Anybody But Him (6 page)

He lifted the mug of tea to his mouth, watching her while he took a sip. As he lowered it he said, ‘Maybe I do. We're a good pair, aren't we?'

A good pair. Her and Blair Morrissey. Not likely.

‘How long will that take?' She tilted her head towards the window.

‘Ten minutes or so. Why? Am I holding you up?'

‘I need to go out for breakfast.'

‘Why can't you eat breakfast here?'

‘No food.'

He pointed at the box of vegetables he'd placed on the table in the middle of the room. ‘There you go. What about a nice vegetable frittata?'

Her mouth watered. ‘No eggs.'

‘Really? I can fix that. Mrs Thompson keeps chooks, and she only lives two houses down the street.'

Now her stomach was starting to rumble. She was tempted, but she didn't want another reason for him to hang around. ‘I have other things to do in town, so could you just do the boarding up?'

He shrugged, took a gulp of his tea, left the mug by the sink and carried the board outside. Minutes later he'd finished, and when she went outside to thank him, she was surprised to discover that he'd gone. The dog too. She winced at the guilty knowledge that she'd been ungrateful again, and probably rude as well.

Huh? She gave herself a mental slap. What was she thinking? This was the man – boy –
who'd ripped her heart to shreds when he mocked her love poem in front of his friends. Her poor, vulnerable teenage heart.

If it had been anybody decent she would deserve to feel bad, but on the contrary, it was someone who'd gone out of his way to make her miserable for the last half of her high school years. Sighing, she went back inside for her keys and handbag, then locked the door behind her.

She drove straight to the bakery in the centre of Redgum. The best thing about small Australian towns was that there was always a bakery in the main street. From memory, the one in Redgum Valley had always served good food. She hoped the coffee was reasonable too.

After a satisfying breakfast of a toasted cheese sandwich with two cups of coffee to wash it down and not a vegetable in sight, Nicola drove to her parents' house. As she pulled into the driveway, her father rushed out of the garage, but his face fell when she got out of the car.

‘Oh, it's only you. I thought you were the mechanic.'

‘Nice to see you too, Dad. Car problems?'

‘No, I want him to check my prostate. What do you think?'

‘What's wrong with it?'

‘My prostate? Nothing.'

‘The
car
, Dad.' She definitely didn't want to hear about the other.

‘The electrics. They've gone crazy. Must be a short-circuit or something. Lights flashing everywhere. I hadn't got as far as the corner before it started. Come in here.' He beckoned her into the freestanding garage he'd built himself from galvanised iron. ‘I'll reconnect the battery so you can see for yourself.'

She hadn't been in the garage for years, and it hadn't changed. Same shelves loaded
with the same tools and rusty old paint cans, and objects that only her dad could identify. Wire. Reels and reels of wire. He used to claim that he could fix anything if only he had a bit of wire. And he'd proved it too, time and again, although the results had sometimes had Una and her in fits of giggles. But that was before she'd hit her teens and become ashamed of her family.

Did her dad still use any of the stuff in his shed? Or had he lost the skills required to fix things along with his driving ability? It certainly didn't look like he'd disturbed any of his tools in a long time.

‘See?'

Startled, she dragged her mind back to the present and her dad's car. ‘See what?'

He was sitting in the driving seat. ‘Now that I've reconnected the battery the lights have started flashing again in here, see? The whole wiring system's gone bonkers.'

She ducked her head into the car. ‘What? Do you mean the hazards?'

‘Hmm?' He gave her a blank look.

‘Did you switch the hazard lights on?'

He shook his head. ‘Never touched 'em. What are they when they're at home?'

Saving her breath, she straightened and looked at the front of the car. Sure enough the hazard lights were flashing. She reached into the car, past her dad, and pushed the big button on the dashboard with the triangle symbol. The lights stopped flashing.

‘Well, I'll be—' Her dad scratched his head with the screwdriver that was still in his hand. ‘How did you do that?'

‘All I did was switch off the hazard lights, Dad.'

He stuck out his chin. ‘But who put them on?'

‘You must have done.'

‘I told you I didn't. I've never had that happen before in the whole time I've been
driving.'

That couldn't be true. He must have forgotten about hazard lights And yet he knew enough about the car's electronics to connect the battery. His memory was like a piece of Swiss cheese – random holes appearing with no pattern to them. Weird.

‘Maybe you knocked the switch without realising?'

‘I'm not stupid. I would have noticed if I'd knocked it.'

‘Well anyway, I think you'd better phone the mechanic and tell him not to bother coming out. Say you've fixed the problem yourself.'

He grunted. ‘You call him for me, will you? On that mobile thin gummy you like so much.'

Her father had never trusted mobile phones and still refused to have one. Her mother did at least own one; she just forgot to take it with her when she went out. It spent its life in the kitchen drawer, more of a static than a mobile.

‘Is there something wrong with the house phone?'

‘Yes, there blooming well is. It's inside the house.'

She emerged from the garage, blinking at the sudden brightness. She took out her mobile and keyed in Gary's number as she approached the house. When she stepped up onto the porch she heard her mother belting out an Irish ballad, a sure sign that she was mad at her husband for something. At least it wasn't ‘Danny Boy'. She saved that for the worst offences.

Nicola looked at her dad. ‘What have you done to upset her?'

‘Nothing.' His response was too quick.

‘Dad, you know she's going to tell me as soon as I go in. You might as well give me your side first.'

With a shrug, he said, ‘I don't know why she's making such a fuss about it. I only told her I was going to get a wig.'

‘A wig? For you?'

‘Well, of course it's for me. Who else would you think I'd be getting it for, the budgie?'

Her dad had become a cross-dresser now? Really, she shouldn't be surprised. Mortified, yes, but not surprised. ‘What … what colour? Is it blonde?'

‘Blonde?' He blinked at her. ‘Of course not. It's the same colour as the rest of my hair.'

‘Oh! You mean a
toupee
?'

‘What did you think I was talking about?'

‘Nothing,' she said, shaking her head. Well, that was a relief anyway. Gary answered his phone, and she passed on the news that he was no longer needed. She was lucky he hadn't blocked her number after the strong terms she'd used to get him to fix Una's car last weekend. When she'd finished the call, she looked around, but her dad had disappeared. With a sigh, she pushed at the door, which stood slightly ajar as usual. ‘Mum?'

‘Ah, is it yourself, Nicola?'

Nicola resisted the urge to look down and check. ‘Hi, Mum.'

‘Come on in and I'll put the kettle on.'

In the kitchen, Nicola watched her mother fill the kettle and switch it on, then reach into a cupboard and bring out the old green biscuit tin. Her mouth watered before the lid had even come off. She knew what was in there; it had been used for the same thing for as long as she could remember.

‘Here we are now. A fresh batch of shortbread, baked this morning.'

She groaned. ‘You're going to make me fat, Mum.'

‘Ack, go on with you. There's nothing wrong with putting a layer of meat over those bones. Sydney has made you skinny.'

Not without a lot of effort from her. But one piece wouldn't hurt. She reached into the
tin and her mother gave a satisfied nod.

‘Did you see that useless lump of a husband of mine outside? Wait till you hear what he's gone and done now.'

‘I already know.'

Her mother closed her mouth, then turned to prepare the teapot. No teabag in a cup for her. ‘He told you, did he?'

‘Is it such a bad thing?'

‘Yes.' Her mother looked horrified. ‘He says it will make him look ten years younger. But I say it will make him look ten years sillier.'

‘In the grand scheme of things, though—'

‘Don't you be encouraging him now, Nicola.'

‘I'm not, but—'

‘Do you know the difference between your father, and one of those expensive wines you like so much?'

Other than the fact that one helped her to relax while the other had the opposite effect? She shrugged. ‘Not really.'

‘The wine matures with age. Your father doesn't.'

Well, that too.

‘And I told him, if he really wants to pretend he's a young man, he should get some of that … what do you call it? Something to perk him up.'

‘A multivitamin?'

‘Vigoro. That's it.'

Nicola inhaled a chunk of shortbread. When the coughing subsided enough that she could speak, she said. ‘No, Mum, that's not it.'

‘No? Sure, I thought that was what it was called. Anyway, is it expensive? If it costs a
lot, maybe you could give him some for his birthday?'

‘No, no. I couldn't.' She'd rather eat her own hair.

‘Pity.' Her mother brought the teapot to the table. ‘Mind you, he's always been hopeless at taking tablets. Knowing him he'd take so long to swallow it, he'd only get a stiff neck.'

Nicola was getting into the swing of working at Birchmoors, and becoming used to the way things were done there. She was signing cheques for the creditors who, for one reason or another, didn't want payment by direct deposit. It wasn't the most challenging of tasks, and she was glad of the distraction when Hayden entered her office. She glanced up as he came through the door. Cute, very cute, she thought as she signed one more cheque before giving him her full attention.

‘What can I do for you?' she asked with a smile.

‘More of the same, I'm afraid. I need your signature on this cheque requisition.'

She held out her hand for the form and scanned it as she took it from him. ‘This is the same company as last time, isn't it?'

‘Yes. We use them on every project.'

‘Do we?' She signed the bottom of the page. ‘If that's the case, why don't we set up an account?'

‘Oh, we did try, but they didn't want to know. They prefer to operate on this basis.'

‘How old-fashioned of them.'

‘True, but they're the best at what they do, so it's worth our while to go along with their
requirements.'

‘Still, it seems like a hassle for you to have to go through this procedure every time.'

‘No, not at all. It gives me a chance to see you.' He smiled. ‘Hey, are you busy on Friday night? Would you like to go out for a drink?'

‘Oh.' Surprised by his words, and by the excitement that skittered across her skin at hearing them, Nicola gave him a regretful smile. ‘I'm sorry, I can't.'

‘No, don't say that.' He sat on the edge of her desk and leaned closer. ‘I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since last week.'

Her stomach leapt. She glanced through to Travis's desk and was relieved to see it unoccupied. ‘I've already made plans for Friday, I'm afraid. I'm going out to dinner with Lainey.'

‘Saturday, then?'

‘I'd love to.'

‘Excellent.'

‘Sorry,' Travis said from the doorway.

Hayden pushed off her desk, and Nicola turned in time to see coffee slosh over the edge of a mug as Travis backed away from the door.

‘Hold on. Was that mine?' she said.

‘Yes.'

‘Well, don't take it away.'

‘Give me your mobile number,' Hayden said, ‘and I'll call you on Saturday to make arrangements.'

She told him the number and watched him enter it into his phone.

‘Roll on Saturday.' He winked as he left the office.

Travis handed her the mug, then grabbed a wad of tissues from the box on her desk
and mopped at the coffee puddle. Without looking up, he said, ‘Are you going to date him?'

‘I'm having a drink with him. Why?'

He went back to his desk, tossing the sodden tissues into his bin on the way. ‘No particular reason, but he doesn't normally date women like you.'

‘Women like me?'

‘Smart.' Travis hesitated. ‘Single.'

‘Are you trying to warn me off?'

‘Wouldn't presume to.'

‘Good.' She shrugged. ‘Like I said, it's only a drink. Now, how are you going with checking the thirty-day payment run for Kate?'

‘Done.'

‘Great.' She looked down at the pile of signed cheques on her own desk. ‘I'll take these cheques to Lainey so they can be posted out today.'

Lainey looked up when she plonked the pile of cheques down on the reception desk.

‘All done.' Nicola paused, then said, ‘I have some news. I'm going out with Hayden on Saturday.'

‘Oh.' Lainey's eyes widened. ‘He asked you out, on a date?'

Nicola nodded.

‘Are you sure you should go out with him?'

‘He's very good-looking.'

‘Oh, yes, I know that, but do you really like him?'

‘I haven't had a chance to work out whether I do or not. That's what a first date is all about, isn't it? Working out whether you like someone enough to want to see them again.'

‘But if you decide you don't? Won't it be awkward for you to work together afterwards?'

‘I don't see why.' Nicola shrugged. ‘I'd be adult about it. I assume he would too.'

‘Well, be careful, won't you? I mean, it's not long since Greg hurt you, and I wouldn't like to see you unhappy while you're here.'

‘Don't worry about me. I know what I'm doing. It's just a bit of fun.'