Chapter Eight #3
This is why, Nick. This is why you should not do shit like this. I don’t do this. I don’t get involved with women. Not physically and definitely not with feelings. I don’t do things like this, ever.
Which Abbey … does not know.
I was pacing out the front of her house waiting an inordinately long time for a fucking Uber, having a moment of genuine clarity.
Fucckkk. I think I’ve fucked up here. That sinking feeling entered my stomach.
***
I woke up the next morning and wished I had drunk more at that party. If I was hungover, at least I’d have an excuse for moping about my apartment in a hoodie and track pants.
I had not stopped thinking about how badly last night had gone. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d worked that out, standing in front of her house, and how much of a prick I was that I did not go back and apologise straight away. Not that she would have opened the door to let me.
Why didn’t I do that?
Fuck.
Oliver walked through my front door and headed straight to my fridge.
‘What are you doing?’ I said.
‘What?’
‘You have your own fucking fridge. Get out!’
‘All right, cranky. Keep your bloody wig on.’
‘Jesus, you are an annoying little fucker.’
‘You wound me.’
I sat down on my sofa and stared at the glory of Sydney while I continued to obsess about the horror of last night.
‘Mike said you and Abbey left about the same time. Do you have anything you want to tell me?’ Oliver said as he sat down with a carton of orange juice and an apple.
‘Can you get a glass?’
‘Don’t attempt to divert.’
‘No, I did not leave with Abbey.’
‘Bollocks. Nick, I’ve known you my whole life. Do you honestly not know that I know when you are full of shit?’
‘Fine, her gran had a fall, and I accompanied her to the nursing home because she was upset.’
‘Oh, you accompanied Abbey, did you? Did your tongue accompany her throat? Wait, is her gran okay?’
‘Her gran is fucking magnificent. Her name is Iris Cavendish. She’s extraordinary. I want you to meet her.’
‘That sounds unnecessary.’
‘Do you have plans today, Ollie?’
‘Yes.’
‘Cancel them. I’ll shower. Let’s go for a drive.’
***
We pulled up to Ashford House and my brother shot me a glare.
‘Nick, you cannot be fucking serious.’
I ignored him, signed us in, and walked up the stairs to Iris’s room.
This seemed as mad as the dress purchase, admittedly, but I just wanted to check on her, to make certain she was well.
There was also the hope that, maybe, Abbey would be there, and I could …
I don’t know … I just wanted to see how Iris was.
‘Ah, Nicholas. I must say, this is a surprise.’
I bent over and kissed her crinkled, soft cheek.
She smelled amazing, like a young woman, no lavender or rose or anything one would expect of an old lady.
In fact, it could have been Chanel. Our mother used to wear it and I’m not certain if my siblings remember that about her.
I inhaled Iris slightly more and hugged her, feeling the ache in my heart.
‘Mrs Cavendish, may I intro—’
‘Call me, Iris, Nicholas. Then I won’t feel so old when you introduce me to the gorgeous man next to you.’
I gave a soft laugh and noticed a flush climb up Ollie’s neck. ‘Iris, my brother, Oliver Northby.’
Ollie slid his hand into hers. ‘Lovely to meet you, Iris. I’m so sorry to disturb. I was supposed to meet Abbey’s grandmother, but you cannot possibly be old enough.’
She laughed – a tinkly sound that was joyful and put me in mind of wind chimes. It further belied her age.
‘Oh, young man, if I were ten years younger …’
The two of them were instant friends, both masters of flirt. She had him eating out of her hands in approximately two minutes flat and, like me, he was an instant devotee.
Lionel came in and sat down, not bothered at all by the two younger men fawning over his would-be love.
I sat and watched, mostly just happy to be in their company. My grandfather died before I was born, and my grandmother passed away when I was nine. There were no elder Northbys left in the world, and we were missing these gentle, happy relationships.
I looked up to find Iris giving me an assessing stare.
‘Oliver, be a dear and grab me a bottle of water.’
‘Of course, Iris.’ He stood and walked out, an eager servant.
‘Now, dearest. Are you going to tell me why you are so reflective and pensive, Nicholas?’
‘I don’t …’ I looked into her crystal-blue eyes and realised they were Abbey’s. I dropped my gaze to the floor before looking up and meeting them again. ‘Actually, I’m worried I’ve upset Abbey.’
‘Why? Things seemed to be going rather well between the two of you last night.’
I shrugged. I avoided telling Abbey’s grandmother that I’d hit up her granddaughter for two weeks of sex and had managed to make Abbey feel cheap and used.
‘If you have upset Abbey, that upsets me a great deal, dear. If it is worrying you, perhaps you should start by apologising. Abigail is far more forgiving a person than either Kate or myself. She very rarely holds grudges, Nick.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Not to me, dear …’
I smiled and nodded. I needed to apologise. Maybe it would go some way to remove this dreadful feeling in my gut.
Oliver walked back into the room and handed Iris her bottle of water. ‘Good Lord. Rose, two doors down, just grabbed my arse.’
‘You mustn’t blame her. Her husband died forty years ago and instead of living again she fell into the grave with him, dear.’
My brother met my eyes briefly. I felt Iris’s gaze on me again and got the feeling she didn’t miss much. Fuck. Is that what happened to me? The thought hit me like a cricket ball to the ribs. I was winded by it.
‘You know what you boys should do? It is a fine day. You should go and have lunch at that nice pub at The Rocks. What is that one called, dear, the one that I like? With the man on the guitar.’
‘The Fortune of War,’ Lionel said.
‘Yes, of course. You should go there and drink in the sunshine and eat, and then at some point, a man with a guitar will come and sing to you.’
‘Fortune of War?’ Oliver said, putting it into his phone. ‘I could do that. Nick, what say you?’
‘Well, if Iris says we should go, we should certainly go.’
***
I slid my sunglasses onto my nose and ran a hand through my hair.
It was almost winter, but other than a week of rain, Sydney had this beautiful, golden take on the season.
The sun was belting down, making it warm, and I was drinking a cold beer.
I’d had worse summers at home. I was thankful I had popped a T-shirt underneath my jumper, which I’d shed about an hour ago.
Like all things about Australia, the winter felt optimistic. I find it to be a distinctly positive, auspicious sort of country. It’s the Abbey of the world.
Of course, Australia also felt like a ‘young’ country, though it was home to one of the oldest civilisations on earth.
The pub was Sydney’s oldest, dating back to 1828, and it had a distinctly English feel about it, a reminder that, for a lot of people, the country’s history dates from English colonisation.
How wrong they were. Across the street, gallery windows were lined with Aboriginal art for tourists to purchase; the great divide told through this simple streetscape.
Ollie walked back with two more beers. I watched women and a couple of guys look at him appreciatively as he wound his way through the tables and chairs out the front of the pub. He placed the beers down and went to sit, but then his hand shot out in a wave to someone to his left.
I looked behind him and then stood as I saw Abbey and Kate walking down the street towards us. Abbey’s hand reached out quickly to Kate’s wrist, but she was not quick enough.
Her sister sang out to me, ‘Nick Northby, as I live and breathe.’
People looked over at us, briefly interested because she’d yelled this from ten metres away, and I felt a grin come over me. However, Abbey’s obvious discomfort quickly eradicated it.
I have to fucking fix this.
My need to sort it out immediately just overrode my control, and I walked until I ran into her, instinctively wrapping my arms around Abbey in an enormous hug.
I could feel her stiff and tense. Christ, I want never to feel that when I hold her, ever again.
I created that tension. Abbey does not feel like that in a hug.
She’s normally pliable and bendy, possibly even floppy.
Never stiff. I kept holding her, waiting and hoping for her to relax, and experienced a moment of panic that it would not happen.
Beside us, I barely listened as Kate introduced herself to Ollie.
‘Fuck. You are very attractive.’
‘Thanks. As are you.’
‘I’m Kate. Abbey’s sister. I don’t think she mentioned you were this hot.’
‘Oliver Northby. Nice to meet you, Kate. I met your grandmother today.’
‘That’s weird. And you should watch yourself. You are just her type, and I know she’s hunting for a new husband.’
Ollie snorted, but looked pretty pleased with himself.
‘Uh, wait, did she tell you to come here?’ Kate said.
‘She suggested it, yes.’
‘Abbey, she bloody well set this up. She’s a handful, and this is just her style,’ Kate said to Ollie.
‘She once set us up with two tradies here. Abbey was married with a child, but Gran was never a fan of her husband and thought this random electrician she’d met was a better fit – but that was years ago, and I didn’t think.
We got a text message saying she had bought us lunch at the Fortune of War.
That we were to go and drink and think of her. ’
I had not stopped hugging Abbey, and she was still stiffly standing in my arms.
‘I’ll go get us a drink,’ Kate said, giving us a quick side eye.
‘We have a table,’ Oliver said. ‘I’ll grab a couple more chairs.’
When we were alone, I whispered into Abbey’s ear for her only.
‘I am so fucking sorry about last night. I respect you enormously and it has been eating at me that I got it so wrong. I misread this situation. I fucked up. I’m so bloody sorry, Abs.
I did not mean to make you feel cheap. I bought that dress because I had to and for no other reason.
I bought that dress because I wanted to see you happy. ’
She smelled amazing, like the shampoo I knew she used, which I now stock in my shower. My fingers itched to run through her hair, to slide under her jumper and feel her skin, but she had not spoken or moved. I took comfort that she had not pulled away either.
When I moved my head ever so slightly, I watched a single tear run down her face and I felt heartbroken to be the cause of it.
‘You are a real fucking arsehole. Do you know that, Nick Northby?’
‘There is no one that knows that more than me.’ I gave in and pressed a kiss into the side of her head. ‘I would never want to tarnish what we have shared.’
She nodded, and finally her shoulders dropped. She put one hand on my back, a small hug. The relief that this tiny gesture brought me made me want to sink to my knees and collapse.
‘Beers,’ Ollie called out.
I grabbed Abbey’s hand and led her back to our table.
I couldn’t stop looking at her. She wore jeans and a sparkling jumper and boots.
A leather biker jacket and beautiful pearl studs at her ears.
At the table, I let go of her hand as she sat, but slid my knee out so it touched hers the entire time.
I made certain I never let her go for the rest of the day and the entire night.