Pictures of Lily (13 page)

‘Come on, I’ll drive.’

‘Did you drink that beer?’

‘Downed it in one.’ Pause. ‘I’m joking!’

‘This is no laughing matter.’ Again, people turn to stare.

‘Come on,’ he urges quietly. ‘Everyone will think you’re my bird and we’re having a bust-up.’

‘Fat bloody chance of that!’ But I allow him to manoeuvre me around the corner to the car park.

I sit in silence for most of the journey home, still furious. Finally I decide I’m not ready to let it go. I know I’ve been in the car with him when he’s drunk a hell of a lot more than one beer, but suddenly I’ve had it up to my eyeballs.

‘Seriously, did you drink any of it?’

‘Any of what?’ he asks in frustration.

‘That beer!’

‘Are you
still
going on about that?’

‘Did you?’

‘I had a couple of swigs – so what? I’m not going to let a good beer go to waste.’

‘I don’t know why I ever got into a car with you,’ I say darkly as we exit Crafers and pass a koala warning sign. ‘You’re clearly not bothered about who or what you kill.’

‘Hey . . .’ he cautions.

‘Seriously, haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to run over a child?’

‘Shut up!’ he says nastily.

‘You’d never forget it. You’d never get over it. It would ruin your life. All because you had one beer too many that impaired your reflexes.’

‘I’m not kidding, Lily. Shut. Up.’ We pull up outside his house.

‘What do you think your mum would say?’ My voice is deadly quiet, and he’s too shocked at the mention of her name to speak. ‘Do you think she’d be sad? Disappointed?’

‘That’s enough.’

‘Do you think she’d be proud of her son?’

‘GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CAR!’ he suddenly bellows, roughly reaching across me to open my door. He pushes me out and I go with the motion, stumbling onto the pavement.

‘Josh!’ I cry out.

But he’s already crashed the door shut in my face. He then revs the engine hard and noisily screeches away from the kerb. I stare after him in horror. What have I done? Please don’t let him kill himself! But as suddenly as he started, he stops again, slamming on the brakes so they glow red in the darkness. I run after him and open the door. I can’t believe my eyes when I see him sobbing his heart out over the steering wheel. I quickly climb in and shut the door, reaching over to rub his back. He shrugs me off, but only half-heartedly, so I continue to stroke him soothingly.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I’m really so, so sorry.’

He cries harder. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a boy cry before. Dan had a tear in his eye when I dragged him to see
Cruel Intentions
last summer, but that’s hardly the same thing. I have no idea what to do in this situation.

‘I’m sorry I said those things,’ I try, when his sobs begin to quieten. ‘I should have kept my mouth shut.’

He shakes his head tearfully. ‘No, it’s okay. She would have hated it.’

‘Why do you do it, then?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Hasn’t Michael told you to stop?’

‘He’s too caught up in your mum to notice what I get up to.’

‘That’s not true. He loves you. He adores you. Anyone can see that.’

Josh doesn’t answer. He knows deep down that it’s true.

‘You can be careful from now on,’ I say. ‘You’ll never have to live with a terrible mistake.’

‘Or not live.’ He manages a weak smile.

‘Your dad would be devastated if he lost you, too. He’d never recover.’

Josh nods sadly. ‘I know.’

‘So. Taxis from now on?’ I smile at him hopefully and he offers me a weak one back.

‘Guess so.’

‘She
would
be proud of you.’

‘Don’t say that,’ he warns. ‘I’ll start crying again.’ And right on cue his eyes fill with tears. He brushes them away angrily. ‘Don’t you ever tell Shane I did this.’

I laugh with indignation. ‘As if I would!’

‘Not even when you’re snuggled up in bed with him.’

I lift my hand to whack him on the back with it, but he laughs and puts the car into gear. ‘Joke. I’ll tell him you’re off-limits,’ he says as he does a swift U-turn and drives along to pull up outside the house.

I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘That’d be good. I don’t need any more complications in my life right now.’

He exhales dramatically and gives me a teasing grin. ‘Even
I’m
not going to be able to get you in the sack after you’ve seen me crying like a baby.’

‘You wouldn’t have been able to get me into the sack anyway, darling,’ I say silkily. ‘You’re not my type.’

We both laugh and climb out of the car, peace restored.

‘You looked like you were about to give in,’ he replies crossly, referring to the no-drinking argument I had with Josh at dinner last night.

‘I wasn’t,’ I state with force, and tell my inner self to shut up. He doesn’t need to know what went on after he left.

‘Good,’ is all he says before stalking out of the hospital room.

I don’t see him again that morning because he’s covering for one of Michael’s colleagues on the dingoes and Tasmanian Devils. At lunchtime I wander down the slope past the café, trying not to think about how many lunchbreaks Ben must have spent getting to know Charlotte when she worked there. I sit alone on the grass and stare up at the big old gum with its grated tree bark. I’m strangely unsurprised when Ben sits on the grass beside me. He doesn’t look at me, preferring instead to gaze ahead at the tree trunk while I study his profile. His jaw is clenched.

‘I don’t know why I feel . . . so protective of you,’ he muses after a while.

I pick up a dead leaf and crackle it between my fingers, waiting for him to speak.

‘I hate the idea of Josh taking advantage of you.’

‘Are you referring to his drink-driving or something else?’ I ask. He doesn’t answer. ‘I’m not interested in him,’ I say. ‘For the record. Although why it should bother you if I were is beyond me,’ I add, glancing at him.

He steadfastly avoids my eyes. I sigh and lean back on my elbows, crossing my legs in front of me. He lays his head back on the grass and closes his eyes.

‘I’ll have to give you another driving lesson before I go.’

‘That’d be good.’ I take this opportunity to stare uninterrupted at his profile. It’s so hot that a few strands of his hair are sticking to his forehead. I want to push them off his face.

‘Tonight?’ he murmurs.

‘Great. I’d like to go home and change first though.’

He smiles, his eyes still closed. ‘Still hate our shorts?’

‘They look alright on you,’ I find myself saying. He opens his eyes and turns his head, a sleepy grin on his face as he squints up at me. My heart flips.

‘Have you been to the beach yet?’ he asks out of the blue.

‘No. That’s terrible, isn’t it? I’ve been in Australia for a month and haven’t even managed to get to the seaside.’

‘It’s because you can’t drive.’

‘And because I don’t have any friends to go with.’

‘I’m your friend.’

‘Yep, and you’re buggering off to England. Thanks for that.’ I try to sound glib and think I succeed.

‘I’ll take you tonight,’ he says, closing his eyes again and turning his face up to the blue sky amid the gum leaves.

He arrives at Michael’s house at six o’clock and soon we’re heading down the winding road towards the city. My driving is definitely improving. I think these bends would have scared me a week ago. A jagged quarry juts out of the landscape, revealing naked stone instead of leafy tree cover. Chicken wire holds back the hills to stop stones from falling onto the road, but there’s mesh over parts of the central concrete barrier, too.

‘What’s that for?’ I ask.

‘Koalas. So they can get across,’ Ben replies.

‘Oh, of course.’ Pause. ‘Do they have koalas at London Zoo?’

‘No,’ he replies bluntly.

‘Kiss Me’ by Sixpence None the Richer comes on the radio. I turn up the volume.

‘How old is your girlfriend?’ I ask suddenly. ‘I mean fiancée,’ I correct myself.

He stares out of the window, saying, ‘I hate that word.’

‘What word – fiancée?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why?’

‘It sounds so . . . I don’t know – old.’

‘Yet here you are, getting married.’

He sighs. ‘Scary.’

‘So how old is she?’

‘Twenty-three.’

‘Only twenty-three?’ I’m surprised. She’s not
that
much older than me! ‘What’s her name?’

He looks confused. ‘Charlotte.’

‘No, I mean her full name.’

‘Oh. Charlotte Turner.’

‘Does she really look like Kate Winslet?’

‘Hey?
No
.’ He brushes me off.

‘What colour is her hair?’

‘Er, brown. Or sort of dark-blonde.’

‘Curly?’

‘A bit. Come on now, eyes on the road, missy.’ He points ahead and turns the volume down on the stereo. ‘You need to concentrate.’

The sun is on its certain descent towards the horizon as we approach Henley Beach. Ben directs me into the car park, asking as he does so, ‘Do you want some fish and chips?’

‘Er, sure.’

‘I’ll get them,’ he tells me as I climb out of the car. ‘Meet you on the beach by the jetty.’

‘Do you want some money?’

He waves me away. ‘Of course not.’

I smile after him as he walks across the grass in the direction of some cafés, bars and restaurants. Ahead of me there’s a long wooden jetty stretching out over the pale-blue stillness of the water. I head down the steps to the beach and take off my shoes. The soft white sand is cool between my toes, having lost its heat from the sun an hour ago. I sit down and stare out at the ocean. It’s beautiful here. Ben joins me after a few minutes.

‘Here you go.’

‘Thanks.’ I take my bundle and unwrap it. The battered fish pieces are long and thin, unlike the cod I’d have back home. ‘What sort of fish is this?’

‘Whiting,’ he replies.

‘Aha!’ He smirks. ‘You never did take me fishing,’ I point out.

‘I haven’t gone yet,’ he replies. ‘When do you want to go fishing?’

‘When are you next going?’

‘We could go Sunday, if you’re not at work?’

‘I’m supposed to be, but I’ll see if I can change my day off.’

‘It’s an early start.’

‘How early?’

‘We’d have to set off from the hills at four-thirty.’

‘Are you taking the piss?’

He chuckles. ‘Afraid not.’

‘Why so early? Are they vampire fish or something? Do they only come out at night?’

He glances at me sideways. ‘Want to give it a miss?’

‘No way. You promised.’

‘Okay, that’s that settled then.’

We sit and eat in silence for a while, staring out at the sky as it turns from yellowy-blue to pinky-orange. A couple of sunset stragglers wander past us towards the steps, their feet kicking up sand as they go. Ben screws up our empty fish and chip paper into a bundle. A cool breeze blows across us and I shiver. Ben takes off his light-blue long-sleeved shirt and hands it to me. He’s wearing a grey T-shirt underneath.

‘Thanks,’ I reply, accepting it gratefully. I slip it on, breathing in the scent of his musky deodorant. He doesn’t wear aftershave. I glance down at his tanned, toned arms and absentmindedly edge closer to him.

‘I hope you’re not cold now.’ I resist the urge to run my hand over his bicep.

‘I’m alright.’ He stares ahead at the ocean.

‘Hey, you haven’t seen any of my photos for a while.’

‘Do you have any on you?’ He looks at me with interest.

‘As a matter of fact, I do.’ I packed them all into my bag earlier. I’ve been meaning to show them to him for ages.

He slowly makes his way through the pack, commenting just like he did the first time. We come to the photo he took of me by the lily pond, way back in the beginning, before I fell for him.

He chuckles. ‘I like this one.’

‘It’s okay,’ I concede. My hair has fallen across my shoulders quite nicely and there’s a slight smile on my face as I reluctantly pose for the camera.

‘These are so good, Lily,’ he says seriously. ‘I really think you have a talent.’ I wriggle with embarrassment. ‘I do,’ he says fervently. ‘I hope you do something with it.’

‘Maybe I will,’ I reply.

‘Promise me you’ll keep up with the photography. And don’t forget your passion for animals, either. It’s not too late to train to be a vet, or even a keeper, if that’s what you want to do.’

I smile, warmth filling me up. ‘Maybe I’ll be a wildlife photographer.’ I flash him a cheeky grin.

He laughs. ‘That’d work!’

‘So which is your favourite?’ I nod down at the pack.

He shuffles through it. ‘I do like this.’ He shows me one of the giant gum with its grated tree bark. ‘But this is my favourite.’ It’s the photo of me by the lily pond.

‘
You
took that one!’ I exclaim with mock outrage.

‘Does that mean it’s mine to keep?’ he asks cheekily.

‘You can have it if you want it.’ I shrug, feigning nonchalance. He wants a photo of me!

He peers closely at it. ‘Your eyes . . .’ He shakes his head.

‘What?’

‘They look almost – I don’t know. Caramel-coloured.’

‘Caramel?’ I’ve never heard my boring eyes described like that before. He turns and looks at me,
really
looks at me, and the smile slips from my face.

‘They are,’ he says.

There’s a strange intensity to his expression and my heart starts to hammer in my ears. ‘Yours are the same colour as the water,’ I say, not caring how clichéd it sounds because it’s true.

The connection between us magnifies and then suddenly he starts and rises to his feet. ‘We should be moving.’

‘We don’t have to.’ I look up at him with disappointment.

‘No, I’d better get home,’ he states, turning away and pushing the photo of me into his back pocket. I follow in his footsteps as we cross the sand to the steps.

Later, I pull up outside Michael’s house. ‘Thanks for the lesson,’ I say.

‘Sure, no worries,’ Ben replies, seemingly in a slight daze.

‘See you at work?’

He nods. ‘I’m going to be a bit late in. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment.’

‘Are you okay?’ I ask with concern.

‘Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. A last-minute check-up before I leave.’

‘Alright then.’

I climb out onto the pavement and meet him in front of his car.

‘See you tomorrow,’ I repeat, pulling his shirt closed across my chest and folding my arms to keep warm.

‘Sure thing.’ He stares at my arms and moves to pass me. I step to one side.

‘Take care,’ he says softly.

‘You too.’

I stay rooted to the spot as I watch him climb into his car and start up the ignition, and he doesn’t glance back as he pulls away from the kerb.

That night in bed, I hug his shirt to me tightly. He didn’t ask for it back, and I’m not going to surrender it willingly.