The Right Time (18 page)

He looked up.

‘Monday or Tuesday?' she said. ‘But it's Friday.'

‘Exactly.' He picked up a half-empty bottle of beer on the counter and took a swig. ‘I'm already completely booked up tomorrow, and I don't open Sundays. I'll do my best Monday –'

‘I can't do without a car all weekend,' said Ellen.

He lifted one eyebrow slightly. ‘You don't have another car?'

‘No. Why would you assume that?' she said curtly.

He shrugged. ‘I don't know. It's not unusual for a family to have a second car.'

She was about to say, well, I'm separated, the second car is AWOL somewhere over on the northern beaches. But she didn't.

‘Well we don't. And I can't get through a weekend without a car, and I have to get to work next week. What am I supposed to do?'

‘Listen, Ms . . .'

‘Cosgrove.' She wasn't going to give him her first name – best to keep it professional.

‘. . . Ms Cosgrove, from what Ray told me on the phone, this isn't going to be a quick fix. Even if I could get to it tomorrow to see what's wrong, I wouldn't be able to start on it till next week anyway. You're going to have to make alternative arrangements.'

She bristled. Easy for him to say. Bloody tradesmen.

‘Fine, but I'd appreciate if you could make it a priority.'

If Ellen wasn't mistaken, he was doing a pretty poor job of trying to suppress a grin. Bloody
bloody
tradesmen.

‘I'll do my best,' he said solemnly.

‘Well, if you can't, you should just say so, and I'll arrange to have it towed back to my regular mechanic.'

He breathed out. ‘I will do my best,' he repeated evenly. ‘What's the best number to contact you?'

He wrote down her details as she dictated them, and then he gave her his card. He picked up his beer again. ‘Is someone coming to pick you up?'

She looked blankly at him.

‘Do you need a lift home?' he said.

Ellen glanced at the beer in his hand. As if she was going to get into a car with him.

‘No, thank you, I'm fine.'

He shrugged. ‘Okay. I'll be in touch.'

Ellen walked out of the office and into the evening. It was getting dark, and a little chilly. She pulled her light cardigan around her as she crossed the tarmac of the service station to the street. How the hell was she going to get home from here? She paused, looking up and down the road. It was all light industry, and everything was closed at this time of the evening. She glanced back at the service station; the office was clearly illuminated in the gathering dark, and the man, Finn, she assumed, appeared to be watching her. Ellen turned around again quickly and started up the street in the direction of Parramatta Road, where she hoped she had a chance of finding a taxi.

Liz waved when she saw Eddie walk into the bar. He spotted her and smiled, weaving his way through the tables till he got to hers. Liz stood up and they hugged.

‘Hello brother.'

‘Hello sister.'

‘What do you want to drink?'

‘I'll get it,' said Eddie. ‘What are you having?'

‘I'm still on this one,' Liz said, indicating her glass.

‘Okay. I won't be a minute,' he said, heading for the bar. He returned to the table with a glass of red, and slipped off his jacket before taking a seat. ‘So how've you been, sis?'

‘I'm not too bad,' she replied. ‘Can't complain.'

He lifted his glass. ‘To siblings,' he toasted.

‘Eye contact!' they said in unison. It was their silly standing joke. Eddie had heard somewhere that you had to make eye contact when you clinked glasses in a toast, or else it was seven years of bad sex. They weren't superstitious, but neither were they prepared to risk that.

‘We haven't done this in a while,' said Eddie.

‘Because you're always too busy for me,' she lamented.

‘Hoh,' he scoffed. ‘How many times have you put me off because Dr McDreamy has called?'

‘I don't know anyone called Dr McDreamy,' Liz said airily.

Eddie took a sip of his wine. ‘How is the magnificent medico anyway?'

‘Magnificent,' she quipped.

‘Left his wife yet?'

‘Don't be smart.'

‘I'm not the smart one,' he returned. ‘You're supposed to be the smart one, aren't you?'

Liz set her glass back down on the table and looked at him. ‘So, have you brought me here for a lecture, little brother?'

‘Nah,' he said with a grin. ‘I just keep hoping that one day you'll tell me he's done it . . . or that you have.'

‘Done what?'

‘Dropped him and moved on.'

Liz sighed. ‘This is beginning to sound like a lecture.'

‘Just wishful thinking out loud,' said Eddie. He sat forward. ‘Are you okay, Liz? Are you happy?'

‘Of course I am,' she dismissed.

‘Okay then, we'll drink to that.'

‘Eye contact!' they both repeated, glaring at each other.

‘So anyway,' said Liz, ‘what about you? Who is she?'

He feigned ignorance. ‘Who is who?'

‘Oh, knock it off. It always has something to do with a girl whenever you want to get together for a drink.'

Eddie shook his head. ‘And here I was thinking I was a man of mystery.'

Liz laughed. ‘You might get away with that with everyone else, but not with me. And truth is, you don't want to. I'm like your confessor.'

Eddie reached across the table and squeezed her hand. ‘It's good to see you, Liz, it's been too long.'

‘I know,' she agreed. ‘I haven't even had the chance to tell you off for talking Mum and Dad into selling up.'

The house had been snapped up immediately for a record price for the area, with at least a couple of developers bidding for it even before the auction. Their parents were going to be very comfortable indeed.

‘I didn't talk them into anything,' Eddie denied. ‘They came to me. Because you're all too bossy.'

‘I'm not bossy!'

He raised an eyebrow.

‘I totally am not bossy.'

‘Okay,' he allowed, ‘you're not as bossy as Ellen and Emma, but you're bossier than Evie.'

‘Everyone's bossier than Evie. You even bossed her around and she was five years older than you.'

‘I know,' he said wistfully. ‘Poor Evie, she's such a pushover.' He took a mouthful of wine and set his glass down on the table again. ‘So, back to Mum and Dad. They're like two pigs in mud right now. They've started collecting travel pamphlets, and they're so funny, every time I talk to them they've added a new country
to their itinerary.' He paused. ‘They said they haven't seen you in a while.'

Liz shrugged. ‘I've just been so busy, I haven't had a chance . . .'

Truth was, she had been avoiding the house. It felt so sad these days. They had packed a lot of stuff out of the way before the auction, and the one time Liz had been since, it had nearly broken her heart. There were half-filled boxes all over the place, paintings stacked against walls; they'd even packed a lot of the family photos away. They seemed so enthusiastic about moving on. She wished they could have given it some time before they started dismantling their whole past. But if she said any of that to Eddie, he'd be all sensible and tell her to snap out of it, that she was being selfish, she should be happy their parents were getting to go off and live their lives. And he was right, but she didn't need to hear it. It was better to change the subject.

‘So you haven't told me her name yet,' said Liz.

Eddie gave her a sheepish smile. ‘You're not going to believe this.'

‘Why, is it someone we know?' she frowned.

He shook his head. ‘No, it's not that. It's her actual name.' He took a breath. ‘It's Eliza.'

Liz blinked ‘You're kidding me? Another E?'

‘I know,' he said. ‘Maybe it means she's a keeper?'

‘What was it with Mum and Dad? No wonder they could never get our names straight.'

‘I think they were being romantic, in a way.'

‘How is it romantic to give all your kids the same initials as your own?' Liz pulled a face.

‘Maybe I meant sentimental,' said Eddie. ‘Anyway, you shouldn't complain. At least you got your own name. Mum and Dad just recycled theirs when they got to me and Evie. And you get to call yourself Liz.'

That prompted a thought. ‘Please tell me your Eliza doesn't shorten hers to Liz?'

‘No, and if she did, I wouldn't call her that, for obvious reasons,' Eddie assured his sister. ‘She gets Ellie sometimes, but I don't call her that either, too close to Ellen.'

‘But Ellen never gets Ellie,' said Liz.

‘Still too close for comfort,' he shuddered. ‘How is Ellen anyway? I keep meaning to call her.'

Liz sighed. ‘I'd avoid it if I were you.'

‘Why?'

She shook her head. ‘Forget it, I shouldn't have said that, it's mean. I'm a bad sister.'

‘You're not a bad sister,' said Eddie.

‘You should call her, we all should call her, often, and then maybe she'd get it all off her chest a lot sooner.'

Eddie looked at her. ‘So she's a bit stuck?'

‘A bit,' Liz repeated wryly. ‘She's like a broken record. Worse thing is she's just so bitter.'

‘I thought the whole thing was supposed to be amicable?'

‘It is,' said Liz. ‘That doesn't make it easy, though.'

‘I guess not.'

‘It's so hard to listen to her. I know she has to talk it through, but I don't think it's doing her any good to go on and on about it, ad nauseam.' Liz sighed. ‘But then, poor thing, if I don't listen to her, who's she got?'

‘She's got all of us. I'll give her a call.' Eddie took out his iPhone and began to type in a reminder.

‘Boys and their toys,' Liz shook her head. ‘What would you do if you lost that?'

He gasped. ‘Don't even suggest it! This is like my own personal hard drive, it's my whole life backed up. I'd be lost without it.'

Eddie finished his memo and put the gizmo back in his pocket. ‘There, done. And you'll get in touch with Mum and Dad?'

‘Sure.'

‘Promise?' he persisted. ‘They've mentioned it a few times.'

‘Okay, I promise,' said Liz. ‘Now, can we finally get back to Eliza, the subject of which we seem to keep going off track.'

‘Did you just call her a witch?'

‘Ha ha, did you say she was a keeper?'

‘Did I say that out loud?'

‘Yes, you did,' said Liz. ‘So, out with it. I want all the details.'

‘I'm thinking champagne.'

‘Oh, it's a bit early in the day for me.'

‘No, Emma, darling,' Isabelle said with a smile. ‘Champagne will be your
colour
.'

This was her first dress consultation with her dream designer. The fact that Isabelle Mohavy had made room to see Emma personally was enough cause for celebration, to shout from the rooftops, in fact. It was such a huge deal Emma should have made a party of it. But here she was alone. Not one of her sisters was able to make it. Liz, maid of honour no less, apparently couldn't move a few appointments around. Ellen sited work as well – she couldn't possibly, she was on class – which made Emma wonder why they even had relief teachers if you could never take a day off. And Evie . . . well, once the other two couldn't make it Emma hadn't bothered to ask Evie. She could be a bit much one on one, and she'd been such a misery guts lately. Besides, they had very different taste – which was the nicest way of saying that Evie didn't have much in the way of taste at all.

Emma had talked herself into believing that it was better if she did this on her own. Her sisters were not interested, so how much use could they be anyway? And she didn't really have a
best
friend, as such. She had lots of friends, of course, dozens of women friends, in fact. They were always bumping into each other at parties and functions and shows. People in the industry, minor celebrities, Emma was friends with them all, which was why the guest list for the wedding was currently climbing over two hundred. But she would never have asked one of those women to come with her today, they didn't have that kind of relationship.