Page 35

Thirty-Three

“Ellie, what are you doing?”

I sat in the passenger side of Mum’s car, taken aback by the harshness of Tess’s tone. The question was more of an accusation, one that had me glancing around the interior of the car, confused.

“Sorry?”

“Look, I don’t know what you are playing at, and try as I might to be on board with you and Adam, I honestly draw the line this time.”

What was she talking about?

Had I woken up in some kind of parallel universe where everyone around me spoke a different language?

“Tess, please speak English.”

“Ha! I honestly don’t know what is more insulting. The lying or the fact you think people’s emotions are just so bloody disposable.”

Okay, now I was getting mad. Between Adam’s betrayal and now Tess’s ranting and raving like a lunatic, I was about to seriously lose my shit.

“What. Are. You. Talking About?” I shouted.

“Rory. Fucking. Franklin,” Tess screamed back.

“W-what?”

“Just because we live in Onslow, Ellie, doesn’t mean we are completely backwards.”

I sat speechless, confused; really, really fucking confused. Tess must have guessed as much in my silence, hearing her sigh deeply.

“Page three of The Maitland Weekender .”

I could hear Tess’s voice over the phone talking about feelings and how could I do it to Adam, of all people? Her words became white noise as I absentmindedly murmured, “I’ll call you back.”

I slid out of the car, slamming the door behind me, not even bothering to lock it as I made quick tracking of the concrete under my feet, running mercifully down the hill toward the main entrance of the hospital, whooshing past Mum as she came out the door.

“Ellie, has the car been—”

“Not now, Mum,” I warned, skidding along the shiny floor at reception, thankful that neither Kerry nor Adam were anywhere in sight as I followed the corridor around to the left past the cafeteria, up to the end where the gift shop was situated between wards.

A dear old lady sat behind the counter, placing her knitting aside and smiling at me with impossibly white and perfect teeth.

“Can I help you, dear?”

It took me a moment to gain my breath, spilling gold coins over the counter. “ The Maitland Weekender, please.”

“Oh yes, that’s a good one,” she agreed, shifting from her seat and heading to the stand behind her at a glacial pace.

Come on, come on, come on.

I tried my best not to rip it from her hands, but by the time it was in reach I was almost beside myself as I pawed through the pages so fast I overshot page three entirely, cursing under my breath and getting a raised brow from the gift shop lady.

There was no time to be sorry, no time to care as I peeled back the page to be confronted with page three.

“Fuck!”

“Well, I don’t know what you’re so upset about, it’s a lovely picture of you.” These were my mum’s best words to pacify me as my head thudded against the steering wheel.

“Rory Franklin.” Mum lifted her chin with pride. “Wait until I tell the girls at Bingo about this.”

“No, no, you are not telling anyone.”

“Why not? If I was dating Rory Franklin I would be screaming it from the rooftops.”

“Oh my God, what is wrong with everyone? I am NOT dating Rory Franklin!”

“Well, that’s not what The Maitland Weekender says.”

I could honestly claw my own face off in frustration.

Because I knew, like my mum, like Tess, like, oh God, Adam—Adam must have seen this, it all was painfully clear now—yes, just like every single person in Onslow, The Maitland Weekender and everything in between its pages was the Bible; I knew it because I had thought so too.

I dragged the paper from my mum’s hands, ignoring the glimmer in her eyes as she looked over the article, already making plans to put it in her scrapbook.

With a deep breath—now feeling a little less frantic—I looked over page three.

There we were, the first pic standing together in front of the café, Rory towering over me.

The next pic was us sitting down opposite each other outside the coffee shop, my arms crossed; I looked angry.

The caption read: ‘Trouble in paradise?’ The third shot showed me laughing, like I was having the time of my life, when in reality I was laughing at how ridiculous it was to hire a Porsche for a date.

But the last pic and probably the most deceitful of all was one of me leaning in, looking intently at Rory, my hands on the table top almost touching his from this angle.

I hadn’t even noticed at the time, but kudos to the photographer who snapped the photo, just at the right time.

It was just as Rory looked up, his baby blues captured perfectly at the right moment, as if a tender moment had been exchanged between us.

“My God, we look like we’re in fucking love.” It was so deceiving I almost believed I was dating Rory Franklin.

“I told you, it’s a lovely photo.”

I couldn’t even bring myself to answer her; instead, I read probably the most disturbing thing of all.

Franklin flying high with mystery blonde companion.

All-Australian, two-time Best and Fairest, Brownlow-winning full forward Rory Franklin might have fallen short at last year’s grand final against Eagles, but he certainly hasn’t fallen short in the love department.

The two lovebirds were spotted having a romantic coffee in Maitland’s famous coffee district earlier this week.

A source close to the friends say their union is very much on the down low, with the two keeping their relationship top secret.

Guess we can only hope to find out more about Rory’s pretty plus-one in the weeks to come.

“A source close to the friends? You have got to be kidding me.”

In a fit of rage that would make any two-year-old proud, I scrunched up the paper, shredding it within an inch of its life, reminiscent of Sarah Norman’s diary in high school.

“Ellie, stop it.”

I pushed the heap aside, my mum taking it from me as I gripped the steering wheel and blew the hair from my eyes. Mum was looking at me like I was some kind of crazed lunatic, which in all honesty wasn’t too far from the truth.

“Oh, now look what you’ve done,” Mum said, trying to flatten out the wrinkles and salvage the tears. “Honestly, Ellie, I don’t know what has gotten into you.”

I simply ignored her, instead starting up the car. Cool, calm and focused as I put the car in gear, thinking of only one thing over and over in my mind.

Tonight, I was taking Mum back to Onslow.