Page 36 of What Did I Miss?

Makayla grabs a fistful of tissues before leaving class. She’s been in bed since Monday, sneezing and sniffling, shaking and shivering. Every muscle ached.

It’s now Friday, her first and only day at work this week. She waits outside a classroom to escort Rongo to their office for lunch. If she can have someone with her at all times, Beau won’t be able to pull her aside for the talk .

At camp, she considered giving up the car for him.

But since the committee meeting, that’s no longer an option.

They’re not the car wankers she’d imagined, and Makayla’s actually keen to step into her new role.

An idea is bubbling away about partnering with a charity that helps women leave unsafe situations.

What a great way to give back, and to expand on her gran’s work of teaching vulnerable women to drive.

Makayla peeks at the back page of her planner. She’s glued a photo of Gertie there to help her focus on her end goal. There’s also an image of Warren with a bullseye, for extra incentive. Visuals help.

Beau emerges from a nearby classroom and joins them. That’s okay. They can’t have a deep and meaningful with Rongo sandwiched between them.

Rongo yammers on about wedding stuff, but Makayla doesn’t follow any of it. Her mind is fuzzy. Probably should’ve stuck to the recommended dosage for the cold and flu medicine.

‘I take it that’s a yes?’ Rongo asks Makayla.

‘Yep,’ she replies, not listening.

‘Thanks, sis. I knew you’d be the best person for the job.’ Rongo pulls her in, smooshing their cheeks together, then bounces away.

‘What job? Wait, where are you going?’ She can’t be alone with Mr Let’s-Be-Adults-And-Talk-About-This.

Rongo is swallowed by a sea of students returning books to their lockers. They fill their pockets with snacks and juggle the rest in their arms. Lunchboxes aren’t cool in high school.

‘You realise you just agreed to make a speech at his wedding,’ Beau says.

‘What!? When did that happen?’ She stumbles around, woozy as hell. ‘Why would he ask me ?’

‘I knew you weren’t paying attention.’ He shakes his head like it’s so typical of her. ‘He said you’ll be able to provide marriage advice.’

‘Me? Here’s a tip: Don’t get married. It’s a life sentence.’

Beau’s face twists like a child who’s just discovered Santa isn’t real.

Jeffrey’s voice explodes through the loudspeaker announcing discounted dim sims at the canteen.

They must be expiring soon. Hungry teenagers charge down the hallway, loose change jingling in their pockets because the school won’t get on board with EFTPOS.

Beau pulls Makayla off to the side to avoid being trampled.

The skin between his eyebrows folds as he pinches his lips together. That’s his serious face, and Makayla’s far too ill to deal with it. She just agreed to speak publicly about a topic she’s too cynical to even comment on. Who knows what will fly out of her mouth next?

‘I’ve been meaning to ask,’ she jumps in before he can say anything, ‘how are things going with Ebony? Is she giving you any grief?’ Ebony may have raised the white flag at camp, but she’s about as unpredictable as old dynamite.

‘Things are good. Great, even. She took part in a debate the other day to argue that the contestants on Happily Ever After are sincere in their quest for love. Granted, she got a little carried away and dropped the f-bomb, but her points were cohesive and concise. I’ll take that.’

A wave of relief washes over Makayla. It sounds like those two have finally turned a corner. ‘It was a smart move to have that show as the debate topic. No one’s a bigger fan than Ebony. I’m fairly certain she’s responsible for the underground tipping competition.’

‘She seemed quite impressed when I told her my sister starred in it,’ Beau says.

Makayla raises her eyebrows.

‘Didn’t you recognise her? Liz and her wife, Carmella, met on the show, got married and, well, lived happily ever after,’ he explains, clearly having no idea how much street cred this could’ve earned him at school if he’d name-dropped earlier.

A moment of silence passes between them and this time, Makayla’s too slow to fill it.

Beau seizes his opportunity. ‘Are we ever going to have that talk?’ His Adam’s apple protrudes more than usual. Is he just as scared as she is?

‘I’m really unwell.’ Makayla dabs her forehead, convinced it’s on fire. ‘Can we park this discussion for a bit?’ She doesn’t mention that ‘a bit’ means after her birthday.

‘Sure,’ he says, letting her off lightly. Is it because she looks like death is coming for her, or is he just fed up with waiting? ‘So, I ended up applying for the role at Goldbrooke. Legally, they have to interview other people, but Jeffrey said it’s mine if I want it.’

Makayla’s happy to hear he’s interested in staying, but Jeffrey should know better than to make those kinds of promises. Agnes is likely to be on the interview panel; it’d be the perfect opportunity to get revenge on Beau for the swimming race and the whisky heist.

‘Are we still on for that dead guy’s wedding anniversary?’ he asks.

‘Oh my god, I’d forgotten about that. It’s tomorrow.’ Sick or not, Trish won’t be pleased if Makayla doesn’t show. ‘I’ll send you the details. Be ready for anything – Trish Forsyth is quite the character.’

Makayla and Beau arrive at the fine dining restaurant Trish has hired for the evening.

At the entrance there’s a board with Edward and Patricia’s 40th Wedding Anniversary written in calligraphy.

A grainy photo of the happy couple sits in the centre.

Trish has big hair, puffy sleeves and a long train that rivals Princess Diana’s.

The dress code is black tie, and Beau clearly understood the assignment.

His tuxedo sculpts his muscular frame in the best kind of way.

Makayla struts alongside him in a tailored suit with no shirt underneath, showing a hint of cleavage.

Winged eyeliner completes the look, which Cece described as ‘boss babe’ when Makayla gave in and sent her a photo.

Trish will hate it. She doesn’t like women wearing heavy make-up or pants at formal events.

On the other side of the room, Diamond is glowing in a golden gown that’s worthy of a red carpet.

It should win her brownie points with Trish.

They weave around guests to find the lady of the hour.

How will Makayla introduce Beau? According to her agreement with Warren, she’s supposed to pretend he’s her boyfriend.

That slipped her mind, meaning Beau is still in the dark.

With three strides left until she reaches her ex-mother-in-law, there’s no time to explain.

‘This is Beau.’ Makayla thrusts him into the lion’s den of Trish, Warren and Diamond. She introduces them by name and not by labels.

Warren shakes Beau’s hand vigorously, sizing him up. Beau grips his free hand over the top like he’s trying to win a stacking game. Play nice, boys.

‘This is a stunning event, Mrs Forsyth. You have impeccable taste.’ Beau gestures around the grand space.

Light sparkles from chandeliers hovering above perfectly set tables. White rose centrepieces bring a touch of opulence and a slight headache. It’s like walking through a garden after it rains.

‘Why are you dressed like a dude?’ Warren asks Makayla, who ignores him.

‘You look sexy as hell,’ Beau whispers into her ear.

Makayla heats up from the inside and has to step away before it shows on her face.

‘Have you met Diamond?’ Trish shoves Beau towards her, even though Makayla introduced them minutes earlier.

‘I’m confident you’ll have a lot in common.

Why don’t I get a photo of the two of you?

You look so good together. Samuel! Samuel!

’ she calls to the roaming photographer.

‘Capture these two. Closer. Closer. Put your arm around her.’ Trish is like a puppeteer.

‘Sorry,’ Makayla mouths to Beau.

Ever the gentleman, he obliges Trish and her annoying attempt at matchmaking.

‘Oh my. I left the bonbonnieres in my car. Makayla, could you be a dear and grab them? Warren, why don’t you give her a hand?’ She shoos them away.

Makayla and Warren trudge outside to keep her happy.

‘This is bullshit!’ Warren sulks.

‘I know. Your mother is out of control.’

‘I’m talking about you.’

‘What have I done?’

‘You’re not convincing enough. Ma needs to see you’ve moved on so she can accept that I have. It has to happen tonight. Before the speeches. Can you do that for me?’

‘Fine, I’ll play it up a bit more.’ First, she needs to let Beau in on the plan. ‘Let me be clear, this is to get Trish off my back. Don’t think for a second that I’m doing this for you. I don’t owe you a thing.’

‘Is that your way of saying you still hate my guts? That’s why you want Quinn’s car, isn’t it?’

Makayla rolls her eyes further back than any of her students ever have. ‘Gertie belongs in my family, and you’re no longer a part of that. You made your choice.’

‘Makayla, I—’ Warren steps forward, his forehead creased in apology.

‘Don’t!’ She stops him with her hand. ‘There’s no point bringing it up again. I’m over it.’ If they keep going, they’ll unleash something that will ruin the evening.

For once, Warren’s wise enough to shut his trap. They cart boxes of personalised candles inside, where they find Trish gliding across the dance floor in the arms of a silver fox.

‘Who’s that sleaze?’ Warren asks.

‘Dr Richard,’ Makayla replies. The name should ring a bell; Warren’s met him a dozen times. ‘He’s a cardiologist from your mum’s work. Didn’t his wife pass away last year, or was it the year before?’

‘Why’s he cracking on to my mum?’

Warren glares at the couple from the edge of the dance floor. Their movements are too polished and synchronised to be a coincidence. Is this the mystery ballroom partner who knocked Trish off her feet and caused her ankle injury?

‘Look at him groping her like that. I’ll show him some manners.’