‘These,’ he said, placing a cupcake in Alice’s hands, ‘are the best I’ve ever eaten. You won’t believe your tastebuds.’
‘From your mum’s favourite café?’
‘The one and only. Go on.’
She took a bite and her eyes grew wider as she stared at Dean.
‘Told you so.’ He winked and started eating his own. ‘Strawberry and white chocolate.’ Dean shrugged. ‘Who’d have thought?’
‘Wow. These are good.’
‘I know, right?’ He sighed. ‘We’re moving back in with Dad.’
‘Really?’ She tilted her head to touch his shoulder and he squeezed her hand. ‘So, you’re getting out of rehab?’
‘Just after Christmas. They’re modifying Dad’s house as we speak. I’ve still got a long way to go, but at least I won’t be stuck in the rehab hospital every day.’
‘That’s fantastic. No more Nurse Ratched.’
‘Nope. So, I guess there’s an opening for a sponge-bath-giver-butt-gazer.’ He winked. ‘You know, when you come down.’
Alice hit him again. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of you taking me to the Opera House and the Australian Museum. Far more civilised.’
‘Yes, you can wheel me across the Harbour Bridge and cook me delicious meals from your dodgy student dorm.’
‘You know I can’t cook, right?’
‘I know. It’ll still be nice having you there, though. Someone who sees me, you know, without that thing.’ He pointed to his chair.
‘Is it that bad?’
‘Sometimes. I try to ignore the looks, but it’s hard.’ With effort he turned himself to look at Alice. ‘What’s that in your hair?’ he asked, reaching behind her head, undoing the peach ribbon she’d tied her ponytail back with.
‘I thought it might help, you know, make the dress look better.’ Her cheeks reddened.
‘You are so beautiful without all this nonsense.’ He leaned in and kissed her. Starting softly, sweetly, building till his ferocity forced her to brace herself with her elbows. From somewhere deep inside, a soft moan found its way into Alice’s mouth and she let it escape when Dean’s arm, wrapped around her waist, pulled her closer to him.
Alice felt the strangest tingling between her legs and she pushed forward. Such a peculiar feeling, so rapturous. He slipped his hand beneath her dress, tracing her thigh to her knickers. She moaned again.
Dean fell backward and gasped with pain as his head hit the ground.
‘Oh, God. Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.’ Alice sat up.
‘No.’ Dean shook his head. ‘I am. This isn’t exactly how I imagined our first time.’
‘You’ve imagined it?’
Dean nodded. ‘A hundred times.’
Alice could feel the heat rising over every inch of her skin. She traced a shaking finger across Dean’s chest, undoing his buttons as she went. She had no idea what she was doing, no clue as to where her boldness was coming from. She just knew she needed him to keep wanting her like that.
Dean reached for the backpack on the ground behind him and propped himself up. ‘Are you sure about this, Pond?’
She was nervous, certainly, but she’d never been surer of anything in her life before. ‘Yes,’ she nodded, ‘as long as you . . .’ her cheeks reddened.
‘Come here,’ he said, his voice low.
Alice knelt, her face close to his. He took her head in his hands and pulled her towards him, kissing her gently. His hands moved down her back to her hips and he lifted her on top of him, his arms stronger than she remembered. His hands moved quickly, slowly, gently, firmly over her body. Her undies fell to the dirt below and she unzipped his jeans. She could feel him growing beneath her and she gasped through his kiss. With Dean’s hands cradling her hips, Alice let him push inside her. She gulped.
‘Are you okay?’
She nodded. ‘Is it . . . supposed to hurt? I mean just a little?’
‘I think so. We can stop.’
‘No.’
‘Here.’ He shifted his weight slightly. ‘Is that better?’
As he rocked her backwards and forwards gently, the pain subsided and she felt every hair on her body stand on end.
‘Yes.’ She sighed and raised her eyes to the stars. ‘Yes.’
Beneath the brightening sky they lay, half asleep. Alice’s head rested on Dean’s bare chest and the gentle up and down of his torso as he breathed made her smile.
‘Morning, Pond,’ he said, a slight croak to his voice.
‘Morning.’ She blushed as he kissed her cheek.
She wriggled to the side and looked into his eyes. He brushed the ringlet that always fell across her left eye behind her ear. She wished they could stay like that forever, under their red ironbark with strawberry and white chocolate cupcakes to sustain them.
‘It seems I’ve kept you out all night.’ Dean smiled. ‘Will your dad be worried?’
Alice shook her head. He wouldn’t have even noticed that she hadn’t come home and it was far too early for him to be up yet. ‘What about your mum? She’ll be frantic.’
‘She thinks I’m at Brian’s.’ He shrugged.
‘So, you planned this?’ Alice sat up.
‘No. No way.’
She’d never seen him look so serious.
‘I’m supposed to be at Brian’s. Only reason Mum let me come – because I’d be in the care of Nurse Jenkins. I didn’t plan this, I swear. Believe me, if I had there would have been roses and a horse and carriage. Even a bed perhaps.’ He smiled.
‘Don’t be silly. It was perfect.’ Alice looked into his eyes.
For a moment, they said nothing, just gazed at each other.
‘Shit. Brian will be worried, though.’ Dean pushed himself up on his elbows. ‘Here, help me up.’
It was an awful lot harder getting Dean into the chair than it was getting him out, but they eventually managed with only a bruise or two each.
He sighed, taking Alice’s hand before they left the clearing. ‘I wish we could stay.’
‘Me too. But it won’t be long now and I’ll be down there.’
‘I know. That’s what keeps me going. Knowing we’ll be together. Thinking of all the things we’ll do together.’
At the end of Jenkins Lane they stopped.
‘Here.’ Dean pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. ‘Dad got me a mobile phone. You can call me anytime without the nurses telling me to hang up, and I’ll have it when I get out.’
‘I don’t want to say goodbye.’ Alice fought back tears.
‘Then don’t.’ Dean coughed heavily. ‘It’s only see you later.’ He reached up and pulled her down till her face was touching his. Ever so softly he whispered something as he kissed her before wheeling himself towards the Jenkins house.
The shiver up her spine, the lingering smell of him, the memories of the night they’d just shared so vivid all mixed together with the echo of his fleeting words.
‘I love you.’
*
Alice skipped back through Faraway Forest and blushed when she passed her tree. Their tree. Everything was set. She’d saved enough to get to Sydney, start the life she knew she was meant to be living. She would go to uni and be near Dean and eventually she’d save enough to get her dad the help he needed.
Oh, to be back in Dean’s arms. Images of last night, perfect in her mind, awkward moments already erased.
She opened her front door and was greeted by silence. No snoring from the living room. No radio tuned to the racing channel. Had Bruce not drunk last night? Was he up? This early? Conscious? Was he looking for her? Alice allowed herself to hope. Would they have Christmas this year?
‘Dad?’ she called quietly. ‘You here?’ A little louder.
Room by room she checked. Empty. Hope turned to trepidation.
Kicking off her shoes as she entered her bedroom, she noticed her cupboard door was open. She dropped her bag and rushed to open the drawers. T-shirts and socks were strewn across t
he floor. Her chart had been ripped from inside the wardrobe.
‘No,’ she cried. ‘No, no, no.’
She dug her way to the back of the cupboard. Searching. The feeling of bile rising in her stomach.
Nothing. She spun around and spotted the shoebox tossed into the corner of the room. She slumped to the floor and turned the box upside down. It was gone.
Every last cent of her savings. Every dollar she’d put into her escape fund.
All of it. Gone.
And in its place a note.
‘Sorry, Tadpole. It’s better this way.’
Alice leaned back against her bed, tears falling down her cheeks. She reached up to her bedside table, but the photo of her mum was gone too.
The next morning Alice rang Dean. But he didn’t answer. She tried a few times and when, by lunchtime, he still hadn’t picked up, she began to worry. So she rang Louise. Maybe he was still at the Jenkins’.
‘I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to ring here.’ Louise’s voice was full of venom.
‘What? Why?’
‘Don’t you have any idea how bad it was to keep Dean out all night? His lungs are still recovering from the accident. He’s in hospital, you selfish cow. Pneumonia. All so you could have a bit of fun.’
‘Louise. Stop. What are you talking about?’ Alice’s head was spinning.
‘You’re just lucky you didn’t kill him. Thank God Mum was home when he finally rolled in yesterday. Once he’s stable, they’re flying him back to Sydney.’
‘Lou, I had no idea. We didn’t mean to stay out. I didn’t mean to . . .’
‘Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? The damage is done now. If you really loved him, you wouldn’t have done this to him. I hope you’re happy.’ The line went dead.
Alice didn’t know what to think. She should have known staying out wasn’t good for him. She’d done enough research. But they hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Oh God. What had she done?
Eventually Alice got hold of Dean. He was out of hospital, back at his dad’s, and doing okay. He didn’t blame her for what had happened and said he wouldn’t change that night for anything in the world. But Alice did blame herself. She was silly and thoughtless. Every time he coughed when they spoke, guilt surged through her.
‘It could have ended so differently.’
‘But it didn’t, Pond. I’m fine. Let it go.’
But she couldn’t let it go. She’d almost killed him. Each phone call reminded her of that. Each day she tried to think of a way to make it up to him.
She desperately wanted to talk to him about her dad, but he’d only worry and she didn’t want to be the cause of any more of his stress. She tried to speak to Louise, but she’d already left for Sydney and Mrs Jenkins wasn’t giving out Louise’s new phone number. At least not to her.
Alice was all alone.
Christmas came and went with no word from Bruce. He’d run away like that before, after they buried Sonia. He’d taken all of the money out of the cookie jar Sonia had kept for emergencies and disappeared for five weeks.
Alice hadn’t told anyone, afraid they’d take her away and put her in a home. If anyone asked she’d told them he was too grief-stricken to see people. And they’d believed her. Not because her lies were all that convincing, but because it was easier for them that way. Two years later he disappeared again, for three weeks, and again she told no one.
This time was different, though. He’d never left a note before. Alice sat on the floor of the living room and sobbed. She’d sold the couch, and the dining table, but it still wouldn’t be enough.
All she wanted was for Bruce to walk through their door and she would run into his arms and forgive him. She wanted to fall asleep to the sound of his snoring after she tucked the blanket under his chin. She wanted him to tell her that it was going to be a good day, and she’d believe him and would hold on to hope that things would get better.
All she ever wanted was for her dad to come back to her. But she knew this time he was gone for good.
His destruction of her life was now complete. He’d taken most of her childhood, obliterated her past, and now it seemed he’d ruined her future as well. It had taken her three years to save up that money. Three years. All her hope was pinned on that escape fund, and now that hope was gone.
She stared at the letter of acceptance from the university, her result, 99.2, and the letter from the accommodation college that had arrived the day before, saying she had to pay the deposit in just over two weeks. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she tore the letters from the pinboard above her desk and ripped them into tiny pieces. She could defer for a year, sure, but a year wouldn’t be nearly enough to save that kind of money again.
The phone rang. She’d stopped answering it weeks ago. Dean was asking too many questions about when she was coming down, prying too deeply into every meaning behind every word, clearly sensing something was up. How could she tell him she wasn’t coming? She’d caused him so much pain already. She needed time. Time to figure out what to say to him, to brace herself for his interrogation.
And if it wasn’t Dean on the line it would probably be the estate agent chasing their money. Rent was two weeks overdue. In five years she hadn’t missed a payment. They would know something was up. What would she say to them?
After six sharp trills the phone fell silent and Alice ran down the hall and pulled it out of the wall. She needed time to think her way out of this mess.
She trudged through town to work. Not that there was much point anymore. But she couldn’t just not turn up. She’d never missed a shift, had never even called in sick. If she didn’t show, Mr Williams was likely to turn up on her doorstep and start asking questions.
She had no will left to fight her situation and time had lost all meaning as she went through the motions of her facade – no goal, no plan, no hope. Just exhaustion.
Alice would keep going to work. She would smile through her shifts, sell Sally and Sue apples, ignore Bertie’s boxers, and no one would suspect anything at all. And all the while she would wrack her brain to find a solution.
Alice’s fatigue was starting to overwhelm her. Every day was a slog to try to get through. At the end of a long shift just after New Year’s she took some vitamins off the shop shelf. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been there, but figured they couldn’t hurt. She also picked up a packet of pads. She must be due soon.
Wait. She counted. No. She was past due.
Before Mr Williams returned from the back room, she grabbed a pregnancy test and hid it in her handbag.
‘See you tomorrow, Alice.’ He waved to her as she rushed out the door.
The next morning Alice dragged her feet through the dusty streets of Lawson’s Ridge. Her shift didn’t start till the afternoon, but she couldn’t sit at home with her tumbling thoughts. She had to keep moving. For all her careful planning, she’d come spectacularly unstuck. First her dad, now this.
What was that line she’d read in English? ‘The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men.’
She bypassed Faraway Forest, the scene of the crime, and when she got to the abandoned wool shed at the edge of town she sank to the ground and leaned against the rotting wooden wall. She let out the anger, fear and shock she’d been holding back all night. She cried. She shouted incomprehensible words into the wind. Her plans were in ruins now. Now she was just like every other stupid teenage girl that didn’t get out of this deadbeat town. All alone and pregnant.
As her tears subsided she remembered something her mum once said not long after her diagnosis. ‘Be the architect of your own future.’ Well, she refused to become another cautionary tale. There was nothing she could do about it here. Or in Cutter’s Pass. She’d have to go further than that for a solution.
But the thought of getting rid of it hurt just as much. Confusion clouded her brain. What was she going to do?
Later in the dark of night Alice sat on her bedroom floor, a tiny lamp shining a s
mall bright circle on the postcard sitting on the table in front of her; the pen in her hand poised above the white space waiting for words to flow through her hands. But the pen wouldn’t move. No ideas. No words.
As the clock ticked past ten, rain began to fall. Alice pushed the blank postcard aside and plugged the phone back into the wall. There was no point putting it off. Just like ripping off a Band-Aid. Do it fast. Get it over with. A small white lie. A necessary one.
She wondered if Dean would still be up. He had told her to ring anytime on his fancy new phone. He would understand.
With shaking hands she dialled his number.
‘Pond?’ Dean’s warm voice answered.
‘How did you know it was me?’ Alice fought back tears.
‘I always know when it’s you.’
Alice could hear the smile in his voice.
‘Where have you been? I’ve been ringing and ringing. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.’
The tears started to drip from Alice’s cheeks. ‘I’ve been working a lot,’ she managed to say.
‘What’s wrong?’ Dean asked.
‘I . . .’ Alice couldn’t find the words. ‘I can’t . . . I don’t . . .’
‘What? Talk to me, Pond.’
Alice steeled herself. ‘I can’t come to Sydney.’
‘What? Why?’
How could she tell him the truth? Her drunk of a father had run off with her money and she hadn’t been smart enough to prevent it. She was stranded and broke and embarrassed to admit she’d failed. She was pregnant with his child and she didn’t know what she was going to do. If she told him, he would want her to keep it. And where did that leave her? What about her future? Until she could figure that out, until she knew without doubt what she wanted to do, she had to keep it from him. He didn’t need the stress of all this. A white lie to protect him.
‘I didn’t get in.’
‘What are you talking about? You would have easily got the marks.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘You needed ninety-seven right? What did you get?’
Damn. Alice never was good at lying. ‘No. I . . . um. That’s not what I meant.’
The Kookaburra Creek Café Page 14