Famous (42 page)

‘I’ve just come back to collect a few things,’ she replied, deliberately glancing across at Ethan.

I’d never seen Ethan look uncomfortable before, but that’s exactly how he looked at that moment.

It appeared Josie was one of those people who didn’t feel the need to reciprocate with her own questions and I got the feeling she wasn’t all that keen to chat to me. It was glaringly evident she hadn’t exactly taken a shine to me, although I’d no idea why, or what I’d done to deserve it.

Perhaps she was jealous of the fact that Ethan and I had become friends? I thought to myself. But why? What was there to be jealous of? Whatever the reason, it was a shame she couldn’t be a bit friendlier, I thought. This town was far too small for enemies.

However there were enough other conversations and laughs to join in on, so her icy reception didn’t bother me. It was wonderful having Mands and Lizzie here again, and my parents too, I thought, looking around. And it was great to see how well everyone got on together. My old friends and my new friends. As completely different as Mum and Elsie were, they were even chatting away like old pals.

And I was pleasantly surprised by how well behaved my mother was being. It appeared she was able keep a lid on her opinions after all, when the need arose. And Dad, well he was already swapping recipes with Elsie like there was no tomorrow.

The next morning, with foggy heads in tow, Mands, Lizzie, Abbie and I went for a bush walk, with Mands managing to find the only cow pat en route to stand in.

‘Unbloodybelievable!’ she exclaimed, wiping her shoe on the grass. At least she had learned her lesson and was wearing gym shoes this time, the Prada trainers nowhere to be seen.

That afternoon, all too soon, the girls and my parents headed back home. The cabin felt eerily silent that night, as it had the last time Mands and Lizzie had left. I missed them already. They were like a friendly tornado that left an unfillable gap in its wake. Thankfully the silence was interrupted by a phone call from Ethan.

‘What are you doing tomorrow night?’ he asked.

‘No plans,’ I replied.

‘How about you come around for dinner then?’

‘Sure,’ I replied. ‘I’d love to.’

I wondered if I was going to be the only one there for dinner, or if Josie would be inviting herself along too.

‘If I’m not at the cottage I’ll be up at the main house,’ he said. ‘Come and find me there.’

The next night I arrived and Ethan wasn’t at the cottage, so I walked up to the main house. It was a beautiful walk, the driveway framed by rose bushes and sweeping green trees.

Ethan’s father answered the door.

‘Hello there. He’s just out in the front paddock. One of the heifers is having a bit of trouble birthing.’

One of the what?

‘Why don’t you go and find him? You can borrow some gumboots if you like,’ he said, glancing at my pink loafers. ‘Bit muddy out there.’

With a pair of enormous old black gumboots on my feet I traipsed out across the paddock in search of Ethan. I quickly spotted him kneeling down beside what appeared to be, on closer inspection, a very large cow. Which appeared to be, on even closer inspection, in the process of giving birth.

‘Just in time Sam!’ he called out. ‘Come and give us a hand!’

I looked down at the muddy grass, and then I looked down at my clean blue jeans. And then I thought fuck it and knelt down beside him anyway.

‘Put these on,’ instructed Ethan, handing me a pair of surgical gloves. ‘And then put your hands up here.’

I looked at him and waited for him to say, ‘Ah! Just joshin’ with ya.’ But he didn’t.

‘Go on,’ he urged.

And so I did.

And that is how I found myself crouching on my knees in a field of muddy grass, eye-level with the fanny of a very large cow, my arms stuck up to their pits in it, covered in god-only-knew-what, attempting to grasp the legs of her very-nearly-about-to-be-born calf.

‘Here she comes, Sam!’ cried Ethan, as the cow let out one final long groan. ‘Pull!’

And pull I did. And then I pulled some more. I pulled until, with one final gigantic squelching sound, I was left cradling a tiny, brown slippery calf in my bloody arms.

‘Great job, Sam!’ said Ethan, putting his arm around my shoulders and grinning. ‘You’re a pro.’

Still hugging the tiny calf in my arms, I grinned back.

14

With the help of three members of the national cricket team testing positive for cocaine while playing against the West Indies, and one of them waking up naked beside two models-cum-strippers (neither one his wife), the media furor surrounding Alistair and I appeared to have all but ground to a halt. Finally! Almost five months after we had first slept together. It was rather ironic that sport had got me into this whole mess, and now it was about to get me out of it. Perhaps I would have to start watching it? I thought to myself. Or perhaps some things would never change.

There were no more phone calls to my work (according to Izzy). No more journalists pressuring Mands, Lizzie, my parents or my sisters to spill the beans as to my whereabouts. No more paparazzi camped outside my apartment. And no more pictures of, or stories about, either me and Alistair, or Tiny Tits. It appeared they had even had enough of her. The frenzy had finally abated and it looked as though I might finally be getting my old life back. At last!

Mands and Lizzy were both confident it was now safe for me to return to the city, as were my family. Although they all recommended I keep the red hair and a low profile, at least for a while. I felt confident too. Ready to return to my old life. I had been living in Floodgate for just over three months. And what a three months it had been. I had learned how to cook and bake a cake. I could fix a leaky roof, light a fire, and confront wild animals. I had a newfound appreciation for tea and date scones. And I had even delivered a baby calf.

Now that it was safe to return home there was nothing to keep me in Floodgate. So, I planned my departure for three days’ time, which would give me enough time to pack up my belongings and to say goodbye to my new friends.

That morning in the café I told Elsie of my plans. She immediately grabbed me by both arms and shouted, ‘Oh no, luvie!’ before sighing and saying, ‘Ah well, I knew the time would come. A rolling stone gathers no moss after all.’

When I got back to the cabin I phoned Ethan.

‘What are you doing for your last night?’ he asked.

‘No plans,’ I replied.

‘How about I cook you dinner then?’ he suggested.

‘Fabulous,’ I replied. That sounded like a great idea to me.

Over the next few days I chipped away at some work, including letting my clients and a very elated Gareth know I was returning to the office.

‘Well thank Christ for that!’ he cried, sounding more than relieved.

But mostly I spent time packing up all of my things. It was amazing how far I had spread my possessions and how they had become as one with the tiny cabin. I also cleaned the cabin. I don’t know why I bothered, seeing that it wasn’t exactly clean when I arrived and it would more than likely be vacant for the next twenty years or so. But I did anyway. Then I went round to Ethan’s house for my last dinner in this tiny town.

He opened the front door wearing a blue apron with pink flowers on the front.

‘You didn’t tell me it was dress-up,’ I said, walking in.

‘Oh, this is nothing,’ he smiled. ‘You should see what I wear to bed.’

I walked into the living room to find Elsie, Bob, Mack, Abbie and Ethan’s dad sitting on the sofas.

‘Surprise!’ cried Elsie, standing up and giving me a huge hug, which was closely followed by everyone else. ‘We’re crashing your goodbye dinner!’

I stood there, grinning inanely and suddenly speechless. I was pleased to note that Josie wasn’t crashing my goodbye dinner too, although perhaps she hadn’t been invited.

‘Somebody get the girl a drink!’ cried Abbie, placing a glass of wine into my hand.

‘The squeaky wheel gets the grease,’ said Elsie. I think she wanted me to say something.

‘This is great,’ I said, smiling at Ethan. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he replied. ‘You didn’t think this lot were going to let you go without a proper send-off did you?’

It was a wonderful dinner, the best I could ever remember having. And the only surprise dinner ever thrown in my honour. We laughed, talked, told jokes, drank lovely wine and ate delicious food. We had whole baked trout (for old times’ sake), eye fillet, new potatoes, chargrilled vegetables and a green salad. All cooked by Ethan.

As we finished dessert the time came to say goodbye.

‘Don’t worry,’ I said to Elsie, who looked as though she was about to cry. ‘I’ll come and see you in the morning. I’m not leaving this place without a date scone.’

I hugged them all. Abbie, Mack, Bob and Ethan’s dad. These people who had become my friends. They all wished me well and told me I had to come back and visit them. I told them all how wonderful it was to meet them and of course I would come back. And I meant it, every word.

I gave Ethan a hand with the dishes and then we sat back down at the table with a glass of port each, just him and me. He asked me questions. Was I excited to be going back? Yes, I was. Would I be going straight back to work? Yes. I bet Mands and Lizzie are looking forward to having me back? So they keep telling me. He was polite, he was funny, he was the same old Ethan. I asked him all about his vet rounds, how his dad’s farm was doing, and when was he going to start taking photos again. Soon, he promised, soon. It was like any number of the conversations we’d had over the past few months. Interesting, flowing, and without any awkward silences. But there was something slightly different too, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

‘I suppose I’d better hit the road and finish packing,’ I sighed. It was getting late.

Ethan convinced me to stay for another small glass of port before I made a final move to go, and he walked me out to my car. We kissed each other on the cheek and then we hugged each other tight. And then we both stepped back. And then, just for a second, a strange vision flashed before my eyes. A vision of What Could Be. A vision of a life I could have, if I stayed here, in this town. But as quickly as it appeared it was gone again.

‘Bye Sam,’ said Ethan, smiling at me. ‘I’m really going to miss you.’

‘Me too,’ I said. ‘Promise you’ll come and see me.’

‘Of course,’ he said. I hoped he meant it.

That night I went to bed in the little wooden cabin for the last time, soothed to sleep by the sounds of silence. I thought back to my first night, with the pillow over my head, and smiled to myself. It seemed like so long ago.

The next morning I woke early to the familiar and beautiful sound of tui’s outside my bedroom window, loaded my little car to the hilt and locked up the cabin, standing outside and looking at it for the last time. Instead of looking at it in horror, as I had on that first day, I looked at it with fondness. As old and tiny and rundown as it was, I was actually going to miss it. It had been my home for these past few months.

I hopped into my car and drove off down the dirt driveway. But I had one last stop to make before I left this town. A morning tea stop. I sat at my table by the window with my pot of tea and date scone, and Elsie sat with me. We ate our morning tea slowly and together, as they tended to do in this town. There was no need to hurry. As Elsie was prone to say: God did not create hurry. Elsie cleared away the plates and I stood in the café, looking around at the red-checked tablecloths, the plastic chairs, and the white lace curtains for the last time. At least for a while.