Page 7 of In the Long Run

The torches along the front deck of the Clamshell are lit, and twinkly fairy lights are twined around the thick rope that hangs between the wooden posts.

I spend a moment psyching myself up, imagining I’m waiting at the start of a race, going over my game plan.

But instead of focusing on my target pace or remembering where the elevation changes are or what my nutrition and hydration plan is, tonight’s all about staying calm.

Trepidation rises inside me like the tide over my shoulder but I force myself through the front doors and nod at the kitchen staff. If I didn’t already know about the party, I’d wonder where Caleb is. My flatmate’s worked at the Clamshell for years as a dessert chef.

Mum’s expression lights up when she sees me and, bless her misguided but well-intentioned heart, she’s practically vibrating with excitement.

‘Hi, sweetie!’ she says, pulling me in close for a rose-scented hug that smells like my childhood.

Another of Eva Halliday’s rules for young ladies?

A signature scent is one of your best accessories.

After much cajoling in my late teens I settled on mint and orange blossom and have been too lazy to ever change it.

‘Where are Mere and Bernie?’ I ask.

‘Upstairs.’

I raise my eyebrows.

‘We need to celebrate the new caravan!’

By hiring a function room for five people? I think not.

‘Just surrender. It’ll be less painful,’ Dad whispers before kissing my cheek.

That’s true. Mum’s always been overly invested in Meredith’s and my lives, but since she’s retired, she wants to know everything about everything.

And ever since Mere and Bernie shared that they’re having fertility issues – because she wouldn’t stop asking if we’d be hearing the pitter patter of little feet any time soon – my love life has been squarely in her sights.

Hence why I agreed to go out with Brand in the first place.

‘This is a comfy-looking outfit,’ Mum says. Read: unsuitable.

‘Was there a reason why I needed to dress up?’ I ask.

Her eyes narrow.

That’s right, old lady. I love you but the jig’s up.

Mum purses her lips as she rearranges my hair over my shoulders. She should know by now that it’s never going to look anything other than dishevelled. ‘When did she tell you?’

‘This afternoon.’

Dad snorts and seems very interested in the ceiling when Mum turns to glare at him.

‘And you couldn’t wear a pretty dress? Run a brush through your hair?’

I smile beatifically. ‘And you couldn’t respect my wishes about not having a party?’

Her glossy, peach-coloured lips twitch. ‘You only turn thirty once …’

‘Let’s get this over with, shall we?’ Dad points to the stairs that lead up to the function space with a massive deck.

Mum scampers up them, her coral linen suit with a sequined collar and cuffs not daring to wrinkle. I follow reluctantly.

‘Surprise!’ everyone yells, and I’m honestly blown away by the number of people in the room.

There are friends from school, which is nice but a bit odd considering we mostly keep in touch via social media these days – Caleb’s among this crew, shaking his head and mouthing something at me that I can’t understand – and my aunts and uncles and cousins.

Thank God there’s no one from my last job here.

Instrumental versions of popular songs are playing over the sound system and the tables are filled with big platters of my favourite foods: mini-sliders, charcuterie and antipasto. Then I see the cake.

It’s gorgeous.

Sparkly gold ‘three’ and ‘zero’ candles sit atop one of Alizée’s famous opera cakes. Hello, it’s my party and I can drool if I want to.

Mum might’ve missed the mark by insisting on this soirée, but she’s truly done her best to fill it with things and people I like.

Shit. I freeze and panic climbs my spine like it’s a ladder. She wouldn’t. Would she? My head jerks from side to side as I scan the room. But Brand’s nowhere to be seen and I release a shaky breath, one hand fluttering to my chest.

Slowly, I make my way around the room, saying hello to everyone and – don’t tell Mum – regretting not making more of an effort with my appearance. I could’ve at least worn my favourite ankle boots and a skirt.

‘I’m not even mad about the cake,’ Caleb says, swooping me into his arms and dipping me dramatically. I swear, this man has never met a spotlight he didn’t enjoy.

‘That’s kind, considering I didn’t organise any of this,’ I reply.

‘Hey. I’m being the bigger person here. Imagine if I needed a bookkeeper and I didn’t ask you first.’

I open my mouth but he holds up a finger. ‘And I didn’t even tell Eva about that guy—’

‘What guy?’ Mum’s back by my side in an instant.

‘Oops.’ Caleb’s grin is far too triumphant for him to pretend he’s sorry for dropping me in it, good and proper.

‘There’s no guy,’ I say.

‘Are you back with Brand?’ Mum asks, hope creeping into her voice as her lips form a tentative smile.

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘That’s never happening.’

Caleb slings an arm around Mum. ‘Eva, babes, forget Brand. You should’ve seen the new guy. If resting bitch face is a thing that we all accept, this guy had resting growl face, but in, like, a hot, dreamy way. If he asked me to call him “Daddy”, I’d do it and thank him for the opportunity.’

Clearly the snap of Knox’s Army ID painted quite the picture for Caleb.

‘Why does Caleb get to hear about this guy before me? Did he meet him?’ Mum fiddles with the cuffs of her jacket. ‘I’m still not convinced you shouldn’t give Brand another a chance. He’s so lovely, Gen.’

‘I didn’t meet the new guy,’ Caleb says. ‘But I’d like to. He’s got a hot name, too: Knox Watson. It rolls off the tongue so well. Would you like his date of birth? I’ve memorised everything.’

‘Who’s Knox?’ Meredith asks as she and Bernie join the conversation. Her blonde hair is pulled into an elegant twist and her blue eyes are sparkling. It’s good to see her so happy and relaxed.

‘Gen’s mystery man,’ Mum replies before I can. ‘He’s got growly, sexy vibes according to Caleb. But I don’t understand why you’d want to call him—’

This is getting out of control. ‘Knox is a guy I met recently,’ I cut in, to save us all from having to hear Eva Halliday say ‘Daddy’.

Caleb adjusts the tan-coloured fedora that his most recent flame, Lawson, gave him for his birthday. ‘How many pick-up lines do you reckon Knox has heard about having his fortress breached?’

I groan. ‘Stop. Please. Nothing’s going on.’ Aside from the fact that I keep embarrassing myself in front of him.

‘Can we steal the birthday girl for a minute?’ Meredith slides her arm through mine and doesn’t wait for an answer, towing me over to the far side of the room where the photo montage is being projected onto the wall.

I’m going to ignore the fact that I’m in a lot of the pictures by myself.

‘Looked like you needed a break,’ she says.

‘I can always count on you,’ I say. Whether it’s running interference with Mum, recommending my new business to everyone and anyone who will listen, or even simply offering an emergency hair tie, she’s always got my back. No one has a better big sister than I do.

‘You might feel differently in a few seconds. I did something impulsive,’ she says and Bernie chuckles.

I raise my eyebrows, waiting for her to elaborate.

‘This whole thing got me thinking about your birthday and how much you’ve been through in the last year or so.

How you’ve had to put aside some of your dreams to start over after everything …

’ She pauses, like she’s reassessing her words before continuing.

‘I know this wasn’t your plan, starting your own company.

You give so much of yourself to everyone else, Gen.

You deserve to be celebrated.’ She blinks back tears.

This is so typical of Mere. No one’s had a rougher time than her and Bernie facing disappointment after disappointment each month, but here she is trying to pump me up.

Just like Mum and Dad raised us to. Honestly, everyone deserves a family like mine.

Even if there’s a very awkward conversation in my future about why people might call a man who isn’t their father ‘Daddy’.

I make a mental note to send Mum a screenshot from Urban Dictionary once I get home, with a request to never discuss this again.

Mere wipes her eyes. ‘I want you to be happy—’

‘That’s what I want for you, too,’ I interject. If I could wave a magic wand and change anyone’s life, it would be hers and Bernie’s.

‘I know. But this is the impulsive bit. I wanted to get you something no one else would. Something fun and rewarding that you wouldn’t get for yourself.’

The last sentence snags in my mind.

‘Did you buy me a thousand-piece puzzle again? Because we all remember the Christmas we discovered I don’t have the patience to sit still for that long.’ I spend so much time at my computer for work, I need to get outside and burn off energy. It’s why I love running.

Bernie laughs into his water glass. ‘It was such a boss move when you flipped that table, Gen. Showed how much effort you’d been putting into your strength training.’

My rage might’ve also been motivated by another of Tim’s pathetic excuse-filled messages, but that’s all in the past now.

I press my lips together. ‘It was a plastic trestle table.’

‘Still impressive. And considering Mum’s rule about us only giving each other experiences, not material things, and you’ve talked about wanting to do something like this before …

this seemed perfect. But now I’m not sure.

It might not be the right time.’ Meredith wrings her hands together. ‘Please don’t hate me.’

‘Mere, I could never. What did you do?’

She and Bernie exchange a look, and it can’t be a good sign that Bernie’s already chuckling.

He’s the most disciplined man I’ve ever met.

That’s what eventually won Mum and Dad over when he and Mere started dating.

He refused to let their – legitimate – concerns about him being ten years older than Mere stop him from proving he was the best possible partner for her.

‘I signed you up for a marathon. At Brigitte’s Run. You know, the one in September? It’s for charity. Surprise!’