‘Got air-con?’
‘It’s got windows.’
‘No!’ I gawped, bending down to peer through the window. ‘And eye-bleedingly beige seats.’
‘I know. It’s great, isn’t it?’ Craig’s hand hung limp over the top of the steering wheel. ‘Used to belong to my cousin’s mate.’
A reliable purchase, if ever there’d been one. I peeled the tin can door open and took my place on the blistering hot, third-degree burns vinyl that we all know and love in the Australian summer. ‘I’m surprised by the lack of pink, going by your very fancy shorts.’
‘They’re for the party tonight.’ He pouted. ‘There’ll be a pool, right?’
‘Definitely a pool,’ I said.
‘Good.’ Gears crunched underneath us. ‘All I need now are my lambswool seat covers and I’ll be set.’
‘Oh, please don’t.’ I laughed. ‘Please.’
‘What? You don’t like a little wool in winter?’
‘Only if my clothes are made of it.’
Craig grinned to himself as he pulled the car into the street. I reached across and turned the radio dial on and up. While the road shimmered and my hair stuck to the back of my neck, at least the windows blew a bit of air around, even if it did feel like being caught in a low speed hair dryer.
‘What’s happening in the post office? Anything exciting?’ he asked, throwing a quick glance my way.
I shook my head. ‘Just bills. Nothing fancy.’
‘Are you okay?’ His voice was almost drowned out by the rhythmic thwap of air coming from both windows.
I nodded and looked at him. ‘I am.’
‘Really? Because you’re doing that thing.’
‘What thing?’ I looked at him curiously.
He reached across and pinched my chin between his thumb and forefinger. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched me, but it was the first time I’d noticed the wobble of energy – one I’d perhaps been keeping at arm’s length.
‘Dimpled chin. It’s your go-to when you’re worried or upset.’
‘Really? You noticed that?’ I angled myself towards him a little more. What the hell else had he noticed? I suddenly found myself recounting things, non-specific things, but still wondering what they said about me.
‘It tends to come out.’ He unwound the sunroof by hand. ‘The night before essays are due, and about an hour before exams. Afterwards, of course, you bound out of the room like you’ve had the weight of the world removed.’
‘I’ll be okay.’ I thrust my hands through the sunroof and felt the wind wrapping itself around my fingers and tugging on my hair. ‘How about you? Are you ready to party?’
When Heather first told me she and Josh were packing up and moving to London, I was like a spinning top of emotions. I rode the wave of their success, celebrating Josh’s internal and international promotion at the marketing company he worked for. I popped streamers for Heather who, after winning Young Real Estate Agent of the Year had been poached to head up the new London branch for Coglin Real Estate.
Then, I cried. A lot.
As excited as I was that my two best friends were in love and starting a new life together, because how absolutely thrilling for them, I was also a teensy bit devastated that I would be without them. It was fitting that their farewell party was a New Year’s celebration, too. New year, new life, new beginnings.
Heather’s parents still lived in the same beachfront property they’d bought when they married. A pebble-mix footpath reflected nightlights, and candles glinted and threw tall reflections across tables. A catering team dithered about in the far corner, and the vibration of late sixties music filled the air.
I looked out across their tightly manicured backyard, the scene of countless afternoons during high school. Part of me wondered how often I’d see it in the future, if at all. The palm trees that waved wildly during storms, the tennis court we used despite having no idea what we were doing, or the pool we’d throw ourselves into at the first breath of summer each year. Would Heather be back often, or would it mean I’d finally get off my backside and get back to London, albeit to visit her? I hoped so, on both counts.
‘Do I look okay?’ Craig leant in.
Hand on front door, I turned to look at him. ‘Why wouldn’t you?’
‘Oh, you know … wasn’t sure, that’s all. I haven’t met your friends before, so, you know.’
After winding the car around the beach roads, admiring white foamy waves, scorching white sand, and everyone who wasn’t us out in the surf, Craig had insisted on a drive-by past his place to change into something more ‘party appropriate’. The trendy salmon shorts were replaced with light pants and a thin sports coat.
‘Are you kidding? You look great?’
‘I do?’ He smiled with relief. ‘Thank you. I wasn’t sure.’
‘You’ve met my friends before,’ I said. ‘Surely?’
‘I promise I haven’t.’
Heather was floating about in a sea of guests, under trees dripping with twinkle lights, and around tables adorned with more food than any of us would ever eat. From a young age, it was easy to tell she’d be a master networker and, even now, was treating the crowd like an industry event, making sure to leave no one behind as she made her way around the yard and thanked everyone for coming.
When I introduced Craig, Heather embraced him like an old friend. Questions spilled out like a pop-up video, before he was drawn off to meet Josh and absorbed by the crowd. I went in the opposite direction, catching up with her family, many of whom I hadn’t seen for a while. I caught sight of him again when the party made its way across to the beach.
A large driftwood fire licked the sky, the larger logs saved for seating a handful of us around it. Heather did the sandshoe wobble across the beach and sat herself next to me. Josh had taken it upon himself to, ‘hook Craig up with some contacts’, so we watched in wonder as a group of business buddies slapped backs and regaled each other with stories of last-minute economic heroism.
Heather shouldered me. ‘He’s lovely.’
I took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘He is.’
‘Josh wants to adopt him.’
‘I like him,’ I said.
‘What are you worried about?’ she asked. ‘That he won’t live up to the Great Edinburgh Hype? You know why they’re called holiday flings, right?’
I turned to her. ‘Why? I mean, of course I do, but remind me.’
‘Because they’re just that: flings. We get so caught up in the unrealistic expectation of what could be that we build it up in our heads as something that would never exist in the realm of normal, day-to-day stuff. This? Him? He’s the real deal.’
I scratched my forehead. ‘Yeah, yeah, yes, of course.’
‘You can’t put him in a holding pattern because of someone else.’ She circled her finger above her head.
We were interrupted by Craig, who approached with Josh.
‘You okay, Ems?’ he asked.
I nodded. ‘I’m just asking Heather if she’s all ready to leave.’
‘Visas, man, who needs them?’ She wiggled sand through her toes and took a sip of her drink. ‘You know, if anyone should be packing up and leaving, it’s you.’
‘Me?’