CHAPTER 12
‘Come On Eileen’ was still stuck in Poppy’s head when Henry appeared to pick up a takeaway coffee later that morning at The Bustle. At least she’d been prepared for this. He looked more prepared too. She wondered whether he’d considered avoiding the cafe like she had. Or had he come hoping to run into her?
‘Hi again,’ he said, smiling. ‘I like your dress.’
‘Oh, er, thanks.’ Poppy flicked a muffin crumb off her lap. He’d always liked polka dots. ‘Is this your regular place?’
‘Pretty much,’ Henry said. ‘Our office is—’
‘Around the corner, I know. I mean, I remember.’ She’d been to his dad’s office countless times as a teenager to drop off schoolbags so they could roam the streets of Orange unencumbered. The receptionist used to wink at them as they’d leave, tugging each other by their school shirts.
Henry nodded. ‘I’m here a fair bit. I like the country mum vibe of the place.’
Poppy smiled. ‘I’m sure you do.’
His eyes still twinkled like a joke was on the tip of his tongue. Knowing how his brain worked, it probably was. He’d never been the class clown, or the biggest star on the sports field, but everyone knew Henry Marshall had good chat —and for a boy who was polite and past the acne phase, there could be no higher praise.
‘How’s your week been?’
‘Busy,’ he replied. ‘Dad had all these ways of filing that are so archaic, I’m trying to get up to speed. I want to start trying some new things to increase our activity levels, get more money coming through the door. With the current state of the stock market, there are so many opportunities to make better investments for our clients.’ He paused and laughed. ‘Sorry for the finance babble; I get a bit excited. It’s so good to finally be here and actually be able to put my ideas into action.’
A hollow feeling swelled in Poppy’s chest, but she smiled over it. ‘Sounds like all your dreams are coming true.’
‘Oh.’ Henry looked to his coffee, his ears turning pink. ‘Something like that, I guess.’
‘So how do you plan to get your ideas out to the market?’ Poppy asked.
Henry chuckled. ‘I haven’t thought about the marketing yet. Always a one-track mind with you, though, isn’t it?’ He paused and winced. ‘Sorry, that’s not how I meant it.’
Now Poppy blushed. ‘It’s fine,’ she said, waving the comment away. ‘But I’d be happy to help. You know, if you need it.’
‘Thanks.’ Henry shifted his feet. ‘How have you been?’
‘Since yesterday?’
‘Well, yes. But also, like, generally. I think I forgot to ask that yesterday, sorry.’
Poppy smiled. ‘Good, I guess.’ She pointed to Maeve lying in the pram sucking on her fingers. ‘We’re settling into a bit of a rhythm. I’ve got the house set up now. We’re getting a bit of sleep. It’s not too bad.’
Henry peered at Maeve, whose eyes darted around the contours of his face. ‘She’s very alert, isn’t she?’ he said, staring at her.
Poppy nodded. Maeve’s eyes had also been described as wakeful, beady and restless, but alert was her preferred term. It implied intelligence.
‘And jeez, her nose is really—’
‘Yes.’ Poppy cut him off, knowing exactly where he was going with that. She happened to love Maeve’s tiny ski-jump nose. It was perfect on her.
Henry’s ears turned pink again and he glanced at the floor.
‘How’s your mum enjoying having you back in Orange?’ Poppy asked, retreating to safe territory.
‘Over the moon, as you’d expect. We’re already locked in for dinners almost every night of the week. And she keeps popping around to the office to drop off things she thinks I need. RB Sellars polos, handwash, that kind of thing. She’s forgotten I have managed to dress and wash myself for more than a decade without her.’
‘What about those undies she used to send you? Don’t tell me you started buying them yourself?’ At uni, Henry had firmly refused to buy his own underwear, complaining the price per square centimetre of fabric was absurd. This wasn’t an issue because his mum sent him care packages every six months, always containing three new pairs of Bonds briefs. Both Henry and his mother considered this a logical arrangement.
Henry laughed. ‘She started giving them to me in bulk as Christmas presents, so I think that’s fair enough?’ Poppy giggled and he grinned appreciatively. ‘I knew you’d find that funny. As soon as I opened that Christmas present, I knew you’d tease me.’ His smile faltered. ‘Well, anyway, that was a while back.’
He was right. Poppy would have crowed with laughter if he’d told her. Henry Mummy’s Boy Marshall : it was one of her favourite jokes. It made her hurt to realise he hadn’t been able to tell her, to pick up the phone slightly tipsy after Christmas lunch and gleefully recount his reaction and his mother’s satisfied smile. She could imagine it so clearly. Had it been a couple of years ago? Or was it long before that? She wished she knew.
‘I’m glad to see my good friend Henry Marshall is growing up.’
‘Aren’t we all?’ he replied, motioning to the scene before him: Poppy, Maeve, the colours and sounds of Orange through the window. It was all so different now; gentrified, glossier, busier. The sleepy town of their youth was long gone—just like their stupid teenage dreams.