Sharp Turn - Marianne Delacourt [8]
‘In rehab in Perth?’ I asked politely.
‘In Brisbane. She doesn’t know anyone much over there; figured that would be best.’
I knew I should have felt all poor-thing-good-for-her but the only thing on my mind was, he’s home alone!
‘How long for?’ I asked.
‘Two weeks with an option for three, and a follow-up program once she’s home. She’s already been there a week. I think she’s going to do it this time, Tara. I really do. It was her idea. She wanted it.’
He looked so hopeful, so boyish, that the right words just fell out of my mouth. ‘I’m sure she will. It’ll be alright.’
The self-assured grin was back. ‘Thanks. And a word of advice . . . the bike-racing crowd – it’s serious stuff to them. Lot of ego and money tied up there. Go carefully.’
‘Like I wouldn’t?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You want a lift home?’
I nodded. ‘Can I drive?’
‘Hell, no.’
Chapter 3
SMITTY RANG AS I opened the sliding door to my flat. ‘How did it go? Did you wear the white top? What did he want?’
‘Fine. Yes. He had a job for me,’ I replied.
‘Oh.’ She sounded profoundly disappointed.
‘But there’s more.’
‘Oh?’ An uplift in tone.
‘Antonia’s gone to rehab in Brisbane. Two weeks, maybe three.’
‘And?’
‘That’s it really. He’s hoping they can patch things up.’
‘Oh.’ Back to the dismal tone.
‘Smits, he’s married and he’s going to stay married. Besides, I’ve got a boyfriend.’
‘Eddy is divine, I agree. But he’s so young, darling. You don’t want to be his mother. And Tozzi won’t stay married. Can’t you tell? No. Well, I suppose you were never a good judge of that sort of thing. It’s just going to take a little longer than I thought.’ She sighed. ‘At least the man’s got some staying power. He’s trying to make it work with Antonia. He doesn’t give up easily. I like that.’
‘You are SUCH a romantic. Not everyone has a Henry in their life,’ I said.
‘Pooh,’ she replied airily. ‘Now don’t forget our date. I’ve sent you a text: Thursday 4 pm at the Beach Café.’
‘Got it,’ I said. ‘Should I bring pepper spray?’
‘No violence, Tara. I’m already facing an assault charge against my six-year-old son,’ she said sternly. ‘Now, I have errands to run and then I have to take Fridge to the beach for a long walk before he burrows his way through to China.’
Fridge was the Evanses’ new dog. Bones, the previous incumbent, had shed his last hair a few weeks ago and gone to doggie heaven. The kids were so distraught Henry had gone right out to the pound and returned with a young, exuberant and enormous bitser who, somehow, had developed a strange affinity for me over everyone else. Maybe it was because I shared my sushi with him when I babysat the kids. I mean, the dog could eat anything.
‘Fridge is cool,’ I said, imitating the kids.
‘Raybans are cool,’ said Smitty. ‘Fridge is impossible.’
I hung up smiling. Smitty always did that to me. In fact, thinking back on our years at school and uni together, I couldn’t remember a time that Smitty had ticked me off.
My other bestie, Martin Longbok, was another story. Bok and I had been drawn together by mutual antagonism, and to this day we got our sport from pressing each other’s buttons; a love–bait kind of arrangement.
I flicked open my phone and pressed speed dial.
‘Martin Longbok.’
‘Hi, sweetie, how’s my Glossy Guru?’ I asked.
Bok was editor of a local fashion mag, which meant he got lots of freebies and had a wardrobe worthy of an A-list star. Who’d have thought that skinny little dark-haired lad who used to punch me in the arm at school would become one of the city’s foremost fashionistas?
‘Aaah, T,’ he said. ‘Just about to ring you. Been looking at some shots of your beau, Edouardo. I want to use him in a swimsuit shoot but his agency is playing phone tag with me. Think you could call him and let him know? Maybe he can hurry things from his end.’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘By the way, I’ve got a job.’
He paused for a second. ‘Don’t tell me . . . ummm . . . snake-catcher. No . . . no . . .