The Sun in Her Eyes (18 page)

‘I feel like I dreamt it,’ I admit.

‘Me too.’

Neither of us says anything for a moment, but I feel acutely connected to him.

‘Did your dad say you were on the phone to Ned?’ he asks. He obviously couldn’t entirely make out what he was saying.

‘Yes. He called,’ I reply.

‘Did you tell him?’ He sounds cagey.

‘No,’ I reply.

Ethan sighs. ‘Don’t feel too bad, Amber. It happened in extraordinary circumstances. We both thought we were going to die. It wouldn’t have happened otherwise.’
He’s evidently thought about this. ‘Just… Just… Give yourself a break,’ he finishes.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ I say in a small voice.

‘Don’t tell him,’ he stresses. ‘What good would it do? It’ll never happen again.’

‘Okay,’ I force myself to say, realising, to my disgrace, that his words aren’t entirely welcome.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

‘Please don’t apologise.’

‘Listen.’ He hesitates. ‘I’m going to be really busy at work for the next few weeks. The cooper is coming in to fix up the barrels and next week we start
harvesting…’ My heart sinks with every word that spills from his lips. ‘I hope you’re okay,’ he says. ‘I’m here if you need me, but please try to put what
happened out of your mind. Don’t let guilt eat you up. It won’t do either of you any good.’

In a weird way, I wish that the guilt
was
eating me up. I don’t feel anywhere near as much regret about what happened as I know that I should. It’s unnerving.

Dad looks troubled when I join him in the kitchen.

‘Did Liz tell you about Mr Fletchley?’ I ask, figuring that’s the reason for his expression.

‘No?’

‘Oh.’ Eek. ‘He asked if he could come over again at lunchtime.’

‘No,’ he says firmly.

‘It’s too late,’ I reply. ‘I’ve already said that he can.’

‘Amb—’

I cut him off. ‘He feels terrible about last time. Give him another chance, Dad. God knows, people need second chances.’

He looks put out, but reluctantly he agrees.

Mr Fletchley’s visit is
much
better the second time round. He arrives with a bottle of champagne in one hand, Dad’s favourite chocolate liqueurs in the other, and a genuine
smile on his face.

‘I’m sorry I was a bit out of order last time, Len,’ he says, flashing me an apologetic smile as we follow Dad into the kitchen. At least here he can sit at the table without
assistance – it might make him feel more at ease.

‘Don’t be silly,’ Dad says. ‘Take a seat.’

‘Can I get you a drink?’ I ask.

‘I’ll do it,’ Dad says. ‘You take a break.’

I try not to show my surprise. ‘Okay, I’ll just put the quiche in.’

I’m glad he doesn’t insist on doing that, too. I love that he’s determined to regain his independence, but I’m not sure he can be trusted with a hot oven.

When Daniel Fletchley leaves, Dad decides to go for a lie-down, but I can tell he’s feeling more positive than the last time.

‘Okay?’ I ask hopefully.

‘Yes,’ he replies, regarding me for a long moment. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ I reply brightly. ‘You missed a bit,’ I say with a grin, running my finger over a patch of stubble on his throat.

‘Oh,’ he says, reaching his hand up.

‘I’m teasing, Dad. You can hardly notice. I can’t believe how quickly you’ve managed to start shaving again.’

‘I’m glad you’re here, Amber,’ he says.

I put my arms around him and hold his worryingly bony frame. ‘I’m glad I’m here, too, Dad.’ I close my eyes, releasing him a moment later.

‘When are you going home?’

His question surprises me. ‘After Easter, if everything is okay here.’

He nods. ‘That sounds good.’

I’ll get on to my return flight this afternoon. ‘But please can we try to get out of the house this week?’ If I have to beg, I’ll beg.

‘Let’s go to the cemetery,’ he replies, shuffling towards his bedroom.

‘Okay, in the next couple of days,’ I agree. ‘It’s my birthday on Friday. Perhaps we can go out for lunch, too?’

He grunts. ‘We’ll see.’

I smile as he shuts the door in my face.

Tina calls two days later. ‘Why didn’t you ring me about the fire?’ she exclaims.

‘Did Ethan tell you?’ It hurts to say his name.

‘Josh did. Ethan told him. Jesus, Amber, he said it was really bad!’

‘It was,’ I confess.

‘It sounds like you were lucky to make it out of there alive.’

‘We were.’

‘Jesus!’ she says again.

‘I know.’

‘How are you so calm about it?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve got other things on my mind, I guess.’ Ain’t that the truth.

‘Well, I want to hear all about it on Friday.’

‘Are we still going out?’ I can’t say the idea appeals to me at the moment.

‘Hell, yeah! And guess what? Nell wants to bring George!’ she cries exuberantly.

‘George?’ I ask with surprise. ‘How did she get his number?’

‘Apparently he called Ethan’s mum and asked her to pass on his details!’ she squeaks.

‘Oh. Wow.’

‘I know! How cute is that?’

‘Very cute,’ I reply with a smile, my heart warming despite the fact that I’ll now be spending my birthday with two couples. I know there’s no way Ethan will be
coming.

‘Anyway, I’ve booked a table for dinner at the Belgium Bar behind Rundle Street, if that’s okay. We can go bar-hopping and clubbing from there.’

‘Great. Thanks so much for organising it all.’

‘No worries,’ she replies with an almost audible grin. Another big night out… We’re all going to get alcohol poisoning at this rate. That would serve me right.

‘Listen, I’ve got to go,’ I say. ‘Dad and I are going to visit Mum’s grave in a minute.’

‘Oh,’ she replies, stumped for words.

‘Is everything okay with you, though? How are things with Josh?’ I prompt.

‘Yeah, we’re fine,’ she brushes me off. ‘Everything’s fine, now. How’s your dad?’

‘Slowly getting better,’ I reply.

‘I’ll let you go, then.’

‘Thanks. See you Friday.’

I take a long, deep breath after we hang up, trying to steel myself for the outing with Dad.

Mum is buried at a cemetery in the hills overlooking the city of Adelaide. I haven’t been here in so long that I hardly know which direction to walk, but Dad’s
memory is sound.

‘Straight ahead,’ he directs me. ‘Left at the tree.’

We walk at a slow pace, keeping an eye out for loose paving stones or anything that may trip Dad up. I’m carrying a bucket of flowering plants and a small garden spade in my left hand, and
a fold-up chair in my right. Dad requested the former, but complained about the latter. He has already apologised twice for not helping me to carry anything.

We reach the tree and turn left, and there, above the distant treetops, is the city and the vast blue ocean beyond. It’s overcast today and cooler than it has been, but it’s still a
fantastic view.

‘Here she is,’ Dad says, the slowness of his voice not masking the sorrow within it.

I don’t think of Mum often. I don’t really remember her. Sometimes when I catch a glimpse of her face inside my head, I’m filled with dark thoughts, but these moments are rare.
It’s clear from what I see now, though, that she is never far from Dad’s mind.

The gravestone before us is made of simple grey stone, the words carved into it:

As I stare at the numbers, something computes inside my brain. Was Mum only twenty-nine when she died? I don’t think I’ve ever actually realised that. The fact resonates with me,
particularly now that I’m about to turn thirty.

Dad stumbles and I come to my senses in time to catch him, the chair and the bucket of plants clattering to my feet.

‘Blast!’ he erupts.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ I say hastily, holding him steady for a moment before letting him go to erect the seat. ‘Sit down.’

He shakily does as I say, with a little help and guidance from me.

‘Dammit,’ he complains.

‘Don’t fret, Dad, please. I’m here to help.’ I hurriedly pick up the plants, shovelling the spilled soil back into their pots with my fingers.

‘I just wanted to do it myself.’ He sounds deeply unhappy.

‘You can do it yourself next year,’ I say. ‘And the year after. And the year after that. Make the most of me while I’m here.’

He grunts, but I can tell that he’s calmer. I kneel down in front of the grave and start to pull up weeds while he watches and directs me.

‘You’re a good girl, Amber,’ he says after a minute.

‘I love you, too, Dad,’ I reply.

I wake up on the morning of my thirtieth birthday and lie there for a moment, wondering if I feel any different to when I turned twenty-nine.

A year ago, Ned brought me breakfast in bed and woke me with dozens of tiny kisses planted all over my stomach. I came to, giggling.

With a sigh, I climb out of bed and catch sight of my reflection in the mirror.

I don’t look any different. I don’t look like an adulterer. Or maybe I do. Maybe Ned will be able to see straight through me when I go home. I shudder at the thought and turn away,
coming to a halt as another flashback of Ethan enters, unbidden, into my mind. My knees feel weak, so I sit back down on the bed, my stomach fluttering uncontrollably. This has happened to me
several times over these last few days. I should feel sick at the memory of sex with him, but the truth is, I don’t. It’s a shameful truth. I’m disgusted with myself.

‘Are you awake?’ Liz calls from outside my door.

‘Yes,’ I call back unenthusiastically.

The door flies open, startling me. Dad and Liz stand grinning like lunatics in the corridor.

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’ They both cry, not in unison.

I laugh lightly as Liz steamrolls into my room, followed more slowly by Dad. ‘Thank you.’

‘Get back into bed,’ Liz commands. ‘What a mess,’ she mutters, looking around.

I would be annoyed, but she’s carrying a tray with tea and toast on it. She’s only gone and brought me breakfast in bed.

‘Aah!’ I say, touched.

‘Move that stuff there, would you,’ she says impatiently, nodding at my bedside table. I reach over and shove everything onto the floor, grinning as she casts her eyes heavenwards.
Dad carefully treads across the carpet until he reaches my bed. With a shaking right hand, he hands me a padded envelope.

‘This came for you.’

‘Thanks, Dad,’ I say with a smile, taking it from him. His grip is, without a doubt, getting stronger.

Liz sits further down my bed while I open up the package, trying to resist reading the customs form and ruining the surprise. It’s from Ned – I recognise his handwriting.

I tip a small parcel out onto my palm. It’s wrapped in pale pink tissue paper and tied with a bright pink ribbon. I open it to reveal a beautiful, delicate bracelet made of dozens of gold,
silver and bronze strands.

‘That’s pretty,’ Liz comments.

‘It is,’ I reply, forcing a smile.

‘Want me to do it up for you?’ she offers.

‘Thanks, but maybe after I’ve had a shower,’ I reply.

She hands Dad a card and Dad passes it, with some effort, on to me.

Six fifty-dollar notes flutter from it as I open it. I glance up with surprise to see the look of satisfaction on Liz’s face.

‘That’s from your dad and me,’ she says. ‘We thought you could go for a shopping spree today and buy a few rounds of drinks tonight.’

‘Thank you so much,’ I respond with heartfelt gratitude, but I vaguely wonder how she imagines I could leave the house for any length of time.

‘I’ll be fine for a few hours,’ Dad says, guessing my thoughts.

I glance at Liz and she nods. ‘It’s probably time we trusted him on his own, wouldn’t you say?’

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. The sight fills me with joy.

‘Sit me in front of that game,’ he says.

‘You should be doing your exercises, Len,’ Liz loudly points out.

I smirk at Dad, and even though his facial muscles are not quite what they were, he does his best to mirror my look.

The phone rings and Liz jumps up, going to get it while I read the card. Dad’s message is short and sweet, his handwriting only just legible:
Darling Amber. Happy Thirtieth Birthday,
my sweet girl. I love you. Dad
. I glance up at him with tears in my eyes.

‘Aw,’ he says fondly.

I return my attention to the card. Liz’s message simply says:
Happy Birthday, Amber
.
Have a good one. You deserve it. Liz.

It’s short and to the point, but I know it’s not entirely lacking in sentiment. She’s a funny old thing.

‘Yes, she’s right here,’ I hear Liz say as she returns. ‘We’ve just brought her breakfast in bed.’ She laughs. ‘Hang on.’

She hands the phone over, and for a split second my heart hopes it’s Ethan.

‘Hello?’

‘Hey,’ Ned says with affection. ‘Happy birthday.’

‘Thank you,’ I reply with a smile, irritated at myself for feeling disappointed. ‘I love my bracelet,’ I tell him, noting Dad’s look of indecision. I shake my head
at him, trying to convey that he doesn’t need to leave the room.

‘Do you?’ he asks hopefully.

‘
Love
it,’ I reiterate.

‘I’ve thought about you a lot this week,’ he says.

‘Have you?’

‘I can’t stop thinking about how I could have lost you.’

‘Ned,’ I say quietly, looking down at the bedspread. There’s movement at the end of the bed, but even though I shake my head again at Dad, he gets up anyway.

‘I miss you so much,’ Ned says, sounding a little emotional. I watch as Dad shuffles out of my room. ‘It’s not the same without you,’ he adds as the door clicks
shut.

‘You know I have to be here.’

‘Of course I do,’ he says gruffly. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

Don’t be proud of me. I don’t deserve it.

‘I meant everything I said in the card,’ he continues.

Card? What card? I reach for the padded envelope and peer inside to see a card wedged against the sides. I ease it out.