Girl in Between Read online

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If Ruth hadn’t happened to pass by I would have slept with him in an instant, even knowing he’s got a girlfriend. I wanted to. I still want to. But I knew I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t do that to myself—or to Kate. But now he’s under my skin, despite all my good intentions. So he’s got the both of us falling at his feet.’

  ‘But you didn’t fall at his feet.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. But I wanted to. I would have washed those feet. Holy shit!’ I say, standing up as we reach the shallow end. ‘Maybe he’s Jesus.’

  ‘Luce, if he was I’d have had him in the pool turning this whole thing into wine,’ says Rosie with a chuckle. ‘Oscar is fucking far from being Jesus. You know that!’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ I reply.

  ‘Anyway, Jesus is in London, remember?’ she says, raising her eyebrows at me.

  ‘Oh, Rosie, I can’t go to London,’ I say. ‘I’ve got no money.’

  ‘Who’s going to London?’ asks Mum, bobbing up in the adjacent lane.

  ‘Rosie, perhaps,’ I reply.

  ‘Are you, Rosie?’ says Mum.

  ‘Thinking about it,’ she replies. ‘It feels like it could be time for a change.’

  ‘Lucy …’ says Mum sternly, the effect of her frown partially offset by the old-fashioned swimming cap she’s wearing and the goggle marks around her eyes.

  ‘I know, Ma, I know—I’m not going to London,’ I say, exchanging a glance with Rosie before we launch off the wall again.

  ‘Can’t believe Ruth caught you kissing Oscar. Of all people!’

  ‘I know, it’s the worst! She’ll be blabbing to everyone who comes through the carwash.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Far out.’

  ‘What you need is a circuit-breaker,’ says Rosie, ‘and I’ve got just the answer.’

  ‘A thirty-cent cone from Maccas?’ I ask.

  ‘No, but let’s get one after this.’ She pauses. ‘I think they’re fifty cents now,’ she says. ‘Nah, let’s go to Romancing the Rock. I read about it in the paper today. It’s adventure dating and it’s come to Rocky for the first time and I think we should be part of it.’

  ‘Where’s it at?’ I ask quietly, looking around to see if Mum’s within earshot.

  ‘The Whipcrack Hotel, seven o’clock.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll come,’ I reply.

  ‘Shit, that was a lot easier than I thought it would be!’ she says, laughing.

  ‘I want to get out of the house, Rosie. The last thing I need is another night in with Mum and Dad watching Joanna Lumley on the Trans-Siberian bloody Railway or some old bloke nearly losing his shit over the value of a coin collection.’

  Rosie smiles at me, then asks, ‘Good kisser?’

  ‘Perfect,’ I reply.

  ‘What time are we meeting Dad at the vet?’ I call out to Mum, who’s in the change room showers.

  ‘In ten minutes,’ she calls back, and I hear her turning off her taps. ‘Better get a move on!’

  ‘Is something wrong with Glenda?’ asks Rosie, looking concerned.

  ‘I don’t think it’s serious. She had a bad limp in her front left paw last night and winced when I tried to look at it. Dad booked her in to see Henry this morning, and Mum and I are going too.’

  Reassured, Rosie says goodbye and I change into a short cotton dress—an outfit I favour because it can be worn sans bra. After rummaging through my swimming bag for my undies with an increasing sense of panic I search the cubicle. They’re not there. I sigh and walk out of the change room to see Mum standing on the grass. She’s washed and combed her hair and it appears flat and damp. I don’t know why, but seeing my mum with washed and combed hair awakens a certain poignancy in me. Right now, though, I’m less touched and more concerned.

  ‘Ma,’ I say urgently, ‘I’m not wearing any undies.’

  She considers me for a second.

  ‘I must have forgotten them,’ I add.

  ‘Well, what are you going to do about it?’ she asks.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘And we’re due at the vet any minute.’

  ‘Oh, Lucy, you can’t go to the vet with no undies on!’ she says with conviction, as if I’m the one who’ll be on the examination table with a sore paw. ‘Here.’ She hands me her mobile. ‘Ring your father straight away and if he hasn’t left already, ask him to bring your underpants to the vet.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, dialling his number.

  Luckily Dad’s still home and instantly agrees, asking no questions, for which I’m grateful.

  I’m still giggling as I drive Mum’s car to Pets and Vets, amused by the prospect of getting around town without any underwear.

  ‘You would be wearing the shortest dress you own too, wouldn’t you?’ says Mum, indulging me with a chuckle.

  ‘And no bra!’ I add, successfully nailing a parallel park.

  I open the door of Mum’s low-rider Audi, and as I’m flinging my legs to the bitumen I look across and see a council worker on a little dirt devil doing roadworks. His eyeline is literally at crotch level and I gasp as he loses control of his pedals and bunny-hops through the potholes.

  ‘Mum!’ I exclaim. ‘I need to get inside!’

  I push open the glass door and rejoice to see Dad in the waiting room.

  ‘Here you go,’ he says, taking my undies out of his pocket and throwing them at me.

  I catch them in one hand and slip into the bathroom to put them on, still laughing to myself. You’re thirty-two, Lucy! I think.

  ‘What do you reckon she’s got in that box?’ Dad asks Mum, looking at a woman who’s just walked in. ‘A cat,’ he says. ‘I bet it’s a cat.’

  Mum glances at the cardboard box the woman’s struggling with.

  ‘No, I think she’s got a whole litter in there, Brian.’

  They both turn as the door opens again and a man enters carrying a foxy chihuahua.

  ‘What do you think’s wrong with that dog, Denise?’ asks Dad. ‘Sore paw, like Glenda?’

  ‘No, I think it’s got something wrong with its ear, Brian,’ replies Mum. ‘See how it keeps flicking its head?’

  ‘Ha!’ exclaims Dad as a young woman who’d been sitting with her back to us stands up and walks towards the reception desk, nursing a sedate bundle wrapped in a chequered tea towel. ‘No prizes for guessing what that is!’

  ‘Yes, she’s definitely got a rooster there, hasn’t she?’

  I look at them in wonder. Who knew you could be so easily occupied sitting in the waiting room of the vet clinic? I know where to take them in future for a morning out!

  Henry walks into the reception area from his surgery talking to an elderly man with a parrot on his shoulder. I’m relieved Glenda’s name is called out before Mum and Dad can diagnose the parrot.

  Dad and Henry embrace heartily over the examination table.

  ‘So, are you still keen for Kakadu?’ asks Dad enthusiastically.

  Henry glances at Mum.

  ‘Oh, Denise knows everything now,’ says Dad.

  ‘Does she?’ asks Henry, wide-eyed.

  ‘Well, I don’t know anything about Kakadu,’ says Mum sharply, glaring at Dad.

  ‘I thought I’d mentioned it,’ he replies casually. ‘The Darwin Men’s Shed have invited us Rocky blokes up for ten days or so of fishing around Kakadu.’

  Henry looks at Mum again and says, ‘Don’t breathe a word of it to Maureen. I’ve still got a month to break news of the Men’s Shed to her.’

  ‘I won’t, Henry,’ says Mum quietly, moving across to Glenda. ‘So, what’s going on with this kelpie of ours, do you think?’

  Mum and I drive home in silence. I sense it’s best I keep quiet. She’s upset, and it’s not over Glenda’s mild paw strain, for which Henry prescribed a juicy bone and a few days’ rest.

  I give Mum a hug and put the kettle on, then head to my room and sit at the computer to check my email. There’s only LinkedIn notifications and Jetstar fare frenzy alerts, and I hear the kettle w
histle, breaking the unbearable silence in the house. If I didn’t think it was highly inappropriate, I’d set off Roomba.

  I make Mum a cup of Complete Calm tea, which Rosie claims is just chamomile mixed with lemongrass, and she accepts it wordlessly, staring into space from her chair at the kitchen table.

  I return to the computer, and type Cher’s top 30 quotes into Google.

  I re-enter the kitchen. ‘Ma,’ I tell her, desperate to dispel the heavy cloud of sadness, ‘in a situation like this, Cher would say, “Men should be like Kleenex—soft, strong and disposable!”’

  Mum begins to cry gently, breaking my heart. There is nothing worse than seeing your mum or dad cry, particularly when you don’t know how to help them.

  ‘No she wouldn’t,’ she says as I walk towards her. Her face is streaked with tears. ‘Cher would say, “Husbands are like fires—they go out when they’re left unattended.”’

  ‘You know this is going to be a sea of high-vis and Broncos jerseys,’ I say to Rosie as we step into the Whipcrack Hotel just on seven o’clock.

  ‘Don’t be so judgemental, Lucy,’ she replies. ‘You go for the Broncos and you’re a bogan at heart.’ She steers us towards a group of people huddled in a corner of the beer garden.

  ‘Mmm,’ I reply, then suddenly stop in my tracks and grab her arm. ‘Ben’s over there!’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ she says casually. ‘I invited him.’

  ‘Why?’ I ask, incredulous.

  ‘Because he’s a fun guy and I ran into him at the IGA this afternoon.’

  I feel like turning around and leaving but he’s already waving at us.

  ‘Good evening, ladies and gents,’ says Colleen from the bottle-o, Video Ezy and Bits ’n’ Pizzas. ‘I’m Colleen, your host for tonight’s—’ she holds up a piece of paper and with great solemnity reads ‘—Romancing the Rock adventure dating event.

  ‘So, if you all take out your mobiles, you’ll see that a message and a photo of your first date for tonight has just come through. You have to find each other in the pub—that’s the adventure part. Then you’ll have ten minutes to—’ she raises her fingers to signify air quotes ‘—“get to know each other”, after which you’ll receive another message telling you to move on to your next date and a picture of who it is. Clear as mud?’

  We all nod at her nervously.

  ‘Alright,’ she says, picking up her handbag, ‘if you need me, I’ll be at the pokies.’

  I look at the picture on my phone. It’s my cousin Dave and he’s standing right beside me. We decide to catch up over a steak. Just after I order, take a seat and happily accept a Guinness from Dave, my phone pings with date number two.

  It’s sixty-three-year-old Brad McMaster, who used to be Dad’s paper boy and did odd jobs for Mum at All About Town. He’s delighted to see me and accepts my invitation to join Dave and me at our table for tea.

  Brad, perhaps believing I still drink UDLs, buys me three and tells jolly stories of picking me up from school when I was a teenager and dropping me home. His tales are hardly scintillating yet we all roar with laughter, attracting the attention of Rosie, who appears to be on a date with the newly separated Todd Doherty. Given his intricate knowledge of my financial position, Todd will definitely not be wanting to pursue me.

  ‘Hello, Todd,’ I say, standing up as he wanders over. ‘How are you going?’

  ‘Good, Luce. Gee, I didn’t think I’d see you here,’ he says with a sheepish grin.

  ‘Me either,’ I reply. ‘I didn’t think I’d see myself or you here.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says, scuffing at the cement floor. ‘Cherie and I split up, so …’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I reply, feigning surprise, even though half of Rocky knows his wife’s been cheating on him with Doug Albright from Carpets Galore. ‘Well, look, do you and Rosie want to join us for a bite?’

  ‘Oh, I’d love that,’ he says quickly. ‘If it’s okay with you, Rosie?’

  We look over to see she’s already sitting down, eating garlic bread.

  ‘What can I get you girls to drink?’ asks Todd, gesturing towards the bar.

  ‘Two rum and Cokes!’ calls Rosie. ‘Holy Moses, Luce!’ she adds, eyeing the collection of cans I’ve accumulated. ‘You’ve got about fifteen bevvies on the go there.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, finishing off a UDL and pushing two across to her. ‘It can be darn thirsty work, this adventure dating.’

  I’m feeling in quite good spirits when I look over my left shoulder and spot Ben on a date with a latecomer … Ruth.

  Rosie follows my gaze. ‘You’re not the centre of the fucking universe, Luce,’ she whispers. ‘They’re going to be talking about other things besides you. Just enjoy yourself.’

  She’s right, and when my phone buzzes with a picture of my third date for the evening I’m thrilled to see that it’s someone I don’t know.

  I find Shaun standing by an enormous vase of flowers in the hotel foyer. He is drop-dead gorgeous, with sandy-coloured hair, a strong, dependable jawline and misty green eyes.

  I think he finds me attractive too, because he stares and stares as I approach.

  ‘Lucy?’ he exclaims.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, holding up a picture of myself on my phone. ‘Yes, it’s me.’

  ‘Lucy Crighton?’

  I nod modestly. Clearly, he recognises me from The Headline Act.

  ‘Shit!’ he exclaims, lifting me from the floor in a bear hug. ‘Gee, it’s good to see ya!’

  Bewildered, I return his embrace.

  ‘Oh fuck, pardon me. Sorry, Luce, sometimes I forget! You might remember me as Shauna Jasperson?’

  ‘Shauna?’ I say in disbelief. ‘Shauna Jasperson! We used to sit next to each other in grade—’

  ‘Three,’ he says tenderly. ‘Oh, look at you, you stunning woman! Why isn’t there a ring on that finger? And what are you doing in this hellhole?’

  ‘It’s a long story, Shauna—sorry, Shaun. Do you want to come back into the beer garden? There’s a bit of a crew there, we’re having dinner.’

  ‘Thank you, sweetheart, but I’m bailing,’ he says, patting me on the shoulder. ‘I didn’t expect much of the whole show, but for crying out loud …’ He gestures behind me and I turn to see Ruth shaking a vending machine, successfully dislodging a packet of barbecue-flavoured Samboys.

  I shrug my shoulders. ‘The steaks aren’t bad.’

  By nine o’clock the cover band is playing the best of the eighties and nineties, and Romancing the Rock is winding down.

  After Brad McMaster gropes my arse in a fond farewell, I return to my chair and clink glasses with Rosie, Ben and my by-now-fairly-inebriated cousin, Dave.

  ‘Here’s to the remaining adventure daters!’ cries Ben jovially as we take a sip of our UDLs, a parting gift from Brad. ‘What a night, hey?’ he continues, looking around and slapping his thigh to ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’.

  ‘This cover band has been playing the same covers here since we were twenty-one, Luce!’ says Dave, laughing.

  ‘I know, Dave,’ I reply, grinning across at him.

  ‘Shame Oscar isn’t in town!’ shouts Ben to me. ‘He’d love this pub!’

  ‘Yeah!’ I yell back, feeling rather tipsy. ‘We’ll have to bring him one night!’

  The lead singer in the cover band announces they’re going to take a short break and Dave wanders off in search of food.

  Ben drains the last of his UDL and places the can on the table. ‘There’s a party in my mouth and everyone’s invited!’

  Rosie starts laughing and I look at him quizzically.

  ‘As Christine Anu says, “Why don’t you come join my party?”’ he says, opening his palm to reveal two tiny white tablets.

  ‘Ben!’ I exclaim, staring at his hand. ‘We can’t be taking ecstasy on a Thursday night at the Whipcrack! Who are we going to party with? Those old guys over there playing Keno?’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Ben smiles. ‘All I can say is I dropped one
twenty minutes ago and this night is now fan-fucking-tastic!’

  ‘I’m in,’ says Rosie, taking one of the pills and swallowing it before I’ve had time to blink. ‘It’s either hanging out with us or your cousin,’ she adds, nodding over my right shoulder at Dave, who’s walking towards us with a kebab and a can of Jack Daniel’s.

  As the cover band step back on stage, I swallow the pill.

  ‘Yes!’ shouts Ben, fist pumping as the guitarist strums the first chords of ‘Run to Paradise’.

  ‘Come on!’ he says, taking Rosie and me by the hands and leading us onto the dance floor.

  The band work through their catalogue of Paul Kelly, Cold Chisel and Crowded House, and by the time they reach Hunters and Collectors we’re having the time of our lives. When, forty minutes later, they launch into ‘The Horses’ by Daryl Braithwaite, we’re ecstatic.

  ‘How fucking lucky are we?!’ shouts Rosie, jumping up and down to the chorus. ‘Look at us! We’re dancing in this glorious pub, in the best town on earth, to a fucking brilliant cover band playing “The Horses”! Woohoo!’ She lifts up her top and flashes the appreciative lead singer before running off to the bathroom.

  At the song’s conclusion, ‘Copperhead Road’ starts, but Ben and I are buggered. We leave the dance floor and slide into a booth opposite each other.

  ‘Lucy,’ he gushes, ‘the bull statues around town here are just fantastic.’

  ‘I know!’ I say with feeling. ‘So much love and care has gone into those statues.’

  ‘And the people in Rockhampton are great,’ he continues. ‘I have not met a bad person since I’ve been here.’

  ‘And you won’t, Ben, I can guarantee you won’t meet a bad person here.’ I look across to the dance floor fondly. ‘Only good people live here. Even Ruth’s got a certain charm.’

  ‘I just kissed the lovely Pat,’ says Rosie, coming over to us and leaning on the table.

  ‘Oh, which one’s he?’ I ask.

  ‘She’s the delightful redhead playing the pokies,’ she replies.

  ‘That’s fabulous, Rosie,’ I say, smiling up at her generously. ‘Good for you, my good-looking friend.’