Only she could meet a man on the internet. It’s almost the year 2000 – who does that sort of thing? I blame that stupid movieYou’ve Got Mail. I swear it gave my mum ideas when she saw it last year. It’s all very well for Meg Idiot Ryan and Tom Pratty Hanks to email each other till their hearts are content, but who pays the consequences? Me, that’s who. Here I am in goddamn Kangaroo Land going to live with a man I’ve never even met because my mum has fallen in love. Again.
We exit the tiny town that was Crafers and continue to drive up and down the perpetually winding road. We pass a paddock filled with brown and cream-coloured goats.
‘So this is Piccadilly,’ Mum says.
‘Piccadilly?’ I scoff. ‘Are you taking the piss?’
She glances in my direction. ‘That’s the name of the town.’
‘You’re callingthisa town?’ I look pointedly at the occasional house and farm dotting the side of the road. Old cars, trucks and tractors sit unused on the ever-dry grass. ‘The Piccadilly I’m used to is Piccadilly bloody Circus in London, and that is a far cry fromthis!’
My mum frowns with irritation as the road takes us through a modest vineyard. ‘It’s not far from here, according to his directions.’
We pass a few more houses before Mum begins to slow down.
‘Roses, that’s what he said.’ She points ahead at the multitude of pink and red rosebushes on the side of the road, then turns left into the driveway of a red-brick house with a brown-tiled roof, and a veranda overhanging with shady vines.
My mum turns to me. ‘Be nice, okay?’
I’m about to ask, ‘Why should I?’ but she interrupts.
‘Please?’
And at that moment, a tall, dark-haired young guy comes out of the wooden front door and I’m distracted from the look of fear in my mum’s eyes because he’s, well, unexpectedly hot.
‘Who’s that?’ I ask suspiciously as Mum forcibly relaxes her features and undoes her seatbelt.
‘That must be Josh.’
‘My new big bro?’ My voice is laced with sarcasm, but I’m secretly wishing I’d thought to brush out the knots that have accumulated in my long dark hair courtesy of a twenty-four-hour flight. Mum gives me one last pleading look with tired blue eyes before climbing out of the car. I grudgingly follow her.
‘Hi!’ she beams as she storms along the gravel footpath, leaving small puffs of cream-coloured dust in her wake. ‘I’m Cindy.’
‘G’day. I’m Josh.’ Josh holds out his hand and Mum shakes it before turning back to me.
‘This is my daughter, Lily.’
The enormous smile on my mum’s face keeps wavering, but Josh is too busy looking me up and down to notice. I fold my arms across my bust and glare at his chiselled face, waiting indignantly for his dark-brown eyes to meet my light-brown ones.
‘G’day.’
‘Do they seriously say that over here?’ I respond, ignoring his outstretched hand.
‘What?’ He hooks his thumbs into his jeans pockets and looks amused. His attractiveness has obviously given him far too much confidence and that annoys me.
‘G’day. I thought that was just onNeighbours.’
‘Oh, right.’ The corners of his mouth turn down and he glances at Mum. ‘Do you need some help with your bags?’
*
‘Dad’ll be home soon,’ Josh says, when we’ve unloaded our suitcases and relocated to the kitchen. I could really do with some peace and quiet to unpack my bags, but my craving for tea and biscuits is outweighing my desire to be antisocial.
‘How far away is the safari park?’ Mum asks.
‘It’s a conservation park,’ Josh replies. ‘The boundaries extend to right outside our house, but it’s a five-minute drive to get to the main bit.’
‘Conservation park, that’s right,’ Mum quietly chides herself as Josh opens up a packet of biscuits and tears back the cellophane. I furtively watch him as he fills up the kettle and puts it on the stove before fetching three mismatched mugs from a painted yellow cupboard. His dark hair is messy, dishevelled. It looks like he’s slept on it, and as he rubs at the sleep in his eyes, I realise he probably has. It’s only nine o’clock in the morning and he must be, what – eighteen? Nineteen? He doesn’t look like an early riser.
