Page 8

Six

A lie within a lie.

I would usually unfold my disastrous date with Rory to Tess, word for word, play by play; I might even have a bit of a self-indulgent cry and no doubt fits of laughter over my damaged ego.

Instead, I played it down majorly and like Adam, avoided contact with her by feigned sickness.

She now thought the date was good and he was really nice.

I was becoming a prolific liar, struggling to determine which was real and which was fake.

Never more so than when I arrived home from work to find a delivery of beautiful flowers at my doorstep.

My heart rate soared. Surely not? Could it be a peace offering from Rory?

I nearly dropped my keys and bag as I made my way up the narrow path from the gate to the doorstep quickly.

I wasn’t exactly pining for Rory Franklin, but if he could admit what a giant dick he had been, then perhaps it would mend my somewhat bruised ego. I flipped over the card and read:

Get well soon, beautiful girl. Love Tess xo

I all but stilled, frowning, thinking that this was a mistake.

Then, of course, I remembered my lies. That’s right, I was sick with the flu, and couldn’t talk—cough, cough, gotta go.

Oh no. My shoulders sagged. I really was an awful friend.

I gathered the beautiful and, what was worse, pricey bouquet into my arms, trying my best to unlock the door, thinking that I would make it up to her by buying her a really big and outlandish engagement present.

I caught the 7:45 a.m. bus that would transport me secretly and have me arrive in Onslow around 11 a.m. Under any other circumstance I would enjoy the element of surprise, the big lead-up and joy of seeing Tess’s face when she discovered our grand plan.

But I couldn’t quite get into the spirit of it.

For me, going back to Onslow was like heading into a black cloud, one that stirred an inner fear, making me shift in my seat, as I stared out the bus window.

Slowly the jagged, modern edges of the city blurred away into the softer, greener shades and then inevitably into the harsh, burnt-orange tinges of stock paddocks before bleeding into the more familiar, lush surrounds of the rolling ranges as we edged our way home.

I had rung my parents to tell them I would drop in after the grand reveal, but in true Mum-and-Dad form, they had filled up their social calendar for the weekend with their caravanning friends, and would leave a key out for me.

As warm and fuzzy as that made me feel, I declined, thinking I would see them the following week in Maitland when Mum came up for a specialist appointment.

Coffee and casual catch-ups about Mum’s varicose veins that needed to be stripped: real mother/daughter bonding moment right there.

Tess once psychoanalysed me by suggesting a reason for my boy-crazy, sex-crazed delinquent behaviour—okay, she hadn’t actually used those words, but facts aside, Tess pointed out something to me, something I at first rejected wholeheartedly.

It had been a Sunday evening where Tess and I had planned to go zipping through the streets of Onslow.

Tess would ride from her place and meet me out front of my home.

As usual, Tess had given me that wide-eyed look she was so famous for when something didn’t sit right with her; this time it was my attire, apparently.

My canary-yellow bikini top and short denim cut-offs.

Sure, I was showing a lot of skin, but I had worked hard on getting my tan even, and I thought my matching yellow thongs were cute.

“Ellie, if you come off your bike you are going to be shredded,” Tess had said, a permanent line of worry creased across her brow anytime she was with me.

I had learned from a young age never to take anything to heart when it came to Tess’s good intentions: she was the angel on my shoulder, the conscience I seemed to lack.

I had skimmed over my attire, not in a self-conscious way, but in a way that had me totally confused as I’d shrugged. “I look hot.”

Tess had sighed, firming her grip on her handlebars and manoeuvring her bike into position to head out of my driveway. “You know, if you want to get your parents’ attention, you might want to try putting clothes on.”

It hadn’t been the first time I had heard Tess talk about my parents in such a way; she tended to have this whole theory on why I did the things I did, like it was important to our friendship that there was a legit, underlying reason why I played up so much, and if she thought it was due to my parents’ neglectful, selfish lifestyles then that explained a lot.

Of course, back then I’d rebelled against the very thought.

“Pfft, as if I want their attention,” I’d said, slinging my leg over my bike and hooking my foot into the pedal. “Let’s go.”

Now, time had passed and having read some of my old diary entries I wasn’t so sure anymore.

Mum and Dad had pretty much forgotten to have children.

They’d been so entangled with their own lives, their careers, and then out of the blue, little ol’ me came along and royally fucked up their perfect little worlds.

I learned from a very young age that doing bad things pretty much guaranteed a response; do good things and the reaction was nowhere near as grand or satisfying.

I knew that was pretty screwed up, so much so that I had spent a good portion of my afternoons in the school counsellor’s office once my parents were at their wits’ end with me sneaking out and coming home with a love bite on my neck.

Little did they know that Ricky Owens and I gave each other one under the agreement that the story was we had hooked up with some hot random at a party, not each other.

We shook hands, sucked necks, which was pretty gross, and then let the wild rumour mill begin.

Mine was somewhat more believable and had the gossipers speculating, whereas poor math-geek Ricky’s rumours were that he got a love bite with the aid of a vacuum cleaner.

It’s rather amazing how deeply reflective you can get on a three-hour bus ride.

Two hours that seemed to fly by. Before I knew it, the bus came circling around rather conveniently out the front of the Onslow.

I half expected Adam to be waiting to throw a tarp over me and sneak me into the Onslow undetected.

I exited the bus, shielding my eyes with my sunglasses.

I paused on the steps to take in the sight of the Onslow Hotel before me; the lawn seemed a tinge greener but aside from that nothing seemed to have changed since the last time I was here.

I was a little disappointed by it, that regardless of the two whole months I had been away, nothing had changed at all.

Maybe some huge development had happened inside that would make it seem less familiar.

But I knew what awaited me, as I dragged my small overnight bag up the drive, my wheels carving two lines in the stones as I made my way up to the steps of the Onslow.

I’m not going to lie. I was kind of miffed that no one had been around to welcome me home.

Two months, people. I had never been away from Onslow longer than a fortnight in my whole life, so this was kind of a big deal.

I stopped short of the front entrance, drawing in a deep breath, not so much to calm me but to actually catch my breath; that driveway was a real bitch to navigate in wedges, while trying to dislodge a stone that had weaved its way into my sole.

I gathered myself, trying not to look like a sweaty hobo who had just stepped off the bus and more like city chic woman, as I pushed my way through the front door.

The unoiled hinge announced my arrival as I turned into the main bar, peeling off my sunglasses and pulling my roller bag up to my side in a ‘TA-DA’ moment that would surely have heads turning around from the bar like I had imagined.

Instead, a couple of dusty workmen momentarily paused their conversation, glancing over their beers then returning to their business.

In my head I envisioned Adam leaning against the bar giving Max cheek before he turned my way.

His face would light up as our eyes met, pausing for a long moment before he closed the distance between us, striding toward me and embracing me in one of his famous, bone-crushing bear hugs that would have my feet leaving the ground and all air squeezed out of my lungs.

But Adam was nowhere to be seen and my heart sank a little; he had known what time I would be arriving.

By the sound of it, his “See you then” kind of meant just that.

The only semblance of a familiar, if not stony face was Chris breezing in behind the bar, going about his business, until doing a double take my way with a confused frown.

“Well, if it isn’t the ghost of Onslow’s sordid past,” Chris said, trying to maintain his serious facade.

“Sordid?” I questioned, rolling my suitcase toward the bar and dumping my handbag on an empty stool.

Chris ignored the question. “Drink?”

“Squash on the rocks.”

“Wow, squash on the rocks, you need to calm down.”

I laughed as Chris loaded up a pot of ice, shoving in a wedge of lemon before grabbing the pre-mix gun and filling it up with bubbly goodness.

I watched Chris’s profile; there was no mistaking he was Adam’s brother.

Same dark colouring, deep brown eyes and on the rare occasion Chris smiled, it was the same bright, brilliant smile that sent many a heart fluttering. It was that ol’ Henderson charm.

“So where is everyone?”

“They’re up at Sean’s place, setting up the final details for tomorrow night,” Chris said rather unenthusiastically.

Knowing Chris he probably thought there were better things to do, like work and earn money. Whereas business-partner-in-crime Sean Murphy worked hard and played hard as well; sometimes the two things clashed. I took a moment to bond with Chris on a shared issue.

“Tell me again why we’re having a surprise engagement party?”

Chris sighed as he dumped the drink in front of me, scooping up my change from the bar top.

“Blame Amy; she’s redecorated the top deck balcony leading out of the sunroom and apparently she wants to ‘break it in’,” Chris said sarcastically.

“Oh, for God’s sake, couldn’t she just throw a BBQ?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

Come summer, there was no better place to be, but as time drew on and Amy unveiled each stunning room used for her interior design course, the house became more amazing.

She had taken that one thing she loved and made it her life.

It had me realising how I seriously didn’t have my life together.

Adam’s cousin was younger than me and she knew exactly what she wanted in life, and even though the house was essentially Sean’s, it never felt like that.

They were a team, a dynamic duo. I had only recognised that quality in one other couple. Adam and me.

“So where is his Lordship?” I asked, sipping on my squash with an air of nonchalance even though my heart was pounding a deafening beat. God, this weekend hadn’t even begun and I felt on edge.

“Adam’s at home.”

I smiled into my drink, thinking it rather comical that when I said Lordship, he knew I was talking about Adam, but then something really hit me in the pit of my stomach.

Why wasn’t he here?

Chris must have read as much on my face.

“He’ll be here later,” Chris said, as if my concern was a bit pathetic. I could feel my cheeks burn; I really hated feeling like this, needing someone. I’d never needed anyone before now.

“You crashing here tonight?”

“Yep, I’m under house arrest until tomorrow night,” I said, shrugging my bag over my shoulder and extending the handle of my suitcase. “Remember, you haven’t seen me.”

Chris took my empty glass from the bar. “I’ve seen nothing.”