Lie to Me (3 page)

“Here,” she yelled. “Fetch!” and threw the ball as far as she could down the back of the yard.

The kids scattered after it, squealing and shoving.

“They’re not dogs, dear.” Her mother exited the back door with a tray containing a jug of orange juice and plastic glasses.

“You mean Bill can’t leave them in the car in the shade of a tree with the window open?  What a shame.”  Going up the steps, Dee ruffled Bill’s hair and kissed her mother’s cheek.  “Janet stay home, the sensible woman?”

“Janet’s taking the opportunity to do some baking and freezing.”

“You started something now,” Vic observed lazily as the kids fought for the basketball.  “That herd’ll be back any second.”

“You’re a dad-in-training, you sort them out.”  Dee winked at Martha who was sitting beside Vic, her hand on her rounded belly.

“I keep telling him that,” Martha said.  “He says he’s conserving his energy until our baby arrives.”

“That sprog will keep you up all night,” Dee told him.

“You sound so happy about that.”

“You’re such a neat freak and yet any day you’re going to have a screaming shit machine popping out.  What’s not to be happy about?”

“Dee,” her mother admonished gently.  “Language.”

“The sprog can’t hear yet, Mum.”

“It gets your vibes,” Vic said.

“I’ll give you vibes.”  Dee poured orange juice into a glass and flopped down onto one of the chairs.  “Where’s Dad?  Headed for the hills when he spotted Bill’s mob?”

“He went to the supermarket to pick up more milk.  Sally and Des went with him.”

“Sally always was the smart one of us.   Poor old Des must have been beside himself.”

“Des loves the kids and you know it.”  Smiling, Mrs Miller sat down at the little table and started pouring glasses of orange juice for the kids.  “Sally’s pregnant, did you know?”

“She’s cooking a bun in the oven, too?  Must be something in the water.”  Dee grinned at Bill.  “Sure you want to drink that?”

“I’ve had the snip.  Four’s enough.  Besides…” He winked and leered.  “No more condoms.  No more pill.  Just shag whenever and wherever we like.”

“Ugh.”  Dee shuddered.  “Please.  The thought of you - it’s just wrong.”

“Decorum, dears.”  Mrs Miller took a sedate sip of her drink.

“Not happening, Mum.”  Martha shook her head at her mother-in-law.  “Even I know that.”

Dee was diverted by the kids standing at the bottom of the veranda begging her to throw the ball.

“Cripes.  Okay.”  Getting up, she stood at the edge of the veranda, taking the ball Harry passed to her.  “Line up, you lot.  Straight line.  Oy, you!  The redhead at the end!”

The kids all giggled.

Hiding her grin, Dee pointed sternly at the girl.  “Back up, sister.  You’re at least two centimetres ahead of the boys, you know how much they bawl if they lose.”

Immediately a howl of protest went up from the boys.

Dee stuck one finger in the air and immediate silence fell.

“I should take you home,” Bill drawled.  “Janet would love for you to be there at meal times, not to mention bath time.”

“Not in this lifetime.  Right, you mob.  On your mark…get set… Hang on, I need another sip.”

There was a chorus of disappointment.

Grinning, she took several mouthfuls of orange juice before returning to the veranda edge.  “Okay.  Ready?”

“Aunt Dee!” Harry shouted, bouncing on his toes.  “Throw it!  Throw it!”

“Pleeeeease, Aunt Dee!” yelled a boy who wasn’t related in any way.

Balancing the basket ball in one palm, she drew back her arm, squinted one eye, and straightened.  “Where did you want me to throw it again?”

The kids started pointing and shouting directions.  Unfortunately, most of them pointed in all different directions.

Dee moved sudden and fast, sending the ball sailing over their heads to thump against the shed, veer off and disappear down the back towards the fence.

Turning around, she stretched and dropped back down in the chair.  Hearing the kids squealing and laughing, she smiled.

“So,” Vic began.  “I hear Ryder’s wanger is about to fall off.”

“Rotting,” Bill added.

“Really?”  Her eyes widened.

“You ought to know.”

“How would I know?”

“Because that sounds like something you’d say.”

“Why do people keep saying that?”

“Who, exactly?” Martha’s eyes danced in amusement.

“Just, you know…people.”

“It wouldn’t be a certain hunky paramedic I saw jogging towards your place this morning, would it?”

“A hunky paramedic was jogging towards my place?  Fancy that.”  Picking up her glass, Dee looked sideways at her mother.

Yep, there was disapproval on her mother’s sweetly-lined face.

“Have you been tormenting that poor boy again, Deidre?” Mrs Miller asked.

“Dumb arse is fine.”

“I’m not so sure he is.”

“Why?  Did he come crying to you?”

Bill snorted a laugh.

“Don’t be smart.”  Mrs Miller’s voice was still soft, but there was the ‘mother discipline’ tone in it.  “I hope you apologised to that poor boy for spreading such a malicious rumour.”

“Hang on.”  Dee put the glass down.  “
I
didn’t spread the rumour.”

“Sounds like your kind of words,” Vic said helpfully.

“I might have said it but-”

“Might?” Bill jumped on that with ruthless delight.  “No one ‘might’ have said something.  You did or you didn’t, and I know you did.”

“You don’t know any such thing, you drongo.”

“Deidre.”

At her mother’s tone, Dee rolled her eyes at her smirking brother before returning her attention to Mrs Miller.  “Sorry, Mum.  I merely mentioned to Del that someone might possibly have dry rot in his morning wood-”

Vic, Martha and Bill snickered.

“What are you all, twelve?” Dee demanded, hoping to divert her mother’s attention.

Mrs Miller, having raised four children, had learned to focus.  “Dee.”

“Okay.  Fine.”  She took a prim sip of orange juice.  “Apparently Yvonne heard us, rang Jaci who was dating Ryder - right when they were almost about to do the dirty, I might add - and told her Ryder had dry rot.  STD,” she added helpfully.

“I know what you mean.  What did you do about it?”

“Do about it?”

“I hope, young lady, that you sorted this all out.”  Mrs Miller gave the gathering children one glance and they scattered, throwing the ball amongst themselves.

“I did.”  Crossing her legs, Dee leaned back in the chair with an air of superiority.  “I was onto it first thing this morning.”

“Funny,” Martha mused.  “Was that before or after Ryder-”

“Nothing to do with Ryder.”  Dee pointed at her.  “You’re my sister-in-law, I’m fond of you, but I can take you down.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Not forever.  I can wait.”

“She can,” Vic agreed.  “I remember she waited all summer to get Bill back for something he’d done to her.  He was going out on a date and she swapped the shampoo for hair dye right before he showered.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t notice a different bottle?” Martha looked at Bill.

Lazily, he waved a hand in the air.  “She emptied the shampoo out and poured the dye into the bottle.  Such a bi-” Catching his mother’s eye, he coughed.  “Witch.”

“Ah, good memories.”  Dee grinned.

“They must’ve been a handful,” Martha commented.

“They were.”  Mrs Miller nodded.  “Vic, Bill, Sally and Dee.  If I’d known then what I know now, I might have used birth control a lot sooner.”

Vic grinned at Martha.  “Aren’t you glad Mum had no idea?”

Martha snuggled up to him.  “Now that you mention it…”

“Don’t get too cocky,” Bill warned.  “Remember a lot of kids run in the family.”  He pointed out to the shrieking kids in the yard.

She followed his gaze.  “We’re only having two.”

“That’s what Janet said,” Dee replied.  “Now she and Bill have four.”

“Vic’s getting the snip after two.”

He looked down at her.  “I am?”

“You are now.”

“We might have to discuss that.”

“Sure.  No snip, no sex.  End of discussion.”

Vic looked pained.

Dee saluted her.

By the time her father returned with her sister and brother-in-law, it was going on for lunchtime.  As much as she loved her family, it was a bit of a relief to pushbike away after lunch, the quiet of the early afternoon shifting over her as the shrieks of the kids and laughter of the adults faded behind her.

Heading for home at a fast pedal on the quiet road, she was startled when a car horn hooted angrily behind her, the car shooting past before she had a chance to do more than glance back and recognise Yvonne’s car.  It passed so close that she instinctively veered onto the side of the road, her wheels skidding in the gravel.

Thrown off balance, Dee and the bike parted company.

The gravel bit into her, ripping along her unprotected forearm and side as her blouse was caught by the ground and jerked upward as she skidded along it.  Coming to a stop, she lay for several seconds, cursing and swearing, before she sat up slowly to assess the damage.

Blood oozed from the scratches on her arm, the dirt clogging it.  Her side hadn’t fared much better, a deeper laceration skimming the bottom of her rib cage.  Pushing upward, she winced at the throb on her ankle bone, a quick glance down revealing a nasty gouge that bled profusely, soaking into her tennis shoe.

“Damn it.”  Limping a little, she crossed to where her bike lay on its side, the front wheel turning slowly.

Lifting it up, she studied it.  Crap on a stick, the chain was snapped. Next time she saw that bitch, she was going to rip her a new one.  The least Yvonne could have done was stop to check that Dee wasn’t hurt.  Cripes, they weren’t friends, true, but it wasn’t as though they were throwing grenades at each other.

Mind you, if she had one now that fake blonde would be eating it from the arse-end up.

Becoming aware of the sound of a powerful engine drawing steadily closer, she looked over her shoulder, wondering which of the four men was out riding, the identity a little hard to tell as they all rode similar black and chrome motorbikes like the one nearing.

The tall, broad-shouldered rider was dressed in jeans, a leather jacket and work boots, the black helmet with the shatter-proof visor covering his eyes.  Yet somehow she just knew who it was even as the motorbike slowed down, the indicator flicked on and the big bike eased up beside her.  The rider stretched out his legs, booted feet bracing on the gravel as one hand flipped up the visor.

~*~

“I’m telling you, that woman is seriously twisted.”  Ryder took a sip of Coke.  “I mean dry rot?  Really?”

Lying back on the hammock, Simon peered at him from under the brim of his hat.  “Have to admit it kind of has a catchy ring to it.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if it was your donger she was talking about.”

“Dee has no reason to de-man my donger.”

Holding the can by the rim, Ryder twirled it around.  “That woman has a viper’s tongue.”

“She’s entertaining.”

“She’s dangerous.”

From where he sprawled on the camping chair, long legs stuck out in front of him, Scott murmured, “Only to you.”

“And isn’t that the kicker?” Ryder grunted.  “What’d I ever do to her?”

Scott and Simon exchanged glances.

“What?” Ryder demanded.

“Poor dumb bastard,” Simon replied.

“What?”

“Maybe you just aggravate her, have you ever thought of that?”

“Aggravate her?  That should be the other way around.”

“So why remain friends with her?”

Scott looked sharply at Simon, but his red-headed fellow fire-fighter just kept swinging lazily in the hammock.

“Why wouldn’t I?”  Ryder replied, confused.  “She’s Dee.”

“But she aggravates you.”

“But that’s just Dee.”

“So you’d rather she aggravate you than not be friends?”

Frowning, Scott straightened in the chair.

Ryder took a mouthful of Coke, swallowed.  “Dee and I grew up together.  Man, we know each other in and out.  I can handle her.”

“But she aggravates you.”

“So?”

Simon grinned crookedly.  “Maybe you like it.”

“Like it?” Ryder snorted.  “I put up with it.”

“I don’t see you putting up with it from anyone else.”

“I put up with shit from you two all the time.”

“Okay.  I don’t see you putting up with it from any other woman.”