I spin around. ‘What?’
‘Ben. He just left.’ He takes a gulp of his lemon squash, pulls a face and gets to his feet. ‘Now I can get a proper drink without some know-it-all interfering.’
‘Josh, don’t,’ I cry in dismay, but he’s already at the bar. ‘Don’t!’ I hiss at him. By the time he returns, I am simmering.
‘It’s only one beer, for fuck’s sake,’ he says.
‘I can’t believe you’ve just gone and done that.’
‘Chill the hell out! What’s the big deal?’
‘The big deal?’ I practically screech. ‘The big deal?’ The diners at the next table turn to look at me. ‘Bollocks to this!’ I clatter my knife and fork on my plate and slide out from my bench seat, wishing there was a chair here instead because it’s hard to look angry and bum-shuffle at the same time.
‘Where are you going?’ Josh asks in surprise.
‘Home, you fuckwit, even if I have to walk.’ I storm out of the restaurant and furiously dig out Mum’s mobile phone from my bag. I’m sure I’ve got a taxi number in here somewhere. I wonder if Ben has gone far? No. I can’t keep depending on him to rescue me, however much I’d like to.
‘Lily, don’t be ridiculous.’ I turn to see Josh standing on the pavement.
‘Piss off!’
‘Come on, I’ll drive.’
‘Did you drink that beer?’
‘Downed it in one.’ Pause. ‘I’m joking!’
‘This is no laughing matter.’ Again, people turn to stare.
‘Come on,’ he urges quietly. ‘Everyone will think you’re my bird and we’re having a bust-up.’
‘Fat bloody chance of that!’ But I allow him to manoeuvre me around the corner to the car park.
I sit in silence for most of the journey home, still furious. Finally I decide I’m not ready to let it go. I know I’ve been in the car with him when he’s drunk a hell of a lot more than one beer, but suddenly I’ve had it up to my eyeballs.
‘Seriously, did you drink any of it?’
‘Any of what?’ he asks in frustration.
‘That beer!’
‘Are youstillgoing on about that?’
‘Did you?’
‘I had a couple of swigs – so what? I’m not going to let a good beer go to waste.’
‘I don’t know why I ever got into a car with you,’ I say darkly as we exit Crafers and pass a koala warning sign. ‘You’re clearly not bothered about who or what you kill.’
‘Hey . . .’ he cautions.
‘Seriously, haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to run over a child?’
‘Shut up!’ he says nastily.
‘You’d never forget it. You’d never get over it. It would ruin your life. All because you had one beer too many that impaired your reflexes.’
‘I’m not kidding, Lily. Shut. Up.’ We pull up outside his house.
