Making Headlines (6 page)

Julia looked a little embarrassed. ‘Well, yes, but I don't want to put you to any trouble,' she said to Evie. ‘I'm happy to pay for a session, really.'

‘No way! I'd love to do it. Come over to my place on the weekend. Then I'll charge you if you book me for a wedding down the track.'

‘A bit early to be talking about weddings!' said Julia.

‘I don't know,' Evie said, knowingly. ‘Hasn't Rach told you I'm psychic? I've got a good feeling about you and Derek.'

Rachel looked at Julia, glowing at the thought of matrimonial bliss. She couldn't remember if she'd ever felt like that about Tim. Perhaps that's why Julia's expression made her envious. More wine. It helped her forget.

‘Whoa girl,' said Julia, grabbing the menu from her. ‘Keep drinking at the rate and your night'll be over before we've eaten.'

‘Sorry, Mum. Didn't know you were counting.' Rachel deliberately skolled her glass for effect, smacked it back on the table and refilled again. ‘This is nothing. We're all doing Ouzo shots after dinner.'

‘Ah, don't worry, Jules,' said Kate. ‘This way she might finally tell us what's going on with Tim.'

‘Nothing's going on,' said Rachel. ‘That's the problem.'

‘What do you mean? I thought you wanted time apart?' asked Evie.

‘I did, but now he doesn't even want to sleep with me anymore. I think I've made a big mistake. Ruined everything.' More wine.

Kate turned aside to start giving a waiter a food order, asking for some garlic bread to be brought over immediately. ‘That'll help absorb the grog,' she said, nodding at Rachel. ‘Now, let's workshop this. Are you forgetting about all the problems you and Tim had? His dope smoking — not to mention actually growing a crop in the backyard. And the fact that you don't have much in common. That you were getting bored and the sex was ordinary?'

‘It wasn't that bad!' said Rachel indignantly. ‘He's really getting his life together now.'

‘But he must still want to be with you or he wouldn't have gone to the show,' said Julia. ‘Was he pleasant on the night?'

‘Very,' said Rachel. ‘It was only at the end that he said he agreed with me that the dating concept was working and to make it more special, we should have also take a break from sleeping together.'

‘Sounds like he's playing with you,' said Kate. ‘You need to take charge. If you really think it's worth chasing, why not give it one last shot? Organise a really special date at a romantic restaurant and if it doesn't go well, call it quits. You can't go on like this.'

‘An excellent idea,' said Rachel, raising her glass. ‘Let's drink to that.' The girls clinked glasses.

‘Just don't call him tonight,' warned Julia.

‘As if!' said Rachel, filling up her glass again.

***

Staggering to her bedroom, Rachel knew she needed two things: water, and to phone Tim. It was late, but there was an empty space the alcohol hadn't filled. She couldn't find her mobile in her handbag so she emptied the contents on the doona, scrambling through the mess of make-up, tissues, pens and business cards, before remembering it was in her coat pocket. Lying back on the bed, she reached above her head to tap his name but accidentally called her mother instead. Damn. Hang up. Try again. Wrong number. Try again.

‘Tim, I just got home. Hilarious night. Wish you were here . . .'

‘Huh? Rachel?'

‘Of coursh, it's me, silly.'

‘Rach, do you know what time it is? Fuck, I've just got a new job and have to start work early tomorrow.'

‘Oh. Shit. Sorry.'

‘Where have you been? You sound smashed.' He was very cross. He should be happy for her. That she'd had such a fun night.

‘Yep. Schmashed. Very, very smashed. Won a competition for who can drink the mohst shots of Ouzo. I'm the best.'

‘Yes honey, you are the best.' That's better. Now his voice had softened and she wanted him more than ever.

‘Missing yooooo,' she cooed. ‘We need a date. Get everyfing back on track. Will you take me out to dinner? This Saturday? To a really, really nishe reshtaurant?'

‘Rach, if we make plans now, it's unlikely you'll remember. But yes, I would
love that. In fact, I'd love it if we were living together again. I still can't work out why I don't stay at your mum's with you. Think of the cash we'd save not paying rent, and my lease is up in a month.'

‘Coz of Lou.' Even drunk, Rachel knew it sounded lame. There were other reasons. She just couldn't remember them right now. She just wished she were with Tim and snuggling up in bed. Both naked. Having sex.

‘Because of Lou.' Tim said flatly. There was silence and he sighed. ‘Well, let's talk about it over dinner. I'll make the booking.' He paused. ‘I do love you, Rach.'

‘Luff you too.' She hung up and rolled over on the bed. Not a good move. Now the room was rolling around her head. Spinning. She sat up as her stomach lurched with a life of its own and she stumbled quickly to the bathroom. Grabbing both sides of the toilet seat, she retched into the bowl. She moved to the basin, splashing water over her face, then made her way back to bed and, fully dressed, collapsed and fell asleep.

***

Of course it would be the day that her head was throbbing from a hangover that Rob decided to give her a more serious challenge. An unfair dismissal case that meant hour upon hour in a courtroom, hearing legal arguments that barely made sense.

She'd also had a text message from Tim confirming their date at an upmarket restaurant tomorrow night. Given how drunk she'd been, she was horrified to think what she might have said to him on the phone. She could barely remember getting home let alone their conversation.

After drafting a basic script, she sought out Mitch to cut the story. He would make sure it came up to scratch.

She sat in his edit suite, watching him at work. His strong features on profile were accentuated by the glow from the lights on his panel. They didn't speak much, but she liked that the silence felt comfortable.

After playing back a final check of the story, he spun around on his chair to face her. ‘Now that must have been hard work. Julia mentioned you had a big night.'

‘Oh, right. Yes, probably one too many, but it was fun.'

‘Well, you might not feel like another drink just yet but thought maybe we could catch up for a drink one night?' His blue eyes roamed her face.

A million thoughts raced through her head.
Want to. Shouldn't. Very drawn to him.
‘Oh. Right. Um . . . to be honest, I'm actually still in a relationship. Well, kind of. Things aren't great, but it wouldn't be right.

He turned back to the control panel, pushing buttons. His voice cooled. ‘That's fine. I didn't mean a date. Just a catch-up after work — as mates.'

‘Sorry. Of course. Look, I promised I'd babysit for my sister tonight. Maybe next week?'

He switched the Off button and the panel lights died as he rose to leave. ‘Sure, some other time.'

It was probably for the best. She sat in the dark for a bit, still feeling pretty ordinary from the night before. But there was something else. She didn't like disappointing Mitch, and even though it was just a casual drinks invitation, it felt much bigger. No, she couldn't think about it. She needed to focus on her special night out with Tim tomorrow evening. No more mistakes.

***

‘I'm home, Lou!' Rachel called out, as she came through the front door, making her way down the hallway.

‘Great, you made it in time.' Lou stood silhouetted like a shadow puppet at the end of the hallway, holding a glass of wine. ‘Want a drink?'

‘Oh God, no.' She pulled a face. ‘Had enough alcohol to last a lifetime. I just want to crash in front of the TV with a warm Milo.'

She went to her bedroom, tore off her shoes and sank her feet into Ugg boots. Now all she needed was the couch. The lounge room was empty. Lou was cooking in the kitchen and the smell of bolognaise sauce made her hungry. With a huge sigh, she flopped onto the cushions. Josh rushed over to give her a hug. In flannel pyjamas and smelling of Pears soap, he was just the tonic she needed. She stroked his cheeks, warm from his bath, and kissed his damp hair.

Lou called out from the kitchen. ‘There's a postcard here from Mum and Brian. They're in Portofino and having a ball.'

‘That's great. Give me a look.' Rachel smiled at Josh. ‘Yes, yes, yes. Gwandma deserves a lovely holiday, doesn't she? Yes, she does.'

He giggled as she jigged him up and down on her knee.

Lou handed her the postcard. She gazed at the idyllic scene of tourists at outdoor tables by a bay sprinkled with fishing boats and sunshine. Her mother's words were dotted with exclamation marks. Of course she was having a marvellous time. Rachel was happy for her, and surprised by a pang of loneliness. She was missing her too. She sighed again. ‘God, I wish I could have a holiday like that.'

‘Same. But you will in time. Hey, what happened last night? It must have been huge for you to knock back the offer of a drink.' Lou put on a DVD for Josh and sat down.

He squealed with delight. ‘SpongeBob, SpongeBob!' He plonked himself close to the television screen, wriggling his bottom on a cushion.

‘Hmm, you could say that.' Rachel looked up and did a double-take. ‘Jesus, is that my new silk shirt?'

‘Yep, sure is.' Lou took another sip of wine. ‘Thought you wouldn't mind after you took my dress. And forgot to dry-clean it. Anyway, we're off to a dinner party, remember? So I needed something nice.'

She picked up her handbag, took out a makeup purse and applied her lipstick — a dark, femme fatale red.

‘No, I don't remember,' said Rachel. ‘Lou, I was going to wear that shirt on a date with Tim tomorrow night. Please take it off.'

‘Too late. We leave in five minutes. I thought you would have been home ages ago. Neil's just picking up some wine from the bottle shop then we're off.'

Josh turned around, frowning. ‘Shoosh! Can't hear.'

Rachel lowered her voice. ‘I'm sorry about the dress and I will take it to the dry-cleaners tomorrow. I just haven't had time. But can you please take off the shirt?'

 A car horn beeped. Lou gave Josh three quick kisses on his cheek. ‘Nope, sorry. We shouldn't be too late. His spaghetti's in the saucepan.' She almost skipped up the hall.

Rachel slumped back into the couch. At least Lou had cooked dinner. Home-cooked comfort food was just what she needed.

‘SpongeBob, fat pants,' sang Josh, waving his hands in the air and singing the wrong lyrics. He turned to her, beaming, to check she was watching. She jumped up, dancing and matching his hand movements. And she had Josh.

Sipping on a glass of French champagne, Rachel started to relax. Tim was speaking to the waiter about what type of red wine to order with their meal. The murmur of classical music and the candlelight playing soft shadows on the walls was soothing. It wasn't often they dined at such a top-end restaurant and she was surprised when Tim had made the booking at Bistro Thierry. It was a classic venue with wood panelling, French Deco posters and Bentwood chairs. This dating concept was going well. She smiled to herself as she looked around at the other couples enjoying an intimate night out.

‘Something amusing?' Tim asked.

‘No, no. This is lovely,' Rachel whispered. ‘I was just thinking we'll have to keep the conversation nice, because the tables are so close together.'

‘Why, you planning on talking dirty?' He reached across, placing his hand over hers.

‘Not now. Saving that for later.' She removed her hand, sitting up primly. That was better. At least he was flirting with her. Hopefully his ‘playing-hard-to-get' game had ended with their last date.

She also hoped Tim wouldn't spoil the night by pressing her for a commitment about when they would live together again. She'd managed to steer the conversation away from anything too emotional during the main course. That wasn't difficult. They ordered the same dish — a perfectly cooked beef fillet with red wine sauce accompanied by a hearty Shiraz. They sat in silence distracted by the pure pleasure of consumption and watched each other eat. Forks moved to mouths with sauce dripping at the edges. Tongues discreetly savoured the last drops.

Between courses, she entertained him with stories about the different news crews she worked with and why she'd never eat sausages again as long as she lived after covering a story about processed foods in a factory. Then, all too soon, their waiter placed dessert in front of them. Rachel was almost reluctant to eat the last of her sticky-date pudding, knowing the evening was coming to an end.

‘I wish we could come here every week,' she said softly.

‘It's not really my kind of place but I thought you'd like it. And now I have a new job at Telstra, at least the pay's a little healthier.'

Rachel nearly dropped her spoon. ‘A new job? What new job?'

Tim shrugged. ‘I mentioned it the other night, but perhaps you don't remember? It doesn't matter. Anyway, it's in Telstra's IT department. I'll be involved in some long-term projects that are pretty exciting.' He was more animated than she'd seen him in months.

‘Good on you. I guess that means lots of opportunities.'

‘Absolutely. They're already talking about a long-term career plan. For the moment, I'm part of a team working on a major national project, which means long hours. Not my style, but I'm adapting.'

‘So you have to start work early?'

‘Yep. Usually in by seven thirty. And I haven't touched a joint in weeks.'

Now she did drop her spoon. ‘Jesus Christ. Wonders will never cease.'

Tim laughed. ‘Well, it's exactly the kind of job I was looking for. And it pays well, so who cares if I have to adjust my sleeping patterns? Anyway, I never managed to take you out for your birthday, so this is kind of a belated celebration.' He gazed at her fondly, reaching out to stroke the curve of her chin. Their waiter interrupted to deliver two more glasses of dessert wine.

‘Timing,' said Rachel, as he left. She picked up her glass. ‘Cheers.'

‘Speaking of which, do you think it's time I moved in or are you liking your freedom?' His eyes searched hers.

‘Maybe not right now, but down the track we could start afresh. Perhaps get a new place together in a couple of months, after Mum gets home.' She sipped her wine, smiling at him. Maybe it would work out. Especially now he had a job he cared about.

‘Well, I was hoping we could do something sooner than that. Like tonight? Maybe I should come back to your place?' Tim rubbed his foot against hers under the table.

She laughed. ‘Maybe not. Your place would be more comfortable. Don't forget I'm back to sleeping in my old single bed, which is pretty pathetic given I've just turned twenty-three.'

‘Well that's a good sign of fidelity. Be a bit hard to bring other guys home to that.' He grinned broadly.

Rachel's eyes widened and she froze, holding her glass mid-air. She really didn't want a conversation about whether she'd had sex with someone else. Not that Damien had ever slept in her childhood bed, but the question of fidelity caught her off-guard and a bolt of anxiety shot through her. She was trying to think of something to say but the
pause had already pushed them apart. ‘Ha ha,' she said quietly.

‘Rachel?' Tim's face dropped. ‘What the . . . what do you mean — “ha ha”?'

‘Oh, nothing. Really, nothing—'

‘Your face isn't saying
nothing
. What's going on?'

Rachel paused. Her temples throbbed. There was no going back. ‘Well . . . I mean, there was someone I met in Sydney—'

‘Did you sleep with him?' His voice had risen. People at other tables glanced at them.

‘Shh . . .' said Rachel. ‘No, well . . . look, something did happen, but please, can we
not
talk about it now.' Her heart was pounding against her ribcage.

‘Who the hell was this guy? Do I know him? Did you fuck him?' His voice was getting louder by the second and his face turned deep crimson.

‘His name is Damien Wilde and no, you don't know him. It didn't mean anything.' Her cheeks were burning.

‘I can't believe you would throw away everything we have together for the sake of a one nighter. Or was it more than one night? How many times did you fuck him?'

‘I was drunk, it was a stupid, stupid thing to do and it wasn't meant to happen. It just did . . . Only once.' Her voice was barely a whisper.

He sat very still, staring at her. ‘Oh, my God. You lying bitch. So this is why you really wanted to move home.'

‘No,' she said. ‘You and I . . . we had other issues too.'

‘Sure we did. Like you wanting to sleep around. I just don't understand why you didn't end things between us first.'

‘Tim, I can explain. Really. We can talk about it at home.'

He shoved back his chair and stood up. Placing both hands on the table, he leaned forward, his face so close, she could feel his breath. ‘I don't want to talk about it,' he said quietly. Then he straightened. ‘Fuck you!' He roared like a wounded animal, knocking his chair to the ground. Their waiter stood back, wide-eyed, as Tim stormed off.

Rachel sat still for several minutes, her heart galloping. Trying to ignore the stares of the other patrons, she gathered her things together. She was walking out the door to look for a taxi when the
maître d'
called her back.

‘I'm sorry, madam, but the bill?' He looked at her sympathetically.

‘Oh God, I'm so sorry.' She reached into her handbag to find her purse and
walked back inside. Of course Tim hadn't paid. The price of infidelity.