‘I think I’ve got a spare toothbrush in the bathroom,’ he says. ‘I’ll just go grab it.’
‘Thanks,’ I say when he returns.
‘Wake me up if the crying gets too much for you,’ he tells me.
‘Do you think she’ll cry?’ I ask worriedly, and he nods his head. The solemn look on his face makes me want to cry.
‘It’s okay,’ he says softly. ‘She’s going to be fine.’
‘I hope so,’ I reply. ‘I really hope so.’
The joey keeps me awake on and off throughout the night. I don’t rouse Ben. I can’t bear to ask any more of him, but I’m shattered by the time the morning light seeps under the curtains. I lie in bed for a moment, the koala thankfully asleep.
I dreamed about Ben most of last night. It was the strangest thing. I dreamed about kissing him, about him holding me, about him listening to me and being protective of me. But in the cold light of day, do I still fancy him?
Yes, I definitely do. For God’s sake, Lily. What’s the big deal? It’s only a crush. I have a crush on an older man! Whoopeedoo. It’s not as if it’s anything serious. It’s not as if anything is actually going to happen, is it? I laugh out loud at the thought. He’d be embarrassed for me if he knew. I shiver with horror.
The shower turns on in the bathroom. Ooh, I really need a wee. I climb out of bed and grab my clothes, leaving the joey sleeping while I go off in search of a toilet. The door across the corridor is open and I can see into what I assume is Ben’s room. The double bed is still unmade and there are a few clothes draped over a wooden chair next to the closet. I don’t want to pry so I move on to the room next to mine. It’s the second spare room: two single beds, neatly made. The kitchen is at the back of the house with a door that leads out to the garden. There’s another door to the left and I open it, hoping to spy the toilet because I’m getting a bit desperate now, but it’s just a larder. Bollocks. The door to the bathroom opens and Ben appears, along with a cloud of steam.
‘Hey!’ he says, surprised to see me.
‘Don’t you have a second loo?’ I ask, trying not to look at his really bloody gorgeous chest which is still damp from the shower.
‘Sorry.’ He shakes his head, grinning. ‘Bathroom’s free now.’
He turns and heads back into his bedroom while I hurry to the bathroom, my eyes on his glistening back and my heart fiercely pounding.
A minute after I get back to my bedroom, Ben knocks on the door.
‘How is she?’
He’s wearing his work clothes. I’ve never noticed how nice his legs are before. For Christ’s sake!
‘Did she cry much?’ he prompts when I don’t immediately answer.
‘No. Yes. No. Well, a little bit,’ I stutter.
‘You’re tired,’ he comments. ‘You’re not at work today, are you?’
‘No, not until tomorrow.’
‘You’ll be able to catch some sleep when you get home. Do you still want to drive?’
I smile. ‘You haven’t forgotten?’
Twenty minutes later I’m attempting to reverse up the steep incline of Ben’s driveway. The koala is safe in a holding cage on the back seat.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to do this part?’ I ask as the car judders violently and stalls for the third time.
‘No,’ he says firmly. ‘You can do it.’ The emphasis is on the ‘can’.
‘Okay,’ I sigh. I put the handbrake on, the gearstick into neutral and turn the key in the ignition. ‘Your car is so much bigger than my Ford Fiesta.’ He drives a white Holden Commodore station wagon.
‘You’ll be fine.’
The car judders again, but I eventually manage the manoeuvre.
‘Good,’ he says. ‘Straight ahead, left at the T-junction.’
Michael lives less than ten minutes away so it’s a short lesson, but I’m pleased that Ben makes a much better driving instructor than Josh.
‘Thanks, Mr . . . Actually, what is your surname?’ I ask, my joke about him being my new teacher falling flat.
‘Whiting,’ he replies. ‘Like the fish.’
‘Fish?’
‘Yeah, whiting,’ he says again.
‘Never heard of it.’
‘I will have to take you fishing sometime.’
‘You fish?’
‘Sure.’
‘A man of many talents,’ I say stupidly. He unclicks his seatbelt and climbs out of his seat. We meet each other in front of the bonnet.
‘Thanks for being there for me last night.’ I feel like a shy schoolgirl all over again.
‘No worries,’ he replies with an even more exaggerated Australian accent than usual. ‘See you tomorrow.’
I can’t wait, I think sadly as I walk towards the house and turn back to watch him climb into the driver’s seat. He lifts his hand in a wave and then drives off as I experience a comedown that has nothing to do with how much I drank last night.
Chapter 6
As predicted, Josh is fast asleep when I get home. He emerges at five minutes to midday, looking hungover and strangely unattractive. He slumps down next to me on the sofa and instead of my usual flutterings at his close contact, I find myself feeling a bit annoyed that he didn’t sit on the armchair. How very fickle of me.
‘Can you not sit over there?’ I grumble. ‘I was about to lie down.’
‘Tough shit,’ he replies, reaching for my crisps packet.
‘Get your own.’ I snatch them back.
‘Somebody’s in a bad mood,’ he taunts.
‘That’s probably because I’ve been up all night taking care of an orphaned koala!’ I snap. How did I ever fancy you?
‘Up all night?’ he sniggers.
‘Well, that’s what it felt like,’ I quickly tell him, not wanting him to cotton on to the fact that I stayed at Ben’s. In the cold light of day I realise that he might find that slightly weird. I know it was perfectly innocent, but if he made a comment I might do something horrendous like blush.
‘And the koala is going to be fine, thank you for asking,’ I add sarcastically.
Josh gets up and goes to sit on the armchair. Result. Except now I feel a bit mean.
‘Have some of these if you want.’ I hand over the crisps.
‘Thanks,’ he mutters, and a tentative peace is restored.
Ooh, aren’t his arms skinny compared to Ben’s? Oh dear. I really must stop this.
My crush doesn’t dissolve over the course of the day and by Monday when Michael and I set off for work, I feel irritatingly jittery. I hope Ben doesn’t notice.
He’s not in the staffroom when we arrive and that provokes my symptoms even more. I head off to the hospital room, wondering if he’s with the joey. Quietly pushing open the door, I see him kneeling in front of the heater with our little orphan. My heart does a somersault.
‘Hey,’ he says, looking around at me.
‘How is she?’ There’s a slight tremor to my voice.
‘She’s fine. I’m getting her settled for the day.’
‘Did she keep you awake much last night?’
‘Only a bit. She’ll get better with time. What did you get up to yesterday?’
‘Sat around watching telly.’
He gets to his feet and comes towards me. I have to stop myself from taking a step backwards. ‘When do you want your next driving lesson?’
‘Do you mean it?’
‘I rarely say anything I don’t mean.’
‘When have you got the time?’
‘When’s your next day off?’
‘Wednesday.’
‘That’s a stroke of luck.’ He raises his eyebrows as he gazes down at me. ‘It’s mine too.’
Wednesday cannot come soon enough. The moments when I’m not with Ben at work drag by. The moments when I’m with him seem to fly by at high speed.
When Ben turns up on the doorstep on Wednesday morning, it’s a hot and sunny day. After much deliberation, I’ve opted for a black skirt because I can
just about cope with my legs being on view these days. I team it with a red top, and tie my dark hair up into a high ponytail. Ben is wearing white board shorts and a green T-shirt.
‘All set?’
‘Do you want to come in for a coffee, mate?’ Michael calls from behind me. I moan internally at the distraction.
‘Just had one,’ Ben replies.
Phew.
Michael joins us at the front door and puts his hands on my shoulders. ‘Take care of our girl.’
‘You know I will.’
I step out of Michael’s grasp and usher Ben down the footpath, keen to avoid further delays.
Ben turns around and jangles the car keys to his Holden station wagon in his hand. ‘Your car or mine?’
‘Mine, of course.’
He groans.
‘Hey, remember I’ve got to take my driving test in it,’ I add.
‘Okay, okay,’ he concedes, pocketing his keys.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask when we’re both belted in.
‘I thought we could go for a drive around the hills.’
‘Sounds good.’ I turn and wave at Michael, who’s still standing in the doorway, then pull away from the kerb, stalling immediately.
‘Sorry, sorry. I won’t watch you,’ Michael shouts, before going inside.
I wipe my forehead and attempt the manoeuvre again, this time with success.
‘He’s a good guy,’ Ben says of Michael.
‘I like him,’ I reply. ‘He’s definitely one of my mum’s nicer boyfriends.’
‘Take a right here. Has your mum had a lot of boyfriends?’ Ben asks casually.
‘Oh, dozens.’ I flick on the indicator.
‘Don’t forget to check your mirrors,’ Ben reminds me.
‘Whoops.’ I do as he says and make the turn.
‘Straight ahead through Crafers, then we’ll take a right at the roundabout. Did you get along with all of them?’
‘They were alright for the most part. I liked Bill, her last serious one.’
‘He’s the one who lived in Brighton, right?’
‘That’s right.’ I mentioned him on Saturday night when I relayed the story about Shannon and Dan. ‘She was with him for almost four years, which was practically a record. I was sad when she got bored of him and we had to go back to London.’
‘That’s a great little restaurant.’ I glance left as we pass a place called Jimmies. ‘A sexy blonde sometimes sings there on Thursday nights,’ Ben adds.
I crunch the gears as my insides prickle with jealousy. I don’t know why it hasn’t occurred to me that of course Ben will have a sex life. For all I know, he could have a girlfriend. I immediately want to rule out that possibility, but the question won’t slide off my tongue.
‘Yeah, right here,’ he directs as we approach the aforementioned roundabout. ‘Mirrors,’ he adds.
We start to climb up into the winding hills. Purple, pink and yellow wildflowers line the sides of the roads.
‘How long was your mum with your dad?’ Ben asks after a while.
‘I think she was only with him for a few months before she got pregnant. They got married, but they didn’t last long after I was born. After the divorce she moved on to Simon.’
We pass the gates to the conservation park.
‘This is a different way to how Michael drives to work,’ I comment.
‘Yeah. I didn’t want you to have to manoeuvre your way up a steep dirt track on your first lesson.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Straight ahead,’ he says.
Out of the right-hand window I see the castle that I noticed from my bedroom window on my first day here.
‘What’s that?’ I ask.
‘Carminow Castle,’ Ben replies. ‘It burnt down in one of the bush fires and was left empty for years.’
‘Spooky. And what are those?’ On the other side of the road there are towering structures shooting upwards into the sky. I spy another burnt-out house to their right.
‘Transmitter stations for television and telephone. Hey, look! Black cockatoos!’ I nervously follow Ben’s gaze to see two black birds flying over the roof of the car. ‘Very rare,’ he says.
‘Cool,’ I comment, looking hastily back at the road.
‘So what was Simon like?’ He reverts to our earlier discussion.
‘I barely remember him,’ I reply. ‘But I’ve seen pictures of us all on a beach in Dorset when I was two. Then there was Desmond. We went to live with him, too. I have vague memories of collecting eggs on his farm in Yorkshire. Mum flitted from man to man for a few years after that. Most of the time we lived in a little flat in East London, until she met Bill and we were off again. I liked living by the sea.’
As if to illustrate my point, through a break in the pale-grey bark of the gum trees, we can see the city of Adelaide and beyond it, the ocean sparkling cool and blue.
‘Wow. Do you mind if I stop and take a photo?’
‘Course not.’
I manage to pull over on the side of the road near someone’s driveway, and turn off the engine. While Ben waits patiently in the passenger seat, I remove my camera bag from the footwell and take a couple of shots.
I climb back into the car, commenting, ‘The views up here must be amazing in the winter.’
‘In the winter?’
‘When the leaves fall off. You can barely see the coast at the moment for all the gum trees.’
‘Oh.’ I can hear the smile in his voice. ‘The leaves don’t fall off. They’re evergreens.’
‘Sorry. What an idiot.’
‘You, Lily Neverley, are anything but.’
It’s the first time he’s said my full name. Warmth radiates through me as I check my mirrors, indicate, and pull out of the driveway and back onto the main road.
We continue to drive along winding roads and through tiny towns and barely-there communities. Occasionally I stop to take a photo of a broken-down car in the middle of someone’s backyard, or horses the colour of rust grazing in a yellow paddock. Sometimes we run parallel to fields full of lime-green grapevines stretching out beside us, but we’re almost always driving in the shadow of towering eucalyptus trees. At one point we pass a sign for a total fire ban.
‘See how some of the gums are black?’ Ben says. ‘This whole area almost burnt to the ground back in 1983. They called it Ash Wednesday.’
‘Do you remember it?’ I try to work out how old he would have been.
‘I was at primary school in Mount Barker. We were evacuated and I was taken to my nan’s house because my mum was out of town on one of her many soirées. It probably would have been safer at school,’ he says. ‘I still recall Nan filling the bathtub with water and soaking towels in it to place in front of all the doors.’
‘That must’ve been terrifying!’
‘It was. A couple of my mates’ houses burned down. Luckily I didn’t know anyone who’d been killed.’
‘How did Josh’s mum die?’ I ask out of the blue.
‘Drink-driving accident.’
‘No way?’ I glance at him in horror. I thought it must have been cancer or a serious illness. Not an accident. That’s one of the worst ways to go. ‘What happened to the guy who did it?’ I ask.
‘She was the one who’d been drinking.’
There is a silence. I’m too shocked to respond.
‘She ploughed the car head on into a tree,’ he goes on.
‘Shit.’ My reaction sounds so feeble. ‘Was she an alcoholic?’
‘No. She’d been on a work day out to some of the wineries. None of her colleagues thought to make her take the bus home.’
‘Bloody hell. I can’t believe Josh still drinks and drives.’
Ben sighs. ‘Neither can I. Take a left here.’ I make the turn and then he says, ‘Hey, do you fancy a coffee?’
‘Sure.’ Are you kidding me? That’s practically a date!
‘Have you been to Hahndorf yet?’
‘No. I??
?ve barely been anywhere.’
‘Come on, then. We have to jump back onto the highway.’
Hahndorf, I soon discover, is a small historic town situated not far from where we live. It was settled by Lutheran migrants and you can see the German influence in the architecture and cuisine of many of the old shops, cafés and restaurants.
‘This is a great pub.’ Ben nods ahead as we walk towards the Hahndorf Inn. People are seated at wooden bench tables on the pavement drinking beer.
‘Would you rather go here?’ I ask.
‘Would you?’ he bounces back, before immediately dismissing the idea. ‘Actually, no, Michael wouldn’t be too impressed if I dragged you to a pub.’
‘I do drink alcohol, you know,’ I say narkily.
‘That was clear from the other night,’ he replies meaningfully. I’m too annoyed to respond. I didn’t want a bloody drink, anyway. I’m learning to drive, for crying out loud!
I’ve been forgetting it’s Christmas in a few days, but the decorations adorning the street lamps and shop windows serve as a frequent reminder. Ben points to an old-fashioned sweet shop across the road.
‘We’ll have to go in there on the way back. I’ve been addicted to their sour peach hearts ever since I was a kid.’
Moments later we come to a stop outside the Hahndorf Kaffeehaus.
‘Here we are,’ he says. ‘This place does the best Kitchener buns.’
‘What’s a Kitchener bun?’
‘It’s a bit like a doughnut with jam and cream. They do nice ham and cheese croissants, too. Are you hungry?’
‘A little.’
‘You’re not a vegetarian, are you? Great pastries, if you are.’
‘No, I’m not. Are you a vegetarian?’ He strikes me more as a meat-and-two-veg kind of guy.
‘Nah.’ He shakes his head. ‘Do you want to sit outside?’
‘Okay.’
I take a seat on the green-picket-fence-enclosed terrace, and gaze down the busy main street. There are two horses pulling a cart filled with people. The horses’ reins have been decorated with tinsel.