Something More (Girlfriend Fiction 11) (11 page)

‘What about Sean?'

‘What about him? It's not his body.'

‘It is his baby.'

Even though he was voicing the same doubts that had been haunting me, I felt compelled to argue with him.

‘It will be her decision in the end, Jack.'

‘Well, that doesn't seem right to me.'

‘Who cares what you think.'

‘Does anybody care what the baby thinks?'

Terry and I hadn't even gone there yet.

‘Fetuses don't think,' I insisted.

‘How do you know? What about those documentaries on the human body that say they can hear and feel stuff when they're in the…there?'

‘I don't believe you watch documentaries, Jack. You're a
Simpsons
-repeats guy for sure.'

‘Can't we have a serious conversation for once?'

He scooped up some sand and watched it drain through his fingers. I concentrated on the glinting trickle instead of answering his question. As the silence was allowed to stretch, I had the oddest feeling that he was somehow disappointed in me.

Although I didn't want it to, it bothered me.

‘Has Molly told Sam about Terry and Sean?' I asked.

‘Not sure.'

‘He is “sort of ” her boyfriend, after all.'

‘Yeah, but it's a pretty huge deal. Imagine if Sam mentioned it to someone before we work out what to do?'

When he said ‘we', I wondered if he meant me-and-him, or him-and-Molly. If it was the latter, his defensiveness whenever he mentioned her name was starting to make sense.

Perhaps Jack was in love with Molly.

The idea just kind of pounced on me the way Gran McGonnigle's cat used to. I never saw it coming, and its jagged claws drew blood.

‘I don't think Molly would risk any rumours getting out,' he continued, oblivious to my dismay. ‘She only told me because she couldn't figure how else to get to you. She's freaking. She's not calm like you.'

‘I'm not calm! I've been a wreck all week,' I protested, thrashing out at the sand with my heel.

‘Nah…you're always in control.' The statement was accompanied by a little dismissive flick of his hand. Such a tiny gesture, but I felt it robbed me of something I couldn't quite name. A tide of emotions thundered over me: indignation, disbelief and jealousy. It ebbed quickly, leaving only a white foamed sadness behind. I was determined not to step in it.

Anger swelled then: I resented Jack's intrusion into my backstage world. Only invited guests were allowed – their opinions were the ones I sought, the only ones to matter. I couldn't understand how Jack had acquired an Access All Areas pass without my permission. I'd only just allocated one to my sister.

Some shrieking from the surf reminded me that it was a beautiful morning and people were having fun. I wanted to have fun. I was so weary of Terry's problems.

I longed for Sam to arrive. He was the one for me after all. This was supposed to be my perfect day.

‘I've got to go,' Jack said finally, looking at his watch. This time I had no desire to delay him. I was drained.

‘Don't say anything to Molly yet,' I said tightly. ‘Give Terry and me some time. You can arrange for us to meet when you get back.'

He seemed to pick up on my tone; he got up and grabbed his board. ‘Okay. See you next week, then.' And he walked away.

As I watched him leave, I tried Terry's phone again.

Nothing!

I thought about Molly and almost felt sorry for her. We were both being kept in the dark by our siblings, and neither of us could help until we knew what we were dealing with.

The possibility of Molly and me being aunties to the same baby sank in then and blew my mind, not least because we were way too young. Aunties are old. They hang around with mums, guzzling alcohol and complaining about uncles. I'd have to start a new trend: I'd hang around with the kid, scoff Diet Coke and complain about its mother and its evil Aunt Molly. I chuckled and felt a little better.

‘Window-shopping is a waste of
time, Isla, if you live in a tent.'

(Gran McGonnigle)

Sam was ten minutes late, but that didn't matter. He brought with him a sun much brighter than the one that had momentarily disappeared behind a cloud.

‘Hi,' he yelled and waved. ‘You been here long?'

‘Just got here.'

He padlocked his bike and jumped the low fence to the sand in a sexy, movie-action-hero kind of way, crossed the sand quickly and sat on my rock. I beamed a welcome.

‘We missed you at the party. You should have stayed. Did you get home okay?' He seemed pretty interested. I remembered Jack's comment from last night.
Sam never gets serious.
That's not the message I was getting. Hope soared.

‘Yes,' I said, giving him my sexiest smile and thrusting my boobs out until a cramp between my shoulderblades made me stop.

‘You've recovered from your dip in the pool, then?'

‘Oh,' I said, as lightly as I could, ‘I just got a fright, that's all.'

I pulled out a stray strand of hair and tucked it provocatively behind my ear. With my thick mop, I had to give it a good yank, so perhaps that spoilt the illusion.

He didn't seem to notice. ‘I never thought to ask you last night – will you be okay in the surf?'

‘Fine. Shallow water…lots of germ-killing salt…tide constantly cleaning itself…'

‘Eh?'

I didn't bother to elaborate on my pool phobia; I ran my tongue over my lips instead.

‘Have you got the cameras?' he asked.

I gave up trying to be a screen goddess. It wasn't working.

‘Yes.' It probably came out as an exasperated growl.

‘Right then…er…you shoot first, okay?'

We waded out until we were chest-deep in the ocean pool, and when he dropped to the sand-covered bottom I ducked my head under and began snapping shots. I felt perfectly safe because I was standing with both feet on the concrete, my bum safely hidden in board shorts and my frizz tightly secured in plaits. My body felt light in the crystal water, and so did my mind.

Sam mucked around a bit, picking up seaweed and putting it on his head. I photographed that, laughing.

When the film ran out, we swapped roles. This time I clowned around, never once taking my feet off the bottom. When his film was finished, we climbed out and headed back to the sand.

I relaxed. I didn't even have to worry about my hair: a quick check had told me it was still tied back within a centimetre of its life.

‘I took some great shots, Is-la.' As usual, he pronounced my name wrong.

‘Me too. Are we still going to my uncle's place to work on them?'

‘Yeah, I hope so. Is it okay with him?'

I nodded. ‘Can we take a few minutes to dry off first?'

‘Sure,' he agreed and I was thrilled. Now I could raise the issue of the secret photos. We stretched out on a rocky ledge, our togs steaming in the sun.

‘So, what's Scotland like?' he asked.

I was instantly diverted. ‘It's cold and wet most of the time, but when it isn't grey, it's purple and green, with the most amazing light. It's a beautiful place. I miss it.' I choked up.
Wham!
Just like that, I'd become misty-eyed again. I pretended to be squinting at the sun.

‘Must be hard. I'd totally hate to have to leave all my friends behind.'

I gulped. ‘It wasn't easy. I email my best friend, Fi, all the time, but it's just not the same.'

‘You've made heaps of new friends here though, haven't you?'

‘I suppose.' But I couldn't think of anyone who I was particularly close to.

‘How come you came here?'

‘My parents wanted to change their lives, and they changed mine by default.' I held my hand in the air to block out the sun's glare.

‘Do you have any other brothers or sisters apart from the one who hangs around with Molly's brother? Terry? Is that her name?'

I stiffened. Where was he taking this?

‘No. Have you got brothers or sisters?' I asked quickly.

He took a long time to respond. So long that I flipped onto my right side to face him.

‘I had a brother,' he said eventually. ‘A twin. But he died.'

‘Oh, I'm sorry. That must have been awful,' I added lamely, trying not to listen to the new little voice in my head saying,
What if Terry has twins?

When someone tells me about a person dying, I always want to discover more. Is that just me? Just as I was resisting the urge to ask what had happened to his twin, he told me anyway.

‘It was cot death. I don't remember him.'

‘Just because you don't remember him doesn't mean you can't be affected.'

He squinted at the sun. ‘I think I feel him around sometimes. Does that sound stupid?'

I shook my head. ‘It sounds logical to me. It could be the bond thing that twins are supposed to have. Have you read all the stuff on that?'

‘A bit, but I can't be sure if it's true or not, because me and Tim never got the chance to find out.'

‘I think you probably had a connection before you were born, and you probably still do.'

‘You reckon? I often get this weird feeling that he's here, sharing my thoughts.' He tapped his head.

‘That's not weird at all.'

‘Maybe not.'

He fixed me with an intense stare, which I tried to avoid but couldn't. I watched transfixed as his smile did its thing: his nostrils widened slightly, lines deepened under his cheeks, and his eyes brightened and crinkled. When it reached full beam it was crooked and gorgeous.

‘What?' I asked.

‘What?' he echoed.

A seagull screeched nearby.

‘I bet your parents spoil you.' I broke the spell.

‘Hey, how could they not?' He was still watching me closely.

‘Do you always get what you want?'

‘Most of the time.'

‘Interesting.'

‘It is, isn't it?'

‘And if you don't?' I asked.

‘Unheard of.'

‘I don't believe you.'

He leapt up and held out his hand. ‘I'm serious.'

I wanted to take it but my legs had gone all rubbery. If I let him pull me to my feet, I'd probably bounce into the stratosphere. I pretended to tie my laces while I got myself under control.

‘Come on, let's get some lunch,' he said putting on his sunnies. I was relieved. Perhaps now that I couldn't see him properly I would stop wobbling.

We grabbed a burger and shared some chips from the kiosk and took our time eating. We laughed a lot. I could have asked him about the photos, but I felt awkward bringing them up now. We were getting along so well, I didn't want to wreck it by embarrassing him. I figured he'd talk about them when he was ready.

The subject of Molly was another matter, however. In the end I just couldn't help myself.

‘So tell me about Molly,' I said.

‘Molly?'

‘Yeah, Molly your girlfriend.' I had a fake smile fixed on my face.

He checked out the horizon then turned back to me. ‘Not my girlfriend.'

‘Oh.' I wasn't sure what to say next.

‘We're just…you know…?'

‘Something to do?'

‘Exactly. I knew you'd get it.' He motioned to the last chip.

‘All yours,' I replied, thinking that I didn't really get it at all. But the news had to be good for Jack.

He stuffed the chip in his mouth, bringing the topic to a close. ‘Time to develop the photos?' he asked.

My watch told me it was. ‘Yeah, let's go.' I decided to ask the hard questions in the darkroom.

We collected his bike and walked the short route to Uncle Colin's.

‘Is this your uncle's house?' We'd stopped at the gate. ‘I love this house. I pass it on the way home. It's cool.'

I'd never given it much thought. I suppose it's a pretty unusual house for the area. It's modern, made from an abundance of steel and glass, with a leafy, private garden, just seconds from the ocean. It's also doing a great job withstanding my cousins' daily assaults on it.

I used my key to let us inside. All was quiet. ‘They're in Sydney,' I explained, heading for the darkroom. Sam followed.

‘This is awesome,' he said, taking in the details.

I was intrigued by his interest. ‘So you like houses?'

He looked sheepish. ‘I know, it should be a chick thing.'

‘No. No way.'

‘I want to do interior design or architecture when I leave school. I don't know how I got interested; my parents are both in finance.'

‘You'd be great at it.'

‘What do you want to do?'

‘Don't know yet.'

I suddenly realised that I'd just been truthful with myself about my future for the first time in ages. Back home, I'd always wanted to be a teacher. Since coming to Australia I wasn't so sure. There seemed to be lots of new possibilities. Thinking about them made my head hurt, so I didn't.

‘Here's the darkroom,' I said, and he was immediately distracted, saving me from having to answer any other difficult questions.

When we'd prepared the room for our films and turned on the special lighting, I took a quick breath and raised the burning issue. ‘Tell me about my photos, Sam?'

He needed help to understand.

‘The ones we mixed up that day,' I prompted.

‘Oh yeah, that was funny…but why did you take pics of Jack Ferris's dad?'

‘What?!' My mind raced.
Jack's dad?
How bizarre!

‘I thought maybe they were for your Major Work?'

I shook my head.

‘My family's known Steve Ferris for years. They were quite good.'

No, they were awful. With his expertise he should know that. What was going on here?

He held up his first photograph with a flourish. ‘What do you think?'