32
‘U GH, Tommy, can you just stop?’ I put my hand over my brother’s to still it. He’s been playing the drums with his cutlery against the table for the past two songs and the incessant sound sets my teeth on edge.
‘He’s all right,’ Dad says.
‘He’s not all right, he’s embarrassing,’ I say. ‘We’re in public. Would it kill him to act like a human and not a cartoon character?’
‘Calm down, Cat.’ Mum hands some cash to Matty. ‘Go buy a lemonade for you and for Tommy and get some coins for the games. Two games each, right? I expect change.’
I twirl the glass of sparkling water in my hand. ‘This is crap, you know. The law says I’m allowed to drink here under your supervision.’
‘I don’t think that’s accurate,’ says Dad, ‘and even if it were, maybe I don’t want my 17-year-old daughter as my drinking buddy at my local.’ He gets up and moves to the bar to chat with some randoms he’ll be best friends with before the hour is up.
‘Did you see the new family staying next door?’ says Mum.
‘I saw the cute dog, but I heard a screaming baby at five this morning. Adorable. How long are they down for?’
‘Just the weekend. There’s three generations in that one house. That’ll stop being fun really soon. That poor mother had the “kill me now” look in her eyes. Nothing worse than an unsettled baby when you’re away from home.’
‘Nothing worse than a baby full stop; they just turn into annoying little people,’ I say. ‘Look at Exhibit A there. So embarrassing.’ Tommy’s standing in front of the band setting up, still playing air drums.
‘You know what I love best about Tommy’s age?’ Mum says. ‘His complete lack of care factor. You could learn something from him, Cat. Here’s a secret for you: everyone’s too busy with their own stuff to worry about yours.’
‘Whatever. Are you guys going home soon?’
‘No, I think we’ll stay, hang around, watch the band. I haven’t danced in ages.’
‘What? You can’t!’ I splutter water through my nose as Mum cracks up laughing.
‘Your face!’ She clutches her chest, her head thrown back.
‘What’s so funny?’ Paul leans down and kisses my cheek.
‘Nothing. Please excuse my mother; she’s too far gone.’
‘How was dinner?’ he says.
‘Let’s just say I’ve had my hot chip quota for the whole year.’
‘ Pho -shame?’
‘That’s pho -real.’
‘Yet I’m the one that’s too far gone,’ Mum says. ‘None of what you kids say makes any sense. Pity you couldn’t join us, Paul. We owe you dinner. If it weren’t for you, Mick would still be crawling in and out through the manhole.’
‘You owe me nothing, you know it’s what you guys pay me for, right? It’s looking sweet now, isn’t it? You happy with where things are at, Angela?’
‘You’ve done a beautiful job, the two of you. Mick can’t believe how much you’ve done; he’s saying he’s months ahead. He never would have been able to get all this done on his own with his team on holidays.’
‘Yeah, not much more, and your mother will be ready to move right in.’
‘Shhh!’ Mum and I say at once.
‘Don’t say that out loud!’ I put my hand over his mouth. ‘You want to jinx us?’
‘So, not much more, and you’ll have your husband back to yourself. How’s that?’
‘That’s an even scarier thought,’ says Mum. ‘Mick has no concept of relaxing. If he’s not fishing, he’s pottering, and if he can’t find something to do, he badgers us to entertain him.’
‘You can’t keep a good man down, hey?’ says Paul.
‘That’s what they say,’ says Mum.
‘Who’s they and what do they say?’ says Dad. ‘Hey mate, how are you? Haven’t seen you for ages.’ He shakes Paul’s hand. ‘What’s it been, two hours? You all right? Having withdrawals?’
‘Hilarious, Dad.’ I roll my eyes.
‘We were talking about the renovation, Mick,’ says Mum. ‘What’s left?’
‘Just all the plumbing, and then we can hang the sheets.’
‘That’s right, let me grab Cavey.’ Paul gestures behind him. I turn, and there’s the Neanderthals leaning against the far end of the bar. Cavey raises his beer in hello, then crosses the pub.
‘Hey, Cat,’ he says to me before Paul introduces him to my parents. ‘How you going?’
‘We’re going good.’ Dad shakes his hand. ‘I hear you’re a plasterer.’
‘Have a seat,’ says Mum.
‘Aren’t you guys going now?’ I round my eyes at Mum.
‘Calm down, cowgirl,’ says Dad, ‘Cavey, is it? What were you saying?’ Ugh. They launch into construction chit chat as tables are cleared all around us and more and more people pour into the pub.
‘Mum...’ The house lights turn down leaving the pub in a hazy darkness, the remnants of the sunset filtering through the windows facing the beach, the coastal bush absorbing the twilight.
‘We’re going, we’re going.’ Mum rises from her seat. ‘Mick, you ready? Boys, time to go.’
‘What about Cat?’ whines Tommy. ‘How come she gets to stay?’
‘I swear to God...’ I mutter.
‘Cat. Do not walk yourself home, you hear me?’ Dad stares directly at Paul.
‘I’ve got her,’ says Paul.
‘Make sure you do,’ Dad says, ‘and have her home by midnight.’
‘What am I, a pumpkin?’
‘Mick, don’t start,’ says Mum. ‘One thirty, guys. Cat, come here.’ She pulls me aside and in Italian tells me to keep myself nice.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘No more than one drink. You’re still underage, remember? And any sign of fighting just leave. There’s far too much testosterone floating around. Especially this one. It’s coming off him in waves.’ She tilts her eyes towards Cavey. ‘He’s a walking ad for toxic masculinity.’
My parents usher my brothers out the door and leave with a final wave as Ant walks in.
‘Hey, Cat! Paulie, Cavey. How’s it going?’ He sidles up to the table to stand next to me.
‘Babe, I’m grabbing a beer. You want one?’ says Paul.
‘God, yes. Thank you.’
‘Cavey? Scampo?’
‘Yeah, thanks, mate,’ says Cavey.
‘Jump up, Cat,’ says Ant.
Two guys approach our table. They’re dressed in the pub uniform of black jeans and polo shirts with the pub’s logo. Neither are locals, or none that I recognise anyway. I realise our table’s the last one standing in the whole pub.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.
‘All good, little surfer girl.’ One winks at me, staring just a little too long as he carries the table out the back door.
‘Look at you, making friends everywhere you go,’ says Ant.
‘Very funny,’ I say, ‘and offensive.’
‘Offensive? Because he called you a little girl?’ says Cavey. ‘Complimenting a chick is offensive?’
‘Offensive because it’s belittling, and offensive because am I really giving off surfer vibes? God help me. I’m spending too much time with you guys.’ They return to collect the chairs, stacking them on a weirdly shaped trolley which needs the two guys to steer it through the door of the pub.
‘That seems a bit excessive,’ I say, ‘too bad if we wanted to sit.’
‘Better than having a chair thrown through the window like last summer,’ Ant says.
‘Yeah, I’d forgotten about that. What’s with you guys and fighting?’
‘Hey, nothing to do with me, bella , I’m a lover, not a fighter.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ I laugh.
‘Hey, JB tells me you’re going for medicine?’ he asks.
‘That, or law. I still can’t decide and it’s freaking me out.’
‘You’ll be right. When are you catching up with him?’
‘Probably when school goes back, which totally sucks. I haven’t seen any of my friends since school finished. Online just doesn’t cut it.’
‘That’s nice. Hear that, Cavey? We’re not Cat’s friends.’
‘You know what I mean. School friends. Got my back no matter what friends.’ His face drops and I lightly punch his arm. ‘Someone who’s been there for the long-haul, that’s all I mean.’
‘That’s slightly better, but I’ll take it. You’re not friends with any of the locals?’
‘Have you seen the friendship opportunities around here? I don’t think so.’
‘One of your friendship opportunities is having a crack at your boyfriend,’ says Cavey.
I turn to look behind me, and there’s Isabel Dillon leaning against the bar, standing right next to Paul, licking her lips and grinning in his face like the freakin’ Cheshire Cat. He moves away to speak to the bartender.
‘Case in point,’ I shrug.
‘There’s nothing for you to worry about there, Cat,’ says Ant.
‘I’m not blind; I know she has a thing for him. But I also know he has a thing for me, so I think I’m good.’
‘Paulie’s into you so bad. Mate, we’ve never seen him so into a chick like he’s into you.’
‘ Che bello, Antonio . You really should be a poet.’
‘ Mannaggia , I’m serious!’ he laughs. ‘Hey Cavey? Am I right or am I right?’
‘Must be. I’ve barely laid eyes on my best mate all summer.’
My shoulders descend as Paul weaves through the crowd back to my side.
‘Here you go, Cat.’ He cracks open a beer and hands it to me.
‘Good timing, mate.’ Cavey takes a long swig of his beer. ‘One of the uni try-hards working here just had a crack at your girlfriend.’
‘What? Which one?’ His eyes traverse the room.
‘Nothing happened,’ I say as the band starts.
Paul stands behind me, his hand on my hip as we move in time. A familiar guitar riff starts.
‘Oh my God,’ I shriek. ‘It’s my favourite! Let’s dance!’
‘I’m going to need a few more of these.’ Paul tips his beer at me.
‘Ant, you’re up.’ I reach to pull him onto the dance floor.
‘Woah, Italians don’t dance, you know that.’ His hands rise in mock surrender.
‘Are you kidding me? That’s all we do!’
‘Not this Italian.’
‘Cavey, you in?’
‘Yeah, good luck with that.’ Cavey takes another slug of his beer, looking anywhere but at me.