3. Roxie
Ihad this crazy urge to skip back to the caravan park, but when I pictured myself going ass over, I decided against it.
My mind replayed my encounter with Henry over and over. Although it was awkward at first, I was glad he’d seen me in the tree. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a chat with a stranger like that. Especially a handsome stranger.
There was so much about him that I found fascinating. His understated casualness. His stylish dress sense. His physique. His smile. Definitely his smile.
I couldn’t wait to tell my sister.
It wasn’t until I stepped from the sand to the boiling hot bitumen that I realized I’d left my shoes, bag, and hat in the bushes. “Shit.” I debated going back but decided that would make me look even more like a dunce. Hopefully, it will still be there later.
I dashed across the road, and when I passed by the shop where I’d sent the kids to get an ice cream, I recalled that my purse was in that bag, too. Damn. It still didn’t change my mind, though.
My approach to the caravan park was met with a bunch of kids racing along the road on their push bikes. They swerved to miss me and carried on up the street with enthusiastic, high-pitched squeals. I stepped through the back gate beneath an enormous Poinciana tree covered in vibrant red blooms, and the shade was a welcome relief. The lovely breezes I’d had on the beach didn’t reach the confinement of the holiday park, making the heat elevate several notches, and sweat dribbled down my back and beneath my boobs.
Halfway along the main street of the holiday park, I entered the annex attached to my sister’s caravan, and it took a couple of seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darker space.
“Where the hell have you been, Roxanne?”
My jaw dropped at the anger in her tone. “Just ummm... on the beach.”
“Well, thanks a lot. You fill the kids up with sugar, then piss off and leave. They’re feral.”
Priscilla looked as angry as she sounded. Her sweat had pasted her hair to her forehead, and I couldn’t decide if it was the heat or fury that was firing her cheeks red. “Sorry, I didn’t think?—”
“Obviously,” she snapped. “I thought you were looking after them!” Priscilla flopped into a camp chair and strangled an open bottle of beer.
“I... I have been all day.”
“No!” She pointed her perfect, long red fingernail at me. “Not for the last fucking hour, you haven’t.”
“I’m sorry. I was on the beach getting some peace and?—”
“Well shit, aren’t you lucky? Did you stop to think of me? When do I get peace? You have no idea what it’s like to raise three children!” If her brown eyes were daggers, she would’ve sliced my eyeballs out.
I loved those kids like they were my own, yet it was true: I didn’t know what it was like to raise children. I’d never had that pleasure. Many years ago, I would have done anything to make that miracle happen. But it wasn’t to be. One stupid mistake had ruined that possibility, and I’d suffered the consequences ever since.
I pulled out a chair beside my sister and sat. Priscilla was eight years younger than me. Sometimes it was hard to believe we were even related. We were different in every way possible. Not just in looks either... in personality, in lifestyles, and in tastes. Where Priscilla needed expensive clothes and beauty treatments, I preferred the thrift shops and had never had a professional manicure.
But despite our differences, I loved my sister. And I was there for her and my niece and nephews as much as I could be. Especially when Priscilla’s husband, Todd, was away. His career as a mine worker had him rostered for six weeks away and one week at home. It wasn’t a lifestyle I would want to live. Especially with a young family.
I reached out and placed my hand on Priscilla’s arm. “I’m sorry, okay. We’d been playing on the beach for ages, and I just needed a bit of time out.”
“Lucky you. I don’t get that, Roxanne.” Priscilla snapped my name off her tongue like it was acid.
I frowned at my only sibling. “You do when I’m here.”
Priscilla tipped up her beer and drained the bottle. “Well, I hope you don’t do any more disappearing acts, or I might strangle the little shits.”
I wondered what the kids had done to cause that reaction. I didn’t ask though. No point opening the wound any further. “Where are they?”
Priscilla flicked her hand. “Out there somewhere, playing with the Burton, I think.”
The mention of that family name made me want to tell Priscilla all about what happened on the beach. But now wasn’t the time. Not when my younger sister was seething. “Want another drink?”
Priscilla cocked her head and held up the empty bottle. “What do you think?”
“Okay, hang on.”
I climbed the three short steps into the caravan. Inside, I glanced at the mirror on the bedroom cupboard and scowled at my reflection. My hair looked like I’d been hanging on for dear life in a tornado, and my sunburnt nose had the moniker Rudolph running through my brain. Sand still speckled my neck and chest. Henry had called me beautiful. He’d made me feel it, too. Yet my reflection proved the opposite. Clearly, he needed to get his eyes checked.
Sighing, I spun from the mirror and went to the fridge. Beer and Tupperware filled the bulk of it. My wine was in the door. I’d only brought six bottles with me, and I’d already drunk three. I grabbed a Corona for my sister, and the temptation to pour myself a wine was strong, but I’d wait until after I’d washed the sand off.
Back in the annex, I handed the bottle to my sister. “I’m going to have a shower, then I’ll get dinner ready.”
“Yep, whatever.” Priscilla didn’t shift her eyes from a spot she was looking at on the floor, so I left her to her brooding.
Back in the caravan, I grabbed a bath towel and my toiletries bag, slipped on shoes, and without another glance in my sister’s direction, I headed out of the annex. The setting sun instigated a high-pitched chorus from the flock of lorikeets that swooped among the surrounding trees. I kept an eye out for the kids on my way to the amenities block but didn’t see them, nor the Burton family. But I wasn’t worried about the kids. They wouldn’t be far.
My timing meant I’d beaten the rush. The second the sun disappeared and the streetlights came on, nearly every parent would be lining up to shower their kids. I chose the last cubicle, hooked my towel on the back of the door, and set myself up with soap and shampoo handy. I stripped out of my bathing costume, flicking sand everywhere, and placed two-dollar coins into the hot water meter. I turned on the tap, and before the hot water kicked in, I held my breath and jumped into the cool cascade. It took my breath away and was as much of a shock as it was refreshing.
While mindlessly washing my hair and scrubbing off sand, my thoughts drifted to Henry. It’s been a very long time since a man looked at me like he had. It was like he was drinking me in. He’d made me feel special. And not in the basket-case kind of way. And considering the way we’d met and how drastic I’d looked, that on its own was a miracle.
Giggling, I recalled him jumping up like his ass was on fire and the look on his face when he’d seen me. Priceless.
But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered whether he’d meant what he’d said. After all, I’d looked frightful, not beautiful. Was he really going to meet me later, or was he just saying something I wanted to hear?
My shoulders sagged. I didn’t like to think of myself as desperate. But after nearly a decade without a permanent partner, I was certainly lonely.
The hot water shuddered to a halt, and gasping at the frigid attack, I jumped out, turned off the taps, and reached for my towel. By the time I dried off and dressed in a loose sundress, I wondered if I was a fool for believing that Henry would be there for me at nine o’clock.
Shoving the impossible debate aside, I gathered my things and headed back toward our holiday home. The noise coming from my sister’s caravan confirmed the kids had returned. It was nearly seven o’clock. The ugly hour, where the kids were getting tired from a full day playing and they were in desperate need of food. And as usual, Priscilla seemed to have lost control.
Yet I was jealous of my sister’s life. Priscilla had a loving husband, who’d do anything for her and their children. She had three adorable healthy kids, each with their own unique personality. And to top that off, Priscilla was stunningly beautiful.
The other thing that made me jealous of my sister was Priscilla’s huge circle of friends. It seemed that having children brought women together. There were always kids’ parties, sporting events, and school functions to attend, giving the women plenty of opportunities to socialize.
I missed out on all that, and my friends who did have children didn’t invite me to these things. It seemed they thought I wouldn’t be interested. I’d rarely had the chance to find out.
I stepped into the annex and entered a world of typical family mayhem. The boys were wrestling on their mattresses at the far end of the annex, and Piper was tossing clothes from her suitcase, presumably in an effort to work out what she’d wear. Priscilla was visible through the caravan window, and I climbed the steps up to the van.
“Okay.” Priscilla put a kitchen knife down next to a bunch of peeled carrots. “I’ll go take my shower. We’re having spaghetti bol tonight. I’ve pulled all the ingredients. You know what to do, right?”
I couldn’t tell if she was being patronizing or genuinely thought I didn’t know how to make an Australian dinner staple. “I’ve got it. Go have your shower.”
Priscilla grabbed her beer and headed toward her bedroom. A minute later, she came out with her gear, but she paused at the bedroom door. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
Priscilla strode to me and wrapped her arms around me. As I squeezed my sister, I looked over her shoulder at our reflection in the mirror. Priscilla had a classic Sofia Loren beauty about her. Flawless olive skin, thick auburn hair, and high cheekbones that made her look like she was always smiling. But when Priscilla closed her eyes and huffed out a heavy sigh, I noticed something that I’d rarely seen before. Priscilla looked absolutely exhausted. I squeezed my younger sister tighter. “I love you, sis.”
“Love you too. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’d be fine.”
Priscilla pulled back with tears glistening in her eyes. “No, I wouldn’t. You save me. I mean that. You really do save me.”
I frowned and cocked my head. I had no idea Priscilla felt that way. My breakup over ten years ago nearly exactly coincided with Todd’s career change to the mining industry. So, it made sense that I helped my sister with her children. And I did. . . almost every single week since then. Often two or three times a week. Yet this was the first time my sister had said anything like this.
“Mom!” Chase bounded into the caravan, shattering my precious moment with my sister. “Gunner won’t let me have a turn.” Chase clenched his teeth, squaring out his jaw and demonstrating just how much he was going to look like his father when he was older.
Priscilla grumbled, adjusted the towel over her shoulder, stepped down the steps, and followed her youngest son to the rear of the annex.
I tried to ignore the heated discussion between Gunner and his mom, but in this confined space, it was impossible. Although Priscilla would probably never admit it, Gunner had inherited her fiery temper. The two of them clashed often. Once the argument ended, Priscilla grabbed Piper, and the two of them left the caravan.
I waited a couple of minutes, then shoved my shoes on, told the boys to stay in the annex, and after a quick glance to ensure Priscilla had gone, I dashed in the opposite direction. I ran as fast as I dared up the central street, waving at people as I went so they didn’t think I was in trouble. Of course, I would be in trouble if my bag wasn’t still hidden amongst the bushes. And if Henry was still there, I’d be embarrassed beyond thinking as well.
I was sweating by the time I reached the beach. Thankfully, Henry was nowhere to be seen. And it was my lucky day, as my things were still exactly where I’d left them.
Actually, meeting Henry confirmed it really was my lucky day.
I raced back to the caravan, and after tossing my things onto my bed, I spent several minutes with the air conditioner cranked up to full and standing directly in front of the vents.
But I’d rushed for nothing. Priscilla took her sweet time returning from the showers. She took so long that I had not only prepared dinner but also tidied up the kitchen too.
The rest of the evening went like the previous three nights. I made dinner and set the table. The food was devoured in a matter of minutes and while I cleaned the dishes, Priscilla fought with the boys to get them showered and settled.
By the time the two of us flopped into our camp chairs with our alcoholic beverages, it was nearly eight-thirty, and I still hadn’t told Priscilla about Henry.
Now was the perfect time as the kids were outside doing a couple of laps around the holiday park on their bikes before Priscilla would call them in for bedtime.
Yet I was almost paralyzed with indecision on how to tell her about him. Maybe I could just pretend I was going for a walk. But knowing my luck, Priscilla and the kids would insist on joining me.
I had no choice.
Not just that, I was plagued with doubts over whether or not Henry would turn up.
I’d never live down the humiliation if he didn’t. But what if he did turn up and I didn’t? I recalled the way he looked at me. Like he truly liked what he saw. I didn’t think it was possible to fake that. I had to know. Which meant I had to go.
Finally, after I’d finished my second drink of wine, I put my glass down. My heart thumped out a crazy beat as I angled in my seat to face my sister. “I met somebody.”
She cocked her head. “Who? When?”
“His name’s Henry and I met him on the beach earlier.”
Her perfectly arched eyebrows bounced skyward. “What? Henry who?”
I inwardly groaned. “I don’t know his surname. But he asked me to see him again tonight.”
“Tonight? Where?”
“On the beach?”
“And you said yes? There’ll be nobody around.”
I scrunched up my nose. “So?”
“So! He could be Jack the Ripper!”
“He’s not Jack the Ripper.”
“How the fuck do you know?”
I shrugged. “’Cause Jack the Ripper was in London in 1888.”
“For fuck”s sake. You know what I mean. Is he staying in the holiday park?”
“No.”
“Where’d he come from then?”
I contemplated making up an answer. But Priscilla had an uncanny ability to identify when I wasn’t truthful. Especially when my emotions were involved. Maybe that sixth sense came with being a mother. I’d never know. “I don’t know where he came from, but it doesn’t matter, Sis, he seemed really nice.”
“I bet Jack seemed nice too. Right up until he ripped your guts out.”
I pushed back onto my chair. “Wow, can’t you just be happy for me?”
“Happy. Are you kidding me? Your life couldn’t get any happier if you tried.”
I did a double-take. “What? Where did you get that idea from?”
“Really? Okay, let’s see.” She held up her thumb. “You have an amazing job.” She added her forefinger to the thumb. “Great income.” Her middle finger joined the first two. “You only have a cat to look after. Your tits are still perky, and you work with Chris Hemsworth, for fuck”s sake.” She spread her fingers and showed me her palm. “What’s not to be happy about?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t work with Chris Hemsworth.”
“Yes, you did.” The way she said it, with the words snapping off her tongue, was like she was defending her reputation.
“Okay, I did for about half a day.”
“Exactly.”
I sighed. We’d gone way off topic. “Anyway, I’m meeting Henry at nine.”
“Bloody hell. You’re serious.”
“Yeah, I am. I like him.”
“You don’t even know him.”
I stood. “Exactly! That’s why I’m going to him.” I strode to the steps, climbed up into the van, went to my small bedroom, and shut the door. My sister’s lack of support wasn’t surprising. In the last ten years, I’d only introduced about six men to her. Each one had suffered under Priscilla’s scrutiny. Too quiet. Too loud. Too frumpy. Not ambitious enough. Too career-focused. The criticisms were non-stop. According to her, none of the men were good enough for me. God only knows what she’d say if she met sixty-year-old Henry.
I liked him. That should be good enough for my sibling.
I peeled off my dress and, replicating what Piper had done earlier; I began plucking clothes from my tiny wardrobe and tossing them across the bed. I’d packed my suitcase for a casual holiday on the beach, not for dating a handsome stranger.
The only outfit I’d brought that was halfway decent was a maxi dress. It was navy, with a white decorative pattern across the shoulders and along the bottom of the skirt. I pulled the dress on and fiddled with the plunging neckline, trying to conceal my bra. But after pulling it left and right, I whipped the dress off, unhooked my bra, and pulled the dress back on.
Better. My sister did say I had perky boobs.
My hair was the next issue. I hadn’t brought a hair straightener, and I had no intention of asking Priscilla to borrow hers. Instead, I tipped my head upside down, teased my curls with my fingers, and then blasted it with hairspray.
Standing upright, I assessed my wild mop in the tiny mirror attached to the inside of the wardrobe door. It wasn’t great. But given my limited resources, it would have to do. Makeup was my next problem. One stick of lipstick was my only makeup.
Jewelry, however, was the opposite scenario. I eased on all my rings and a bold silver necklace that settled at the top of my cleavage. The chunky accessory could double as a weapon if I needed it. Not that I thought I would. At least, that’s what I hoped.
With beaded sandals on my feet, I stepped from my room. My sister was standing in the kitchen, hands folded across her chest. She’s not happy with my plan.
“How do I look?” I asked, attempting to deflect the impending lecture.
“Like a woman who’s lost her mind.”
“Excellent.”
“It’s not excellent. It’s stupid. What if he attacks you?”
“Will you please stop the negativity? You should be excited for me. I haven’t been on a date in about three years.”
“A date? Is that what you call this?”
I tilted my head. “What would you call it then?”
“Fucking stupid.”
“Oh, forget it. You’ve never liked any of the men I’ve introduced to you. You didn’t even like Nathan, even after we’d been together for years.”
“Bullshit. I liked Nathan.”
“Really? That’s not what you told me when we broke up.”
“That’s because he was an asshole.”
“See.”
“He was! Ditching you like that, after all you’d been through.”
Time was ticking, and I had no intention of being late, especially when I’d asked Henry to be on time. “I’m going. Don’t wait up for me!”
“Jesus. You’re crazy.”
“Bye.” I grabbed my phone from the shelf and strode past my sister to exit the caravan. My heart thumped in my neck as I made my way out of the annex and strode up the holiday park”s central avenue. I half expected my sister to come running after me. But the park was quiet, which was strange. It was like everyone was holding their breath while watching me walk through the Valley of Doom.
The joys of a creative mind meant I could picture the valley of doom perfectly. Curtains of black clouds would swirl overhead, ready to pelt me with hailstones the size of eyeballs. Vines with talon-like thorns would creep up long-dead trees and reach out, ready to scratch my flailing arms. Eyes would leer from everywhere, watching me walk all alone up the broken path.
And at the end, where Henry should be waiting for me would be a fiery pit surrounded by people who were snickering when Henry didn’t show up.
Yep, my fervid imagination was working overtime, and each step added another layer of malice.
I shoved the shitty thoughts aside and pictured Henry’s charming blue eyes. They were sincere eyes, loaded with an inquisitiveness that convinced me he truly did want to see me again. I liked to think I was a bit of an expert on acting; lord knows I’d seen enough of it. And not just in my chosen profession. My ex-fiancé had been the master of deceit. It took me way too long to overcome the hurt that was inflicted by Nathan’s ability to look me square in the eyes and lie.
After he’d left, I’d tried to pinpoint when our relationship had turned.
Was it two years after we’d met? Five? Seven?
He never did say when he’d changed his mind. Not giving answers hurt just as much as the blatant lies. It also made me wonder, to the point of delirium, just how long he’d been pretending to love me.
Casting the tumbling thoughts aside, I decided that despite knowing Henry for barely an hour, he had not been acting. Of that, I was certain. Well, fairly certain.
I huffed. I’d know soon enough.
Once I stepped through the exit gate, my heart began thumping for a very different reason. Anticipation.
And then it swung right back to trepidation.
What if he doesn’t turn up?