‘What? Oh…er…an arts degree, majoring in psychology, if I get a high enough mark. If not, I’ll do a degree in Social Welfare. I want to work with people, you see. I want to help solve some of the social problems of the world.’
‘That’s a tall order, Angie—solving the world’s social problems. But I think it’s fantastic that you want to try. So, tell me, what do you see as the world’s main social problem?’
‘That’s a hard one. There are so many problems. Look, this is probably a simplistic approach but I think if people made their lives simpler they’d be happier. The Western world is moving too far away from the family unit and family values. I’d like to encourage people to be more serious about marriage and their commitment to raising children, to appreciate how much time it takes to do both well.’
‘And do you want marriage and children for yourself? Or will you settle for a career?’
‘I don’t see why I can’t have both. Of course, my career would always play second fiddle to my family. My husband and children would always come first with me.’
‘Mmm, I see I’ll have to keep a close eye on you when you get to Sydney, or some smart bastard will whisk you off to the altar before you can say licketysplit!’
‘You…you won’t have to worry about that happening, Lance. There’ll only ever be one man for me.’ Having gone this far, she turned her head and stared him straight in the eye.
Those eyes flared briefly wide with surprise, before narrowing to an expression he’d never bestowed on her before. His darkened gaze moved slowly over her face, dropping at last to her softly parted lips then down to where her breasts were clearly outlined against the thin material of her top. Suddenly, she knew what it was like to be the target of a man’s desire. A man’s, not a boy’s. She felt her body respond, everything all at once hot and tight and tingling. Her face flamed along with the rest of her.
‘You’re only fifteen,’ he said abruptly, as though reminding himself.
‘I won’t be fifteen forever,’ she returned breathlessly.
‘True…But when you grow up, you might change your ideas about who and what you want.’
‘No, I won’t,’ she said, her voice firming. ‘Mum says I’m as stubborn as old Wally Robinson’s bull. I’ll feel the same way about you in three years as I feel now.’
She shook his head, obviously still troubled by the situation.
‘Wait here,’ she whispered, and, jumping up, raced inside to her bedroom, returning within no time.
‘I wrote this the first week you came,’ she said, and pressed the piece of paper into his hands.
He read the poem in dead silence before folding the page and putting it down on the step, shaking his head all the while. For a long moment Angie thought she’d made an utter fool of herself. But then he looked up at her and she knew…She just knew she’d been right. He did feel the same.
‘Oh, Angie,’ he said softly. ‘Sweet…sweet Angie.’ And he reached out to touch her face lightly.
His fingertips were like flicks of fire against her already heated cheek, at the same time igniting other flames throughout her body. The words fell out of her mouth—reckless, breathless words.
‘Kiss me, Lance. Kiss me…’
‘You can’t stop there!’ Vanessa wailed when Angie suddenly fell silent. By this time they’d reached the block of units in North Sydney where they lived, parked in the underground garage and were making their way up the internal staircase to their neat little second floor unit.
‘What happened?’ she persisted.
Once she recovered her composure, Angie smiled wryly at Vanessa’s enthusiasm for her story. Underneath her hard-boiled exterior, she was a romantic—like most females.
‘Nothing much. He kissed me, just once. It was quite brief, really.’
‘It couldn’t have been that brief if you still remember it. And if it’s totally turned you off all other men ever since.’
‘I didn’t say I was totally turned off other men,’ Angie explained. ‘It’s just that I’ve been waiting for their kisses to do for me what Lance’s kiss did. I guess it’s a matter of a standard of chemistry never being reached again.’
‘So what was so special about the way this Lance kissed?’
‘I don’t think there was anything really special about his technique. I think it was the way the kiss made me feel that was so special.’
‘And how did it make you feel?’
Angie stopped at their door, her heart squeezing tight again at the memory. She inserted the key in the lock but didn’t turn it, her hand freezing as the words were wrenched from deep within her. ‘Like the world had tipped on its axis,’ she choked out. ‘Like I’d died and gone to heaven…’
It was crazy, but even after all these years she could still remember the feel of his steely arms winding tight around her, the heady, intoxicating effect of his lips possessing hers, the blindingly electric shock that had charged along her veins when his tongue had momentarily dipped past her eagerly parted lips.
But it was what he’d said to her afterwards which had caused the lasting damage.
‘I’ll write,’ he had said thickly, when he’d put her from him. ‘And when you’re old enough, we’ll be together properly. I promise…’
Perhaps he’d almost meant it at the time. She could give him the benefit of the doubt after all these years. But that didn’t change the inevitable outcome of his thoughtless arrogance in making a promise he must have suspected he would not keep, in condemning her to years of hopeless longing. In a way, that kiss had ruined her life.
‘Wow, Angie! You really were in love with him, weren’t you? So what became of him? Where is he now?’
Angie snapped back to reality, firmly pushing the still upsetting memories of Lance to the back of her mind. ‘Happily married to a very rich, very beautiful woman,’ she said with seeming calm. ‘They live in Melbourne.’
‘What did the poem say? Can you remember?’
Of course she could remember. Every heartbreaking, humiliating word.
‘Not really,’ she hedged. ‘It was just a lot of sentimental twaddle, much better forgotten.’ Which was true.
‘I presume he didn’t keep in contact after he left,’ Vanessa said drily. ‘No letters or anything.’
Angie threw her a cynical look as she turned the key and pushed open the door. ‘Only a polite note to my parents, thanking them for having him to stay.’
‘Bastard. There again, Angie, it was only to be expected. He was way out of your league.’
Five minutes later both girls were sitting at the small kitchen table, sipping a reviving cup of coffee. Angie was off in another world—worrying about Debbie—when Vanessa returned to the subject of Lance.
‘Did you see him again after that summer?’
‘Yes. A few times.’
‘No kidding. Where? When?’
‘The first time was a few months later at his and Bud’s graduation ceremony. The whole family travelled down to Sydney to celebrate the occasion.’
‘And?’
‘He was polite to me, but distant. And of course there was this very sexy-looking redhead hanging off his arm all the time.’
‘You must have been awfully upset.’
‘Crushed.