Chapter 18
The carpark at the endof the street was crammed with trucks, tractors, cars, dogs, horses, and people. The marching band was tuning up in one corner, and the wail of bagpipes rent the air like a banshee. Small children in rainbow dresses ran around shrieking to beat the bagpipes, and the Irish dancers adjusted the volume of their music from loud to deafening.
Allie dodged around the group of people with dustbins over their heads plastered with pictures of homophobic politicians. She hoped they had decent eye holes in the bins and safety goggles underneath. Her pink dress fluttered around her, and she adjusted the waistband once more as she went up to the wedding float directly behind the Bundjalung Nation’s float. She caught a glimpse of Kirra and the sistergirls and brotherboys already up there.
Allie reached her truck. It might only be the feedstore’s ute, but it was detailed to a gleaming white, and the sides of the tray were festooned with artificial white and pink roses. Fake grass covered the ute’s tray. On the top, there was a rope enclosure and a banner proclaimingYou’re invited to Tarryn and Sophie’s wedding.
Tarryn reached a hand and helped her up. She was wearing the silver-grey pants and pink waistcoat with a blinding white linen shirt. A lesbian flag enamel pin adorned her waistcoat, and her red hi-tops looked new. “Welcome aboard. Kirra says we’re to remain in the roped area—so we don’t stray too close to the edge apparently—and wave and smile. Dance a bit when we hear music.” She side-eyed Allie. “She said kissing wouldn’t hurt either.”
“Right.” Damn her fair skin. She just knew a flush was creeping up her neck to rival the brightest pink of her dress. “We’ll do our best.”
Tarryn hadn’t let go of her hand. It still clasped hers, her fingers wrapped around Allie’s. Her thumb made a slow pass over the inside of her wrist. Surely, her fingers would feel how her pulse pounded, beating at a rate that would surely be off the charts. Her stomach churned, and an empty feeling of nausea rolled over her. She’d been too busy—and too on edge—to think about eating. She stared down at her red Vans until the feeling passed.
Will came up to the truck with a basket. “Here, these are for you throw to the crowd.” The basket contained multicoloured lollies withLOVEwritten on them. “Try not to eat them all.”
Tarryn stuck her tongue out at him and unwrapped a lolly. “Try to stop me.”
Allie grabbed one as well. Maybe it would ease the nerves doing the bump and grind in her stomach. Tarryn seemed strangely relaxed, especially given she’d been so tense earlier. “You seem like you’re doing good now. Or have you been in the drag queens’ weed stash?”
“How do you know about that?” Tarryn’s eyes crinkled. “I’ve only had a few puffs, plus a couple of shots of tequila. I’m at the happy, euphoric stage of everything. I just hope it lasts long enough to get me through the ceremony and out the other side.”
“I wish I’d had your forethought.” Allie’s foot jiggled, and she clenched her hands together.
“Here.” Tarryn reached inside a cluster of artificial roses and withdrew a small bottle. “Have a swig of this, courtesy of Jason.”
The tequila burned enough to make Allie’s eyes water. “Drinking at work. I should give both of us a written warning.”
“I think we’re off the hook for this.”
There was a lurch and a rumble of diesel motor as the truck started and edged forward into position.
Phyll stood with a megaphone at the entrance to the car park. “Gymnastics club, you’re behind the wedding float, then the vintage cars.”
“I guess it’s too late to back out now.” Allie grabbed for the rope as the truck lurched.
Tarryn took her hand. “Way too late. Besides, Will and Garrett won’t fit these clothes.”
“Bundjalung float, move forward to the street for the Welcome to Country,” Phyll yelled.
Allie listened as an elder gave the Welcome to Country, welcoming visitors to the Bundjalung Nation. Once he stepped back, the Bundjalung float inched forward, and musicians started playing didgeridoos accompanied by clapsticks. She caught a glimpse of Kirra and the sistergirls and brotherboys dancing on the long flatbed of the truck.
“We’re off!” Tarryn grinned. She flung a handful of lollies to some kids who were jumping up and down at the side of the street.
“Irish dancers next,” yelled Phyll.
Where had all these people come from? They were two or three deep along both sides of the street, and this was only the start of the parade route. How many were there at the end, in front of the wedding stage?
Music poured out from the Bundjalung float, and Allie grabbed Tarryn’s hand. “Let’s dance!”
She jigged and stamped, her hands on Tarryn’s shoulders, gripping tight, and she focussed on Tarryn’s face so as not to get dizzy. She concentrated on her eyes: warm, dark, steady. If she kept staring at Tarryn’s eyes, she could get through this.
For another few seconds, their gazes connected, then Tarryn released her to throw another handful of lollies.
Allie slung an arm around Tarryn’s waist, unwilling to let the contact go, and waved to the crowds. Tarryn was close enough that the heat radiating from her body could have warmed her on a winter’s night. Without stopping to think, she moved in front and put her arms around Tarryn’s neck, leaning in to kiss her.
She’d meant it as a stage kiss, something quick and sweet, a peck and a smile, but the minute her lips touched Tarryn’s, she was lost. Her mouth parted on a soundless O, and there was a corresponding hitch in Tarryn’s breath. Then Tarryn’s arms went around her shoulders, and she was kissing her like a black-and-white movie hero, bending her back so Allie had to clutch at Tarryn’s waist for balance. Tarryn’s tongue swept around Allie’s lips, and it was impossible not to react, not to open them, not to allow her in. Allie’s pulse thundered in her head, her mind a fizzing white-hot burn of passion.
And then Tarryn was gone, leaving Allie with weak knees and a head full of desire, spinning her out of time and place until all she wanted to do was keep kissing Tarryn for the rest of her life and into the next.
