21
Saturday, 6 pm
Green River Campground
Dani
Case against Craig: He kept trying to steal romantic moments on a trip that was very definitely not about romantic moments.
A campsite is a village without walls.
A group holiday where there’s so little privacy and every activity is communal, whether it’s arguing or having sex or shitting or screaming at your children.
And yet, here he was, asking Dani to come down to the beach at sunset, at the precise moment she should be helping the others with Pasta Night.
‘Let’s go and watch the sun sink into the river,’ he was saying, in that deep voice again, tugging at her hand in exactly the way that Brigitte did when she wanted her mum to leave whatever she was doing.
Come! Come!
It was irritating, even though she knew it was a reasonable assumption that he should get to spend some time with her after he’d been banished on a boys’ fishing expedition for the morning.
‘I know you’ll think I’m just saying this but the women are much more interesting company,’ he’d whispered when they’d returned to camp, fishless.
‘I feel like last year was more co-ed.’
Yes, but last year they hadn’t been trying to solve the problem of whether Lachy Short had assaulted a teenage girl.
Her teenage girl.
Assaulted.
She hadn’t used that word, even in her head, about last night until now.
Anyway. It hadn’t happened.
It was reasonable for Craig to feel that he hadn’t come away to spend hours and hours with men he neither knew nor liked very much.
It was reasonable to assume that the woman you were in a relationship with might want to walk with you at sunset.
‘In a minute, Craig,’ Dani said, in exactly the same tone she would have used to Brigitte.
‘But the sunset doesn’t last forever, Dani.’
‘Hold on!’
She had just a little block of cheese left to grate for the kids to spread all over their red sauce tonight.
And she wasn’t going to abandon her post.
Especially with the way Sadie was looking at her.
Sadie was slicing tomatoes for a salad absolutely no-one would eat, with one eye on Dani and Craig.
It was unnerving, and probably pointed.
Yeah, she knew that some of the women thought that Craig was an odd choice for her.
‘A poorer man’s Lachy Short,’ is how Juno had described him once, her guard lowered by gin.
‘I know I’m a bit man-blind, but come on. Polo shirts and khakis and chit-chat about the markets? They’re not twins, but they’re brothers.’
That had infuriated Dani.
Was that when she started finding fault with Craig’s chosen words, with the way he spent money, with his socks, even?
‘I always thought you would end up with another creative, like Seb,’ Sadie had said, sometime during last year’s trip.
To which Dani had snapped, ‘I haven’t ended up anywhere, with anyone.’
It all felt like judgement.
But again, it wasn’t unreasonable.
If she still considered this a casual relationship, after almost two years it was fair that others thought it was more of a long-term choice.
Sadie was nodding at her, like Go, and Dani didn’t understand why, when they were on dinner duty.
If Sadie grilled a sausage, filled an ice bucket, or suggested a washing-up run, you knew about it.
She was no domestic martyr, on or off the campground.
‘I can get the water boiling, Juno and Em will be back with the little kids soon.
Go see the sunset, Dani.
I’m sure Liss is around, too.’
Liss had left the rockpool earlier to go for a walk to her tree, she’d said, as the air cooled but before the mosquitos woke.
Dani had seen her briefly, coming back from the path to the forest, walking quickly, looking distracted.
Still considering how to patch up the Sadie–Lachy problem, Dani imagined.
And Lyra? Well, God knew where her elder daughter was, but since Tia and Trick and James and Bob were also all missing it was safe to say they were together somewhere.
Relax, Dani told herself. Let’s not have a repeat of last night’s anxious search.
‘Come on, Dani.’ Craig pulled her hand one more time.
‘I must insist my girlfriend walks with me.’
I have to break up with you, Dani thought.
I am not listening to who I am or what I want.
I am not being fair.
I have to break up with you.
Still, she followed Craig down the beach path, out onto the expanse of hard sand being scrawled by the crabs, who scuttled away with every footfall.
It was beautiful at this time, there was no argument.
The pink-purple sky reflected on the wet sand, the water the silvery colour artists struggled to capture, the whirr of the insects just twitching to life in the lush tree line.
Dani could breathe in and appreciate that, even if her mind wouldn’t stop flicking through problems with the man walking next to her, holding her hand.
Case against Craig: Romantic.
Why was that in the minus column? Romance in the right hands was heart-filling, sexy.
Like when Seb used to bring her a chocolate cupcake from that overpriced tourist bakery in Manhattan and offer it to her with a flourish and a sly smile.
It had meant he was thinking of her when he walked past that place on the way to work.
That he had made himself late by standing in line.
That he’d borne the inconvenience of carrying a little cream-topped cake in a tiny box all the way home on the subway.
But romance in the wrong hands, the ones that didn’t fit yours, that was cringe, as Lyra would certainly say.
It actually made you recoil.
Why was she thinking about Seb’s cupcakes now? The ones he was most likely still buying, but for a twenty-seven-year-old Pilates teacher from Brooklyn.
Dani hadn’t noticed that Craig had stopped walking.
That he had stopped talking about how beautiful the light was.
She sensed that she was three steps ahead and looking much further out, and she stopped and turned and saw.
She had walked straight past it.
A little card table, covered by a rough linen cloth, lilac, expensive-looking.
A gold foil–topped bottle in an ice bucket.
Two crystal glasses.
Some flowers from the forest in a tiny white vase.
Dani’s mind whirred.
He must have packed that table, in one of the hidden cavities in the back of the red truck.
And the ice bucket.
And the tablecloth, which looked like it was from one of those expensive interior shops in Woollahra, the ones with the stacked wicker baskets and tiny, artisan-crafted white vases.
Craig must have picked those flowers. He must have snuck away from the campsite to dress this set.
Oh no. Oh no.
Time seemed to slow down as she took it all in.
And then she turned to look at his face and there it was.
An open, hopeful smile.
Hand outstretched to her.
A suddenly obvious box-shaped bulge in the pocket of his pin-striped sailing shorts. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it.
‘Don’t say it!’ she blurted, and Craig’s face immediately collapsed in confusion.
He opened his mouth, but no noise came out.
‘Please don’t say it.’ Dani hoped her voice was becoming less of a panicked shriek and more of a calm reassurance.
She needed to think fast, dig deep.
When Seb had proposed to her, they too had been walking by water, in a metropolis on the other side of the world.
He had never lived up to the stereotype of a demonstrably romantic Frenchman.
They had been talking about her visa, about travel.
They had been doing that thing couples do when they’re first together, trying out versions of themselves and their futures on one another.
Might they want to move to the west coast one day, live an LA life of sunshine and hyperbole? Might they want to try Paris, where his father’s family still lived, and be a pair of bilingual sophisticates, living in a courtyard apartment? This was before Dani’s pregnancy made her, like some hormonal homing pigeon, only want one particular, familiar nest for her family.
This was back when everything was possible.
And he just turned to her, on another cold evening, their faces framed by the hoods of their padded city overcoats, and asked her.
Would you like to? Why don’t we? It would make everything easier.
And Dani just knew, like they said in the movies.
She knew, absolutely.
Now, as time caught up with her, along with the reality of what the card table on the edge of the river beach meant, she realised how distant she was from that nodding young woman.
Now she was someone who had created a relationship that was one thing to her, a completely different thing to the other person in it, and with nothing real at its centre.
‘Craig. I can’t.’
He laughed and looked at the ground, his hand now in the pocket with the box. He kicked at the hard sand with his tan leather boat shoe. He clenched and unclenched his other fist. She watched him, figuring out what to do with his body, his face, his hands and feet, and she wished she could disappear, or at least erase this scene.
‘Craig, I’m sorry, I didn’t know . . .’
‘You didn’t know?’ His eyes stayed on the ground. ‘That’s the point, Dani. Proposals are meant to be a surprise.’
‘I mean, I didn’t know we were . . . here.’ Dani was trying to pick words that didn’t hurt, but she just kept bumping into the fact that this was ridiculous. The idea that they were going to pledge themselves to each other. Tie their futures together. Live with each other. She had never even thought about it, and he had gone out and bought a tablecloth and a little vase. And a ring. ‘I didn’t know we were that serious.’
‘Serious!’ Craig laughed again. Why did he keep doing that? ‘Dani, it’s been two years.’
‘Yes, but we’re just dating!’ She knew she sounded silly.
‘Isn’t dating what you do before you get married? Isn’t that what women want? A man who will commit?’ Craig’s voice was getting louder and higher and rougher. His soothing deep tenor was gone.
Dani reached out to grab his hand, but he pulled it back, his face red, his mouth twisting.
‘You really don’t want to marry me?’ he asked. The words would be pathetic if they weren’t so edged with disgust. ‘You really didn’t think this was going anywhere? Haven’t I treated you well? Haven’t I been nice to your friends?’ He gestured around. ‘Your kids? Haven’t I done all the shit you’re meant to do? That women are always saying they want? Jesus, I’m an idiot.’
Dani wanted this to be over and the easiest way she could see was to take this embarrassment from him.
‘It’s me,’ she said. ‘This is my fault. I’m all over the place. I should have been much clearer about my feelings. You haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Wrong?’ he shouted. He still couldn’t look at her.
Dani stole a look around. There was no-one else on the entire beach. Not one other human from the campsite had decided this was the moment to come and see the sunset. Was that by accident, or design? Had Craig told people? She thought of Sadie urging her to leave the cheese ungrated. She knew. Who else knew?
‘Craig, I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t fucking pity me, Dani.’ His eyes snapped up to hers. ‘Don’t pity me. Do you know how many women want a man like me? Plenty, I can tell you. All those women on the apps, all those women who want a man who can afford a ring.’ He pulled the box out of his pocket and threw it on the sand.
‘Craig, don’t.’
‘You know your problem?’ Craig’s anger was in full flight. Dani’s plan had worked but now she needed a way out of this moment.
‘I think I do.’ She sighed. ‘I haven’t been honest.’
‘You’re arrogant. You think you’re this superwoman single mum who doesn’t need anyone except your precious Liss and Lachy and this whole incestuous mess.’ He was still shouting. ‘Crazy Sadie’s the only real one here. And you think that these people love you, that you don’t need anyone else –’
‘Craig, I know you’re upset.’ Dani wanted to stop talking but also, his obsession with her friends was infuriating. ‘This has nothing to do with Liss and Lachy. I know you don’t like them, but they’re family to me . . . Maybe that’s another reason this could never –’
‘You’re so deluded,’ he snapped, surprising her. ‘You don’t even know. You don’t even know these precious people of yours. Did you know,’ he stepped closer to her, within arm’s reach, and grabbed the hand she’d offered him earlier. He pulled her in, dropped his voice. ‘Did you know that Lachy Short has already sold these campsites?’
‘What?’ Dani felt a whiplash spike of panic. This was not what she was expecting him to say. ‘That’s not true, Liss would never –’
‘I bet Liss knows nothing about it.’ Craig laughed again. ‘A developer mate of mine wanted my thoughts on the deal. I almost didn’t look at the names because boring fucking property deals aren’t my business, but then I did.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
‘Why would I?’ Craig dropped her hand again, bent down to pick up the ring box. ‘It’s not that interesting to me. But being here again, with fucking Liss Short lording it over us all and going on and on about how much this place means to her soul chakra or some shit like that, it just makes me . . . They’re fake, Dani. And apparently so are you.’
He opened the box. ‘Good enough for you?’
A huge, violet-blue stone. It was beautiful. Expensive. Unusual. It would have looked dumb, Dani thought, on her neat little hand.
‘It’s stunning, Craig,’ she said, so confused now that she thought she might lose her balance and topple over. ‘Thank you. For making all this . . . effort.’
‘That’s what you do, Dani, for people you love.’ He snapped the box shut, put it back in his pocket. ‘I thought you and me and Anders and the girls . . .’ He trailed off.
There was a lull. Dani wondered if she could sit down. Not on one of the chairs at the proposal table, but right here on the ground. Would that be weird? She imagined so.
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked Craig. ‘Are you going to tell Liss?’
‘You’re more bothered about that part of this, are you?’
‘No, I just . . . I’m confused.’
‘Your mate Lachy Short is a pig, Dani. I don’t know what hold he has over you but he’s just a standard, run-of-the-mill, entitled prick. And he’s planning to screw over his wife, by the looks of it. Because having a beach house and a mansion in Bronte isn’t enough. I thought maybe she was part of it, until we got here and I heard all her gushing.’ He breathed out. ‘Anyway, I don’t give a shit about them. I’m going.’
‘Where?’
‘Home.’
Dani’s brain jumped straight to the practicalities of getting her girls and her gear back to the city without that fucking red truck. She knew she should have driven her own car. And she realised that thought made it very clear that she didn’t care about Craig anywhere near enough for any of this.
‘Okay,’ she said. And she did sit down, sinking into the sand, facing the sky that was blazing orange now that the sun had slipped itself down behind the black-green shoreline on the other side. ‘I’m sorry, again.’
Craig stood there, jiggling the ring box.
‘You shouldn’t have asked me here,’ he said.
‘I didn’t, you asked yourself.’ She said it without thinking.
‘Fuck you, Dani.’ Craig turned and walked off up the beach to the path, away from the furious sky and the flimsy little table. And Dani stayed there, getting sand in her shorts and wondering how the hell she was going to talk to Liss about any of this.