope you decide to stay, just a little longer.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know anyone else here.”
“You don’t know me either.”
“Well, that’s not entirely true. We met earlier today. That has to count for something.”
“You nearly mashed me with your car.” I grinned. “I’m not sure it counts for anything.”
“Maybe we could start again.” He held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Adam.”
“Charli,” I replied, ignoring the warmth that tingled up my arm as I took his hand.
“Short for Charlotte?”
“Only when I’m in trouble.”
“I imagine that’s quite often.”
I pulled my hand away, embarrassed that he’d drawn that conclusion so quickly. “Why would you think that?”
Adam leaned forward, reducing the gap between us to inches. “I just think you show a little spark.”
I looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Are you always this forward?”
He grinned. “I’m from New York. We have a reputation for being pushy.”
“So why are you here?”
He shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to see Australia.”
His generic answer held no conviction. I knew there was more to it.
“People who want to see Australia usually visit the Sydney Harbour Bridge or the Great Barrier Reef. The south coast of Tasmania will shoot any dreams you had of a sunny Australian holiday down in flames.”
“I like it so far,” he said, smiling. I concentrated on not reading too far between the lines. “Besides, I have family here.”
I was pretty confident that I knew everyone in town. Possibilities ran through my head.
“Who?”
“My cousin. Gabrielle Décarie.” I gritted my teeth and forced a smile, but my strain must have been obvious. “Do you know her?”
I did know her. Mademoiselle Décarie taught French at high school. I detested French, and I was quite sure she detested me because of it.
Getting away with anything underhanded at school was tricky. There was no such thing as scheduled parent and teacher meetings. All discussions involving late assignments, poor grades and ditched classes were held across the counter of our café. Poor Alex cringed whenever a teacher walked through the door. Gabrielle Décarie was no exception to the rule, and it didn’t help that Alex was a bumbling fool in her presence. She was an exquisitely beautiful woman with coppery hair and porcelain skin. It was easy to see how he’d fallen under her invisible spell.
“Mademoiselle Décarie is my French teacher. She’s also French. You’re American. How does that work?” I wickedly wanted to hear that she wasn’t French at all and the accent was a sham.
Adam took his hands out of his pockets and folded his arms. “My father is French. We moved to the states when I was a child. Gabrielle is always telling me how nice it is here. I thought I’d check it out for myself.”
It was a long way to come for a big fat nothing.
“So how long are you in town for, Adam Décarie?” The exaggerated spin I put on his surname sounded ridiculous. I made a mental note never to attempt it again.
“I don’t have to be home for a couple of months.”
“Running a girl down with your car is the most excitement you can hope for here. You’ll be clawing the walls in a week, desperate to get out of town,” I teased.
“Have you always lived here?” he asked.
“Always.”
I wanted to tell him that Nicole and I planned to leave as soon as we were done with school. I wasn’t one of those boring small town girls, and it pained me to think that Adam might think I was. I shouldn’t have cared what he thought. I didn’t know this boy from, well, Adam.
Turning my back to him, I leaned on the lattice railing, looking into the garden, enjoying the cool air on my face. He moved beside me, resting his elbows on the railing.
“You could be my tour guide,” he suggested.
“Like I said, I have a couple of months. Would you show me around?”
“Why do I get the impression you’re not going to take no for an answer?”
“Because I’m a pushy American with plenty of time on his hands. So what do you say?”
I opened my mouth to refuse when two of my least favourite people, Jasmine and Lily Tate, tottered along the veranda, making a beeline straight for us. I’d been avoiding them since kindergarten and had become quite good at it, but now I was caught.
Both sisters were almost pretty. Lily was seventeen and possessed the knack of dressing like a cheap stripper. She also had the misfortune of being as dumb as a box of rocks. Jasmine, more intelligent and twice as catty, managed to tone it down a little bit but her pushed-up boobs still spilled over everything she wore. Her signature heavy makeup made her look much older than her nineteen years. Generally speaking, they were an all round hot mess.
“Charli!” Lily screeched, running at me in her red stilettos. She threw her arms around me, trapping my hands tightly at my sides. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your new friend?” She purred, her eyes firmly fixed on Adam. Jasmine stood so close to him that he was jammed against the railing.
“This is Adam Décarie,” I said.
“Who are you here with? I haven’t seen you around here before. I never forget a face, especially one like yours,” Jasmine gushed, squeezing against him. She linked her arm through his, staking her territory.
Adam looked at me, silently pleading for rescue. I gave it my best shot.
“Adam’s French, Jasmine. His English is not very good,” I improvised.
Jasmine dropped her bottom lip and patted his arm. It was as if I’d just told them he was suffering from a terminal illness.
“Are you enjoying your holiday?” asked Lily. She spoke slowly and loudly, managing to make “holiday” a four-syllable word.
I smirked, doing all I could not to laugh. “He’s French, not deaf.”
Adam covered his mouth with the hand Jasmine was not squeezing the life out of and coughed. I wasn’t sure if he was covering a laugh or if being choked by their perfume.
“Are you staying with Miss Décarie?” asked Jasmine, still talking as if he was mentally impaired.
“Yes he is,” I answered for him.
Lily leaned forward, glancing at her sister. Their prey remained firmly sandwiched between them. “We could show him around, like, a tour de Pipers,” she suggested. Her French accent was worse than mine, something I didn’t think was possible.
“Fantastic,” I encouraged.
“Can you tell him we’ll pick him up from Miss Décarie’s at ten?” Jasmine asked, momentarily turning her attention to me. Perhaps she didn’t know that I’d ditched every second French class for the past two years.
“Adam.” I spoke slowly and waved my arms. “You have a date tomorrow, at ten.” I held ten fingers in the air for effect.
Lily clapped as if I’d conquered the language barrier.
“Fabulous! Well, we’ll see you tomorrow,” said Jasmine, poking her bright pink fingernail into his chest with every word spoken.
“Très bien,” replied Adam, muttering his first words since the ambush.
“What did he say?” quizzed Jasmine.
“He said he’s looking forward to it.” I smirked.
As soon as their date was set, the sisters released their grip. Adam sidled next to me, perhaps hopeful that I would protect him.
Lily pulled at the hem of her stretchy skirt, which was riding up. Jasmine flicked her hair off her shoulder. Adam coughed again. Definitely the perfume. The girls walked away, their clicking heels acting as a warning system for the next man they set their sights on.
Adam waited until they were out of earshot. “You realise what this means, don’t you, Charlotte?” he murmured.
“It means you have a hot date with the Beautifuls tomorrow,” I replied, ignoring the fact that he’d just called me by my horrid full name.
“The Beautifuls? Is that what you call them?”
“That’s what we’ve always called them.”
You have a strange perception of beauty, Charli.”
I felt the need to clarify. “They think they’re gorgeous and that’s the point. The Beautifuls – it’s just who they are.”
“So if they’re beautiful, what does that make you?”
I wasn’t expecting the question. Adam waited, not watching me.
“Big trouble,” I announced, flashing my wickedest grin.
The corner of his mouth lifted just enough to reveal the dimple on his right cheek. “Really?”
“Huge trouble,” I warned, throwing back my head and drawing out the words.
“I’ll consider myself warned,” he chuckled. “Right, what time am I picking you up tomorrow?”
“You have plans,” I reminded him.
He shuddered. “I’m not planning on being anywhere near Gabrielle's house when those girls show up. You got me into this—so you have to save me from them.”
Earlier that morning I’d been desperate for an escape. And I wasn’t too dumb to realise that Adam might have been it.
“Trouble, remember,” I pointed at myself.
“Do you need me to sign a disclaimer or something? I’ll do it, you know.”
I blushed. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Great. It’s a date then.”
3. Games
The first thing I did when I woke was check my phone for messages, certain that Adam would have hunted down my number and called to cancel, but there were no I-just-realised-you’re-a-nutcase texts waiting for me. I pulled the covers back up to my chin. The morning was cold but the sun glaring through the window made me hopeful that the rain would stay away.
I contemplated getting up and cleaning my room to pass some time. The floor was scattered with the rejected outfits from the day before, including the obscenely low-cut dress that I swore would never see the light of day again. I opted for breakfast instead.
Alex was already up, reading yesterday’s newspaper while he ate. I sat down and he slid a box of cereal and a carton of milk towards me.
“I thought you were never going to get out of bed.”
The blistering look I gave him was wasted. “It’s seven o’clock.” I huffed.
“I know. The day is practically over.”
He was serious. Alex’s day started at the crack of dawn, because he was a slave to the sea. Surfing was his bliss, and rain, hail or shine, his morning started at the beach as if he had no choice in life. I wasn’t quite as dedicated, but couldn’t deny my affinity to the ocean either. The difference was, I wouldn’t curl up and die if I missed a morning or two in the water.
“What were the waves like this morning?”
“A bunch of chop, actually.”
“I didn’t miss much then,” I replied smugly.
“You got lucky, that’s all. How would you feel if you’d slept through the best waves in the southern hemisphere this morning? You would have spent the rest of your youth hearing nothing but the legend of how I mastered the waves of the century…while you slept in.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Get over yourself, Alex.”
He laughed, eyeing me like he was waiting for some big news.
“What?”
“How was the wedding?”
“It wasn’t a wedding. It was a reception, and it was pretty sucky.” Carol had kept Nicole shackled to a giant plate of microwaved canapés for the best part of the afternoon. She dutifully offered them around the room for hours before escaping to drive me home.
Adam left much earlier than I did. I declined his offer to drive me home. The last thing I needed was a lecture from Alex about accepting lifts from strangers.
“
Where were you anyway? When I got home, you were nowhere to be seen.”
“Out and about,” he said vaguely. “When I got home, you were asleep. It must have been some party, Charli.”
“Everyone was there. The whole town was there,” I said, drawing out my words as if I was explaining some big tragedy.
Alex leaned back, snickering at my drama. “Same old, same old then, huh?”
“Not quite. I did meet someone new. Adam Décarie, Gabrielle’s cousin.” I saw a flicker in his eyes at the mention of her name. “Mademoiselle Décarie,” I purred in my useless French accent.
Alex began thumbing through the newspaper, too quickly to be reading it. Finally he gathered the paper together and thumped it on the table.
“What are you doing today?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Because I always ask. It gives me false hope that I’m actually managing to keep tabs on you.”
“I’m taking Adam on a tour of Pipers Cove,” I replied casually. It was no big deal and I hoped he agreed.
My relationship with Alex was complicated. We’d been on our own for so long that I couldn’t remember a time when things were different. He was only twenty when he took me on, at a time when he should have been setting out to conquer the world, just as I ached to do. A certain amount of guilt came with that knowledge.
Part of me always wondered how things would have been for him if we’d had a normal family life. Raising a child is a responsibility that no twenty year old should have to bear, but Alex was extraordinary. I should have told him so more often.
“Are you going to be gone all day?” he asked, perfectly calm. Maybe he wasn’t about to pull the my-house-my-rules card.
“It’s a little town, Alex. A few trees, a few cliffs, maybe a wallaby or two and we’re done.”
“Will you call me if your plans change?”
“I would if I thought you’d answer your phone.”
I’d arranged to meet Adam at the car park opposite the café because it seemed easier than giving him directions to the house. Alex wasn’t doing me a favour by offering to drive me there. He wanted to check Adam out.
I saw the Audi as soon as we rounded the bend on the road, parked in almost the same place as the day before.
Saving Wishes Page 2