‘Well, if Iris says we should go, we should certainly go.’
***
I slid my sunglasses onto my nose and ran a hand through my hair. It was almost winter, but other than a week of rain, Sydney had this beautiful, golden take on the season. The sun was belting down, making it warm, and I was drinking a cold beer. I’d had worse summers at home. I was thankful I had popped a T-shirt underneath my jumper, which I’d shed about an hour ago.
Like all things about Australia, the winter felt optimistic. I find it to be a distinctly positive, auspicious sort of country. It’s the Abbey of the world.
Of course, Australia also felt like a ‘young’ country, though it was home to one of the oldest civilisations on earth. The pub was Sydney’s oldest, dating back to 1828, and it had a distinctly English feel about it, a reminder that, for a lot of people, the country’s history dates from English colonisation. How wrong they were. Across the street, gallery windows were lined with Aboriginal art for tourists to purchase; the great divide told through this simple streetscape.
Ollie walked back with two more beers. I watched women and a couple of guys look at him appreciatively as he wound his way through the tables and chairs out the front of the pub. He placed the beers down and went to sit, but then his hand shot out in a wave to someone to his left.
I looked behind him and then stood as I saw Abbey and Kate walking down the street towards us. Abbey’s hand reached out quickly to Kate’s wrist, but she was not quick enough.
Her sister sang out to me, ‘Nick Northby, as I live and breathe.’
People looked over at us, briefly interested because she’d yelled this from ten metres away, and I felt a grin come over me. However, Abbey’s obvious discomfort quickly eradicated it.
I have to fucking fix this.
My need to sort it out immediately just overrode my control, and I walked until I ran into her, instinctively wrapping my arms around Abbey in an enormous hug.
I could feel her stiff and tense. Christ, I want never to feel that when I hold her, ever again. I created that tension. Abbey doesnotfeel like that in a hug. She’s normally pliable and bendy, possibly even floppy. Never stiff. I kept holding her, waiting and hoping for her to relax, and experienced a moment of panic that it would not happen.
Beside us, I barely listened as Kate introduced herself to Ollie.
‘Fuck. You are very attractive.’
‘Thanks. As are you.’
‘I’m Kate. Abbey’s sister. I don’t think she mentioned you were this hot.’
‘Oliver Northby. Nice to meet you, Kate. I met your grandmother today.’
‘That’s weird. And you should watch yourself. You are just her type, and I know she’s hunting for a new husband.’
Ollie snorted, but looked pretty pleased with himself.
‘Uh, wait, did she tell you to come here?’ Kate said.
‘She suggested it, yes.’
‘Abbey, she bloody well set this up. She’s a handful, and this is just her style,’ Kate said to Ollie. ‘She once set us up with two tradies here. Abbey was married with a child, but Gran was never a fan of her husband and thought this random electrician she’d met was a better fit – but that was years ago, and I didn’t think. We got a text message saying she had bought us lunch at the Fortune of War. That we were to go and drink and think of her.’
I had not stopped hugging Abbey, and she was still stiffly standing in my arms.
‘I’ll go get us a drink,’ Kate said, giving us a quick side eye.
‘We have a table,’ Oliver said. ‘I’ll grab a couple more chairs.’
When we were alone, I whispered into Abbey’s ear for her only. ‘I am so fucking sorry about last night. I respect you enormously and it has been eating at me that I got it so wrong. I misread this situation. I fucked up. I’m so bloody sorry, Abs. I did not mean to make you feel cheap. I bought that dress because I had to and for no other reason. I bought that dress because I wanted to see you happy.’
She smelled amazing, like the shampoo I knew she used, which I now stock in my shower. My fingers itched to run through her hair, to slide under her jumper and feel her skin, but she had not spoken or moved. I took comfort that she had not pulled away either.
When I moved my head ever so slightly, I watched a single tear run down her face and I felt heartbroken to be the cause of it.
‘You are a real fucking arsehole. Do you know that, Nick Northby?’
‘There is no one that knows that more than me.’ I gave in and pressed a kiss into the side of her head. ‘I would never want to tarnish what we have shared.’
