Paper Alice (18 page)

‘Hey, Al,' came Baddo's leer. ‘I'm stone-cold sober and we're on Parramatta Road. Where are
you
?'

Bugger it, I thought: they were my only option. A lift, or blow my dough on a taxi. I certainly didn't feel like staying the night at Andy's. Everything suddenly seemed so . . . intense, confusing. I wanted to get away.

The last thing I needed was a remorseful, maudlin Dunc.

However . . .

‘What,' I asked, turning around, ‘is the address here?'

My eyes met Andy's. Was it my imagination or did they suddenly look less sparky?

‘Twenty-four Elkington Street,' he said, turning back to his grandmother.

I felt a rush of regret; almost told Baddo not to bother. Then I thought of Lily.

‘Twenty-four Elkington Street, Summer Hill,' I said into the phone. I swallowed. ‘Will . . . you come now?'

‘On our way.' There was a pause, then: ‘The boy's hangin' out to see you . . .'

‘Oh joy!' I muttered, my voice heavy with sarcasm.

Whatever I was really feeling at that moment, it certainly wasn't joy.

T
he best thing that can be said about the rest of the night is that I got a ride home.

I'd told Baddo to tell Dunc to give me two rings when he reached the street and I'd come out. The last thing I wanted was a tipsy Dunc leaning on the doorbell, or worse, confronting Andy. But I was half-expecting him to rock up to the door anyway, so for the next fifteen minutes or so it was as though I was sitting on an ejector seat, tensed to shoot up and rush to the door.

Which is pretty much what happened when, to my relief, my phone rather than the doorbell rang. I said a very hasty goodbye and thank you to Lil, who insisted on getting up and giving me a kiss goodbye, then Andy followed me out to the front door.

He opened it and then stepped back a fraction, so that Dunc and Baddo – who were just pulling up – couldn't see him in the shadowy light.

‘Wouldn't,' he murmured with a tiny smile, ‘want to cause problems with the boyfriend.'

I stared at him; it was the first time Dunc had been mentioned. I'd told Andy and Lil that some friends were picking me up. But it must, I realised now, have been so obvious, just from my body language, who I was really talking to.

‘He's n–' I started, then stopped. Saying that Dunc and I were no longer an item would only make me look like a liar.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the darkened faces of Dunc and Baddo, watching me through the car window. Dunc craning forward to try and see who I was talking to.

Andy and I looked at one another.

‘Well,' I said, giving a tiny wave, ‘Bye . . . and thanks . . .'

‘Bye . . .'

The most natural thing at that moment would have been to kiss, if only on the cheek.

I turned and clomped down the steps; the door shut softly behind me.

Somehow it didn't feel as though I got a lot of sleep that night, but the next morning I woke up bright and early and – most unlike me – leapt out of bed. I felt kind of springy and disconnected, both at once, as though I'd taken speed.

I trundled downstairs to join the oldies for brekkie, much to their amazement.

‘Hello,' said Mum, looking up from the paper, ‘this
is
a surprise!'

‘To what do we owe this honour?' This was from Dad, turning from the open fridge.

I caught a sly glance between them. Dunc and I had
obviously been spotted standing out the front the night before.

I frowned and crossed to the cupboard.

‘Yes, it was Dunc you saw outside last night, and no, we're not together again.'

Silence. I felt them look at one another again, which irritated me even more.

‘Well,' said Mum, turning a page, ‘it certainly sounded as though he wanted to be.'

I took a deep breath. ‘Well we're
not
, OK?' I jabbed at the boil button on the kettle. ‘I . . .'

Then I stopped. Things were muddled enough in my own mind, without having to explain them to my nosy parents.

‘Look,' I said finally, ‘can we not talk about it, please? It's–'

Another pause. I could hardly go on and say it was none of their business, after all my carry-on. ‘Anyway,' I cried finally, ‘what on earth were you doing standing at the window at that hour of the morning, spying like that?'

Their bedroom window faces the street.

Mum arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

‘Darling, you could hardly call it spying when we were woken up by the racket.' She gave another tight smile. ‘Duncan seemed . . . a bit under the weather.'

I snorted. Remembering Dunc with his arms around me, trying to kiss me; me half-turning away, wanting to and yet not wanting to. It would've been all too easy – even the smell of him was seductive. So comforting and familiar, like your favourite blanket when you're little. And Baddo peering out from the shadowy interior of the car, silently cheering on his mate . . .

Then I thought of Andy, standing at his door, smiling that funny smile of his.

And Lily.

The boil button clicked off; I picked up the jug and started pouring.

‘Hey.' Dad's voice was barging cheerfully into my reverie. When I looked up he was pointing at my newly filled mug.

‘If you put a teabag in there it'd taste a whole lot better.'

So, Alice, I told myself, welcome to the new and exciting world of singledom.

Except it wasn't particularly exciting; certainly not the couple of weeks that followed, anyway. I went to lectures and tutorials and came home again. Plodded on with assignments, on and off. Thought about doing some work for the upcoming mid-year exams. Lay on my bed, or sat and stared out my window, listening to music. Went for walks with Dad – he wasn't jogging for the time being. Ate dinner, watched television some nights, went to bed.

Also took myself to a friend's birthday drinks, a movie with Milly, worked for Bunters several times, et cetera, et cetera. Life as usual; nothing you'd remember in a few months' time. Except that a lot of the time, if I'm honest, it felt weird without Dunc.

Though I was still getting the odd phone call from him, and message. For Dunky Boy had decided that ‘
we
' had made a mistake. Whatever had happened – whether he'd gone out with Miss Commerce (or anyone else for that matter) and the sparks just didn't fly, or things didn't go to plan, he wasn't letting on.
All he knew was that he wanted us back together again.

And, I've got to admit, it was tempting. A bit like snuggling back down under the doona and snoring off again after the alarm has gone off. Comforting, and easy.

After all, I missed him too. How can you not miss someone who's been a central part of your life for more than three years? Apart from the security of his arms around me and the physical closeness, I missed just hanging out with him, or being able to ring him and tell him about something, even if he wasn't always that interested. (Or interesting, for that matter.) Just being able to chat about nothing in particular. And I really missed him when I went to things like that birthday drinks on my own – when I was used to having someone with me.

But was it his presence, or Dunc himself that I missed?

Was I completely nuts? After all, I wasn't the only one who found him attractive; it would be only a matter of time until he gave up on me and took up with someone else. He was a creature of ordinariness and habit, not drama and excitement. And it wasn't as though there was anyone else in my life. Or anything new and exciting happening . . . was there?

It felt a bit like pushing off for a long-distance swim and not having a clue where you were headed for.

And yet . . . The thought of going back with him, to how things were, was even more depressing than the kind of . . . limbo I was in now.

As I've said, I was tempted. Particularly the day I came out of a Philosophy lecture, rounded a corner and
spied him further on down the path, having what looked like a deep and meaningful with a hot-looking girl I hadn't seen before.

It had been a long and fairly dismal rant from the lecturer, during which I'd carried out my usual surreptitious glance around for Andy. I'd been keeping a casual eye out for him all over uni, to no avail. I'd even taken to sitting up the back in Philosophy, to get a better view in case he did decide to show up. And also to be able to make a rapid escape if I suddenly got panicky.

But once again, he'd been absent. As the lecturer yammered on, I wondered where he was and what he was doing. Sitting in the sun somewhere with Lily perhaps, or in rehearsals for his play . . .

And here I was, taking dutiful notes and doodling my life away.

By the time I came out I felt a bit as though I was about to fade away into nothing. Plus the day matched my mood – grey and overcast and threatening rain.

And then I spied Dunc, with that chick. It was the first time I'd actually clapped eyes on him – apart from a brief glimpse in the distance – since that night he came and picked me up.

I suppose my response could be described as biological, almost animal – it certainly wasn't rational. ‘Visceral', I think, is the word. One look at the two of them and my heart seemed to freeze and race, all at once. It was the glint in his eye, the way he was staring at her and leaning in towards her. And she was staring back, smiling back into his eyes . . .

Stop it, I told myself fiercely – you don't want him any more! Turn around before he sees you and
walk away, back the way you've come. Let him get on with it.

Falling for her.

The thought crashed through me like a stone.

Then he looked around and saw me. I don't know what it was that passed between us at that moment – a charge of something almost physical. Pure hatred on his part, most probably.

I couldn't change course. I had to keep walking towards them, trying to look normal, feeling sick to my stomach. Also, as though my face was about to crack.

She turned and looked at me too with her big eyes; her hair so glossy brown. Then back at him again, starting to register his distracted look.

And now I was there, alongside them. I tried for a breezy smile.

‘Hey-ey.'

It came out all strangled. I kept on walking, as stiff and jerky as a puppet, without looking back.

It must've been about ten seconds later that I heard the footsteps hurrying up behind me; felt the hand on my shoulder. I turned around.

‘Hey,' he said, his hazel eyes staring into mine, ‘what is this? We don't even talk any more?'

I made a sound which was meant to be a laugh, light and casual. ‘Of course we do . . .' My gaze slipped sideways; the girl seemed to have gone. ‘It's just that you seemed to be . . . tied up.'

He shrugged and looked at me strangely for a moment, almost as though he was making up his mind. I stared back, feeling a little jab of sadness.

And it was right in the middle of this poignant, eyeball-to-eyeball moment that Andy walked past. The
blur of movement behind Dunc suddenly became defined, and there he was, a faint grin of apology on his face. Very definitely keeping going.

‘Oh,' I almost yelled, ‘hey!'

He paused, half-turning back, and for a split second it crossed my mind that we were all taking part in some weird kind of dance. A modern-day minuet. All of us – Dunc, that girl, me and Andy – stopping and nodding and moving on . . .

All it needed now was for Lily to appear.

One thing for sure – I was so pleased to see Andy again I felt like hugging him.

Dunc had spun around and was looking at him too. Or rather, glaring – hostility radiating out of him like a blast furnace.

‘Oh . . .' I swallowed, and then stupidly asked: ‘You two have met? Andy . . . Dunc . . .'

Of course they had, and didn't want to again. Dunc gave a small but savage grunt; Andy clearly just wanted to escape.

But for some crazy reason I blundered on. I suppose I was desperate for Andy not to vanish again.

‘Oh,' I said again, the words tumbling out, ‘did you ever get round to mentioning to Spiro . . . about . . . what I said at the Cave that night?'

Another noise from Dunc – something between a hiss and a growl.

Andy shrugged apologetically, raising his hands in front of him.

‘I haven't seen him lately. I'm always bumping into him usually, but . . .'

‘No,' I cried, ‘doesn't matter! It was only if–'

But he was tapping his watch, raising a farewell hand.

‘On a mission, guys, catch ya later.'

And then he was off, at about three times his previous speed.

I stared after him, my face throbbing. Never was that old cliché about wanting to melt into the pavement more apt.

I turned back to Dunc. His face had gone hard, closed shut.

‘Well,' he said, ‘I'm off. See ya.' And he turned on his heel and walked away, raising his hand to wave to some people across the lawn.

After that I felt quite weak and wobbly. And desperate to sit down and have a hit of caffeine. Anyway, it was starting to rain; I started half-running for the café next to the gym.

But the moment I walked in the door, who should be pulling out chairs to sit down, but Andy and Lily.

What did I say about that strange dance? And of course they saw me, before I could duck out again. Lily's face lit into a smile; my eyes slid away from Andy's, but not before I'd glimpsed his strange look.

He probably thinks I followed him, I thought miserably.

Am stalking him, even.

I registered that Lily was looking flushed and quite beautiful, raindrops clinging to her dark hair like seed pearls.

‘Hey, Alice!' she cried, slipping her bag off her shoulder and coming over to give me a hug. ‘Lovely to see you! Come and sit down!'

She really seemed to mean it. I felt a rush of shame at my treacherous feelings for her boyfriend.

‘Oh no,' I mumbled, ‘I was just getting a takeaway . . .'

‘Oh, really? Why don't you sit down, just for a second?'

My gaze went from her to Andy, who was pulling out another chair.

‘Anyway,' said Lily excitedly, just remembering, ‘I must tell you!'

‘W-what?'

‘You'll never guess who I saw – about fifteen minutes ago!'

I stared at her.

‘Your sister!' she cried. ‘Isn't she? I nearly bumped into her!'

‘What?'

Talk about the fear and flight response – I'd almost been lifted off my feet on pure adrenaline.

‘I thought it was
you
!' Lily went on, laughing. ‘I felt like such an idiot – I cried out “
Hey!
” and nearly gave her a hug before I realised! And she gave me such a weird look and just said “hey” back and kept going–'

She stopped, registering the look on my face.

‘She is, isn't she – your sister? She looks so much like you . . .'