Page 35 of What Did I Miss?

The arrival of Makayla’s aunty cuts the conversation short. Nova retreats to a corner and Quinn hangs back until she’s gone. Both avoid eye contact. Not in the same way Makayla and Agnes do. This is different.

‘You made it. Welcome!’ Quinn throws her arms out wide to show off the place.

Makayla huffs, letting her blowy fringe do all the talking.

‘Don’t be mad,’ Quinn says. ‘There are some formal things to take care of first. As soon as that’s over, the real party starts. These are good people. You’ll see.’

‘Who’s Nova? I’ve never heard you mention her.’

Quinn wobbles her head like jelly. ‘No one. Why? What did she say?’

‘Nothing.’ What’s Quinn hiding now?

‘Nice hair, by the way. Very grungy.’

Makayla lifts her chin, taking it as a compliment.

Priscilla does a two-finger whistle to get everyone’s attention. ‘Righto, sit down, scallywags. We’ve got a lot to cover. If anyone mucks around, you’ll be out on your arse.’ She winks at Makayla as if to reassure her that her bark is worse than her bite.

Nostalgia wraps around Makayla’s heart like a warm hug. Priscilla reminds her of Gran – tough as nails. At least, that’s what Frances wanted people to think.

Makayla sits beside Quinn, who’s all straight backed and tensed muscles.

There’s a noticeable dominance of women on the committee, many of them occupying positions of power.

Nice change. There are a few men, too, including Danny, who likes to twirl his scruffy Gandalf-like beard.

He greets Makayla across the room with a double thumbs up, and she giggles.

He’s like the goofy grandfather she never had.

Danny has continued calling her out of the blue, and once he starts talking, there’s no shutting him up.

A hush falls as Priscilla opens with an Acknowledgement of Country. Respectful silence continues when she reads a list of members who have passed away recently.

‘We’re dropping like flies,’ she says. ‘Our numbers are the lowest they’ve been in years. Since our membership coordinator is scooting off overseas, we’ll need to fill the position ASAP. So, if you know anyone …’

Heads turn towards Makayla and a wave of heat whooshes through her body. This is the reason Quinn lured her here. Makayla kicks her aunty under the table. Not cool.

Priscilla proceeds with the next agenda item – recruitment. Is this a cult?

‘We need to attract more members, younger people preferably. Let’s put our noggins together and brainstorm.’

Danny stands. ‘We could get on the Tikky Tok and dance around the cars.’ He flaps his knees, impersonating Elvis.

‘Settle down, tiger. You’ll put a hip out,’ Priscilla says.

An idea comes to mind – a pretty good one, Makayla thinks. She waits until the others have shared theirs, though. No one likes the new kid being a know-it-all. Her hand shakes as she raises it, and people chuckle. Taking polite turns isn’t how they roll.

‘Don’t be shy. What have you got?’ Priscilla asks.

‘I’m Makayla,’ she says, suspecting they already know this.

‘I teach at Goldbrooke Secondary College. Our Business Studies teacher put a call out recently for local organisations to help with a class project. Students start their marketing unit next term and are looking for real-life experience creating and executing a marketing campaign. It’d be free.

And who knows? It might influence them to join the club one day. ’

A murmur sweeps through the attendees as they discuss the proposal. Makayla holds her breath and waits for the verdict.

‘Hear, hear!’ Danny bellows. ‘I told you she’s a smart lady like Fran.’

‘Sounds like you’re onto something,’ Priscilla says to her. ‘Set it up, and give us an update at the next meeting.’

Makayla grimaces. She fell straight into that trap, didn’t she? It doesn’t mean she’s stepping into Quinn’s role, though.

Fifty minutes later, the committee finishes discussing all agenda items at length. Restless behinds shuffle in their chairs, and Priscilla holds up her hand like a stop sign to deliver her parting words.

‘If you take care of your car, it’ll take care of you.’

Makayla gravitates to the back wall, which is covered in framed photographs.

The quality becomes grainier as she moves from right to left; they must be arranged by year.

Members pose next to their vehicles, grinning proudly.

There’s a mix of convertibles and coupes.

Makayla doesn’t know their correct names or terminology, but she appreciates the funky colours.

Sorbet orange, lime green and metallic purple stand out.

All provide a glimpse of their owner’s personality.

Then there’s Gertie, wrapped in black with two white stripes down the centre. She’s a classic.

Priscilla joins her, quietly soaking in the memories, and Makayla braces herself for the hard sell of the membership coordinator role.

‘I need to confess something.’ Makayla gets in first. ‘I’m not into vintage cars, or even cars in general.’ That ought to deter the president.

A throaty laugh barrels out of Priscilla. ‘You think I don’t know that? Heck, you think Quinn doesn’t either? That’s not why she wants you to get involved.’

‘Then why?’ Can’t her aunty give her the car without expecting her to plunge into this world full-throttle? She wouldn’t make Warren jump through these hoops.

Priscilla points to an image of her younger self standing next to Frances. They’re sporting matching poodle perms.

‘That was taken before the car accident,’ she explains. ‘Thankfully, it happened in my husband’s crappy Holden and not in the Beast. That would have been a tragedy.’

Makayla recalls Priscilla’s vehicle from the show. It had a short rear and a long hood like all Mustangs do, but when she peeked inside, it had hand controls.

‘I thought my driving days were behind me until your granny rallied the troops. They all chipped in to have the Beast modified. That’s when I finally got it.’

‘Got what?’

‘Look around, Makayla. This isn’t a club, it’s a family. We take care of our own, and that includes you.’

While they’ve been talking, the crew has pushed the tables into a long row.

A bready scent wafts out of pizza boxes that have magically appeared.

They thrust soda-filled glasses into the air to celebrate an evening that isn’t special for any reason other than that they’re all here together.

Quinn fills them in on the monuments in Europe she plans to visit, and members chime in with their recommendations.

Her aunty smiles more around these people, Makayla notices, and that says a lot; after all, she’s the poster child for Resting Bitch Face.

If she likes them, maybe Makayla will too.

Makayla expels a long breath. ‘I’ll take the position.’