“You’re different, too,” she’d thrown back at Falk the one and only time he’d raised it.
When she’d been offered a transfer and promotion in Sydney, it had come as something of a relief for both of them. She’d accepted the opportunity almost defiantly, this new role based right in the urban heart of a different state, a long way from her little nieces and the peninsula swims and the independent bookshop. She’d made the arrangements as if daring Falk to challenge her decision. He’d thought about it—seriously and carefully—and then hadn’t, and was very aware thatshe felt let down by that. So she’d gone, leaving some gaps in his social life and a few more in his living room—why did losing a girlfriend always involve losing furniture? he wondered—and then quickly, very quickly in fact, the gaps had closed over as though they’d never been there. For the past year, whenever Raco or Rita had asked what he’d been up to, Falk always gave the same honest answer: work, mainly.
A gust of cold air blew in straight off the Yarra as the bar’s door opened and then closed, and Falk checked the time. Raco was late—unusually for him—and Falk finally, reluctantly, surrendered his spot and fought his way to the counter. He was scrolling through his emails and half-heartedly attempting to get served when his phone buzzed in his hand.
A text from Raco.Bloody stuck here, will try to call…
A young bartender suddenly materialized in front of Falk, saw him looking at his phone, and turned immediately to the woman at the bar next to him, with a snapped: “Yep?”
“Ah, I’ll…” The woman paused, also distracted as her own screen lit up in her hand. The bartender didn’t attempt to suppress his eye roll. She looked up and caught him at it.
“Sorry,” she said, and he softened a little. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone, but he’s just messaged and—” She stopped herself. The bartender clearly could not care less. She gestured to Falk. “Maybe let this guy go ahead while I…”
Her navy-blue coat was dotted with rain, and she’d brought the cold in with her. She put her phone down on the countertop and wound her damp hair into a quick, loose bun on top of her head as she frowned at the lit-up screen. As she lowered her arms, she eased her bag off her shoulder and onto the empty stool in front of her. Two wrapped children’s gifts were visible inside; the label on the top one read:Baby Raco.
Falk twisted to look at her properly now, bumping against a young guy standing too close behind him. “You’re here to meet Greg Raco?” he said. “His friend from South Australia?”
“Yeah.” She turned in surprise. The bartender threw them both a look of impatience and moved on. “Are you… Adam?”
“Aaron. Falk.” He held out his hand.
“That’s right, sorry.” She smiled as she took it, her palm cool from the evening air. “Gemma Tozer. Hi.” She glanced at her phone. “Did you just get—”
As if on cue, Falk’s own mobile rang.This is him now,he gestured as he answered, covering his other ear to drown out the chatter and music.
“Mate, sorry, this is the first chance I’ve had to step out—” Raco launched straight into a rambling explanation that Falk only half caught. The course instructor had been urgently called away, the replacement was now running well behind. They had to get through it tonight so the officers could all get back to their home turfs before the weekend shifts.
“Listen,” Raco was saying. “Gemma’ll be arriving any minute, I’ll call her—”
“She’s here now, mate. Hang on, I’ll pass you over—” Falk had held out his phone to the woman. “He’s stuck there.”
“Not going to make it?”
“Doesn’t sound hopeful.”
“Okay.” She’d undone her coat and underneath was wearing a knee-length patterned dress that gathered at the waist. She dried her damp hands against the hem before taking Falk’s phone and listening for a minute, concentrating to hear over the noise.
She fell somewhere between him and Raco in age, Falk guessed. Probably closer to Raco, or maybe she was just religious about applying sunscreen. Her hair was light or dark brown, depending on how it caught the overhead lights.
“No, Greg,” she was saying. “Don’t worry. Absolutely. It happens. It’s—”
The reassurances went on for so long that Falk had to smile. Gemma met his eye and grinned as well. She leaned against the bar, picking up a promotional beer mat with her free hand and turning it over idly as Raco continued to apologize.
“I think we can forgive you,” she said finally. “Give my love toRita. Okay. Yes. Look, sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.” She cringed as she spoke and immediately stopped fiddling with the coaster, placing it down firmly on the counter. On the side facing up, Falk could see a slogan for a new craft ale:Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.
He felt a flutter of amusement and glanced up. Gemma shrugged with her free hand.
Been a long day,she mouthed.
Fair enough,he mouthed back.
She smiled at him then. “Okay. I’ll make sure he knows,” she said into the phone, still looking at Falk. “No worries. Bye.” She hung up and returned Falk’s phone. “He was being called back in. He’s very sorry about tonight.”
Falk laughed. “Yeah, I got that.”
“He said he’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’m sure he will. He’s a good bloke.”
