Paycheque (35 page)

‘Great names. Must be both boys, right, being ginger?'

‘Yep, both male.'

‘So, could you take them back? I mean I've become attached to these little guys and I think four would be overdoing it a bit. I'm so sorry, Derek. It was a lovely thought…'

‘Actually, I've become rather attached to them myself. And of
course, Maddie would only let them go back over my dead body,' he said, and laughed. ‘So I guess I have two kittens now, too.'

‘Oh Derek, that's great,' she yelped, grabbing him in a bear hug. An awkward moment passed before Claire released him. ‘So, can I get you a tea or coffee, or maybe a glass of red? I'm starting late tomorrow.'

‘Oh well, in that case a glass of wine would be lovely.'

‘Have you eaten? I was going to heat up some leftover pasta. There's enough for two, though it's nothing special.'

‘I'm sure it's lovely. Thanks, dinner would be great.'

‘How about you let Terry and Sandy out while I get it organised.'

‘Are you sure you don't mind?'

‘They can't be any worse than these two. And we're getting really used to little accidents around here.'

Derek tactfully eschewed her offer of opening a second bottle of wine. At first Claire was a little disappointed – she was really enjoying his company. But he was right, it was getting late. And they did both have to work in the morning.

At the door, he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a firm lingering kiss on the lips. She drank in his breath, waiting for, hoping for his tongue to push between her lips and search for hers. But instead he pulled back, held her at arm's length for a moment, and then pecked her on the forehead.

‘See you later,' he said, and turned to leave. Claire's heart was a little heavy as she waved him off.

Back inside the house, mesmerised by the frolicking kittens, Claire thought about how she felt. She was glad he had enough respect for her to not be trying to get her into bed. Maybe he wasn't attracted to her in that way. Maybe he just wanted friendship. Did she? No. Claire knew for certain she wanted more from Derek. But what if he didn't?

As she locked the kittens in the laundry for the night, Claire was
still trying to convince herself that an uncomplicated friendship was best.

But laying in bed, enjoying the doughy, woozy haze of two and a half glasses of red wine, she felt the dull ache of wanting to be held, embraced. But was she ready to be intimate again with someone new? ‘Oh, I don't know,' she said aloud to the dark empty room.

The next morning when she opened the laundry door, Claire found two sheepish kittens peering from between the foliage of the pot plants on the window sill, a considerable amount of potting mix spilt on the floor beneath. Scooping them up she realised she finally had their names – Bill (with white chest and front feet) and Ben (with a white tip on his tail), the flowerpot men.

‘Uh huh!' Bernie yelled, as she rounded the corner of the post office. Claire snapped the phone shut and felt herself blush a little.

‘Jesus, Bernie. You scared me half to death.'

‘So, who was on the phone? Judging by your rosy cheeks it must be lover-boy, Derek.'

‘Derek is not my “lover-boy”, as you so childishly put it,' Claire said haughtily, tossing her head and shoving her mobile in her handbag.

‘But he's ringing you, right? Come on Claire. That blush is a dead giveaway. Don't waste your innocent pout on me – we both know you'd shag him in a heartbeat.'

Claire opened her mouth to protest.

‘You're as frustrated as hell. Just admit it.'

Claire threw her hands up and laughed. ‘Maybe just a little.'

‘Come on, then,' Bernie said, grabbing her friend's arm and giving it a tug. ‘The only temporary cure for that is chocolate or cheesecake.'

Speaking of frustrated, Claire thought as she was dragged down the street towards the café, she had promised herself she'd ask her friend about David next time she saw her.

‘Anyway, I have some news of my own,' Bernadette said, puncturing Claire's thoughts.

After seeing out a pair of stooped old ladies with walking sticks, David held the door open for them to enter, pecking them both on the cheek as they passed. Claire noticed Bernadette whisper something in his ear, probably advising quick service was required for a cheesecake crisis meeting. But instead, he followed them to their table and sat down, then beckoned to the waitress across the room. Claire looked from David to Bernie and back again. David grasped Bernadette's hand laying on the table and, after silently seeking her nodding approval, spoke.

‘We have something exciting to tell you. Don't we darling?'

Claire sucked her breath in sharply and felt the blood drain to her feet.

‘We're getting married, we're engaged,' Bernie blurted in a loud whisper.

‘You're what?' Claire couldn't help it – the words and expression were there before she could stop them. ‘But I thought David was…'

‘Well that's a bit of a funny story actually, isn't it darling?' Bernie cooed, stroking her fiancé's hand.

‘Long story and all that,' he said, flapping his hand.

Claire stared at them in disbelief.

‘Well aren't you happy for us?' Bernadette demanded.

‘Of course I am.' She got up and put her arms around both of them. ‘I'm just surprised, that's all. I had no idea you guys were so serious.' She didn't think she'd ever felt so hurt.

‘Took us by surprise, too. One minute we're going along as friends. The next, over a single candle and two bottles of wine, we realised there was more going on.' David laughed.

Well that'd do it
, Claire thought. She'd got it – David – so wrong. But how could her best friend, with whom she shared everything, not confide in her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of two slices of cheesecake.

‘Darling, I've got to get back to work. I'll see you later. Enjoy!' David got up and gave Bernadette's lips a long firm kiss. He gave Claire a quick peck and was gone.

‘We're going to look at rings on Saturday,' Bernadette said, blushing slightly, noticing Claire searching her fingers.

Claire sank her fork into the blueberry jelly topping. ‘Are you sure?'

‘David's picking me up at ten. We're going to…'

‘No, silly. Are you sure about marrying him?'

Bernadette let out a laugh. ‘Sure? Of course I'm sure.' They lapsed into silence.

Bernie was only halfway through her dessert when Claire had finished hers. She got up and put some cash on the table.

‘Sorry, gotta run. Uh, mail to get, banking to do, horses to feed,' she said, tossing the words over her shoulder, and bolted.

Out in her car, Claire paused before turning the key and realised she was sweating. Her heart was pounding and she was having trouble getting enough air into her lungs.

What is the matter with me?

Instead of feeling excited and happy for her friend, she felt sick. As she drove home, Claire realised that her whole world had changed. And she didn't like it.

She took a shower, but it did nothing to ease her despondency. In track pants and a t-shirt, she sat in front of the television, stroking the kittens absently as they clambered over her. She was still there a couple of hours later, engrossed in
The Bold and the Beautiful
when the doorbell rang. She opened the door to find her best friend in the world standing there.

‘Can I come in?' Bernie asked.

‘Huh? Of course,' Claire said, finally roused from her stupor.

‘Tea? Coffee?'

‘Tea, thanks.'

Claire was thankful to be given leave from the tension-filled lounge room. When she returned, they sat on each end of the couch sipping tea and pretending to watch the kittens. Claire couldn't remember a moment as awkward between them. She knew she should get all gushy about Bernadette's engagement but she was too hurt at being the last to know, and felt too stupid at not having twigged they were so serious.

Bernadette was the first to make the effort. ‘Claire, I'm sorry I haven't been around much lately, but work's been really hectic. Everyone's frantically putting in dripper systems before the new water restrictions come into force. And…'

‘I can't believe you didn't you tell me about you and David,' Claire said quietly.

‘I wanted to, I really did.'

‘Well why didn't you? Bloody hell, Bernie…'

‘Claire, please don't be angry with me.'

‘I'm not angry. I'm hurt. Really hurt.'

‘Well I'm really sorry about that, but I didn't really know how to tell you.'

‘Why? We've been best friends for years.'

Bernie looked at Claire with raised eyebrows. ‘You told me he was gay at every opportunity. And don't think I didn't notice your look of pity every time I said how nice he was.'

‘Was I that bad?'

‘Yes, you were. So how was I going to tell you we were an item? You probably would have had me committed for being delusional,' Bernie said, smiling at her friend.

Claire thawed, and smiled back despite herself. ‘Okay, fair enough. But you still should have told me.'

‘I know. So are we just a little bit even? Are you ever going to forgive me?'

‘Only if you promise never to do it again,' Claire said, putting on a pout.

‘Promise. Seriously, Claire, this is it: I'm going to spend the rest of my life with David.'

‘That's great news. I'm very happy for you.'

They hugged tightly for a few moments.

‘So,' Bernie said after they had separated, ‘I saw in the paper you had a win at Strathalbyn. You must be really pleased, especially with Paycheque after all he's been through.'

Claire grinned. ‘Yeah, he ran a course record over twenty-two hundred metres.'

‘So, should we be booking a honeymoon in Melbourne around the Cup then?'

‘At the rate he's going, anything's possible,' Claire said, and laughed.