by Lindy Dale
Sam put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t listen to her, Josh. Go on. I’m dying to hear about the seventeen year old Millie.”
Only so he could rub it in my face later.
“So they’d had a bit much to drink at the party and we were walking home. It was foggy and I thought it might be fun to dare the girls to strip down to their underwear and run down the road. It was late and the street was deserted. There wasn’t any harm in it.”
“Not until the car came round the corner,” I muttered, attempting to slink under the table. This was not going to end well, I could tell.
Sam was fully engaged in the story now. Any hint of tomfoolery brought out the boy in him. “Millie and her friend got naked and were running down the road in their underwear at midnight, drunk as skunks?” he clarified.
I could hear the amusement in his voice. I could imagine the furnace he would throw me into as he spread the story around the club and Perth at large. I wanted to die with the humiliation of it all.
“Yeah, but the funniest part was that I saw some headlights coming up the road, so I dared them to do a dance. It was a bit of bad luck that the car belonged to my parents. They were on their way home from a dinner party and thought they’d stop by and give us a lift. I’d already texted them to say we were leaving. They drove round the corner to be greeted by a half naked Millie dancing on the traffic island in front of them.”
Sam let out a rumble. It turned into a guffaw, which then turned into a laugh so raucous he had to put his beer down and take deep breaths to stop himself from snorting it up his nose. I’d given him so much flack over his naked run through Bunbury there was no way he’d ever let me live this down. “What happened then?”
“Do we have to talk about this?” I whispered, glancing out the corner of my eye to where Mum was now giving Mrs. Brockton a run down of the food on the Queen Mary II. “Can’t you wait till later?”
“But I want to hear the rest, Babe,” Sam smirked. “This story is really interesting.”
Josh continued. “The girls ran to hide behind the rose bushes in someone’s front yard but the security lights came on giving their position away. Then Mum yelled at us to get in the car so we climbed in the back of the wagon with Millie as red as a beetroot and apologising profusely for such infantile behaviour. It was hilarious, especially when she discovered that my little brother, who she’d been tutoring in English and had a massive crush on her, was sitting in the next seat forward. He’d seen her in her knickers.”
Tears were rolling down Sam’s face and he wiped them with his napkin. “Mill’, you dark horse,” he chuckled.
“What in heavens is going on down there?” Patricia asked. “Did I hear you say Millie was running naked down a road?”
Trust her to have sonic hearing.
“She wasn’t naked. She was wearing her knickers,” Sam piped up.
“Without clothes on top?”
“Well, yes but it wasn’t my fault.” I glared at Josh. I was going to kill him. And Sam.
“Josh dared her, Mum,” Sam explained.
“You were there too, young man?”
“Yeah. I was holding the clothes.”
“How vulgar,” Amanda said. “I can’t believe anyone would actually do that.”
“It was a dare. Millie would never turn down a dare that could net her a few dollars. ‘Specially if it involved showing everyone her knickers,” Josh replied.
This was getting worse by the minute and the only person, other than Josh, who seemed to think it was funny was Sam. Mum had gone silent ~ a sure sign of horror and disappointment ~ and Sam’s mother was glowering at me like Josh had announced I was a pole dancer in my spare time. Her opinion of me was low enough as it was. I didn’t need it to get any lower.
“Can we change the subject please?” I begged. “It was a silly prank that happened when I was seventeen. And one I’d like to forget about.”
“But you ran down a road naked. For money!” Amanda gasped.
“It’s not like Sam hasn’t done exactly the same,” I cried, trying to justify my actions somewhat lamely.
“Sam’s would never do anything like that!”
Yeah. Right.
Amanda turned to her mother. “Honestly, can’t we put a stop to this wedding?”
“Hmm,” was all Patricia said before she descended back into the stony silence she’d brought along in her purse.
Could this night get any worse? I mean, seriously, could it?
Chapter 11
It was approximately an hour and a half later when we were sitting back in the living room that I realised indeed the evening could get worse. Paige had taken the twins into Dad’s study to watch a DVD on his flat screen. She loved Dad’s flat screen because it had earphones for every listener, which meant she could watch without Tori and Michael’s incessant chatter about the goings on in the movie. Every time I’d taken them to the old house, she’d gravitated to it the way I did to the Pandora shop. She’d even asked Adele to buy her earphones like them for her birthday. To which Adele had responded she wouldn’t be needing them because she wasn’t allowed to watch TV at home anyway. Unless it was an approved educational program, of course.
After the kids had gone, Dad went around topping up the glasses and making sure every one was happy. Patricia seemed to have gotten over her initial shock at my teenage escapades ~ maybe she’d realised how alike and thus suited Sam and I were. She was now discussing catering with my mother and Amanda. I could hear them talking about rehearsal dinners, an event that was not part of Australian wedding tradition but she seemed keen to introduce. Mum was nodding and agreeing but the tight grip on her glass told me she wasn’t happy about Patricia’s over the top ideas. Hopefully, she’d be able to scale them down without me having to get involved. I was fast getting sick of trying to make everyone happy. A happy day for Sam and I was all I’d wanted and that was a distant memory.
On the sofa next to me, Sam was chatting to Josh. I sat watching them, noticing the similarities in their height and looks. Though Sam was dark compared to Josh’s fair complexion both men had round laughing eyes. You could see straight into their hearts through them but Sam’s deep green ones sparkled just a hint more than Josh’s blue.
“So, Josh,” Sam asked, “what did Millie look like when she was seventeen? Was she a hottie?”
“More of a dork, I think,” Josh answered. “She had braces, knobbly knees and hair that she used to wear in this arrangement like a bird’s nest top of her head because she couldn’t be bothered combing her hair. Some of the guys at my school used to call her ‘Stick’ if that’s any indication.”
Sam rubbed the edge of his chin in thought. Sarcastic arse. “I can see that. She still has tinges of that hairdo in the mornings.”
“But she always wore the coolest clothes of all the chicks. And she was pretty funny. Everyone used to laugh at her all the time.”
Right. It was time to put a stop to this before Josh gave away any more facts that didn’t need to be shared ~ like the time I’d had the fungal infection on my face from trying out the latest moisturiser. That was a New Year’s Eve spent without any kisses.
“Uh, I am sitting right here, in case you’ve forgotten,” I said. “And people only laughed at me because I used to fall over all the time and bang into stuff, not because I was funny.”
“So nothing’s changed then,” Sam grinned.
“Ha ha.”
Josh pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “I can show you a picture if you like.”
Oh God. Did I mention that this night could not get any worse? I didn’t want Josh showing old pictures of me about the place. And I didn’t want Sam getting any ideas about why Josh had a ten year old photo of me in his wallet. I certainly didn’t carry one of him.
“I don’t think Sam needs to see how hideous I looked when I was a kid. How about you put that wallet back in your pocket? You know I don’t like photos.”
“How about
you let me decide?” Grabbing the wallet, Sam opened it and peered at the faded picture that sat in the plastic pocket.
I peered over his shoulder cringing at my teenage self, standing in the garden of the old house under a jacaranda tree. I was barefoot, wearing tiny denim shorts and a blue bikini top. My hair was indeed piled on top of my head. Next to me, Josh had a look of smug contentment, exactly like the one Sam had quite often had after we’d had sex. His arm was slung possessively around my shoulder and I was on tiptoes, kissing his cheek, my hand resting on his chest. I remembered the day it was taken quite well. It hadn’t been long after Josh and I had declared our undying love for one another and consummated the relationship by getting splinters in our bums on the floor of the cubby. Summer had been hot that year, in more ways than one.
Without a word, Sam handed the wallet back to Josh. Suddenly, he was quiet. His face had gone from animated to the way he looked when Scotland had beaten the Wallabies in a recent rugby test match.
“You and Millie went out?” he asked.
“For six years, on and off. Then I went travelling. She wouldn’t come because she hates boats and water.”
“Yeah. I know,” Sam replied, his mind clearly going back to the day in Lombok where I’d almost drowned us in two feet of water.
“I came back with the intention of asking her to marry me but you beat me to the punch.”
A tiny muscle on the side of Sam’s jaw clenched. I’d never mentioned Josh and now, here he was six weeks before the wedding declaring he was still in love with me. It wasn’t the ideal situation.
Patricia, clearly, didn’t think so either. From the other end of the table, I saw her giving me a look that could make the Narrows Bridge collapse into the Swan River.
*****
After everyone had gone home and Sam had taken his parents and Amanda back to their hotel, Josh and I sat on the balcony of Mum and Dad’s apartment. The dark was all around us and it was a glorious night but I didn’t notice. I was too busy staring at my finger, which was doing circles around the rim of my wine glass. I was trying to figure out how I could get Josh to not be in love with me anymore.
“Why did you do that?” I couldn’t believe he’d blurted it out to everyone at the table. He must have known the damage saying something like that could cause.
“I didn’t mean to. It just came out. Anyway, its not like it isn’t the truth.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small square box, placing it on the table between us. His eyes were gooey and lovelorn.
Oh God. My heart began to pound. I could feel the blood pumping in the veins on the sides of my head. My vision was suddenly blurry. I don’t know how many times I’d dreamt of this moment before he’d gone away. Why the hell did he have to do it now?
“No,” I said, turning away so as not to see it. “That’s not fair. You put that away this instant.”
“But I bought it for you. Even if we aren’t getting married, you may as well have it. I could never give it to anyone else and I can’t take it back.” He opened the box and put the ring in front of me. In spite of myself, I couldn’t help looking. It was a beautiful ring, a spectacular solitaire set in a band of platinum but it wasn’t as nice as the one Sam had given me. I adored that ring.
“Josh, I’m marrying Sam. I love him. Throwing a ring at me isn’t going to change that. You had your chance two years ago. I’ve moved on.”
Josh’s shoulders slumped. He looked defeated. Picking up the ring he twiddled it between his fingers. Its facets glinted in the dim light of the balcony. “You mean that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Fair enough but I find it a little hard to understand. The big wedding, the massive cake, all the talk about interviews and magazine shoots. That’s not the Millie I used to know. The Millie I knew would have been happy getting married on a beach in bare feet. Surely, you haven’t changed that much? Is marrying him really what you want? You want to be the Princess of Australia?”
I gave him a sad smile. “I haven’t changed. I don’t want any of the hoopla. I never wanted it. I’m only going along with it to make Sam’s mother happy. I want her to like me.”
“And how’s that working out for you?”
I punched him in the forearm. “Don’t be smart.”
“They’ll never accept you, Mill’. No matter what you do, you’ll always be the girl in the silver sandals who phaffs around as a nanny and wears recycled clothes.”
“But I’m so much more than that! I’m intelligent. I have a University degree. I own my own business. And I don’t wear vintage because I’m cheap, I wear it because I like it.”
“And I’m sure Sam’s informed them of that but has it made a scrap of difference?”
I didn’t say anything. Deep inside, I knew he was right. Sam might love me for who I was, like I did him but I would never be a part of his family.
“You could ditch him and marry me,” he said, pulling a ridiculous face that I knew was half serious.
“Your Matchbox car collection would drive me bonkers.”
Then from behind me, I heard a cough. It was Sam. He was leaning on the doorjamb. God knows how long he’d been there but from the icy look on his face, he’d caught at least the tail end of the conversation.
“You two seem to have picked up where you left off.”
“Yeah, but we’re finished now,” Josh replied. He picked his beer up and drained the rest of the bottle.
Sam walked over to the sofa and sat beside me. He put his arm around my waist. His eyes met Josh’s square on. “You won’t mind if I butt in then?”
“’Course not.”
I looked at Josh who was smiling at Sam trying to pretend the great huge engagement ring sat that on the table between them wasn’t there.
“And you’ll be taking that back too, won’t you?” Sam said, indicating the ring with a nod of his head. “Because if I ever see it again, I may have to stick it into an orifice that’s only designed to have things come out of it.”
Josh paled. He swallowed, seemingly unsure if Sam was about to complete said action at that very moment. Scrambling, he shoved the ring back into the box and put it in his pocket. “Um, okay.”
“Glad we understand each other,” Sam grinned, knowing he’d won. “But in case there’s any confusion on the matter, the only person in this room Millie’s marrying is me.”
Well, at least we had that sorted.
Chapter 12
If I wasn’t finding this whole wedding planning thing as exciting as I thought I would, there was one date in my iPhone that I was sooo looking forward to ~ apart from the designer gown fitting ~ and that was the cake tasting.
I loved cake. Sam loved cake. If we had a choice of dessert it was always a shared plate of cake. So, to celebrate our impending nuptials we wanted the cake that we considered to be perfect. We’d even discussed flavours and styles, for Pete’s sake, a feat that should have been nigh on impossible with the rugby blaring on the TV and Johnny and Simmo sitting on the floor in front of us. Somehow, the cake seemed super important. I don’t know if it was because Sam was showing such an interest but that cake had become the only thing I wasn’t prepared to compromise on. And the rest, as far as Sam was concerned was an utter load of trollop. In his own words he had enough tension in his life with the Western Force being second last on the Super 15 ladder without having to worry about ‘wedding stuff’ too.
I got to the Northbridge bakery that Angus recommended at eleven the next morning. From the front, it was a rather unassuming looking little shop with double fronted display windows and an old fashioned half wood paneled door with a window in the top half. I was about to ring Angus to see if he’d given me the wrong address when he came running down the footpath, man bag flying and knocking two Japanese tourists to the gutter in his wake.
His attire that day was very cake-related. He wore a chocolate brown shirt buttoned up and topped with a vanilla coloured bowtie dotted with miniscule gelato spots
that looked like they’d been made from fondant. His trousers were darker than coffee beans and had the tiniest of pinstripes running down the leg. On his lapel, he sported a brooch in the shape of a wedding cake made from FIMO modelling clay of all things ~ there was me thinking they’d gone out of fashion in the eighties. I knew I should have kept those teacup earrings Mum used to wear.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to meet you,” he exclaimed, giving me the double cheek kiss. “The Wellington Street Car Park was a nightmare. I had to park on the top floor.”
From the pink glow to his cheeks it looked as if he’d run the three blocks from there at double speed.
“Is Sam here yet?”
“No, I only just got here myself. But I texted him the address this morning and I left two reminders on the calendar on his phone. He shouldn’t be far away, seeing as how this is this only part of the wedding preparations he’s keen to have a say in.”
“Most grooms like the cake part. I think it’s got something to do with the free food.”
I looked up at the uninspiring sign hanging above the footpath over our heads. Its pink paint was peeling around the edges and the lettering was so faded you could hardly read it. “Are you sure this is the place?”
Angus smiled and patted my arm in a fatherly don’t-you-worry-about-a-thing sort of way. “I know it doesn’t look like much but believe me, Madame Bouchard is the best kept secret in Perth. If you and Sam want cake to die for, she’s the woman for you. She was going to have her own TV show, you know, the Australian version of Cake Boss.”
“What happened?”
“She swore at the producer in French after he said her accent was too broad. Blessing really. She already had a ten month waiting list and a three book deal with Pan McMillan.”
I paled. We didn’t have ten weeks let alone ten months.
“It’s okay,” Angus soothed. “I do so much business with her, she’s willing to make you a cake at short notice.”