Veronica glanced at Apple. ‘Why? Do you still sew?’
‘Does she still sew?’ Arabella said. ‘You should see her stuff, the—’ She stopped when she saw Apple’s expression. ‘Anyway. She knows what she’s doing.’
Veronica eyed Apple, and Apple quickly found her phone and dialled Charlie.
‘I can’t, I can’t accept it,’ she said quietly to the women as his phone rang. His voicemail clicked on and she hesitated, not knowing what to say before hanging up.
‘Voicemail?’
‘Yes.’ Apple started typing a text. Charlie, I loved your note, this gift, but you know it’s too generous. Can you return courier to collect? Thank you. A x
Her gaze returned to the machine. She was already falling in love with it. If the courier came to take it away, she wondered what she’d do, whether she could let him take back this thing that had come at the eleventh hour, this mechanised Fairy Godmother.
‘Far out.’ Jackson was already reading the manual. ‘Says here you can connect it to your computer, program it to sew stuff.’
Apple read over her shoulder, eyes darting, possibilities multiplying.
Her phone beeped and she tentatively opened Charlie’s message.
I got a markdown provided the machine was never returned. Looks like you’re stuck with it, sorry. Would make effective doorstop if can’t find other use, or could use to make that dress for that girl you seem fond of with that important day coming up. But to be clear: can’t be returned.
Apple’s finger hovered, mind ticking as she wondered how to reply. She could feel the others watching her.
Finally, she typed, You’re forgiven. It’s too late anyway. I’m in love with the beast.
Which beast? Me or the machine?
Apple smiled. The one that can sew.
‘Are you keeping it?’ Jackson tossed the manual in the box.
Apple lifted her hands slowly to rest on the machine. ‘I think it’s mine,’ she said, disbelieving.
Apple draped a coat over her shoulders and swung it from side to side to see if it would fall. She wondered how other women managed to keep a coat sitting there without fussing all day.
She hadn’t been on a date since Paul. She’d been with Henri, she’d shared a kiss with Noah, but this was a date – an official outing of a kind she hadn’t volunteered for in a long time.
She wondered if she was supposed to do something special, wear something different, add or subtract, and she toyed inanely with bracelets until she heard knocking.
‘You’re wearing a jacket to dinner at your own house?’ Noah grinned when Apple opened the door, and she tugged the coat from her shoulders and hung it on a hook.
‘I was getting ready for later. The party.’
Noah found the kitchen on his own, dumped grocery bags and leaned against the counter, cracking his knuckles. ‘You left Daylesford without saying goodbye.’
‘I messaged you.’ Apple eyed his ginger stubble and slid her hand to the nape of her neck, remembering his naked body in the spa, his pale, well-built thighs, her fear and confusion.
He was regarding her again now, desire already unrestrained, and Apple wanted to feel it, tried to remember how to embody a person who took what they wanted without fear.
‘You look beautiful, anyway.’ Noah started unpacking containers of food and she watched his shoulders flex under his navy T-shirt.
‘Are you hungry?’ He glanced back and Apple came closer.
‘Have you cooked?’
‘You don’t want food I’ve had a hand in.’ He laughed. ‘Have you tried the Korean from Lighthouse? Best fried chicken.’
Apple smelled spice – his cologne, the food – and settled her hands above his jeans to feel him: tense beneath her.
He didn’t really care about the food. She wondered when to give him what he did want. She reached for a drumstick and felt it oily on her fingers then moist between her teeth.
‘Don’t stand on ceremony,’ Noah said as she wiped her mouth.
She sucked then discarded the bone.
‘Good?’
‘Delicious.’
He tilted her chin up, and she closed her eyes as he kissed her, gentler than she’d expected.
‘That’s fucking good too.’ He kissed her again, harder. Apple was unsure where to put her hands when he scooped her up. She fumbled for his neck as he gripped her arse and thighs and hoisted her up against the wall then onto the old Laminex table.
‘Fuck.’ He breathed heavily, forehead on hers. ‘I’ve been thinking about you.’
Something was poking her back. ‘Ow, my sewing machine . . .’
‘That’s a sewing machine? High-fucking-tech.’ Noah tried to move it.
‘It’s Swiss, from Charlie,’ Apple said affectionately.
Noah hesitated. ‘Charlie?’
Apple shunted it across the table. ‘He caught me lamenting my old one.’
‘Beauchamp gave you a sewing machine? What, are you his wife?’
‘It’s for a project. My sister’s wedding dress.’
Noah stared at the machine then walked back to the kitchen and started eating a drumstick. ‘He’s not allowed to buy you things.’
Apple laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
Noah grunted as his phone rang. ‘Speak of the devil. Hey,’ he answered. ‘Of course we’re coming . . . Yeah . . . I don’t think so . . . I know it . . . I can, I will, yeah.’ He put the phone away.
‘Something wrong?’
‘We have to pick up his sister’s birthday cake.’
Apple leaned against him. ‘That’s fine.’
‘No, it isn’t.’ His hands returned to her body. ‘I want to stay here.’
Apple stood on tiptoes and he pinned her hands to the table, mouth on her ear, throat, chest.
‘When do we have to leave?’ she whispered.
‘Cake place closes at nine,’ he muttered, shifting to glance at the time. ‘Fuck, it’s eight thirty.’
Apple tugged her jacket over her shoulders as she followed Noah down the pavement, glancing up when they heard a voice from the rooftop of the venue.
‘Apple! Noah!’
Charlie’s face was just visible over the balustrade. ‘There, in there!’
‘We know where the door is, mate.’ Noah gave a wave, and once they were inside he said to Apple, ‘Heidi mustn’t be here. Beauchamp sounds like he’s been drinking, something he only does when Heidi’s not around.’
‘Why?’
‘Because when she’s drinking he needs his wits about him.’
Apple thought of the cab ride back to the guesthouse in Daylesford, and felt pity, not surprise.
They walked inside and were met by a security guard at the elevator.
‘The Beauchamp party,’ Noah said, and the guard stepped aside.
Apple gazed at the cake box in Noah’s hand as the elevator rose. ‘Can I see?’
‘I thought you looked in the car?’
‘I was busy keeping it still.’
Apple peered in at the tall cake that read Happy 20th Birthday to our favourite JB.
‘What’s his sister’s name?’
‘Jill,’ Noah said as the doors opened.
The rooftop was expansive, views stretching over the city. Beats reverberated through foliage and jumbo balloons. Charlie looked relaxed as he strode towards them, tan pants slim, tee white, cheeks rosy.
‘Lifesaver.’ He clapped Noah’s shoulder with a sigh. ‘Can’t believe I forgot it. Crazy day.’
‘Where do you want it?’
‘Take it to the bar? They’ll find a place in the fridge.’
Noah walked away and Apple found Charlie smiling at her.
‘I was . . .’ he began. ‘I was glad when Noah said he was bringing you. I was going to ask, then . . .’ He shoved a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t know. Anyway.’ He grinned. ‘You and Noah seem to be getting along.’
‘I really like him,’ she said, and felt stra
ngely like she should qualify that: ‘I like him.’
‘Cucumber and lemongrass caipiroskas.’ Noah returned with a drink and kissed her. Apple touched his cheek then drew back to scan the crowd.
‘Everything looks amazing,’ she told Charlie. ‘Was it a surprise?’
‘For Jill? No. She wanted an event at the house but the parents are away and I have too much on to have to think about supervising a hundred inebriated twenty-year-olds. I chose hired infrastructure.’
‘Smart,’ Noah said.
‘My fave!’ A young woman appeared, hugged Charlie and nuzzled against his chest. ‘I admit I am having fun, C-Bear. It is fun.’
Charlie gazed down at her. ‘You reek of tequila.’
‘Because I’m having fun,’ she said. ‘Oh, C-Bear! Who’s this? She’s pretty.’
Charlie glanced at Apple, his smile proud, and she wondered if he was proud of her or this new girl.
‘Jill, this is my friend Apple. Apple, this is my sister – Jill.’
‘C-Bear’s little sister.’ Jill shook her hand, and Apple realised she was like him – a little drunk, rosy, smiling-eyed. She felt an immediate kind of affection.
‘Happy Birthday, C-Bear’s little sister.’
Another young woman tripped from the crowd to hug Jill. ‘Where’d you go?’ she said, then grinned when she saw Charlie. ‘God, I fucking love this man,’ she slurred, prodding his chest. ‘Why doesn’t my brother throw me parties like this?’
‘You both smell like a Mexican saloon,’ Charlie said. ‘Lay off for half an hour? It’s so early.’
‘I love it when he scolds me.’ The girl stroked Charlie’s arm. ‘If you want us to stop, tell the bartender. It’s your tab, you must want me drunk.’
Jill wrenched her from Charlie’s arm. ‘I’ve told you: anyone but him!’
‘I will tell the bartender,’ Charlie said. ‘And if that doesn’t work, I’ll call your parents.’
‘How old do you think we are?’ The girl tickled him.
Noah turned to Apple. ‘Were you like this at your twentieth?’
When Apple was twenty, she’d found out her lover was a married man and she’d been expelled from Emmaline Gray. She wished things had felt like this, all glitter and booze.
‘Kind of.’
‘I haven’t said hello to you yet!’ Jill was hugging Noah.
‘Happy birthday.’ He steadied her before fishing around in his jacket for a red envelope. ‘It’s hot-air ballooning. Beauchamp said you wanted to go. From Apple and me.’
‘From both of you?’ Jill’s eyes lit up. ‘Are you together?’
‘Yes,’ Noah said.
‘Oh, Noah! I approve!’ She pecked his cheek and hugged Apple before skating away.
‘I’m going to speak to the bartender.’ Charlie strode off.
‘God, he can be a worrier,’ Noah said.
‘You and me are together?’ Apple asked.
‘I’d like it if we were.’ Noah’s smile was coy and Apple kissed him, her hands moving beneath his tee. He waited, watching her before he moved fast and close, pressing her back against a potted shrub.
She pushed back a little and he complained, pressing his warm forehead against hers. ‘We’ve delivered the cake, let’s go.’
‘Noaaah!’
A group of men tumbled from the elevator, greeted Noah loudly and hustled him to the bar.
Apple stood alone, fixing her hair. She glanced around. Noah beckoned but she waved him away, wandered to a corner of the balcony and peered down at the street.
She hadn’t enjoyed the last few days at the house, with Poppy gone. There’d been no official goodbye; her sister’s toiletries simply disappeared when Apple was at work one day. She regretted that it had been so unceremonious, wished they’d marked the ending somehow.
There was chatter and jostling around her, and Apple downed her drink, hoping it might imbue a similar mood.
‘Another?’ Charlie was there, a fresh cocktail in his hand.
‘It’s C-Bear.’ She accepted the drink and he pressed himself against the balustrade and looked over. ‘Charlie, I’ve been wanting . . . I’ve wanted to . . .’ She had to thank him properly for the Bernina, but words seemed inadequate, and she could barely bring herself to acknowledge the magnitude of his generosity . . . his charity. ‘I wanted to say thank you—.’
‘For the doorstop? I hope it’s working out.’
‘I haven’t put it against a door yet. But it can handle a needle and thread.’
Charlie turned to face her. Apple noted his small frown. She wanted to smooth the tiny crease, erase whatever could possibly be concerning him.
Her phone pinged.
‘Shush.’ She fumbled to dig it out.
Can you pick me up en route work in AM? Working late at a bar and can’t face early tram. Jack x
Apple stared, confused. Tomorrow was Sunday.
‘Shit.’ She covered her face.
‘What?’
She gave Charlie back the drink. ‘I have stocktake early tomorrow.’
‘On Sunday? Call in sick!’
‘I would if I were Charlie Beauchamp.’
‘I’ll call in sick for you.’
Apple had sent a reminder email to Jackson and the casual staff earlier in the week, but now she herself had forgotten. Perhaps it was Poppy, the disorientation of being alone in the house.
She pecked Charlie’s cheek. ‘Bye, Charlie.’
Noah was at the bar. She reached out to catch his sleeve. ‘I have to leave.’
His eyes lit up but Apple’s hands pressed his chest, taming.
‘I have to sleep,’ she said. ‘I have a 5 am rise, I just remembered.’
‘We’re certainly not having an early start.’ A friend clinked Noah’s drink.
Apple pecked his mouth. ‘Bye.’
‘You’re sure?’ He gripped her hand and she nodded, waving. Charlie was on the street, helping someone into a cab, when Apple stepped outside.
‘Take her straight to this address,’ he was saying. ‘Nowhere else. Straight there.’
The car pulled away and he stepped back from the kerb, seeing Apple.
‘I’m pretty sure your sister and her friends are grown women, Charlie.’
‘Well, I know, but Jill’s eight years my junior. I’ve known half of these girls since they were kids. This is like watching ten-year-olds having shots at the bar, like me letting them.’
‘They’re not ten.’
He sighed, raising a hand as another cab approached. ‘Are you sure I can’t coax you to stay?’
‘No, thank you, but I enjoyed meeting Jill.’
‘She loved meeting you. Sorry she wasn’t at her best.’
Apple laughed at him as the cab came to a stop and he opened the door. ‘She seemed pretty sweet to me.’
‘Getting less so by the hour.’ Charlie glanced uneasily at the rooftop, then leaned down to tell the driver Apple’s address.
‘You know my address by heart?’
‘Apparently.’ He smiled.
When the cab arrived at her apartment, Apple started rifling through her bag.
‘No, no.’ The driver tapped the console. ‘The man paid.’
Apple stared at the notes on the console, then got out. She dialled Charlie’s number at the front door.
‘Home safe?’
‘Via the cab you paid for.’
‘Did I?’
‘Don’t do that.’ She was glad he couldn’t see her smiling. His generosity made her feel unusually spoiled.
‘It was an accident.’
‘I can take care of myself.’
‘I know. I apologise. Goodnight, Apple.’
She was still smiling as she unlocked the door and walked in the dark to the stairs. She heard a thump. Frankie skittered up from his bed.
Apple continued on, but heard another noise from upstairs. Her heart leaped as Frankie barked, and she scurried under the stairs.
A man’s voic
e murmured, muffled somewhere. Apple held her breath, fumbled for her phone and stabbed the last number she’d dialled. A laugh rang out from upstairs. She bumped her head on the underside of the stairs, then dropped her phone at the same time as a door opened.
‘Apple?’ Poppy’s voice came.
‘Poppy?’
Light shone from above. There were footsteps, then Apple saw Poppy peering down from upstairs. ‘What are you doing under there?’
‘Poppy, you scared the shit out of me. What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Lachie’s having his apartment fumigated. I told you. I said we’d be staying this weekend.’
‘You didn’t remind me.’
‘Sorry, does it matter?’
Apple rubbed her head. ‘I thought I was being burgled.’
‘Who’d burgle you?’
‘I do have a pretty fancy sewing machine.’
Poppy smiled. ‘Since when?’
‘A gift . . . from Charlie.’ Apple climbed the stairs.
‘He bought you a sewing machine?’
‘I thought I wasn’t going to be able to make your dress.’
Poppy glanced anxiously at her but Apple’s expression was reassuring.
‘I can now. Now I can do many things. This is not any old sewing machine.’
Poppy’s grin returned. ‘Can’t wait to see it.’
She’d come to a standstill in the doorway of her old room and Apple liked seeing her there.
‘I’ve missed you.’
‘It’s barely been a week,’ Poppy said. ‘But I’ve missed you, too.’
Apple undressed in her room, and heard Frankie still moving around downstairs. She tugged on her camisole and went into the hall.
‘Shh, Frankie, come up here.’
The front door handle suddenly rattled and her adrenaline spiked, then a familiar voice came from outside: ‘Apple?’
She scampered down the stairs and swung the door open to find Charlie there, and Noah close behind.
‘Christ, Apple.’ Charlie looked pale. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes?’ She felt bewildered.
Charlie slumped against the doorframe. Noah was frowning, arms folded as his gaze flickered over her scant nightwear.
‘What’s wrong?’ she said.
‘Your silent phone call,’ Charlie said. ‘You phoned me about one minute after you’d called to say you were home – I’m still on the call now! I heard a shout, a clunk, silence. I thought something horrible had happened.’
The Rules of Backyard Croquet Page 14