Seventeen
It was now almost two weeks since he’d injured his hand, and Jamie’s life was slowly getting back to normal. He’d been grateful for Rory’s help with his fishing charters but was pleased to go solo again. Also, it was high time he made contact with Erica.
Jamie had thought a lot about the time she came to remove the dressing on his hand, suspecting her decision to arrive in her uniform indicated her insecurity and her desire to be totally professional. It had been a bonus when she agreed to have coffee with him, almost like old times, though he’d noticed how she’d shied away from any mention of them. The main plus had been when she didn’t refuse his offer to meet again for a drink, and sensing her reluctance he hadn’t followed up immediately.
He glanced over at his passengers as he steered into the harbour. They had been a good group today, no alcohol sneaked on board and no arguments when only two of the group managed to catch something. But he’d be glad to get in and home for a beer, or maybe he’d head to The Grand , see if Cam was there for a yarn. He hadn’t felt like going to the hotel when his hand was still a tad weaker than normal, when he might have found it difficult to lift a glass of beer. He automatically flexed his right hand at the thought, glad there was no residual weakness.
As he passed The Grand on his way home, Jamie saw Cam go in, so instead of going straight to the cottage to shower and change, he followed his friend into the hotel.
‘Hey, Cam,’ he said, joining his mate at the bar. ‘How’s tricks?’
‘Jamie!’ Cam gave him a wide grin. ‘I heard about your injury. Bad luck. You’ve recovered?’
‘Good as gold.’ Jamie held up his right hand. ‘But it stopped me in my tracks for a bit. If it hadn’t been for Rory and Mandy…’ He shook his head. ‘Thanks for giving Rory the time off.’
‘That’s what friends are for, and I was happy to help. I know you’d do the same for me. Let me buy you a beer.’
‘I should be buying you one,’ Jamie said, as Cam went ahead to order for them. ‘The next one’s on me, but it won’t be today. One’s my limit while I’m still on antibiotics. Probably shouldn’t even have one, but I had the last tablet this morning.’
‘I hear you had a private nurse come to remove your dressing.’
‘How…? Oh, Rory.’
‘Erica Harris,’ Cam said. ‘Didn’t you and she…?’
‘That was a long time ago, another lifetime,’ Jamie said, hoping that would be an end to it.
Cam gave him a strange look, but said no more about Erica, instead asking, ‘Did you hear about the proposal to expand the sports centre to incorporate a venue for live music?’
This prompted a discussion about the pros and cons of such a proposal and memories of Cam and Jamie’s own youth when they had spent long summer nights on the beach, singing and dancing to the music of guitars which many of the young guys played.
The memory was still with Jamie as he made his way home. It seemed like yesterday, but it had been over thirty years ago when he and Erica had danced to the music of Jimmy Barnes, Midnight Oil and Tina Arena. They hadn’t always joined the others on the beach, preferring to find a quiet spot where they could play the music they’d recorded from the radio on Jamie’s cassette player. It was a world away from what kids did nowadays.
Erica was still on Jamie’s mind when he walked into the cottage. It was time. He took out his phone to call her.
*
Erica was in the shower when she heard her phone ring. It had been another busy day in Emergency, and she was relishing the sensation of the hot water cascading over her. She debated letting it go to voicemail, but the sense of responsibility her mother had drilled into her made her turn off the water, wrap a towel around herself and go into the kitchen to pick up her phone. She caught it just in time. ‘Hello?’ she said.
There was a pause then, ‘Erica, it’s Jamie.’
Erica wished she hadn’t answered. Even though she knew Jamie couldn’t see her, she was very conscious of being half-naked and dripping water onto the tiled floor. Since it had been almost two weeks since she saw him, and he hadn’t called, she’d thought – even hoped – he’d decided not to contact her.
‘Jamie! How’s the hand?’ Maybe she could pretend this was a professional call.
‘It’s good, almost back to normal.’ There was another pause. ‘I’m very grateful you went out of your way to visit me at home.’
‘No worries. It was on my way.’ She still didn’t know why she’d done it, but it had gone well, she remembered.
‘About that drink I owe you. I wondered if you were free on Saturday. Maybe we could meet.’
There was another pause, this time while Erica tried to work out a response. Did she want to have a drink with Jamie, to open up the possibility of rekindling their past? Or was she making too much of this? It was only a drink with an old friend, and she didn’t have too many of those. Geoff had seen to that.
‘Okay,’ she said warily. She realised it wasn’t an enthusiastic response, but she didn’t want to sound too eager.
‘Great,’ Jamie said, sounding relieved.
Had he expected her to refuse ? Maybe she should have. She remembered what Gill had said. It was true. All men weren’t like Geoff, but…
Jamie was speaking again. ‘How about the yacht club… or we could try the new wine bar that opened recently. I’m not sure what it’s like…’ His voice trailed off.
Was Jamie as unsure about this as she was? ‘The wine bar sounds good. The yacht club will be busy and…’
‘… there will be people there who know us,’ Jamie finished. ‘Right, the wine bar it is. How about I pick you up at seven? I think they may have food if we want to eat…’ His voice trailed off again.
Erica had a sudden urge to reassure him. This wasn’t the confident, assured Jamie she remembered. What had happened to him over the years? She supposed a divorce could do that to someone, sap their confidence. She knew all about that, and Jamie had been left with two teenagers to look after. Or was his apparent lack of confidence her fault? Had she been less than enthusiastic? ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she lied.
‘Great,’ he said again. ‘See you at seven on Saturday.’
What had she done? She’d just made a date with Jamie Whittaker, with the boy she’d fallen in love with when she was only sixteen, the boy who, at one time, she’d thought she’d marry. She must have lost her mind.