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Other Books by Emily O’Beirne

A Story of Now Series

A Story of Now

(Book #1)

The Sum of These Things

(Book #2)

THE SUM OF THESE THINGS

Emily O’Beirne

Acknowledgements

Once again I thank Astrid and Sheri at Ylva, and also Shannon. And a huge sincere thank you goes to the readers of A Story of Now who wrote to me to tell me how the book made you feel, or just to say you enjoyed it. It made my day every time.

For Judith and Ian, for making a reader of me.

Table of Contents

Other Books by Emily O’Beirne

Acknowledgements

The Sum of These Things

About Emily O’Beirne

Other Books from Ylva Publishing

Coming from Ylva Publishing

CHAPTER 1

Hani, the community centre manager, is super serious. She delivers a rapid-fire monologue at them as she strides around the big, dark hall. She clearly expects them to follow, both in her footsteps and her explanation of how the place works. While she talks, her eyes move constantly as she gauges all activity around her, computing. Claire watches, compelled partly by her brisk, commanding manner but also by the way she so finely tiptoes the line between pleasant and totally uninterested in them. It’s kind of fascinating. She’s constantly just on the right side of polite. This is something Claire has never managed that well for herself, not even when she tries.

Hani addresses them as if she has delivered this spiel a thousand times before, met potential volunteers a thousand times before, too. And she probably has, Claire thinks as she shuffles along with the small group and tries to keep up with all the information being thrown at them.

She can tell from the way Hani constantly words her phrases to say “if you’re still here in a few weeks” or “if you stay until the end of summer” that she doesn’t expect much from them, that she’s already resigned to the fact that they might fall by the wayside. Moi already mentioned to Claire that they have had a hard time keeping volunteers for the summers past, that many start eager and then quickly drop out when they realise it’s an actual commitment. And this is the reason why Moi called this weekend and implored Claire once again to come and check it out.

Hani speaks to them differently, too. Her tone shifts from a polite briskness to a more familiar and friendly manner whenever she addresses one of her co-workers or a kid. That’s when Claire starts to realise that maybe she doesn’t bother to commit to friendliness until she sees if they stick. Claire can’t blame her really, either. It would be too tiring, too demoralising otherwise.

When Claire first walked in, Hani’s manner didn’t help her nerves much. Claire was so worried about being late that she was a little early. She’d already nearly talked herself out of coming in the first quiet moments of morning when she woke up and remembered what she was supposed to do with her Monday, her promise to Moi to at least check out the place. As she lay there in the safety of her bedroom and thought of showing up at the centre by herself, she was immediately nervous. If it wasn’t for the fact that she gave her word to Moi, who would do anything for her, she probably would have convinced herself not to go at all. Instead she’d spend her summer days lying around, doing whatever, wallowing in the wondrous idea of having nothing to do for days on end. But she couldn’t, not when she told Moi she would do it. If Claire’s parents taught her one thing, it’s to always do what she says she will do.

So she swallowed her fears and went.

When she entered the hall, she was greeted by the sight of a bunch of kids, all under twelve or so. They all screamed and laughed as they gathered around a couple of adults handing out water pistols and colourful plastic containers.

“You know the rules!” a large guy with shaggy brown hair bellowed. “You don’t wear sunscreen, you don’t play. No water or dripping people inside the hall, and NO throwing water at strangers!”

It was Hani who first noticed her timid, hands-deep-in-pockets entrance and left the group to come over to her. The first thing Claire noticed was how fragile-looking Hani is. Tall and narrow, she is almost shockingly thin and birdlike, with a long, skinny face. She’s not pretty, necessarily, but her features are finely drawn and her dark eyes huge and intelligent.

As Claire meekly introduced herself, Hani appraised her. “Moi’s friend, right?” she asked with a light accent Claire couldn’t recognise.

She nodded, still feeling shy.

“Welcome,” Hani said briskly and shook her hand.

“Thank you,” Claire mustered and gave her a nervous smile in return.

Greetings done, Hani immediately turned to the group of kids. “We’ll get started when the others get here, okay?”

Claire nodded and waited by the door of the hot, un-air-conditioned hall. She watched the kids scream and run past her into the yard, armed and already planning their attacks and factions and strategies.

And she stayed nervous until she realised nothing is really expected of her today. This is just an introductory visit to see how the place runs. Training begins next week.

As Hani tells them about the excursion the older kids have taken to the local swimming pool, Claire looks at the small bunch of would-be volunteers. Of the five, there is just one guy—thickset, around Claire’s age, with a huge rope of dreadlocks tied on top of his head. There is a tall girl with braided hair and glasses who takes copious, frantic notes in a small blue notebook as if she’s worried she will be tested on this later.

At one point, when Hani stops to answer a staff member’s questions, the girl stops scribbling in her book and smiles at Claire. “You’re a social work student, too, right?”

Claire shakes her head.

“Oh, really? I thought we all were.”

Claire shrugs. She doesn’t bother to explain about Moi or why she’s here. They’ll have time for that later.

There’s also a short blonde girl with her wrist in a cast and a whopper of a bruise near her shoulder. A soccer injury, she explained when she arrived. The last girl, who has been silent the whole time except to say her name, a name Claire didn’t catch, is beautiful, with long, silky black hair and perfect skin. She looks visibly nervous, too. She keeps her hands constantly clasped behind her back, and her gaze fixed on any point in the room but them. Claire fleetingly wonders if she looks as obviously nervous to the others.

“We try and take the kids out as much as possible,” Hani continues as Claire tunes back in. “But of course we’re limited by what funding we can get during the year for the summer program, and if parents give permission and—Hey Jamal!” Hani suddenly yells out mid-sentence.

Everyone watches as Hani turns toward a scrawny little blond kid with a haircut uncannily similar to Robbie’s who, until this moment, has been strolling casually across the far side of the hall.

At Hani’s call, the boy freezes mid-step, arms comically held out. He turns super slowly toward Hani with a cheeky uh-oh look on his face.

“Watcha doing?” Hani asks him. She folds her arms and holds one eyebrow so high it nearly reaches the edge of her emerald headscarf.

“Nothing,” he sings, all innocence.

“Then where are you going?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just screws up his freckled nose and grins. Then he slowly raises a hand and points his finger in the direction of the kitchen and flinches.

“And what’s the rule about the kitchen?” Hani sighs as she says it, but she looks kind of amused.

“You can only go in there if you’re helping,” he recites as if he’s heard this decree a gazillion times before. Claire suppresses a smile.

“And have you been asked to help?”

He shakes his head slowly.

“Then get,” Hani tells him, flicking her thumb toward the door. “And dump a bucket of water on Paul’s head for me while you’re there.”

“Okay!” he yells excitedly as he leaps out the door, arms akimbo.

Hani shakes her head and sighs, her business face back on. “Some of the kids have mild food issues, so they’re constantly crying hungry. They aren’t starving or anything by a long shot, but some of them haven’t always had regular meals, so they spend a lot of time wondering when and where the next one is coming from. But when they’re here, they’re fed. Don’t worry. We make sure of it. Any kid can get free breakfast from us in the morning if they don’t get it at home, and they’re given lunch too, of course. So don’t believe them if they play hungry puppy at you. And they will,” she adds. “And please enforce the kitchen rule. Paul and Lisa, who run it, will let you know if they need any kids to help with prep.

“Obviously, we’ve got kids from all kinds of cultural backgrounds here. All the kids speak English, of course, but it isn’t always the case with parents and guardians. You’ll learn more about that in training, but just to give me an idea, does anyone speak a second language?” she asks.

The guy shakes his head. So does the tall girl and the blonde. The tall, black-haired girl raises her hand to a tentative shoulder level as if even she doubts her own response.

“What do you speak?” Hani asks her with a gentle smile.

“Vietnamese,” she says with a lilt of it in her voice.

“That’s great. We have quite a few Vietnamese families here. We deal with a lot of grandparents, and it will be really helpful when we need to explain excursions and things to some of them.”

The girl nods.

Hani turns to Claire.

Claire shrugs. “Just French.”

Hani gives her a rueful smile and leads them toward the kitchen. “Probably not going to help much around here.”

Claire nods and tries to quell the blush spreading quickly over her face. She already knew it probably wouldn’t be that helpful here. She shouldn’t have even mentioned it.

“Maybe you should go be a rich kids’ nanny in South Yarra,” the hippie guy jokes as they follow Hani toward the kitchen.

Claire crosses her arms and ignores him, completely embarrassed now.

CHAPTER 2

Claire pushes open the door, steps inside, and is nearly stopped in her tracks by the burst of cool air. She takes in a deep breath and runs a hand over the back of her sweaty neck, glad to be off the street and in the comforting arms of air-conditioning.

It is disgusting out. It’s the kind of ceaseless, windless dry day that causes the city to turn against itself and everyone in it. The roads become soft and untrustworthy under foot. Metal surfaces turn vindictively hot. And the footpaths are suddenly claustrophobically narrow, making it impossible to move without the risk of knocking into—or even just brushing against—another equally hot, irritable person.

It’s the kind of day to be anywhere but inner Melbourne. It’s a day where, if you’re smart, you’ll hide in the sheltering realm of an air-conditioned room or stay moored as close as humanly possible to a body of cool water.

But if you’re an idiot, an unwise idiot—as Claire suspects she might be after that short walk from the air-conditioned confines of her car to this place—you’re deep in inner-suburban Melbourne with no plan to get out.

But there is some sort of reward for her efforts. First, they seem to have remembered to turn on the air-con since last time she was in this place. The crowded, shrill café is almost chilly, even with the crowd of bodies that take up most of the tables and benches, their collective body heat battling the flow of cool air. The edge has been taken off the day, and suddenly it’s possible to breathe.

She didn’t come here for the cool, but she’ll take it. She didn’t come here for the other reward either, but she receives it happily too. Because at work behind the counter is Mia. A carton of milk held high in her hand, she’s mid-laugh, head tipped back, shoulders shaking. The girl she’s working with is clearly mid-story, the kind of tale that requires wild gesticulations of her hands and much laughter from Mia.

Claire smiles a teeny, indulgent smile to herself. She was reluctant to meet Robbie in this roaring heat today, but for the bonus collateral sighting of Mia, it suddenly feels like an incredibly good idea to be in the city.

The last time she was in her presence was that afternoon at Claire’s house last week when they sat in the cool green grass and laid everything out between them. Only then was Claire finally made privy to everything Mia has been feeling but did not tell her these past weeks. Well, perhaps not everything—not yet—but enough that Claire can finally make sense of her inconsistent, contradictory behaviour. Enough that Claire finally knows how she feels.

They haven’t been able to see each other since, though, in what feels like another marathon five days apart. Mia had to go and visit her grandmother again for the weekend and then had more postgrad interviews, and Claire has worked most nights in an attempt to make up for the lost time from their holiday at the lake.

They have spoken to each other, though, with fevered regularity. But now, as she looks at her laughing behind the counter, Claire is reminded all over again why a phone call, however long, is a meagre replacement for seeing her.

She thrusts her hands into the pockets of her jeans and approaches the counter. It is decorated with tinsel for Christmas. Mia passes a cup to a large man with dark patches of sweat that mushroom from the underarms of his business shirt. Claire feels a flicker of sympathy for him as he passes her clutching his drink, his ruddy face blazing red.

But her attention is immediately snatched back by Mia who has seen her coming. She leans with her arms casually folded over the top of the counter, her chin on her elbow, a pleased, private smile on her face.

Claire struts slowly toward her, pretending to take her sweet time, but her heart rate quickens in anticipation.

Mia narrows her eyes affectionately. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Claire bites at her bottom lip in a poor effort to quell her own smile. She grips the edges of the wooden surface, her fingers only tantalising inches from Mia’s.

“Robbie said you were meeting him.”

“Yeah, I’d much rather be at home with the air-conditioning on, though.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

In the mood to tease, Claire simply ignores her. “Where’s Robbie?”

“Out the back. Aileen made him sort stock because he was late this morning. Punishment. It’s not really working, though.” She grins. “Because he’s so hungover right now I think he prefers it to dealing with the customers.”

Claire smiles. That’s how she feels every day, hangover or not.

“So, how are you?”

“Hot. It’s gross out there.”

“I bet.” Mia stands and looks at the row of orders that have collected on the rail above her head. “I’d better get back to work. Do you need coffee?”

“I kind of do, but it’s too hot.”

“Iced?”

“Uh-uh.” Claire grimaces. “I hate all that cream and gross sweet syrup crap in them.”

“Fussy.” Mia smiles and picks up a jug of milk. “Don’t worry; I’ll make you one you’ll like. Not too sweet. Promise.”

“Okay.” Claire pulls out her wallet.

Mia holds her hand up. “I’ll buy. In case you hate it and resent me. Sit down and I’ll bring it over. I might be able to go on break for a minute, too.”

Claire sits at one of the large communal tables and watches people walk into the café. They freeze, stunned like she was, as they suddenly register, and then relish in, the onslaught of cool air.

It’s only a few minutes before Mia comes over holding two glasses filled with icy milky liquid and coated in condensation already. She puts one in front of Claire, drops a straw in it, and then sits next to her.

“Robbie said to tell you he’ll be done in ten.” She sighs. “Lucky. Meanwhile, I’ve got fifteen minutes before I have to go back until close.”

“Poor you.” And Claire means it. The frustrating part is, if Mia finished work earlier, they could actually hang out together for a while. But by the time Mia is done, Claire will be just about to start her shift at the bar. Their work timetables are stupidly incompatible. It’s so annoying.

Claire takes a sip of her drink, an ice-cold milky coffee that is, as promised, not too sweet. The chilly liquid soothes as it courses through her.

“You like?”

“It’s cold coffee, Mia.”

Mia gives her a look. “Yeah, cold coffee without all the crap you hate in it. Upon madam’s request.”

And because she can’t help to stir, Claire shrugs again, non-committal. Then she takes another sip and finally turns to Mia with a reluctant smile. “It’s really good.”

“I know,” Mia says blithely as if she never bought Claire’s crap for a second anyway. Then she leans her chin on her hand and stares at Claire, a small smile on her face.

Claire smiles back for a moment. But then, rendered inexplicably shy, she looks away and plays with her straw. It feels strange to be the two of them again, only out in the world now.

“So, how was your thing yesterday? At the community centre?”

“It was okay. The people are mostly nice, I think. I was kind of nervous.” She frowns. “I don’t know why.”

“Because it’s new? New things always make me nervous even if I know I’m going to like them.”

Claire nods. Maybe that’s it. No, she thinks. It’s not just that. “Maybe I’m scared I’ll be terrible at it?” she suggests to test what she already knows is the more likely theory.

“What? Why would you be terrible at it?”

“I don’t know. How do I know I won’t be?”

Mia shakes her head slowly, resolute. “You won’t be terrible at it. Not even a little bit.”

Claire shrugs again. She doesn’t want to think about it too much in case she thinks herself out of doing it at all. So she rests her arms on the table and changes the subject.

“Speaking of nervous, how was your last school interview?”

“Actually, fine,” Mia says as if she’s surprised by the fact. “I wasn’t really nervous. I don’t know if it’s just because I know what to expect now, but it was so much easier this time.”

“That’s great.”

“Or maybe I was just more nervous for the Melbourne interview because I really want to get in there.”

“Makes sense.”

Mia lays her palms flat on the table and stares at them. “I really want to stay here to go to school.”

“Well, I really want you to stay here, too.”

Mia takes in a slow breath and smiles at her.

“You are not allowed to go now.” Claire shakes her head, vehement. She says it partly because it’s true, but also partly because she wants Mia to keep looking at her like that.

“I know,” Mia whispers.

“Because that would be some insanely shitty timing, Mia.”

“I know.” Then she narrows her eyes, and the grin turns sly on her face.

“What?”

“Nothing. Except that I really want to kiss you right now.”

And before Claire, who instantly blushes, can think of a single thing to say to that, Mia keeps talking.

“Don’t worry; I won’t. I know how you feel about PDAs.” She elbows her gently. “I remember that day here, just after I met you, with Nina and what’s-his-face. How grossed out you were by them.”

“Well yeah, Mia, PDAs are gross. And that was particularly gross.”

Mia laughs and pulls her coffee closer to her and traces patterns with her finger on the wet glass. “But just so you know, I really, really want to.”

“I got that, Mia. But can’t you just sit here and enjoy my sparkling wit and captivating conversation without being all shallow and distracted?”

“Well stop being flirty and hot then.”

Claire raises her hands. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to. You’re just kind of hot by nature.”

“And that’s my fault?”

“Yes.” Then she smiles at her and sighs. “Okay, it’s not really.”

“So then how am I supposed to do anything about it?”

“I don’t know, but I wish you would because it’s making it very hard for me not to kiss you.”

“Well, I’m deeply sorry for that, Mia. How terrible of me to torture you in such a fashion.”

“You should be. Anyway, if I can’t kiss you, I’m going to hold your hand under the table like a teenager then, okay?” And she moves her hand under the table until it rests on Claire’s leg. Claire reflexively responds, and their hands quickly take possession of each other in a tender slide of fingers over palm.

“Okay,” Claire agrees, even though the deed is done. She feels her cheeks turn faintly pink under Mia’s frank, almost coquettish stare.

It’s almost hard to reconcile this light, flirty Mia with the reticent, withdrawn Mia of the recent past. It seems now they have really talked about what they are, she’s back to being herself again—the confident, laidback version of Mia she first met months ago. And Claire likes it. A lot.

She squeezes her fingers, and Mia smiles back and rubs a thumb across the back of Claire’s hand. It sends a small, inescapable thrill through her.

Claire leans a little closer. “So, when can we—”

“Well hello, lesbians.”

Claire jumps. It’s Robbie, of course. He plonks himself in a chair and runs his hands violently back and forth through his hair until it stands as high as he wants it to. He hangs his abandoned apron over his shoulder and looks back and forth between the two of them with an evil grin.

Claire loosens her grip on Mia’s hand, but she doesn’t let it go. She does serve him a filthy look, though. Robbie—always a reality check.

Before she can say anything, though, he leans forward. “So, very important question, are we being secret lesbians?”

Claire stares at him and rues the flush that she knows is spreading over her cheeks.

“Only because Eli is on his way, and I need to know if I can make gloriously inappropriate comments about you two in front of him yet or not.”

“No you can’t,” Mia tells him in a flat voice.

“Okay.” He shrugs. “You keep me posted. And so long as I can tease you while no one else is around.”

Mia shrugs and grips Claire’s hand a little tighter under the table. “Do whatever you like, Robbie.”

Claire sips of her own drink and avoids looking at either of them. She’s surprised by Mia’s firm response. Not that she really knew what to expect. They only just started to talk to each other about what has happened between them. They certainly haven’t got anywhere near a conversation about anything like that yet. Still, she hadn’t expected Mia to be quite so vehement. Not to the point of stern. She’s not sure she’s ever really heard Mia be stern.

Robbie holds up a hand as if to fend her off. “Okay, anyway, it’s totally your business. I was just curious. And, just so you know, I completely approve, that’s all.” He turns to Claire who is still trying to stem the blush. “You still going to come and check out this gallery?”

“Sure.” She’s actually looking forward to hanging out with him, especially now she knows he’s going to mind his own business.

“I wish I could come with you guys,” Mia moans. Then she sits straighter, smiles past Robbie, and waves at someone. “There’s Eli and Nan.”

Claire looks across the café. Eli is headed towards them with a tall girl who has the same tight black curls and brown eyes as him.

“Hola, bitches,” the girl says cheerfully, hands on hips. Eli sits with a sigh, looking hot and sweaty.

Mia lets go of Claire’s hand and claps her own together excitedly. “Hey! Are you about to start work?” she asks the girl.

The girl nods and stands behind Robbie. She gives his shoulders a squeeze and pulls an apron from under her arm. “Yup.” She pushes her short curls back from her face. She’s long and strong looking, with muscular shoulders and a striking, angular face.

“Oh awesome.” Mia leans back in her seat. “That’ll make the rest of this shift tolerable.”

The girl grins. “I’m late. I better get in there before the boss lady loses it again. You guys still going to come out tonight?”

“I am,” Robbie says. Mia nods.

“Great. I’ll see you later then.” She turns on her heel. Claire watches her saunter away, curious about this new charismatic presence that everyone else seems to already know.

“That’s Eli’s cousin, Nan,” Robbie tells her as if he can tell what she’s thinking.

“Yeah. Hi Claire.” Eli kisses her on the cheek. “That’s my genius cousin.”

“She’s crazy intelligent.” Robbie sighs. “I flat out refuse to talk politics with her. She terrifies me.” He checks his phone. “Hey, we should go. The gallery we’re checking out is only open for another forty minutes.”

“I better get back to work.” Mia turns to Claire. “Are you working tonight?”

“Yep.”

“Want to come out after? Nan told us about this new place not far from the campus. She says it’s really fun.”

“Sure, if it’s not too late. I have a stupid brunch with my parents tomorrow. But I could come for a bit.”

“Let’s go, team,” Robbie commands as he takes the apron from around his neck and stuffs it in his bag. He gets up and flings his arm around Eli’s neck as they head for the door.

Mia smiles shyly. “Please come out tonight. I want to see you.”

“Mia.” Claire rolls her eyes, but reaches surreptitiously under the table and grasps her knee. “I’ll come out tonight.”

“Yes!” Mia does a silly little fist pump as she stands. “You and I, we’re going to dance, dammit.”

And Claire laughs. “Goodbye, Mia.”

CHAPTER 3

Claire holds her ID in front of the doorman, pockets it, and slides through the front door into the sticky air of the crowded bar. She’s instantly stopped in her tracks by the magnitude of the space. From the outside, it hadn’t looked that imposing, just a set of nondescript doors manned by an oddly cheerful thug dressed in a bomber jacket despite the pervasive heat.

The place is higher than it is wide. It has exposed red brick walls, dizzyingly high ceilings, and tall, dusty windows. There are rusted iron fittings still affixed to the walls and ceilings, their purpose now purely, arbitrarily, decorative. There is even a metal staircase that starts to climb from partway up the wall, leading wilfully nowhere and covered in trailing green plants that seem to thrive in the oppressive tropical swelter of the club.

She thrusts her hands in her jeans pockets and combs the crowds in search of a familiar face. Half the cavernous space is taken up with groups of people huddled around jugs of beer and cocktails as they talk and laugh and compete to be heard over the music and their own echoes. Together they create one giant wall of sound.

When she finally spots Robbie and Eli at a large table not far from the bar, they’re so intensely immersed in their conversation they don’t see her coming. She walks slowly and hopes it’s not an argument she’s walking in on.

Robbie notices her first.

“Claire!” He immediately reaches for the jug of beer and an empty glass and pours her a drink.

“Hey guys.” She sits next to Eli. “This place is huge.”

“Yeah.” Robbie nods. “Nan was right. It’s kind of awesome, too”

“I guess.”

“What do you mean you guess?” Eli points at the ceiling. “Check that out.”

“Don’t you know, Eli, that Claire’s default setting is unimpressed?” Robbie grins at her.

Claire flings him a death stare and looks up. Her eyes widen as she takes in the vines that hang way above her, cascading toward the floor.

“That is actually kind of cool.”

“Anyway, Claire, settle an argument for us,” Eli says loudly over the din. He grabs the beer Robbie’s poured for her and passes it over. She takes it gratefully.

“What?”

“How many times a day should you feed a cat?”

“How the hell should I know? And why the hell would I want to know?”

“Because I think three times a day is too much,” Eli says. “And Robbie insists it’s normal to feed them that much.”

“What is not normal,” Claire points out. “Is that you two are spending your night discussing this.”

Eli pulls an eek face, laughs, and turns to Robbie. “You know, she might be right.”

“I know she is.” Robbie sighs and shakes his head. “Oh God, this is what I’ve become?”

Claire laughs. “Besides, isn’t that what Google is for? To answer these kinds of questions? And why are you even talking about this anyway?” And then she remembers. “Oh, this is about that fat cat you inherited, right? The neighbour’s cat? What’s its stupid name again?”

“Patty. And she’s not stupid.” Robbie grins. “She’s just a little gravity challenged.”

“Yeah, I saw those photos, remember? I have no idea what other cats get, but I don’t think that cat should be fed three meals a day.”

“That’s what I said.” Eli holds his hands up and gives Robbie a smug look. “It’s not healthy.”

“Aw, so cute,” Claire mocks. “You boys, having your little parenting argument.”

She’s just about to ask them where Mia is when the girl from the café, Nan, strides up to the table. She looks hot and annoyed.

“Hey.” Robbie grins at her. “Where have you been?”

“Don’t ask.” She swipes an arm across her brow. She pulls a face. “Can you believe I got pulled over by the cops for riding on the footpath? I mean come on.” She rolls her eyes. “Seriously? Who gets ticketed for that? It’s not like I was doing anything that bad. One cop was all like, ‘You should be more responsible. You could have run down a small child.’” She drops into a seat. “Aside from the fact that I had my lights on and was on the footpath for, like, all of two minutes, it’s eleven thirty at night. What parent lets their little kid run around the streets now, anyway?”

“Hi cousin.” Eli holds his beer up in casual greeting as if she hasn’t stormed in ranting. Or maybe he’s completely used to this kind of tirade.

“I can’t stand the cops in this city. Thanks.” Nan takes the beer Robbie passes to her. “Wasting their freaking time ticketing me for something completely insignificant, when there are people out there doing some seriously messed up criminal stuff while I’m just riding my bike down the street minding my own business. They should be doing their real jobs.”

Claire stares at her.

“Hey Nan.” Robbie, of course, looks suitably amused. “Meet our friend Claire. Claire’s brother is a cop.”

“So was my godfather.” Claire takes a blithe sip of her beer and waits for the inevitable backpedal. “And my father was for a few years, too.”

“Oh, hey, Claire.” Nan’s eyes flicker slightly, but that is the extent of her reaction. Then she leans forward and yanks off her T-shirt so she’s just in a black tank top, her strong, perfectly straight shoulders exposed. She picks up her beer again. “Well, maybe you can tell them for me that there are much more important things for police to do in this hot mess of a city than wasting their time picking on cyclists. Cyclists who are only trying to lower pollution by riding instead of driving.”

For a moment, Claire’s body matches the stilling in the air around her as Robbie and Eli wait for her to react. Usually she wouldn’t even bother. Usually she doesn’t have to because people nearly always about-face on comments once they hear her brother is a cop. But this cousin of Eli’s is particularly obnoxious. And Claire is irritated by her aggressive opinions, even though she doesn’t want to be. Even though she’d like to just let this slide right past her.

“Uh, okay,” Claire tells her slowly as she eyes Nan over her beer. “I’ll just call my brother, will I? He’s kind of busy though. He just got assigned to help investigate a factory that might be using unpaid labour. I’d call my godfather, too. But he was killed five years ago helping during the bushfires.” She leans forward. “But I’ll be sure and call my brother and tell him to stop harassing you, shall I? Because clearly he’s completely wasting his precious work time.”

She sits back in her seat, crosses her arms, and waits. The table is dead silent.

Nan looks at her for a moment. Then she suddenly raises her glass in Claire’s direction. “Point completely and utterly taken.” Then she smiles and turns to Robbie. “Did you find a decent gallery space today?”

“So, Claire,” Eli says, clearly trying to move on, “how was work?

She turns to him, still annoyed. “Fine.” She isn’t in the mood to chat right now. “Where’s Mia?”

Because Mia is the reason Claire is here and maybe now the only reason she will stay.

“Dancing, I think. With Pete.” He puts a hand on her wrist. “Just ignore Nan. She can get kind of…opinionated, sometimes.”

“She didn’t bother me,” Claire lies. She stands and flashes him a brief smile. “I’m going to find the others.”

She finds Mia eventually, a blur of motion amidst the crush of bodies on the dance floor. Pete is with a petite girl in a bright blue dress, her hair scraped into a high bun on top of her head. He grins and waves at Claire as she slips between the moving bodies to get closer to them. Claire flicks an eyebrow and a sly smile at him. She wonders if he brought this girl with him or if he found her here.

Mia doesn’t notice her arrival though. She’s too far into the dance. Claire smiles, enjoying the opportunity to take her in when she doesn’t know she’s being watched. Mia has a small smile on her face, her arms held out at her sides. She looks surprisingly fresh given the cloying air, as if she’s made for hot weather.

Then she realises she’s just standing there like a weirdo in the mass of people, being bumped by dancing bodies as she takes in the sight of Mia. She steps right up to Mia and invades her space for a moment, capturing her attention. Mia sweeps a hand through her hair, which is smooth and untangled for once, and looks up. She sees Claire and breaks into a bigger smile.

“Hey!” she calls happily into the din. “You’re here.”

Her eyes look bigger, darker, as if she might be wearing makeup. And they shine brightly as she beams at Claire. Claire has never seen her wear makeup—or never noticed it at least. She smiles coyly at Mia and dances beside her, unreasonably happy to be here on a dance floor with her.

As they move to the loud music, they occasionally catch each other’s eye and smile. And Claire’s taken back to that night at that party. It seems like a thousand years ago, already. But it can only have been a month or so ago, that night when they spent those crazy, unbridled hours on the dance floor together, and Claire started to realise she was having more fun with this geeky, gorgeous girl she had nothing in common with than she’d had in a long time. And, of course, that was the night they first kissed—a drunken encounter Claire still has trouble recalling with any semblance of clarity. Now, with the gift of hindsight, she really wishes she could remember that moment, one that was possibly—probably—so pivotal for them. She wonders how much was unconsciously set in motion for her that night.

They stay there on the dance floor until the heat that radiates from the growing crush of bodies around them begins to become too much.

“Drink?” Pete finally hollers at them. The girl grabs onto the pocket of his jeans, and they file through the crowd. Pete leads the way. His tall frame creates a slipstream through the jostle. Claire trails Mia, her gaze locked on the tanned, sweat-dampened span of her upper back. Unable to resist, she quickens her step and moves a little closer. She presses one finger into Mia’s waist and leans in over her shoulder. “You look really great tonight,” Claire whispers in her ear.

Mia turns to her with a charmed smile on her face. She grabs Claire’s hand, squeezes it briefly, and drops it. Claire pushes her hands into her pockets and tries to stifle her small, smitten smile before the others see it.

* * *

Robbie pouts. “Promise me you’re not leaving because we fought about the cat in front of you.”

Claire laughs. “Because that would be embarrassing, right?”

“Exactly,” Eli agrees. He points a finger at Robbie. “I do not want to become that couple.”

“Hey.” Robbie holds up his hands. “Who says it’s my fault if we do?”

Eli rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t saying that.”

“Well, don’t point at me all accusing like that.”

“Uh, guys?” Claire interjects. “You’re becoming those people right now.”

Eli slaps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“I don’t care. I’m leaving remember? You two try and not kill each other.” She smiles and kisses Eli on the cheek. “Or that cat.”

She turns to Robbie. “Eli’s right. You cannot feed that cat three times a day. It’s practically animal cruelty.”

Robbie laughs. “I hate you.”

Claire smiles at him. And before she can stop herself, she pulls him into a fierce hug. She loves Robbie. Of all the myriad great, weird, and awful things that have happened lately, becoming his friend has been one of the truly good things.

As she pulls back he shoots her a questioning smile. She shrugs and throws him a dirty look to even things out. She heads to the bar where Mia and Nan stand with Pete.

Pete is telling a story. The girl he was dancing with holds his hand. Claire smiles. Finally, Pete has pulled. It’s about time, too.

“And that is why I will never, ever, play hockey again.” Pete laughs, clearly at the tail end of a story.

Mia smiles at Claire as she joins them but says nothing.

Nan laughs. “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.”

Claire looks at her and briefly wonders if she’s straight or gay.

“I need to find the men’s.” Pete turns to the girl. “You be okay?”

The girl nods.

Nan laughs again. “It’s okay; you can leave her with the big scary lesbian. I promise I won’t try and convert her.”

Claire blinks at the stunning rapidity with which her question was answered.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. Go pee. We’ll get a drink.” She turns to the girl. “Jessica, right?”

Jessica nods.

“Jessica, you need a drink?” Nan grins, all dash and charm.

Claire raises an eyebrow.

Jessica laughs. “Yeah, I definitely need a drink.”

Nan turns to Mia. When she sees Claire next to her, she gives her a conciliatory smile. “Hey, I’m sorry about what I said before. I have such a mouth on me sometimes.”

Claire shrugs, unwilling to give her anything yet.

“I was just pissed about getting a fine I can’t afford and being self-righteous about it.”

“It’s fine,” Claire finally tells her. She just wants this apology to stop now.

“Can I buy you a beer then? To make up for being an opinionated jerk?”

“No.” But she instantly feels a little bad.

Mia glances between them, clearly confused and maybe a little nervous about whatever this note of tension is that she can see but can’t understand.

“That’s okay,” Claire tells Nan. “I actually have to go.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll see you around, Claire.”

“Yeah, see you,” Claire replies as noncommittally as she can.

She watches Nan elbow her way to the bar with her hand on Jessica’s shoulder.

Claire turns to Mia.

Mia frowns. “Do you really have to go already? You can’t stay for one more drink? Another dance?”

“I can’t. For one, I’m driving.”

“You’re not staying at Nina’s?”

Claire shakes her head. “She’s on a date with that Dan guy. Remember, from the party?”

Mia looks blank.

“You know, from the party, on the roof?” Claire reminds her. Then she smiles, sly. “Oh, of course, you probably didn’t meet him. You were a little busy that night.”

Mia turns a suitable shade of pink. She pushes her hair back from her face and smiles awkwardly.

“Anyway, Nina met this friend of Pete’s that night, and she really likes him, and tonight she’s thinking she might bring him back to the flat. And I don’t really want to be trying to sleep on the sofa for that particular occasion.”

Mia smiles wryly. “No, you probably don’t.”

“And, I have this brunch thing with my parents tomorrow morning. They both have the morning off, so they want to spend some quality time. Lucky me.”

Mia shifts aside so a group of people can move past on their way to the bar. “Right, well,” she says sadly. “I guess you’ve got to go then. Where’s your car?”

“Not far. I got a park a couple of streets away.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to.” Claire says it even though she wants nothing more than some time alone with Mia.

“I know, but I want to.” Then Mia smiles, coquettish again, and recalls Claire to her flirting at the café today. It makes her feel electric to know Mia wants to be alone with her, too. “I really want to,” Mia adds as if she knows what Claire is thinking.

“Okay.” Claire shrugs. Because she can’t seem to help this need to play offhand, despite the fact that both she and Mia know she doesn’t feel that way.

Mia ignores it and smiles affectionately at her. Because Mia is being the way she can’t seem to help being. “Let’s go then.”

CHAPTER 4

They step onto the street and into the throngs of people outside who are waiting for security to check their ID and then turn down a quieter street.

The day’s torrid heat has dulled to a thick fug, bearable but still gross. Claire lifts her hair in an attempt to get some of this slightly cooler air onto her neck.

“So what was that about? With Nan?” Mia asks as their footfalls echo against the high walls of the old factories and warehouse apartments that surround them.

“Nothing.” Claire doesn’t want to waste their precious time together in a conversation about Nan. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Uh, okay.” Mia looks at Claire, clearly still curious. But Claire doesn’t say anything, and hopes she’ll let it go.

Mia slows her pace to match Claire’s idling step. “I wish you didn’t have to go home now. It’s most inconvenient.”

“I know.” Claire wishes they had somewhere they could go now, just the two of them. Claire had thought finding moments of privacy back at the lake had been hard. Since they have been back in Melbourne, it’s been impossible. It’s frustrating. They have finally arrived at this place where they’re sure of each other, of what they want from each other, but can find neither the time or space to be together.

Mia nudges her shoulder. “I’m really glad you came, though.”

“I know you are,” Claire says, aloof, still unable to match Mia’s sweet honesty with anything but a tease. “You brushed your hair and everything.”

Mia laughs and elbows her. “For your information, Claire, I do actually brush my hair. It just gets messy easily.”

“Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t pick on your hair. According to your mother, we’re lucky you have shoes on.”

“Very funny.”

Claire smiles calmly as she grasps Mia’s hand in hers. She takes a small sideways step away and uses the momentum to yank on Mia’s arm so she bounces against Claire’s side.

Mia laughs. “Bully.”

Claire stares at the quiet street ahead as if nothing happened. Mia squeezes Claire’s hand a little tighter and stays so close their shoulders are touching.

After they have walked in a cosy silence for some time, Mia grins. “Uh, I don’t know Claire, don’t get me wrong. This is all very pleasant, but doesn’t this constitute a total PDA?”

Claire gives her a look. “Uh, Mia, I’m afraid you’re wrong there.” She speaks slowly, as if she’s addressing a slightly dim-witted person. “Because do you see the P anywhere?” She gestures to the empty street around them. “See, Mia, without any P, there can’t really be a D, can there now?”

“Right.” Mia plays along and nods thoughtfully. “So really it’s all A?”

Claire shrugs and halts on the dark footpath. She yanks at Mia’s hand again so she stops alongside her. Because maybe Claire would like a little more A.

“So.” Mia grins at her. She stands at arm’s length and clutches Claire’s hand. “All this A with no P or D is a whole kind of ‘if a tree falls in the forest, can anyone hear it’ type of thing?” She grins. “These are profound philosophical quandaries, Claire.”

“Are they?” Claire gives her a withering look and pulls her closer. “Please tell geeky Mia to go away now. I’m not interested in geeky Mia right now.”

“Wrong. You are totally interested in geeky Mia right now.”

And she’s completely right. Claire is interested in any Mia right now. Not that Claire is going to admit to that out loud. Instead she drops Mia’s hand, grabs a handful of hair on either side of her face, and steps in close. “I don’t know, I think I’m going to hurt geeky Mia in a minute if she doesn’t shut up.”

Mia laughs and places her hands over Claire’s. She leans in and grants her a quick, teasing kiss. “No you won’t.”

“Probably not,” Claire agrees, mostly because she’s too fixated on the whole wanting more of the kissing thing to keep up this parade of taunts. She lets go of Mia’s hair, slides one of her hands around her neck, and pulls her against the wall of a brick building. Mia submits, moving with Claire until her face is only a few inches away. She’s so close Claire can see the smatter of freckles on her nose, even in the half-darkness, and smell the honeyed scent of her hair.

Mia eases her arms around Claire’s waist. “I’m really glad you came tonight.”

“You might have mentioned that already.” Claire grins at her shadowed face and runs her hands up and down the burnished lengths of Mia’s upper arms.

“Well I’m saying it again.” She leans in slowly and kisses her. “I’m really glad you came.”

“Well, I’m not.” Claire pouts and rests her head on the wall.

“Why not? You didn’t have a good time?”

“I did. Sort of.” Claire plays with the long silver pendant dangling from Mia’s necklace. “It was fun, but it’s also kind of annoying, wondering when I get to be alone with you—when I get to make out with you. And now I have to go home. Without you.”

“Aw.” Mia’s eyes narrow with the tease.

Claire tugs lightly on the chain of the necklace. “Shut up.”

“I know.” Mia runs a finger lightly across her cheek. “It is annoying.”

“So annoying.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, in answer to your question, we get to make out now, FYI.”

Claire gives her a sulky smile. “Good. Finally.”

Mia smiles and kisses her again, slower this time. “Mmm.” She hums lightly as she pulls back, takes a gentle hold of Claire’s waist and leisurely slips her fingers under the hem of her top. Claire lets her eyes fall slightly closed and relishes the provocative glide of those fingers against the skin of her lower back. It feels incredible to have Mia be the one to instigate things between them again. Claire loves it when she’s all forward and flirty. It’s hot.

Claire drops all her weight against the wall. Her bare shoulders scrape against the brick. She barely feels it though, so focused is she on the competing sensation as Mia skims those fingers around to rest them on the sensitive skin of her waist. She tips her head back as Mia leans in again and presses both her hips and her mouth to Claire at the same time. Claire feels an instant charge of desire and whips in a breath. She grabs hold of the belt loops of Mia’s shorts and pulls her even nearer, fervently closing any distance between them as she responds to the slide of Mia’s tongue against her own.

It is right when they’re so deep in the kiss that there is no thinking, when there is only the concentrated feverish sensation of lips and breath, that the P part of PDA arrives. It’s right when she’s luxuriating in the delicious aftershock waves of those kisses, aftershocks that course through her whole body, that their covert little moment becomes that D they were just arguing about.

It first makes its presence known in the form of footsteps and voices. Initially they barely register, too distant and too unimportant when balanced against them finally having a moment together to act on their mutual craving to touch. Claire is too busy trying to shrink the gap between Mia and herself, so intoxicated with doing what she has wanted to do since she first saw Mia in the café today, that she only takes in the presence of the group of voices when they’re close, when a leering, drunken male voice makes itself heard in the darkness.

“Ladies! Care for some company?”

Despite her instant irritation, Claire doesn’t break the kiss. In fact, she doesn’t even open her eyes. Instead she lifts one of her hands, middle finger raised, arm straight out in the direction of the voices. Meanwhile, she uses her other hand to clutch the back of Mia’s neck and hold her in this kiss—a kiss she will not relinquish for this idiot or for anyone else right now. She has waited all day for this kiss.

“Guess not then.”

“Leave them alone, idiot,” a girl’s voice says. “Come on.”

Footsteps depart, and the voices drift away.

Mia, clearly curious about what made them leave, pulls back. When she sees what Claire is doing, she throws her head back and laughs delightedly. She grabs Claire’s hand and holds it tightly in her own.

“Oh my feisty one.” She kisses her again and pulls her away from the wall. “Come on. We better go before you hurt someone.”

Claire follows reluctantly, annoyed that those idiots ruined their moment. Their hot, private moment.

“Where’s your car?” Mia asks.

“Not far.” Claire drags her feet. She’s more frustrated now than she was before they kissed. “You don’t have to walk me the rest of the way, you know.”

Mia slips an arm around her waist. “Yes I do.”

Claire moves closer and frowns. “The others are going to wonder where you are.”

“So? I don’t care.”

“Really?” Claire raises an eyebrow.

“No, why?”

Claire thinks of Mia’s reaction to Robbie’s comments about the two of them today. She thought Mia might be worried everyone would figure it out. Clearly not. “Just curious.”

They turn another corner, onto yet another abandoned street, and walk slowly to the spot where Claire parked earlier. Claire unlocks the car but doesn’t get in. Instead she leans against the door, pulls Mia toward her again, and kisses her.

“At the risk of sounding like a broken record.” Mia bows her head and kisses Claire’s neck as her fingers gently trace the arc of skin exposed by the low scoop of her top. “I really wish one of us had our own place.”

“Me too.” Claire breathes in hard as Mia stamps another kiss under her ear.

“Or I wish you could come to my place.”

“Your parents don’t know anything, right? Couldn’t you tell them I needed a place to stay for the night? That it was late, and I’d drunk too much or something?”

Mia stops what she’s doing, straightens, and frowns. “I can’t. I’d feel like I was lying to them. Sorry,” she whispers.

Claire shrugs. She’s frustrated, but she also knows it’s not her choice to make. “It’s okay.”

They stand there in silence for a while, arms wrapped around each other as they  breathe each other in. Claire strokes the back of Mia’s neck. “Hey, have you told anyone about us?”

“No, why?”

“I was just wondering.”

“Have you?”

“No.”

Mia loosens her grip on Claire, a question on her face. “Are you worried about that?”

Claire shakes her head. “No. I wondered because of how you kind of told Robbie off today when he made that comment about us. I thought—” She turns the observation into a question. “That maybe you didn’t want to tell people?”

“I told him he couldn’t say anything because you and I haven’t talked about it, and I didn’t want him mouthing off before I knew how you felt about it.” Mia chews her lip. “And also, to be honest, I don’t really want everyone knowing until I’ve told my parents. I won’t feel right, you know?”

Claire nods. And that is one of the many differences between the two of them, she realises. Mia actually wants to tell her parents, wants to be honest with them about her life, and about who is in her life. Claire has no intention of sharing her private life with her parents. She didn’t tell them when she dated guys. They always found out eventually, of course. This, though, she will be keeping firmly to herself. At the same time, she feels a flicker of envy at Mia’s closeness with her parents and the fact that they’re the first people she wants to tell something important about herself.

Mia pulls her closer. “And, you know, I have to admit, I kind of like it being something between us. For now, anyway.” She smiles. “It’s new, and it’s ours.”

Claire smiles at her, relieved. She honestly wouldn’t have known how she would have felt if Mia had said she wanted to tell everyone or if she’d said she wanted to keep it completely private. But the idea of taking a moment just for them right now, with no pressure, is fine with her. The rest will keep.

“Me too.” She leans in and kisses her. “Honestly, right now I’m more concerned about when we’re going to hang out together. Alone. Preferably near a bed.”

Mia smiles and lowers her head to kiss Claire’s neck again. Claire gives in to it for a moment, as she feels that almost unbearable, low-slung desire spread through her body. Then she presses her fingers on Mia’s sternum and pushes her away.

“Okay, no, you have to go now.”

Mia straightens. “I do?”

“Yes.” Claire moans. “Because you’re being all touchy-feely and hot, and I’m going to get more annoyed about the fact I have to go home.”

Mia pouts and then, just as quickly, replaces it with a smile. “Well, okay, then. I should probably go, anyway. The others will be wondering where I am.”

“So…what? You’re going to go back in there and go back to dancing and hanging out?” Claire feels suddenly irritated by this fact, even though she’d assumed it already.

“I suppose.” Mia lays her hands flat against Claire’s stomach. “I don’t have to work until the afternoon tomorrow. I can have a late night tonight, I guess.”

Claire crosses her arms over her chest. “Oh.”

Mia pulls back and looks at her, brow furrowed. “Hey, are you mad that I’m going back to the bar?”

Claire shrugs because she knows anything she says will come out whiny and stupid.

“Claire.” Mia places her hands on her folded arms. “Don’t be like that.”

Claire chews on her lip. Now she’s feeling pouty. She can’t help it. It annoys her that Mia is going to leave her and go right back to having fun in the bar with the others. She also knows it’s unreasonable. And she knows it’s not Mia’s fault, and that it’s her own frustration venting itself in this way. And she knows she might do the same in a similar scenario. But still, she’s annoyed about the whole situation, about having to leave. She can’t help it.

“Hey.” Mia grabs Claire’s hands and draws her arms away from her chest. “You know if there was somewhere we could go right now, somewhere we could hang out together alone, I would already be there with you.” She squeezes her hands tightly and leans in so Claire has no choice but to look at her. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“I know.”

“And if it makes you feel any better, I won’t be having nearly as much fun without having your royal hotness next to me on the dance floor.” Mia grins and pulls Claire’s arms around her.

“Yeah, it kinda does.” Claire sighs and kisses her again. “I better go.”

“I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“We’ll figure something out for the weekend.”

Claire nods. “I’ll try and find out what my parents are doing this weekend when we’re at brunch tomorrow. If they’re going out, maybe you could come over to my place? I know it’s not that close, but it’s somewhere. If you’re not busy?”

Mia smiles. “It doesn’t matter if I am. I’ll make myself un-busy.”

“Really?”

“Of course, silly.” Mia presses her hands to her cheeks. “I want to hang out with you.”

Claire leans in close to hide her small, pleased smile in the crook of Mia’s shoulder. “Good.”

CHAPTER 5

Claire picks up her eyeliner and stares resignedly at her mother via the mirror as she trots through her open bedroom door. She immediately begins to pull Claire’s clothes from where they hang in her wardrobe, only to examine, tidy, and rehang them.

Claire rolls her eyes. Her mother only does this when she’s here to stay for a while.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry we had to cancel brunch like that this morning, but something came up with work.”

“It’s fine, Mum.”

“Anyway, we have lunch at your aunt Lucy’s on Sunday. Perhaps we can drive over together.” She holds up a dress and frowns at it. “Catch up on the way.”

“Okay.” Already Claire is willing to agree to anything if it means her mother will leave her be so she can get ready for work.

“So how is everything, darling?” Christine asks as she slips the dress back in the wardrobe.

No such luck.

“Everything is fine.” Claire leans in closer to the mirror as she paints a thin, neat black line over the base of her eyelashes.

“You must get your results soon, surely?” Christine runs a brisk hand through her hair. She has had her hair cut and coloured recently. It’s lighter than it was last time. Claire doesn’t mention it though. Despite her mother’s willingness to comment on anything and everything about Claire’s appearance, she can be super sensitive about her own.

“Results come in next week.”

“Not that it matters much, I suppose.” Christine grabs a shirt from her bed and refolds it. “You only did a couple of exams, didn’t you?”

Claire draws in a breath. So it begins. “Well, I still need to pass them, you know, Mum. They don’t just give out get-out-of-exams-free cards for us part-time slackers.”

“Very funny.” Christine says it in a withering tone that tells Claire she doesn’t find it funny in the least. “Speaking of which, have you given any thought to returning to your studies full time this semester?” She sits on the bed. But it’s barely a minute before she’s on her feet again to examine something on the curtains.

“Not really.” She plans to think about it eventually, of course. But summer has just started, and she has had other, far more fun things on her mind, like holidays, her friends, and Mia. But her mother doesn’t need to hear about any of that. Or maybe Claire doesn’t need her mother to hear any of that.

“Well you should probably start thinking about it, you know, Claire. At this rate, it will be years before you get your degree.” She sits back on the bed and crosses her arms.

“Okay, Mum.”

“I’m serious, young lady. You’re wasting valu—”

Claire scowls into the mirror. “Please don’t ‘young lady’ me.”

“All I’m saying,” Christine tells her as she smooths the bedspread around her, “is you need to get on with your life. The job market is terribly competitive, and we don’t even know yet where a degree like the one you have chosen is even going to get you when you’re finally done. So you certainly don’t want to take forever about completing it, and you certainly don’t want to be working in this bar and living here for the rest of your life.”

“Believe me, Mother, I have no intention of either of those things.”

“Hmm,” is all her mother says. She picks a loose thread off the leg of her slacks. “So, how is your job? Has that criminal of a boss been arrested yet?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Mum, why even bother? We both know he was arrested for marijuana possession, like, a thousand years ago. Not heroin or crack or gun running. And believe me; Andrew is harmless to the point of useless. He couldn’t be bothered committing a crime.”

“So how is your work friend—what is her name? Naomi?”

Claire grits her teeth. “Nina. She’s fine. You know, work’s fine. Andrew’s fine. I’m fine. It’s all fine. But it’s not going to be fine if I don’t finish getting ready to be there soon.”

But her mother doesn’t get the message. Doesn’t want to get it. “So, have you caught up with Michelle lately? How is she?”

“Not lately.” That’s a call she really should return soon.

Claire steps over to her wardrobe. In the past ten minutes all her clothes have been organised by item—skirts, dresses, and tops. She yanks out a top her mother has put neatly back on the hanger, quickly pulls off her shirt, and tosses it on the bed.

As soon as she’s stripped to her bra, her mother pipes up. “You’ve lost a little of that winter weight, haven’t you, darling?”

By winter weight she means maybe half a kilo. Claire frowns but doesn’t say a word. She pulls the top rapidly over her head and wishes she’d remembered to close her bedroom door.

“You’re looking quite trim.” Christine sounds approving of this, at least.

“Yeah, well, stress will do that to you,” she says pointedly.

And of course her mother ignores it. “And are you seeing anyone at the moment?”

Claire sighs. Why does it always feel as if her mother is ticking off a checklist of queries when she talks to her? Not having an actual conversation? And why does it feel as if her mother never, ever sees her? Why does she only see the Claire she seems to think Claire is supposed to be, not who she actually is? And why is everything about her life checked off against this list to see if she’s doing it right or wrong?

She ignores her mother’s question and snatches her brush from the dresser.

Of course her mother is instantly all over Claire’s lack of response. “Should I take your silence for coyness? Have you met someone?”

“No.” Claire scrapes her hair back into a short ponytail. As if she’d tell her mother anyway. And telling her about Mia? No way. The very thought of having to deal with the fallout of that particular dropped bomb makes her feel slightly queasy.

“You know, you don’t seem your usual self lately, darling.”

Claire spins around and gives her a look. That was a change of subject. Besides, how would her mother even know what her usual self is like these days? This is the first semblance of a conversation they have had in at least a week. She strides over to her desk to collect her phone and keys. Spying the photo Robbie took of her still laid out on top of some books, she passes it to her mother. “Hey, that’s the picture you wanted to see a while ago. The one my photographer friend took of me.”

Her mother takes it, gives it a cursory look, and passes it back. “Very nice. A little dark, though. It’s hard to see you.”

Claire shakes her head and puts it back on the desk. Why did she bother?

“Anyway, as I was saying, you seem a little…quiet lately. Maybe dating someone might liven things up a bit, that’s all. Cheer you up.”

“I’m not unhappy Mum. Not at all. I’m tired today because I was out late last night. And then I got up early,” she adds as she decides to take a turn with the guilt trip. “For a brunch. That was cancelled.”

Christine ignores the dig. “So what did you do last night? Did you see Michelle and the girls?”

“Mum, enough with the questions. And no, I didn’t go out with Michelle. I went out with Robbie and Mia and the others.”

“Oh yes, you’ve got all those new friends now, haven’t you?” Her mother says it in a tone that tells Claire she has plenty more to say on that topic, too, but plans to refrain for now.

“Yes, I do. And now, Mum, I’m currently closed for questions. I’m going to be late.” Claire grabs a lipstick from the dresser and makes a break for the door. “Good talk.”

CHAPTER 6

A few days later, Claire leans on the doorjamb and glares at the scene front of her. “What the hell are you doing?”

She woke to strange, slightly alarming thuds, right at the time when all she should have heard was the delicious silence of a weekday morning—exactly the sound she wants to hear after an incredibly late shift at work. But no, instead she has been yanked into the day by these unexpected, irritating sounds that echo along the hallway.

Cam dumps a box on the bed and turns to her, arms out. He is in an oversized T-shirt and shorts, his hair standing on end. “What, Claire, does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re carrying boxes.”

“Well done!” He claps slowly. “That is exactly what I’m doing, Claire. I’m carrying boxes.” He pushes a laundry bag into the corner of his old room and jams it between the chair and the bed.

“Yes, but why are you carrying boxes, Cam?” She kicks her bare foot gently against the door, sleepy and annoyed. “Why?”

“Because, genius, the boxes were somewhere else. And now I need them to be here. That’s why.”

“But why can’t they be somewhere else, still? Instead of destroying my perfectly good sleep?”

“Because I don’t want them to be somewhere else, Claire. I want them to be here. Can you quit with the interrogation for the mentally challenged, already, okay?”

Claire narrows her eyes at him and finally realises through the sleep fug exactly what must be going on. “Oh my God, did you break up with her? Again?”

“Yeah. But this is it this time.” He opens a box and pulls out a bunch of shirts and jackets still on their hangers, a tangle of fabric and wire. “She’s mad, Claire. Like, crazy mad.”

“I told you that like six break ups ago, idiot.”

“Hey, be nice.” He grabs another handful of clothes from the carton. “I just broke up with my girlfriend, remember?”

“Oh poor Cam. You know, I was sympathetic the first two, maybe three times. Now I’m just bored.”

Cam grins. “Well, you know what Mum says.”

“What?”

“If you’re bored, you’re boring.”

“Don’t quote, Mum, Cam. Don’t be that guy.”

He just smiles and continues what he’s doing.

Claire yawns loudly, shuffles across the room, and throws herself on the bed. “So, what, you’re living back here again?”

“I guess. For now. Until I find a place.”

She groans.

“So?”

“So,” she settles back against the pillows, “it’s confusing and kind of annoying, all this back and forth. I never know when you’re living here or not.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Are my life choices inconveniencing you, princess?”

“Shut up.” But she says it for a lack of anything better to say. She doesn’t really care if he’s here or not, frankly. Then she remembers her plans with Mia tonight. Claire’s parents are going to a dinner party, and she asked Mia to come over and hang out with her here. She chews her lip and thinks how much she is—was—looking forward to tonight. Cam had better not ruin it.

“Hey, are you going to be here tonight?” she asks him.

“I guess. I’m not planning on anything else. I did three back-to-back night shifts, so I’m thinking I’m going to lie around and watch some serious sport. Or maybe a movie.”

Claire sits up, immediately incensed. “What? You just march back in here and take over the living room like you own the place?”

“Well, you don’t own the place either.” He shoves articles randomly in drawers. “You’re freeloading off the parents as much as I am, you know.”

“Yeah, but why can’t you move out and stay out?” She groans. “Seriously, why can’t I have a minute in this place to myself?”

He gives her a baffled look. “Jeez, chill out, Claire. You can just ignore me. We Pearsons are incredibly talented at ignoring each other, remember?” Then he suddenly lifts his head and grins. “Oh, I get it.”

“What?”

He turns to her, pointing. “You wanted to bring some dude back here tonight.”

“No.” And it’s true.

He gives her a look like he doesn’t believe her for a second. “So, who’s the lucky guy who gets to put up with your royal highness these days? Oh wait, is this the friend you were going on about that day when you rang me?”

“What?” Claire pretends to not have a clue what he’s talking about.

“Oh you know, while you were away at the lake. The one you had the hots for but were just friends with, and you didn’t know what to do blah, blah, blah.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do.” He heaves the swollen laundry bag onto the bed. “You totally do. Methinks the little sister doth protest too much.”

She glares at him. “Why are you speaking ye olde English, weirdo?”

“And that’s why you’re pissed about me being here, isn’t it? You were going to have him over here tonight. And now big brother is here, cramping your style.”

“No.” A blush is rising. She can feel it. And it’s largely from not knowing how to evade the fact that he’s half-right. For a second, she imagines telling her brother, telling him the real reason she’s avoiding this question. Then she pictures the look on his face, and her subsequent embarrassment, and she stops the thought in its tracks. Nope. She can’t do it. Not yet, anyway.

“You were totally planning something,” he insists. “Or else you’d be happy I was here to distract Mum from commentating your every life choice.” He drags more clumps of clothes from the bag. Claire is actually starting to wonder if he owns anything else when he reaches into the depths of the carton and pulls out a handful of video games and a lone book. “Well don’t let me stand in your way. Have him over. I won’t bother you. But a warning, I’ll be in the living room pulling the full couch potato. So you’ll have to take it to the bedroom.” Then he lifts his head, a grossed-out expression on his face. “Actually, no, what the hell am I talking about? I don’t want to know that there is some dude defiling my little sister in the bedroom while I watch TV downstairs.”

“Defiling, Cam?” Claire climbs off the bed. “You are being awfully Shakespearean in your chauvinism today.” She punches him hard in the arm as she stalks back to the doorway. “And you are such a hypocrite. You used to bring your ditzy girlfriends back here all the time when Mum and Dad weren’t home.”

“That’s different.”

“No it’s not,” she argues. Then she suddenly decides to give up. What’s the point arguing about a non-existent guy who isn’t coming here tonight, anyway? And now, Mia won’t be coming here tonight either. She turns to leave his room but then just as quickly turns back. She can’t resist a parting shot.

“Besides.” She folds her arms over her chest and grins. “Brendan defiled me lots of times while you were here with your idiot friends playing video games.”

“Oh, gross, stop it!”

“You stop it.”

“So, are you going to help me carry the rest of my stuff?”

“Nope. Not now, anyway. Pig.”

“Come on, Claire, help me. There’s a few more in the car. And my back hurts.”

“I don’t do moving.” She already knows she’s going to cave. But she can’t help but make him beg for it.

“You do moving for me, don’t you? Your poor, wounded-in-action brother? I promise I won’t say anything else about your nefarious plans for tonight.”

Claire sighs loudly. “Alright. But only because you were recently a cripple.”

CHAPTER 7

The tiny restaurant where they’re eating dinner is busy to the point of chaotic. It echoes loudly with the noisy clatter of chopsticks on bowls and the clamour of voices that bounce off the walls of the long, narrow room.

Near their corner table close to the kitchen, waiters rush back and forth past them, calling out comments and reminders to each other as they pass in and out. The door flies open and closed, and sounds and heat pour from the kitchen each time. They huddle over bowls of cold noodles and sushi and determinedly ignore the world around them. It’s definitely no replacement for the night they had planned, but it’s something.

Claire called Mia as soon as she’d finished helping her brother lug the last few cartons upstairs.

She quickly filled her in on the reason why the bottom of their plans for the night had dropped out. As she spoke to her from her perch at the kitchen counter, she got more and more irritated.

“Hey, calm down,” Mia told her. “It’s okay, Claire.”

Claire usually hates being told to calm down when she’s mad. But somehow Mia managed to do it without sounding patronising or superior. So she obeyed.

“But I’m so annoyed. Finally, we had some time alone, and now we don’t.”

“I know. I’m disappointed too.”

“You better be.”

Mia just chuckled in that cheerful, water-off-a-duck’s-back way she has. “Of course I am. But we’re still going to meet up. You’re going to calm down and enjoy your day. And then later you’re going put on something nice,” she teased, making Claire smile in spite of herself, “and you’re going to come and meet me, and we’re going to go out for dinner together, and then we’re going hang out, okay?”

“Okay,” Claire grumbled.

“Good. Will I call you when I finish work?”

“Yes.” Claire kicked her shoes against the footrest of the stool. “And Mia?”

“Yep?”

“I always look nice.”

Mia laughed. “Oh, I know, Claire. I know.”

And now that they’re here, Claire is finally over being furious about her brother’s sudden intrusion on their plans or any hope that they might find some time alone together. Now she’s happy to be here with Mia, eating noodles and just being together.

As Mia tells her about something that happened at work, Claire, in a sudden, arresting flash, sees herself from the outside, sitting here at this corner table at the back of a restaurant. What hits her hardest is how much has changed. And how quickly. She barely recognises this new version of herself, so far removed from the person she was—and who she thought she wanted to be—a couple of months ago.

And it’s not only about being with Mia, but how everything has changed. It’s the fact that she’s never even been this close to another person in quite the same way. Then there is the fact that the people she’s surrounded by now are so different from the people she was spending time with a few months ago. And how they’re so much fun and so much more like her and so much more unlike her at the same time. And how it’s refreshing and exciting and somehow a relief. She’s not even sure she could conjure now what she used to talk about with Michelle and the girls, or how she used to enjoy some of the things she did. And Brendan? It seems as if he happened to her a thousand years ago, not less than a year into her recent past.

It almost makes her breathless trying to take in how everything has changed. But the thing that stops Claire from going into a tailspin is knowing it has altered her in so many good ways. So, instead of freaking out at this new way of being, she forces herself back to the moment, back to her conversation with the girl opposite, and chooses to be in it.

Mia tells her about how much she’s been trying to find a moment to talk to her parents about this.

“Are you nervous?”

“Kind of.” Mia jabs at her noodles with a chopstick. “See Claire, the thing—maybe the incredibly sad thing—is that I’ve never had to tell my parents anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve never had to, you know, announce or confess anything to them. They have always known stuff about me, I guess. Well, the things they need to know, anyway.”

Claire smiles. “That’s kind of weirdly sweet.”

Mia smiles as she stares at her food.

Once again, Claire is struck by the incredible differences between them. Sometimes it feels as if there are more things her parents don’t know about her than things they do.

“How do you think they’ll react?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” She puts her chopsticks down. “It’s not like I can imagine them completely freaking or anything, but I don’t know what they’ll say—or if they’ll say anything.”

“They’ll say something. But I don’t think they’ll freak out either. They just seem too chilled and nice for that.” Claire smiles reassuringly and hopes she’s being some kind of comfort. “Your parents are kind of awesome, Mia.”

“They are. I think it’s just more the idea of sitting them down to talk as if it’s some big announcement. That’s what is making me feel so weird and nervous. More than what their actual reaction might be.”

Mia scoops a pile of noodles from her bowl with her chopstick and lets them slide slowly back into the bowl. “I just wish making the choice of whether you date girls or guys wasn’t such a big deal, wasn’t something that had to be announced, you know?” She frowns. “It’s weird, this whole coming out thing.”

Claire nods. “I guess it is.” She’s never really thought about it.

“And I want to get it over and done with, too, but now Dad has gone to stay with Rosa for a week. And there’s no way I’m going to do this twice, so I have to wait.”

Claire nods. Doing it once is bad enough, probably. “Is your grandmother okay?”

“She’s sick again. It’s not fair, she’s been crazy healthy all her life, and now one thing after another keeps happening with her. So Dad’s taking a week’s leave to look after her.” She smiles. “Well of course, he’s not telling her he’s there to look after her. She’d hate that. Just to keep her company.”

Claire smiles. Rosa always sounds like such a handful for a grandmother.

Claire wishes she could say something to make Mia feel less worried. But she knows she can’t, that Mia just needs to get through it, and then she’ll feel better. So she opts to run distraction instead. “So, Mia, maybe when you’ve finished torturing your dinner, we could go do something?”

Mia smiles sheepishly, slowly tucks her hair behind her ear and reaches into her bag for her wallet.

Claire chews on her lip, thrown by how she finds herself noticing little parts of Mia all the time, parts she hasn’t attended to before—the slender curve of her wrist as she tucks back her hair, the shape of her mouth when she’s fighting a smile, the glimpse of her ear through her wavy hair. Each of these things, when noted, beg to be catalogued by touch. But they can’t be just yet because Claire still feels too timid, too vulnerable to scrutiny from others to show her feelings in public. So she saves them. And later, when they climb into the car, one of the first things she will do is draw Mia’s hand over onto her lap and trace a finger over that narrow brown wrist. She’ll do this even before she kisses her, just to put feel to sight.

Mia sits up, wallet in hand, and frowns. “Sorry I’ve been such a mope tonight. That’s no fun.”

Claire yanks some money from her pocket and picks up the bill. “You’re allowed to be, you know. You’re allowed to be with me,” she insists shyly.

Mia stares at her for a long moment and then smiles a thank you of sorts. “Okay, but no more. What do you feel like doing now?”

“I don’t know. See a movie? Go for a drink? See what the others are doing?”

“Pete’s at a party. And I know that Robbie and Eli are going to some club later. Nan’s joining them after work.”

Claire wrinkles her nose. Since when does Nan even come into the question of what her friends are doing? It’s as if she has dropped in from nowhere.

Mia leans in. “I don’t feel like meeting the others, though. I just want to hang out with you tonight, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, that is totally okay with me, Mia.” In fact, that’s exactly what she wanted to hear. “I vote for the movies. Air-conditioning.”

“Air-conditioning would be a bonus.”

Claire grins. “And don’t forget, more opportunities for some teenage hand-holding.”

“Also true.” Mia drops her napkin onto her plate. “I definitely vote for movies then.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 8

Sometimes, when her mother is deep into one of her work-related soliloquies that Claire needs to be no part of, she kills time by translating her mother’s words into French.

The trick is to keep up, to track every toss and turn of her mother’s speech without missing a word. She has never yet managed to do it seamlessly. But she knows there is still plenty of time and there are plenty more monologues from her mother to be had. The best things about it—aside from the bonus revision—is it passes the time, and it seems as if she’s listening very carefully. Which she is. But she’s really not, either. She has to be careful, though. Once, Christine almost caught her when she was furiously trying to get a metaphor to make sense in French. Claire nearly had it figured out when her mother suddenly asked her what the hell she was mumbling about. Forced to think quick, she told her she had a song stuck in her head.

This afternoon, on their way back from lunch, her mother will not stop with this epic work tale. But Claire is too far into holiday mode to want to bother with her usual method—something she knows she’ll regret at the start of next semester. She stares out the car window and nods her response every now and then, bored out of her mind. Why is it that interrogation and rants seem to be her mother’s only ways to communicate with her? And why didn’t Claire take her own car?

By the time they’re five minutes from home, her mother is still talking, something about the upcoming firm Christmas party, and Claire has moved on to the pressing topic of how much it would hurt to jump out of the car while it’s still moving. That’s when saving grace comes in the form of a ringing phone.

It’s Mia. Awash with relief, Claire picks up.

“Hey,” Mia says cheerfully and then goes on without waiting for Claire to respond. “You’re not working tomorrow night are you?”

“No.” Claire turns away from her mother and her huge, eavesdrop-y ears. “Why?”

“What are you doing, then?”

“I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”

“Come to Robbie’s place after I finish work. About seven?”

“What are we doing?”

“You’ll find out. Bye!” She hangs up.

“Who was that?” her mother asks. Of course.

“Mia.” It’s so, so weird that her mother has no idea of the magnitude that name holds for Claire when she says it. All her mother probably hears is the name of that polite, ambitious girl she liked so much at the lake. She looks out the passenger window, worried her mother will be able to guess at something from her expression.

“Oh, how is she? I liked her. Has she found out which medical program she’s going into yet?”

“Not yet. She doesn’t find out until after exam results are in,” Claire says. As if she needs reminding about the terrifying prospect of Mia going to elsewhere.

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll do very well. She seems very intelligent and very focused on her future.” Christine turns into their street. “I must say I was surprised by the two of you becoming friends.”

“Why?” Claire begins to undo her seatbelt before they even pull into the driveway. “Are you shocked that such a high achiever would want to be friends with your slacker daughter? Nice, Mum.” She climbs out of the car before her mother can say another word.

Her mother doesn’t need to know that sometimes Claire wonders the very same thing.

CHAPTER 9

Mia opens the door with a wide smile.

Claire steps inside, out of the heat. “Hey, how was work?”

“Good. It’s over.”

She looks around the teeny, neat bedsit. “Where’s Robbie?”

“I don’t know.” Mia’s smile widens. “Camping at Glenn Point or something?”

“Then what are we doing here?”

Mia shrugs again. “House sitting. Bedsitting? I don’t know. Feeding the fattest cat in the world?” She tips her head toward the window. And there’s the cat, Patty, perched on the back of the couch. She’s every bit as fat as in the pictures. And kind of cranky looking.

Claire shakes her head. “That cat is ridiculous.”

Mia pokes her in the sternum. “So are you.”

Claire laughs. “Whatever, Mia.”

Mia steps slowly toward Claire, curls her arm around her neck, and kisses her lightly. “And we’re finally having our minute.”

A thrill runs through Claire. “When is he back?”

“Tuesday. He’s gone to some art festival thing with Nan and Eli.”

“You’re kidding me? Really? We have this place to ourselves for two nights?”

“Yes. Well, I have this place. I suppose you can hang out for a bit.”

Claire smiles. She kind of loves it when Mia teases her, when she’s quietly cocky and laidback, because it means they flow again.

“Oh Mia.” Claire slides her hands into the back of Mia’s T-shirt. “You want me to hang out. You really, really want me to hang out,” she whispers as she inches her hands around to Mia’s front and slides them over the curve of her breasts.

Mia sighs. “Mmm. Yeah, I really do.” She kisses her. “So, can you stay here with me tonight, do you think?”

“Of course.”

“What about your parents?”

“They won’t even notice. And just so you know, I won’t be leaving until Robbie is turning the key in the door.”

Mia bounces a little on the spot and grins. “Fine with me. So, what do you want to do? Do you want to go out for dinner or something?”

Claire spins around and nudges the door shut with her foot. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Mia laughs. “Just checking.”

Claire stares at Mia, drinking her in. “I missed you,” she whispers, intoxicated with the idea that they finally have time and privacy to do whatever they want.

“You saw me two nights ago.”

“Still missed you.”

Mia smiles. “Well, you’ll be sick of me soon.”

“No I won’t.” Claire pushes Mia back against the kitchen counter and kisses her neck. Mia grabs her face and draws it up to hers. She pulls her into a kiss and scrabbles clumsily at the bottom of Claire’s top. Claire grabs the bottom of her T-shirt and yanks it off. It’s suddenly a matter of deep urgency that she feels her skin against Mia’s. It’s been too long. She leans in and unbuttons Mia’s shirt, starting at the neck and quickly undoing each button until it’s open enough for her to draw it over her head. Claire stares at Mia, relishing in the delicious press of their torsos.

Mia sighs decadently, dips her head, and kisses Claire’s collarbone. In a slow drift of kisses, she returns to Claire’s mouth before she pulls back and smiles slowly. “You know, we finally have a bed.”

“We have a bed,” Claire agrees as she slides her hands into the back pockets of Mia’s jeans and looks around the room. Whoever thought this tiny little space would become her idea of heaven?

“So, you know, maybe we should make the most of it?”

Claire wrinkles her nose. “Did you change the sheets?”

Mia laughs. “Robbie already did. I think he knew you’d be coming over.”

Claire kicks off her shoes. “Good.”

Mia grabs her by her waistband and pulls Claire the few short steps to the bed and onto the mattress.

Claire realises this is the first time Mia has been the one to initiate anything like this with them, to be the one to push things to this point. She bites her bottom lip, trying to quell her smug smile. But it clearly doesn’t work, because Mia gives her a quizzical look as she climbs over her.

“What?”

Claire shakes her head. “Nothing.” But then the smile escapes. “I like it when you’re like this. It’s hot.”

Mia grins and slides her hands between the mattress and her back, encouraging Claire to arch a little as she unclasps her bra. “Good,” she whispers, her fingers already teasing under the cups of her bra.

“What’s your hurry, Mia?” Claire teases.

Mia grins and dips her head to kiss Claire’s neck. “You know exactly what my hurry is, Claire.”

CHAPTER 10

There just might be a chance that Claire never wants to get out of this bed.

It has been hours, maybe, since the last orgasm was wrested, the last climax reached, the last remnants of unexplored territory explored. Yet still they don’t free themselves from this blissful tangle.

As the gathering dusk slowly solidifies into night, the sharper, needier desire has languished into a softer wanting. But it’s one still ruled by their inability to relinquish this delicious proximity of touch.

And so they lie there entwined, Claire’s hands still performing the busy but less urgent work of mindlessly recording every contour of Mia. And as Claire commits Mia to memory, they glide between shy exchanges, giggling confidences, and tracts of contented silence.

Suspended here in this haven they have created in Robbie’s bed, Claire feels awash with an almost queasy, spent pleasure, and she’s more and more certain with every intoxicating minute that she never wants to get out of this bed.

She tells Mia this, and she laughs quietly in her amused Mia way. And then she snakes an arm under Claire’s neck and kisses her weary, but still eager, mouth.

It still seems unbelievable to Claire that they don’t have to get up soon and go home at the end of this night. Even the small, delicious fact that they can take the journey into sleep together and then wake up together feels exciting.

Claire keeps shifting between a kind of cocky, seductive confidence with Mia to an occasional shyness at being this exposed, this newly intimate with someone. She feels it most acutely in those moments when they catch each other in a stare, their expressions of what she is sure is a mutual shyness and awe at the newness of this thing on show. She doesn’t know why, but it feels as if she’s both hungry for the intensity and slightly daunted by the discovery of its magnitude at the same time. But hunger always wins.

The one thing she knows is that she wants to stay here in it for as long as possible.

Then a thought strikes her.

“Hey, do you have to work in the morning?” she whispers from the depths of their tangle of limb and sheet.

Mia shakes her head and gives her a small, sly smile. “I called straight after Robbie rang and organised a swap. I was hoping maybe we could hang out tomorrow?”

“Was that even a question, Mia?” Claire pinches her side. “Because, if it was, it was a stupid one. I just told you, I never want to get out of this bed again.”

Mia rolls right over on top of her. “Good.”

Claire stares indulgently at her. She takes in those languid brown eyes that always manage to look just a little cutely sleepy even when she’s not and the rich gift that is her affectionate, freckled grin. “Oh look at your stupid, gorgeous Mia face.”

Mia laughs and buries her face in her hair. “Claire flattery. How did I ever live without it?”

* * *

Of course, there is one thing Claire will get out of bed for.

Lying before them on the kitchen counter is a spread of food—crusty white bread, oil-plumped olives, mixed cheeses, and a rainbow array of dips. It materialised the minute Claire announced she was hungry. Mia crawled out of their nest on Robbie’s bed, opened the fridge, and unpacked a veritable feast from a big, brown paper bag.

Claire pulls her feet onto the stool and hugs her knees to her chest, eying their extravagant, impromptu late-night picnic. “Mia, you’re a genius.”

Mia laughs from her perch on top of the counter. Her bare legs swing happily as she pops an olive into her mouth. “I thought you were the genius. You used to tell me that all the time.”

“I did?” Claire wrinkles her nose. “Well it is true.”

“Yeah, it was your answer to a lot of things. I figure it was some kind of subconscious flirtation.”

“Probably. Who knows? I never know what I’m doing, really.” Claire gestures at the spread in front of them. “But today, for this, you, Mia, are the genius. You’re allowed to have your moments, I suppose.”

“Oh why thank you so much, Claire. Anyway, I got the feeling we might not want to go out for dinner. And Robbie’s never got any food, so I went and grabbed some things while I was on my work break.”

“See? Genius. And fancy, too. If it had been me, we’d probably be eating cheese rolls. Swiss cheese, maybe, if I was feeling really gourmet and wanted to impress you.”

Mia laughs. “And I totally would have been.” She kicks her legs idly against the kitchen cupboards.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to sit on the kitchen counters, Mia?”

She grins. “Yes, all the time.” She jumps down and opens the fridge. “Oh, I also brought wine. And a couple of beers. You want something to drink?”

Claire screws up her face. “I know I should be classy and have wine with this, but it’s hot. I want beer.”

“You don’t have to drink wine, Claire. I already know you’re classy. Cheese rolls, remember?”

“Ha ha,”

Mia gives her a teasing look and holds one of the beers out, her expression turning coy. “And you’re amazing, too.” She bites her lip shyly for a second before she smiles one of her radiant Mia smiles at her.

Claire looks at her as she takes a long, cool sip of her beer and pretends not to be even slightly charmed by that statement. But Mia’s smile does not waver as she pulls herself back onto the counter. And just like that, she’s too far away. A metre is too far. Hell, even a centimetre would be too far right now. Claire puts down her beer, hops off the chair, and strides around the counter. She steps between Mia’s knees and catches her mouth in a kiss.

Mia laughs and wraps her arms and legs around her. “I should compliment you more often.”

“You should compliment me all the time.”

CHAPTER 11

Mia gasps heavily into the aftermath as Claire trails slow kisses back over her stomach and then along her ribcage. Her hand smooths its way over the other side of Mia’s torso, feeling the small ripples of aftershock under her fingers, until she’s lying next to Mia again. With a possessive leg wrapped over Mia’s, Claire places a hand flat against her stomach, presses her mouth to her shoulder, and waits for Mia’s breathing to calm.

Mia’s back is slightly arched over the sheets. Eventually she turns her head. “Told you.”

“What?”

She kisses the side of her head and smiles teasingly at her. “That you’d figure it out.”

“Shut up.” Claire blushes and pokes Mia in the side as she recalls her embarrassing little moment of uncertainty earlier.

“Well, I figured if I can work it out, so can you. Because it’s you who is usually the genius, remember?”

“Shut up.”

Mia continues to grin at her. “And I believe you can do anything you set your mind to, Claire Pearson.”

“Alright, cheerleader. Keep teasing and I’ll never do it again.”

“Mmm, don’t say that.” Mia rolls onto her side. She pushes her face against Claire’s shoulder and runs a hand up her side. “You are so hot.”

Claire smiles. She does feel embarrassingly pleased with herself. She likes having this kind of physical command over Mia, to be able to elicit these urgent, fevered reactions from her. It’s a new, intoxicating kind of power to wield over someone. And it feels as pleasurable as anything Mia does to her.

She lifts her arm slowly and curls her hand in one of those favourite spots she has already found around the base of Mia’s neck, under her hair. They lie there in sated silence under the open window.

Claire breathes in that dusky summer night smell and speaks her curiosity into the gathering darkness. “So when did you?” She rolls over to her stomach and rests her cheek on the crook of her elbow.

“When did I what?”

Claire buries her face in her arm, suddenly bashful. “Figure it out?”

“With you.”

“Not with that girl?”

“Nope. Well, she did it to me. I was way too drunk and awkward that night. And shy.”

Claire smiles.

“Actually, I feel awkward just talking about this now. Why am I so embarrassed?” She burrows her face into Claire’s neck and laughs quietly. “Why is it so weird to talk about sex, even with the person you’re doing it with?”

“I don’t know, but it is.” Claire’s never done a lot of talking about sex herself, but curiosity propels her right now. She grins in the darkness. “Anyway, you don’t have to talk about it, as long as you keep doing it.”

Mia laughs. “Well, in answer to your question, I didn’t do it until that time with you.”

“Well, no one had ever done it to me until then.”

Mia lifts her head off the pillow. Claire can feel her stare. “What? No one ever went down on you before that?”

“That’s what you call it?”

“Why? What do you call it?”

“Nothing.” Claire shrugs, keenly aware of how young and inexperienced she sounds. “I never had to have a name for it because no one was ever doing it.”

Mia laughs and wraps an arm across her back. “Not even Brendan?”

Claire shakes her head, suddenly incredibly embarrassed. “Nope.”

“What a slacker.”

Claire pushes her face into the pillow and laughs. Then she looks out from under her arms at Mia “What? Like he wasn’t earning his keep?”

“Well he wasn’t.”

Claire is kind of thrown. She’d always thought sex with Brendan had been pretty good. Maybe she was wrong. What has she been missing out on? “Did guys do it to you?”

“Yeah. Well, not always, but yeah.”

“Oh, well then I guess he was a slacker.” Still kind of embarrassed, she rolls over onto her back, drapes her arm over her face, and hopes for a change of subject.

Mia smoothes her hand over Claire’s bare stomach, stroking the tract of skin around her belly button. It feels so good it almost makes Claire want to purr.

“Hey?” Mia whispers.

“Hmmm?”

“Tell me about Brendan.”

Claire frowns. Well, she got what she wished for. But it’s not quite the change of subject she was hoping for. “Do I have to?”

“Of course you don’t have to. You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m just curious, that’s all. He seems like he was important.”

Claire wonders what to say to that. Because he was important. Was. And she has also done her damned best not to think too hard about him since they broke up. And she’s not sure she wants to undo that right now just to sate Mia’s curiosity.

“And I guess I don’t know anything about him. Except what happened at the end. And that he might be lazy in bed.”

Blushing again, Claire pokes Mia in the side. “Shut up.”

Mia looks contrite. “Sorry. Anyway, it’s no big deal.” She smiles and shrugs. “I want to know what kind of guys you’re into, that’s all.”

“Really, Mia?”

Mia smiles bashfully. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

“So you want to know what he was like?” That seems like an easier task.

“Yeah. And maybe I want to know how you met, too.”

Claire sighs. “Okay, Mia. If you really must know.”

Mia grins and plants a kiss on the exposed underside of her arm. “Yes, I must.”

“The way we met is kind of boring, I guess. It was at a party. He came with some people from another school. I argued with him about something really stupid—I can’t even remember what. And everyone was laughing at us. He was drunk. I was drunk.” She shrugs. “Then later, we ended up kissing.”

“And that was it? Then you were together? For how long?”

Claire laughs. “Two years. But no, we weren’t together straight away. First, I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn’t let me, in this kind of backward way.” She tips her head to the side as she recalls those early days. “Most guys, you know, if you don’t return their calls, they try even harder, or get all ‘Why didn’t you call?’ But he didn’t do that.”

Mia wrinkles her nose. “But hang on; did you like him at this point?”

“Kind of.” Claire thinks back to that party. She remembers instantly registering he was hot when she met him. And she remembers how she wanted to attract his attention, although she did nothing to show it. But she also knows she probably just wanted him to notice her because she wanted to be the one, of all her friends, to get his attention. And once she did, she pretended she didn’t want or need it. But then he actually got to her. There was that hilarious fight, which turned out to be their skewed version of flirting. And then there was the kiss that ended the fight. And then there was more kissing outside her neighbour’s house after he walked her back to her place. Yeah, she had liked him all right. She just wasn’t ready to let him know that yet.

Mia frowns. “So then why would you ignore his calls, anyway? If you liked him?”

“I dunno. It’s a thing I do.”

“Hmmm, nice. Glad you didn’t ignore me.”

Claire pats her cheek, feigning sweet. “I couldn’t ignore you,”

“Aw.”

“Because,” Claire punches her in the arm, “I couldn’t, could I? You were ignoring me, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“Anyway, I don’t usually ignore people I’m into. Your modus operandi for dating is completely whack, Claire. Just so you know.”

“Well, it didn’t matter. Brendan ignored it. He was too chilled for any of that. If I didn’t return his calls or messages, he’d turn up at the next party or thing and say hi like nothing had happened and ask me how my week was, like everything was normal. And the next thing I knew we’d be making out again. And then, I don’t know, we were going out.”

Mia laughs. “When he ignored you ignoring him?”

“Pretty much. Anyway, Brendan was really cool back then, I guess. He was way more mature than most guys we hung out with, which was a freaking relief.” She thinks of some of the infantile, desperate idiots who used to try their luck. “He was kind of relaxed and funny. And he was kind. But he took no crap either. He could deal with anything.”

“Like with you?”

“Like with me.” No point denying it.

Mia smiles at her. “Okay, thank you. That’s all I need to know for now.”

Claire flicks an eyebrow at her. “For now, huh?”

“Yup,” Mia pulls herself over on top of her. “My curiosity is temporarily sated. And now I want to make out with you some more, so I don’t want to think about your ex-boyfriend.”

* * *

Later they shut the window on the balmy night, turn on the small air-conditioning unit above the bed, and lay there tangled on the mattress under its roaring, benevolent chill.

Claire has no idea what time it is, but it must be late. She’s sleepy, but not quite ready to forgo this first blissful night for sleep. Besides she has a question to ask.

She nuzzles her face into the back of Mia’s neck. “Remember that party?”

“On the roof?”

“No, the other party. Ages ago. With the tequila and the dancing?”

“Of course I do. We kissed.”

Claire smiles to herself. “We kissed.”

“And then I freaked out and ran away. And you got really drunk and went home with some guy who played guitar. Then we both tried to pretend it didn’t happen for half a day and failed miserably.”

“Yep.” Claire smiles again, remembering that moment right here, in Robbie’s bedsit, when they realised they both recalled exactly what had happened the night before, and how they laughed so hard about it. And suddenly everything that was unbearably awkward about it became totally okay.

Mia reaches backward and runs a hand along Claire’s leg. “So yes, I remember the party.”

“I have a question then. Because I was incredibly drunk.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Shut it.” Claire turns her caress of Mia’s waist into a vindictive squeeze. “So were you. Anyway, what I want to know is who kissed who?”

“I’m pretty sure I kissed you.”

“Okay then.” Claire cuddles against her, satisfied. She didn’t think she’d instigated it, but considering how clueless she was about this whole being into Mia thing, she thought it was worth checking on.

Mia is silent for a minute. Then she rolls over. “Why?”

Claire shrugs. “I just wanted to know, that’s all. I’ve been wondering for a long time.”

“You really don’t remember it at all?”

“No. Well, I remember it happening, and you running away. And I remember being really surprised by it, but I don’t remember enough to know who started it.”

“I don’t think it was, like, intentional. It was kind of in the moment…drunken instinct. I mean, I really didn’t even know I liked you at that point.” She shrugs. “I guess it just seemed like the thing to do at the time?”

“The thing to do?” Claire raises her eyebrows.

Mia just shrugs and grins. “I guess?”

“You’re a bit trashy when you’re drunk, aren’t you, Mia?”

“I think I might be.” She buries her face in Claire’s neck. “Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up.” Claire yanks on a strand of her hair. “That’s my thing.”

“Okay, Claire. It’s all yours.”

* * *

The air-conditioning still whines above their heads as they drift slowly together between waking and sleep. Claire runs her hand along the slender arm draped over her waist and takes hold of Mia’s hand. She slides her fingers around hers and nestles their hands together in the little corner made between her stomach and the sheet.

“Mia?” Claire whispers, blinking into the darkness.

“Hmm?” Mia mumbles sleepily from behind her.

“Nothing,” Claire whispers. She smiles to herself.

She just wanted to say her name one more time.

CHAPTER 12

Claire sits cross-legged on the end of the bed, the sheet wrapped around her shoulders, and contemplates the cat. “So what do you have to do with her? Just feed her?”

“Yeah.” Mia flops on the mattress next to her. “And change her litter and pat her and stuff. Cats are much easier than dogs.”

Claire absently twirls a strand of Mia’s hair around her fingers. “Where is Blue?”

“I left him at home. He’s actually good with cats, but cats don’t always like him.” She grins. “And I didn’t think Patty would be able get away from him very easily if she wanted to.”

Claire laughs. “Good call.” She actually feels a little bit sorry for the cat. It can’t be fun living inside that body, especially in this heat. “She’s so, so fat.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. I have something for you.” Mia climbs off the bed again. She darts over to the kitchen counter, grabs something from under a tissue box, and jumps back onto the bed. She passes Claire a small piece of paper and presses a kiss onto her bare shoulder. “Robbie left you a note.”

She grins as Claire takes the paper, eyeing it suspiciously. It’s a single line, scrawled in Robbie’s surprisingly old-fashioned cursive. Claire, BE NICE to Patty!!!

Mia laughs as Claire screws up the note in one fist.

She narrows her eyes at the cat. “I’ll try.”

* * *

Somewhere in the hours they have whiled away since breakfast, exploring every single possible way they can derive pleasure from each other, the weather has changed. Gone are the hot sun and restless breeze of this morning. In their place are a thickening fug and a grey pre-storm sky.

Claire pulls on her tank top and leans right out the front window. She can feel the occasional fat raindrop land on her head and face. At last. It hasn’t rained properly all week, just threatened and cleared and threatened and cleared in what has been a cruel, taunting cycle.

She calls behind her gleefully, “Rain.”

“Really?” Mia asks from the sofa; the newspaper lays abandoned across her stomach.

“Yup.” Claire draws her face back, out of the spattering assault. “Not much, though. And it’s still hot.”

“There’s supposed to be a cool change coming.”

“Finally.” Claire is already looking forward to it. She is not made for summer weather. She’ll take the grey chill of winter any day over this claustrophobic heat. Its oppressiveness feels personal. She leans further out the window, hoping for the slightest potential of a breeze.

As she breathes in, she feels a sudden urge for something sweet and cold to cut through all the salt and sweat of this lazy afternoon of sex and sleep and snacking. She steps back from the window and swipes at a raindrop making a slow, ticklish run down her forehead to her eye. “I want ice cream.”

“You do?” Mia lifts her arms behind her head and stretches her legs along the sofa cushions.

“Yup. Make it happen, Mia.” Claire stamps her foot gently on the wooden floorboards. “Did you bring some? You thought of everything else.”

Mia frowns. “Sorry. But then I didn’t think of it because I don’t really like ice cream.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. Who doesn’t like ice cream?”

“Me. Never have.”

“But why not?”

“It’s cold.”

“Well duh, Mia.”

Mia laughs and shrugs again. “I just don’t like it.”

Claire steps over to the couch, drags her to her feet, and kisses her exuberantly. It delights her for some reason that Mia doesn’t like ice cream. But then everything unexpected she learns about Mia seems to delight her.

Mia presses her hands against her cheeks and kisses her right back. “Come on, let’s go for a walk then and get you some.”

* * *

The sky hangs threateningly low over them, and there is an expectant stillness in the street, as if the stage is set for something. They walk quietly along Robbie’s street, enveloped in this eerie quiet. After so many hours spent indoors in that tiny space, the outside world feels like an alien, cumbrous place.

Mia holds her arms out, breathes in the late afternoon air, and smiles. “I feel weird. This must be what animals feel like when they’re let out of cages after a long time. Like they forgot how to walk properly. Like they forgot what the world looks like.”

Claire frowns and smacks her in the arm as they round the corner to the main street.

“What was that for?”

“Well, you are comparing hanging out with me at Robbie’s to being an animal in captivity. Hard not to take personally.”

Mia laughs. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“That’s okay then,” Claire tells her just as the sky breaks open and rain begins to pelt down on them.

And all Mia does is squeal delightedly and open her arms to it. Claire laughs at her and does the same.

* * *

Against the melodramatic backdrop of thunder and pounding rain, Claire drapes the damp towel around her neck and eyes Mia over the tub of ice cream. She sits on the floor, a towel similarly draped around her shoulders, nibbling on a potato chip. Patty is splayed across her legs.

“When did you know?” Claire asks.

Mia bites a tiny piece from her potato chip. “Know what?”

Claire shakes her head. Who eats chips like that? They should be eaten by the handful. But she can stir Mia about that later. She has other things on her mind right now. “You know.” Claire shrugs, using the spoon to chisel away at the still-hard ice cream. “When did you know you were into me?”

Mia laughs and digs another crisp out of the pack. “You really should consider following the rest of your family into the law or police. You’re weirdly good at catching people unawares with your inquisitions.”

Claire shrugs and digs her spoon into a vein of gooey caramel. “I learned from the best. You should meet my mum.”

“I have, remember?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Sorry about that.”

“About what?” Mia grins. “The fact that she asked more questions than they asked in my med school interviews? Or the fact that you acted like a total weirdo?”

“Either. Or both. And hey, you don’t get to call anyone weirdo, lady. You went a little weird yourself.”

Mia smiles and nibbles on her chip, scratching Patty behind the ear with her free hand. The cat’s eyes close lazily, and Claire can hear her steady purring from across the small room.

“Anyway, answer the question, Mia.” Claire points the spoon at her. “When did you know you were into me?”

Mia turns the chip over in her hand, staring at it. “After you stayed at my place. When Cam had his accident. I think that’s when I consciously realised, anyway.”

“How did you know?”

“Well, for starters, when you left, I really missed you. And even though I was freaked out about my exams and school interviews, I kept thinking about you. At first I thought it was because you’d been around so much and then you suddenly weren’t, or that you were on my mind because I was worried about you because of what happened with your brother. And then I tried to convince myself maybe it was because of how you were with me.”

“What do you mean?” Claire asks through that warm syrupy feeling that always seems to come with the territory of hearing Mia talk like this.

“I don’t know how to explain it, really. But it just felt really good to be around you then because it was as if you knew what was going on with me. You saw me, and how much I was stressing out over everything. Even though you had all these terrible things going on with your brother’s accident and your parents leaving you with him, you were still there for me, too. You were always checking in, or telling me not to lose it. I don’t know, people always seem to think ‘Oh it’s Mia, she’s fine. She’s smart, she’s the calm one, she can look after herself.’ But I felt like you noticed I wasn’t always that way, that maybe I needed…something. I don’t know, it just…it felt really good.” She inhales deeply and goes on. “So at first I think I told myself maybe I just missed the comfort of having this amazing new friend around.”

Claire nods as the odd, unexpected threat of tears presses the back of her eyes. One thing she has never been told is what a good friend she is. Not ever.

“So I really missed you. It was such an intense feeling I realised maybe it was something more. I still wasn’t sure if it was because we had connected so easily or if I really did like like you. I mean there was that kiss. But I was trying to figure this out between all the exam stress and the weirdness, so I couldn’t really find the headspace or clarity, and I kind of felt as if I needed to see you first or something, you know?”

Claire nods again.

Mia puts the chip on the coffee table and brushes her hands together. “And then there was that party, and I was so excited about it and exams being over and the start of summer. And I was excited about hanging out with you again. I wanted it to be like that other party, when we danced and it was so fun and stupid and that feeling of just us, you know? I’d told myself that the kissing wasn’t going to happen again of course, that it had been a one-off drunken thing, and that it didn’t matter because I really just wanted to spend time with you. But I guess some subconscious part of me was still kind of hoping, because I remember how stupidly happy I was when I saw you. And then that awful feeling when that guy showed up.” She shakes her head. “I was kind of shocked for a second when I realised you had this date or whatever it was. And then I felt really, really dumb about being shocked. For expecting anything.”

Claire stares at her as she speaks. The golden glow of the streetlight outside rests lightly on Mia’s face, washing over that smooth stretch of skin from her collarbone to the neck of her tank top.

Mia continues. “And right then, at that moment at the party, I told myself, when I’d only just become conscious of the fact I had this thing for you, to get the hell over it fast because it was not going to happen.”

Claire frowns. Why does it feel so oddly painful to hear this, even though she knows the ending?

“Then the other thing of course,” Mia adds quietly, “is it brought up everything I’d been thinking about whether I’m gay. I’d been having suspicions again, after Pete, that maybe I wasn’t into guys at all. But since that first real crush, I hadn’t really felt anything for a particular girl either. But you know the dumb thing? I was kind of hoping I was gay, because I stupidly thought that meant I could explain away my crush on you as having feelings for girls in general, and that maybe I would just get over it and go back to being friends with you if I met someone else. How stupid is that?”

“Not stupid at all,” Claire says softly. She actually understands the skewed logic. That’s her kind of logic. “So then you decided to hook up with that girl at the party? To test that theory?”

“That was part of it, I guess. Me telling myself to hurry up and figure it out. I was kind of mad at myself, too, you know? For being so dumb to think there was any kind of possibility with you. And she was into it, so I told myself I better be too. To get over it.”

Claire watches as Mia takes a deep breath. She looks small and vulnerable again, the way she did in those weird, confused days after the lake. Claire puts down her ice cream, scrambles to her feet, and goes over to her. She drops to her knees in front of her and takes her face in her hands. “I should have danced with you.”

A crease forms between Mia’s eyebrows. “What?”

“At the party. I really wanted to dance with you. And I wanted to hang out with you and celebrate, too. Only he turned up. I forgot I’d even mentioned the party to him.” Claire shakes her head, smiling. “And then we all went up that stupid terrifying ladder and drank tequila. And I remember later, when somebody asked where you were and Nina said you were on the dance floor, I wanted to go and find you, but I was too scared. I was drunk and would probably fall down the ladder.”

Mia smiles and presses her forehead against Claire’s.

Claire wraps an arm around her neck. “But I wanted to dance with you.”

“Do you think that would have changed things?”

“Maybe.” Claire shrugs. She pushes Mia’s hair back from her face and kisses her. In fact, all she wants to do is climb onto her lap and kiss her over and over and dispel all the uncertainty and hurt Mia felt in that time, even though she knows it’s already dispelled by the sheer fact of them being here together. But she still feels this strange, urgent desire to make it better. But she can’t climb onto her lap because the cat is there, taking all her precious Mia real estate. So she shuffles around behind Mia, stretches her legs on either side of her and wraps her arms tightly around her waist. She buries her face into the back of her neck, feeling her rain-dampened hair against her cheek, and smiles. “Besides, you and me on a dance floor, Mia…” she reminds her. “It can get a little flirty.”

She feels the laugh ripple through Mia before she hears it. “That’s true.”

* * *

Claire takes one last look at the rain-battered world. It’s glistening and stilled now, and the empty road shimmers with a combination of oil slick, water, and reflected streetlight. She takes in one last breath of the wind-crisped air and inches the window slowly down. She doesn’t know why, given how happy she is right now, and how content she usually is with a Patty-style existence, but tonight she keeps being drawn to the open window, to that impossibly fresh smell of the air outside. It feeds her something she didn’t even know she wanted.

She draws the blind and turns back to the bed. And at the sight of it, her regret softens into vanishing, and she tiptoes back to the bed and slips under the covers. She shuffles across the mattress until she’s lined luxuriously along the back of Mia’s frame and wraps an arm around her waist.

“I thought you’d decided you were going to be the little spoon,” Mia mumbles as they begin the slow coast into sleep together. “Logistics and all?”

Claire tightens her arm around Mia’s waist and presses her face into her back. “Yeah, well, I didn’t know I’d like being big spoon so much.”

CHAPTER 13

Claire climbs slowly out of the bed, careful not to rouse Mia. She’s sprawled on the other side of the mattress, her rangy legs kicked over the sheets, her arms wrapped around her head as if to block out light and sound, even in her sleep.

Smiling at the sight of Mia still so deeply committed to her slumber, Claire pads over to Robbie’s drawers and pulls out one of his T-shirts—sleeves cut off, of course—and yanks it over her head. She tiptoes around the room, peering at the photos pinned to the walls and the shelves of DVDs and books, restless now she’s awake, even if it is ridiculously early.

She wanders into the kitchen, the cool linoleum under her feet. She nearly trips over the cat, who is sitting right in the middle of the floor, staring at her calmly. Claire stares back. Is she expected to do something? Like feed it?

Glancing around the tiny kitchen, she spots a box of kitty biscuits. She eyes the cat. Patty is still staring at her. Claire shoots her a questioning look right back. Cats always act as if they’re trying to say something. But she never knows what.

Sighing, she steps over Patty’s capacious body, picks up the box, and grabs a bowl off the dish rack. She pours a little food into it and places it on the ground. The cat immediately waddles over, sniffs at the food, and begins to nibble at it.

Claire leaves her to it and flops onto the couch. She shuts her eyes against the early morning light. The quiet morning is punctuated only by the distant voices of kids playing somewhere nearby and the sounds of happy crunching in the kitchen.

Her mind deliciously empty, she stretches out across a shaft of sunlight and avoids starting the day. At some point she feels a light shudder as Patty’s heft lands on the sofa cushion next to her in what had to be a graceless leap. Claire kind of wishes she had witnessed it for comic value.

She opens her eyes slowly and watches the cat embark on the finicky task of cleaning her paws. Then Patty settles clumsily into a ball on the cushion and stares sleepily at her all over again. Claire pokes the cat gently in the nose. “You should go live with my mother. She’d whip you into shape quick smart.”

Mia mumbles from the bed, her voice muffled, “I really hope you’re not talking to me.”

Mia slowly unwraps her arms from her head and rolls over to her side. She sweeps the hair from her face and smiles sleepily at Claire.

Claire smiles right back and scratches the top of Patty’s head. “Sorry, we were chatting in ESP before that, but then we forgot our manners, didn’t we, Fatso?”

Patty purrs. Mia chuckles.

“It’s true, though,” Claire informs the cat. “My mother has the best diet secret in the world, and I think you could use a little of it, Patty.”

Mia raises her long arms above her in a stretch. “And what is this secret, pray tell?”

“Guilt, of course.” Claire unfolds her legs and gives Patty one last scratch before she leaps off the couch. She stands over Mia, hand on her hips. “Come on, slacker. Get up. I’m bored.”

Mia looks at her sleepy-eyed and grins. Then she simply pulls the sheets higher around her. She raises an eyebrow. “Are you wearing one of Robbie’s tops?”

“My stuff is still a bit damp from the rain. He won’t mind.”

“You look cute. All tough.”

“Pfft,” is all Claire can think of to say to that. She drops onto the bed and drapes herself over Mia.

Mia slides her arms around Claire’s back. “Morning. Sick of me yet?” she mumbles in her ear.

“Nope. But you’ve only been up a minute. Give it time.”

Mia laughs.

They lie there in silence, easing into the morning.

Mia runs a hand over her hair. “Hey?”

“Mmm?”

“Is your mother that bad?”

“Kind of,” Claire replies, surprised by the sudden appearance of this question.

“She did seem kind of intense when I met her. But is she always like that? All those questions?”

Claire smirks. “Uh, yeah.”

She tells Mia about their conversation the other day. About how she asked Claire so many questions, but never really seemed to listen to her answers beyond checking whether they were answers she wanted to hear. “I don’t know, sometimes it feels as though I’m a task, a project of hers, not her daughter. I’m just a page full of bullet points for her to deal with and that’s it. You know, sometimes I feel like she should actually send me minutes after our conversations.”

Mia snickers and smooths her hand over Claire’s back.

“And her motherly advice is kind of the same. Do you know,” Claire continues. “I was remembering the other day how, when I finished primary school, they suddenly decided I needed to go to this private school—mostly because they wanted to send me to this same snobby place their boss had decided to send his daughter. Of course, I was really upset about having to go somewhere where I didn’t really know anyone instead of going to the same school everyone I knew was going to. I was completely terrified I’d have no friends. And do you know what my mother’s advice about that was?”

“What?” Mia sounds wary.

“It wasn’t advice on how to meet new people, or assurance that I’d be fine and that I’d make friends because I was a nice, normal human being—back then, anyway.”

Mia gives her a small smile.

“No, she gave me advice on how to identify and select the right friends. Like picking a jury or something. She strategised it. She even broke it down. She was like, ‘Figure out who the right people are but don’t try and go in as top dog. Know who they are, come in from under, and then penetrate the group.’ That was her advice.”

Mia shakes her head. “That’s really weird.”

“I know. That’s how she’s always done it, telling me the quickest, most efficient way to get things I want—to be the best at things.”

“Was she the same when she told you about the birds and the bees?”

Claire laughs and shakes her head. “She didn’t tell me anything. She didn’t have time for that. She just gave me the necessary literature and told me to ask if I had any follow-up questions.”

“Of course. How efficient.”

“What about your mum? Did she tell you?”

“Of course. She told me when I was eleven.”

“Eleven? Wow, she was sure getting you ready early.”

“Well, she was telling me about expecting my period—which I started exactly one week later. How is that for impeccable timing? Anyway, I think she was only going to tell me about periods, but I asked so many questions, she ended up telling me everything. I guess the med student was coming out already. And Mum was cool. She said, “Do you really want to know?” And when I said yes, she told me anything I asked her. I could tell she was feeling kind of awkward about it, but she still did it.”

Claire smiles. “It’s almost annoying how normal and nice your parents are. Not to mention weird, Mia. It’s kind of weird.”

CHAPTER 14

Claire pulls the towel around her as she steps out of the bathroom. Mia is still sprawled on the bed, reading a book.

Claire shakes her head at the sight of her draped languidly against the white sheets. “Look at you. You’re ridiculous.”

Mia frowns at her. She pulls off her glasses, clearly confused. “What do you mean?”

“Your body.” Claire holds her palms up at her, helpless. “Seriously. It’s ridiculous.”

Mia pulls the sheet over herself and smiles bashfully. “Shush.”

But Claire pulls it back off. “No. It’s hot.”

It’s true. Claire is kind of shocked by it. It’s weird; it’s not as if she didn’t know Mia had a good body. She has always looked so fit and athletic and leggy and good with her clothes on. It should be no surprise then that she looks good with them off. But for some reason, it’s almost a small revelation.

See, Claire has always thought of herself as better dressed than she is naked. It’s not that she has a bad body. She knows she’s attractive, and she knows she has just the right balance of height and suggestive curve. But she also knows there is something better in the promise of her body in the right pair of jeans or a well-fitted dress. More so than when she’s stripped of them. It’s as if her body works better as a suggestion than an actuality.

But Mia is a different story. It’s only naked when she can really see how spectacularly formed she is with those stupidly long legs and that beautiful skin with its even, lightly burnished tone, a little darker after their time at the lake. She looks so vital and alive. And hot, of course. It makes Claire breathless.

“What, you just decided this?”

Claire smiles shyly. “No, of course not. I got kind of…distracted by it just now.”

Mia smiles and holds her hand out to her. Claire immediately complies. She climbs onto the bed, crawls over Mia, and kisses her. “You know, when we were at the lake, when I was trying to figure all this out—with us, when we were all swimming, I could barely look at you,” Claire says.

“Really?”

Claire nods. “I was scared everyone would know if they saw me looking at you.” She blushes and rests her cheek on Mia’s breastbone. “It was so weird.”

Mia laughs and eases an arm around Claire’s neck. “Me too. I felt exactly the same. I wanted to look at you, but I couldn’t. But I think not looking at you actually made it more awkward.”

They dissolve into giggles.

“What idiots,” Mia whispers.

“Well, Robbie figured it out anyway.” Claire thinks of that embarrassing little morning visit to the sleeping porch. “Did you really not tell him anything?”

“I really didn’t. Nothing.”

Claire shakes her head. “I don’t get how he knew and the others didn’t.”

“Well, he is the only one who knew at least one of us was into girls.” Mia grins. “So maybe when he saw how close we were getting, and then when we disappeared that night, he figured it out?”

“See, I think he even knew before that.” She tells Mia about that cryptic comment he made to her that day before they went to the farmers market, when Claire was feeling so weird and fragile about all this tension with Mia. How he said he was ‘figuring’ her out or something. Now, Claire is pretty damn certain that this comment had something to do with her and Mia.

“Possibly.” Mia shrugs. “Robbie’s kind of sensitive to moods and energy around him, if you know what I mean.”

Claire giggles. “Unlike poor, clueless Nina who was jealous that we were best-friend bonding without her. Poor Neens. This news is probably is going to blow her mind a little.”

Mia raises her eyebrows. “You’ll tell her?”

“Of course.”

Mia nods slowly.

Claire frowns. Does Mia really think she wouldn’t tell people about them? She slowly sits up and looks down at her. “You know, just because I’m weird about PDAs and whatever,” Claire shyly takes Mia’s hand, “it doesn’t mean I want to keep this a secret forever or anything. Of course I’ll tell Nina. She’s one of my closest friends.”

Mia nods as she stares at their entwined fingers. “I don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t, really. I guess you seem so private, sometimes. At least that’s what I thought when I met you. You don’t really give much away.”

Claire nods, despite her pang of bitterness at hearing this. The thing is Mia clearly has no idea how much more Claire shared with her than she does with most people in her life. She’s not programmed to do that. Pearsons don’t talk about their feelings. They talk about what they’re going to get done.

So when this kind of talk is called for, she’s never any good at it. And this is part of what has been so revelatory about this thing with Mia, how hard she has worked to find ways to let Mia know how she feels—mostly because Mia’s initial hesitations forced her to. But still, it’s always been easier with Mia.

And part of it was she didn’t feel any kind of pressure to share. It just happened. With Brendan there was always pressure. Her reticence was one of his main complaints. Especially in that first year when she was still so uncomfortable about talking their relationship into being, preferring just to let it be. That was enough for her. “Stop being such a girl,” she used to tell him, hoping to thwart his every complaint of her remoteness or how confused she apparently made him with her unwillingness to acknowledge or discuss them. She didn’t see the need to talk about it. Wasn’t the fact it was happening enough proof of her feelings for him? She didn’t know she was supposed to be saying these things out loud. So, to deal with it, she made out as if he was being overly needy until he let it go.

Even though she deflected them, his comments hurt her. She also felt kind of helpless, too, because she had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to be doing—what it was she was getting so wrong. She knew she was feeling the feelings she was supposed to, but she didn’t know what it was she was supposed to be doing to let him know—beyond what she was already doing.

And Claire didn’t really talk with her friends about her relationship with Brendan, either. Not really. She’s never been the kind of girl to talk endlessly about guys with her girlfriends. But they did at least know he was her boyfriend, and that it was serious. She didn’t hide it. She’s not that private. And she plans to tell her friends about this thing with Mia eventually. She does.

And although Mia is not putting that kind of pressure on her, the mere fact she’s surprised that Claire will tell Nina about them confirms what Claire feared; her apparent emotional reserve was not Brendan–specific. Mia too doubts her willingness to speak her feelings aloud.

And she doesn’t want that one bit, so she tries to articulate her feelings. “I guess I do feel like who I date is none of anyone else’s business. But mostly I think…” She pauses a minute, thinking. “It’s kind of similar to what you were saying that day at the lake, about coming out, about how you dreaded the fact that you had to tell everyone, that it has to be some announcement. And I’m a private person. And awkward as hell.”

Mia laughs.

Claire goes on. “And it’s like, if you tell people, then they get to say and think things about it. For me, it’s not about the fact that you’re a girl that makes it weird—well except for with my mother, because she will probably freak about that.” She smiles. “But I guess I feel the same way about any relationship. I kind of feel like it’s no one’s business but ours. Why does anyone else get to have an opinion? Or why do I have to hear them, anyway? It’s embarrassing. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to tell people, either,” Claire adds hurriedly, squeezing her hand. “Or that it’s anything to do with you. It’s just about me feeling completely awkward about this stuff.” She smiles sheepishly.

Mia stares at her for a minute. Then she pulls her downward. And Claire submits, bringing her face to rest against Mia’s cheek. Mia lets go of her hands and wraps her arms around her. She sweeps her fingers lightly back and forth across Claire’s back.

“So yeah, of course I’m going to tell Nina at some point,” Claire concludes.

Mia giggles. “Even if it’s just to blow her mind.”

“Yeah. Even just to blow her mind.”

Mia continues the lazy strokes of her fingers over Claire’s back. “I get it, what you’re saying. You keep things close to your chest. And that’s fine. That’s how you are. Take your time. As long as I know how you feel.”

Claire pinches her side. “You better know how I feel.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea.”

And without even looking at her, Claire can hear the smile in her voice, which makes her bury her face in Mia’s neck and wrap her arm even tighter around her. “Anyway,” she finally says as she runs her hand up and down Mia’s side. “How did we go from talking about your ridiculous body to all this?”

“I have no idea. But I’m glad we did.”

Claire doesn’t say anything. Instead she sits up, takes Mia’s hand in hers and kisses her fingers. “As much as I hate to see the Mia body covered up, can I take you out to breakfast?”

“Why, yes you can.”

* * *

They lie on the bed, putting off getting ready for the rest of their day.

“Hey?” Mia whispers into her neck.

“Hmm?” Claire takes a hold of her hand.

“What will we do if I don’t get into a course in Melbourne?”

Claire stiffens and opens her eyes.

And there is the question that was going to be asked by one of them some point. She doesn’t say anything for a moment.

Mia fills Claire’s silence. “I mean, what if I’m in Sydney? Or worse, Brisbane?”

Claire holds tighter to the hand. “I don’t know.”

Mia is silent for a minute. “Would we break up?”

Claire takes in a breath. “I don’t want you to go away for school.”

“Neither do I. But it’s not really a choice.”

“I know.” Claire kisses her palm. “I just wanted to say it, that’s all.”

Mia gives her a small smile.

But Claire also says it because she doesn’t want to answer the question. Because she doesn’t want to think about it. She can’t deal with the prospect of them living in different cities. Not now. And she doesn’t know how to explain to Mia that this is because she’s already been through this, and she has seen what separation, even of a much shorter distance, can do to a relationship. And because of that, she’s even more terrified. Terrified of considering it as a prospect and terrified of explaining why she’s terrified. Because then those fears will exist in both their minds.

Right now she’d rather live happily in this limbo of not knowing. And she’d also rather not spend their last hours alone thinking about it.

“I think we should just wait until we know for sure what’s going to happen,” she says.

Mia looks at her for a long moment, the expression on her face telling Claire she might not necessarily agree, but is debating whether to push the point right now.

“Hey.” Claire tucks an arm under Mia’s neck and pulls her around so she rolls over to lie on top of Claire. She kisses the side of Mia’s head. “I just mean at least let’s not talk about it right now, not while we only have this last night alone. I don’t want to think about depressing stuff like that. Not today.”

There is another drawn-out silence. “Okay,” Mia finally mutters into her neck.

CHAPTER 15

Claire runs a brush through her hair and watches Mia sit on the edge of the couch and pick up her phone. She smiles. “Re-joining the real world?”

“It has to happen sometime, I guess.”

“I guess.”

“Actually, I’m messaging my parents to see if they want to have dinner tonight.”

“Aw, did you miss them?” Claire unscrews her mascara and flicks the wand over her eyelashes. She’s working at the centre today and wants to look decent.

Mia smiles. “Ha ha.” She puts the phone on the table and takes a deep breath. “Actually, Dad’s back from staying with Rosa, and I want to tell them tonight.”

Claire stops what she’s doing and turns to her. “Really?”

“Yep. It’s time.”

Claire isn’t sure what to say.

“I need to tell them. I want them to know about me, of course. But also, I want them to know about us.”

Claire nods, even though the thought of Mia’s parents knowing about them makes her feel incredibly weird.

“Because if they know, it won’t be so hard to be together. I mean, we’ve been so lucky to stay here, but what if we didn’t have this time? What would we have done?”

Claire nods again. It’s true. If they hadn’t had this brief little holiday, there’s no telling how frustrated they would be by now.

“Once they know, you and I will be able to hang out and have it be normal and easy. That is,” Mia chews her lip for a moment, “if they’re okay with it.”

“They’ll be okay with it.” Claire is more than half-certain she’s telling a truth.

Mia nods as if she barely heard. In fact, she looks terrified.

Claire stuffs her makeup back in her bag and strides over to Mia. She crouches in front of her and runs her hands up and down her arms. “It’s going to be fine, Mia. It will.”

Mia nods. She attempts a smile, but the look in her eyes doesn’t change. Not one bit.

“Hey, do you…” Claire takes in a deep, steadying breath. She cannot quite believe she’s about to ask this. “Do you want me come with you? I mean, I could…if it would help?”

Mia smiles and shakes her head. “Thank you. You’re amazing, but no. I can do it. I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be.” More than a little relieved, Claire drops her hands onto Mia’s thighs and presses on them gently. “It will be fine. Your parents are amazing. Even if they’re surprised, they’ll be okay about it. I bet.”

Mia nods. She still looks only half-convinced, though.

“Seriously, babe.” Claire stands, pulling Mia with her. She draws her into a firm embrace. “It will be fine. You’ll see.”

Mia buries her face in Claire’s neck and nods. And Claire holds on to her and runs her hand slowly back and forth between Mia’s shoulder blades.

“Thank you. For trying to make me feel better,” Mia says quietly.

Claire pokes her in the side. “Don’t thank me, silly.”

They stand there in the gathering morning light, holding on tight. Claire doesn’t want to relinquish this time together for the uncertainty of the day ahead.

Mia suddenly lifts her head. “Did you just call me babe?”

“I did.” Claire blushes. She hadn’t even noticed. “Sorry.”

“Why?” Mia snickers into her shoulder. “I actually kind of liked it.”

CHAPTER 16

Claire pushes the front door quietly closed behind her and tiptoes to the base of the stairs.

She can hear Moi in the kitchen with her mother and Cam, and she knows she should probably go in there and see everyone. But she doesn’t want to. She already spent the day with Moi at the community centre, so Claire knows she won’t be offended. Claire really cannot bear the thought of fielding her mother’s questions about what she has been doing for the last few days, spoiling it with her nosiness. Claire doesn’t want to answer or avoid her questions. No, she wants to keep these last few days wrapped around her, to hold on to that peaceful, rich little world she and Mia created just a little longer. She needs that feeling still. So she avoids them all and takes shelter in her room.

As she puts her things away and re-acquaints herself with the dimensions of her room, she realises that she feels different after these few days with Mia. And it’s not only that she feels completely confident of what they have now, she also feels more adult, more assured of herself or something. It’s a kind of gravity she has never really felt before. She likes it.

And this is another reason why she doesn’t want to face her mother. There is nothing quite like an encounter with Christine to make Claire regress into feeling like a teenager. She wants to put that off as long as possible, and hold this feeling of calm around her as if it’s a protective shield.

Mia is probably out with her parents now, talking to them finally. She hopes it’s going okay, and that Mia’s parents are as fine as Claire kept assuring her they would be. It would be awful if they weren’t.

Claire really can’t imagine any negative response from John and Tasya, though. While she was in their home, she never once felt any pressure or expectation on Mia; certainly no more than what Mia places on herself, anyway. Being a parent seems to mean something different to Mia’s parents than it does to Claire’s mother. Claire knows her own mother will try to exert her maternal will on Claire as long as she’s alive. But all Claire could ever feel from John and Tasya was a sense of quiet pride. Claire liked the way they just seemed to enjoy Mia, to take an easy pleasure in her presence. Their love seems to exist without the burden of expectation. Whatever happens, however taken aback they might be by Mia’s announcement tonight, Claire feels almost certain she won’t regret telling them.

And Claire wonders what it will be like for her and Mia once they know. Mia seems to think everything will be perfectly normal then. But Claire isn’t so sure she’s going to feel the same way. Parents make her nervous enough as it is. And for some reason, even though she knows Mia’s parents and likes them so much, the thought of seeing them and having them know makes her paralysingly shy. She has spent so much time in her life hyper-aware of the approval or disapproval of other people’s parents. Later, as she lies on her bed and stares at the branches of the tree outside her bedroom window, she feels her phone vibrate on the mattress next to her. She snatches up it, hoping it’s Mia. It is.

“Hey,” Claire says.

“Is it ridiculously sappy to tell you I miss you already?”

Claire smiles and leans back against the pillows. “Yes, Mia, it’s totally sappy.”

“Okay then. I won’t.”

“Nah, say it.”

Mia laughs. “Okay. I miss you already.”

“Sap.”

Mia laughs again.

“Anyway, how did it go?”

Mia takes a few moments to answer. “It went fine. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“No, it was fine. I think I was so obviously nervous by the time we got to dinner, when I said I wanted to tell them something, I think they were expecting something really bad. That probably didn’t help.” She half-laughs. “Or maybe it did.”

Claire smiles. She can imagine, given how freaked out Mia looked this morning, that she was downright petrified by the time dinner rolled around. “Poor things. How did they react when you did tell them?”

“They were pretty cool. Actually, Dad was great. Mum was kind of quiet about it, though.”

“Really? In a bad way?”

“No, I don’t know; she was just quiet. She let Dad do the talking.” Mia trails off for a minute. “And I kept wishing she would say something, but…”

Claire waits, but Mia doesn’t continue. She sits up. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” Mia finally mumbles. She sniffs.

“Hey, are you crying?” Claire clutches the phone, wishing they were in the same room.

“No. Sort of. Maybe.”

Claire leans forward, as if it will bring her closer to her. “Hey, Mee, it’s okay.”

Mia sniffs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, stupid. Don’t be sorry with me.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sure your mum’s just getting used to the idea. I mean, it’s got to be kind of big news for them.”

“I know. I don’t think I’m crying because of that. I do think she was kind of taking it all in. And when we got home, she said she loves me and she wants me to be happy.”

“See?”

She hears Mia take a slow, steadying breath. “I think I’m just crying because I’m relieved it’s over and that they know. But it was such a weird feeling, Claire, having to sit them down and tell them something like that.”

“How did you do it? I mean, what did you say?”

“I told them about you, actually.”

Claire stops breathing for a second.

“It just seemed easier to tell them I was seeing someone—who I was seeing—than randomly announcing I’m gay. So I told them about us.”

Claire blushes. “What did they say?”

“I think they were kind of surprised, of course. But I think maybe it made it easier for them to take it in…that it was you and not some total stranger, you know?”

“Maybe.” Claire wonders again how easy it’s going to be to get used to the idea that Mia’s parents know she and Mia are dating and are apparently fine about it. If Claire had dropped that bomb over dinner, they’d still be trying to put the fires out.

“Oh and I know what I wanted to remember to tell you.” A lighter note reappears in Mia’s voice. “You know what was kind of funny?”

“What?”

“The only time Mum really talked was when she was kind of asking these questions about us and timing. It took me a while, but I realised she was edging around trying to find out if we were together back when you stayed here.” She giggles.

Claire smiles, but she can feel herself blush even harder. “Oh.”

“Of course, when I realised that’s what she was getting at, I let her know we weren’t so she didn’t think we were hiding in the bedroom making out behind their backs all that time.”

Claire laughs. “I’m sure that made her feel much better.”

“I think it actually did. I think she’d be more upset about me sneaking around or lying than anything I could ever confess I was doing to her face, if you know what I mean?”

“I do. Weirdly. And so did you tell them you’re gay?”

“Yeah, well Dad kind of asked after I told them about you.”

“What did they say?”

“Nothing much, really. After I’d told them about us, I guess it wasn’t that surprising. Dad asked a few questions about if my friends knew and if I thought everyone was going to be supportive.” She sighs. “I love my dad. I really do.”

“I love your dad, too, right now. For being so cool about it. Your mum, too,” Claire adds. “I’m really glad it went okay.”

“Me too.” Mia sighs. “So glad.”

Claire smiles into the phone. “I wish you were here.”

Mia laughs. “At your house? I take it your mother isn’t home then?”

“Actually, she is. But I’ve managed to avoid her so far tonight.”

“Do you think you’ll tell your parents? About us, I mean?”

“I don’t know, Mia. I don’t think it’s worth the drama. Why bother telling them something they’ll probably freak out over?”

“Mm,” is all Mia says to this. “Hey, I forgot to ask, how was your first day at the centre?”

“It was good…I think. I mostly worked with Moi in the office. She wants to get this grant application done while she’s over here, so I didn’t really hang out with the kids. I might get to tomorrow. Someone is coming to teach them how to make kites.”

“It sounds great.”

“It is. And that’s why Moi wants help on this grant proposal, because they need funding if they want to run a permanent after-school program through the year.”

A knock on the door makes Claire jump. “Hang on a sec.” She holds the phone away from her ear. “Yeah?” she calls warily.

Cam’s head pops in. “Mother requests to know, considering you were too rude to come down to dinner—as she put it, not me—if you’ll deign to join us for dessert?”

She sighs. Damn, they know she’s here.

Cam grins at her, as if he knows exactly what her answer wants to be. “Moi’s here. So, you know, it’s less painful.”

She frowns. “Yeah okay, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Five minutes, she said.” He slams the door shut behind him.

She fights the urge to throw something at the back of the door. “Hey,” she says regretfully into the phone. “I have to go.”

“That’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” Claire suddenly feels whiny. “I don’t want to eat dessert with my mother when I could be talking to you. Or better, seeing you.”

Mia laughs. “Don’t be like that. Go and spend some quality time with your mother. It will make next time we hang out even more amazing by comparison.”

“True. And Mia?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad your parents were okay.”

“Me too.”

Claire traces a pattern on the bedspread with her finger. “And Mia?”

“Yes, Claire?”

“This week has been amazing.”

There is a fulsome silence.

“It has,” Mia finally whispers. “It really has. I had the most incredible time with you.”

Claire smiles. “Me too. I better go. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay, bye.”

Mia hangs up, and Claire sits there for a minute, smiling, still clinging to that feeling of these amazing few days. She misses it already. Then she shakes her head, takes a deep steadying breath, climbs off the bed, and prepares to face the rest of the world.

By which she means her mother.

CHAPTER 17

Claire pulls the car door behind her, ready for the easy cruise upstream against the traffic. But before she can even get the key in the ignition, her phone rings.

“Are you missing me already?” she taunts as soon as she picks up. They only spoke a few hours ago.

Mia doesn’t even say hello, though. “I got into the course in Sydney.”

Claire blinks into the sunlight that beams through the windshield.

“I just got home and found the letter.”

“Oh.” This is the only utterance Claire can conjure around the sudden noise in her eardrums and the low thrum in her chest. Mia can’t leave now.

“It doesn’t mean I didn’t get into Melbourne. It just means I got into Sydney.”

Claire pulls at a loose thread at the bottom of her top. “Okay.”

“Anyway, I thought you might want to know.” Mia’s voice is apprehensive, clearly rendered uncertain by Claire’s minimal response.

But Claire has no idea how to respond. Mostly because she would just like to pretend this conversation isn’t happening. Then maybe she could go back to the comparatively comforting tedium of driving to work, instead of knowing this news and feeling this more tangible dread.

But she also knows she needs to say something because Mia is probably sitting on the other end of the line doing that lip-chewing, creased-eyebrow thing she does when she’s worried. And Claire knows it’s her silence that is making Mia do that.

She rests her head against the seat and watches a group of boys who must not be more than ten try to run each other off the road with their bikes near the end of her driveway.

“So now we wait until you hear from Melbourne, I guess,” she finally says.

“I guess.”

CHAPTER 18

Moi waves a hand toward the door. “Hey hon, you’ve done enough typing for one summer’s day. I bid you to leave this office right now.”

Claire stretches her arms in the air. It’s true. She has been huddled over this computer all morning, at work on the grant proposal. Her job today is to research other successful programs similar to the one they want to start here. It’s taken her hours to find a handful of sites that provide enough information for her to use. But she doesn’t mind. She’s actually finding this thing interesting.

“Are you sure?” She opens her arms again as the wheezy old fan rotates briefly in her direction, pushing the warm air around the cluttered little office.

“Yep. I mean it.” Moi nods, her gaze already returned to her screen. “Go and see what the kids are doing. I bet Hani wouldn’t mind a break, either.”

“Okay.” Claire drains the last of her drink and leaves Moi in the office.

No one is around. The curtains of the stuffy hall are all pulled closed to keep out the day’s heat. Most of the kids are at the local pool with the rest of the staff, spending this sweltering day in the smartest way possible.

Outside though, she can hear the rhythmic thudding of a ball hitting something. She smiles to herself. Danny must be out there. Wherever there is a sound of a ball bouncing, there is Danny, the nine-year-old basketball fiend. The kid never even puts his ball down for meals. Just puts it in his lap and eats over it.

The sun’s glare assaults her the moment she steps outside. She pauses on the top step and looks around the small yard, separated from the grounds of the apartment blocks by a low wire fence.

Hani sits under a tree in the small patch of grass. Two of the girls sit with her, busy at their latest bracelet craze. They deftly weave together pieces of colourful thread and chat, as Hani hunches over the daily register, making the most of the peace.

Claire saunters over to them. “Hey.”

“Claire.” Hani smiles, snaps the book shut, and climbs to her feet. “I forgot you were here. I could have used you before.”

“I was in the office, working on the grant with Moi,” she says nervously. Claire would never admit it, but she’s still slightly intimidated by Hani, and she doesn’t want to be thought of as slacking. “Sorry if I wasn’t helping.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that.” Hani moves away from the girls to the shade of another tree, clearly expecting Claire to follow. She does.

Hani folds her skinny arms over her chest and gives Claire a conspiratorial smile. “It’s great you’re working on the grant. I just meant I could have used you this morning because we had the mother of all meltdowns when a certain someone…” she turns her head slightly and gives the two girls under the tree an amused sideways glance and then turns back to Claire, “found out she’d got here too late to go to the pool with the others.”

“Madi?” Claire guesses. She’s only been here a couple of weeks and has already seen Madi cry at least three times. The kid is such a softie. She even cried when they found a dead bird near the garbage cans last week. The other kids seemed to take it in their stride, or as a curiosity, but Madi wept.

“You’d think so, right?” Hani grins. “Nope. It was Katie.”

“Katie?” Claire raises her eyebrows. She looks at the two girls. They look as different as could be. Madi is all leg and angles, while Katie is small and squat and fierce. Claire has already learned what a tough little nut Katie can be. Super competitive, she has to be stopped from terrorising any of the younger kids she deems to have under-performed during games and activities. At eleven, she already seems to share some values with Claire’s old high school phys-ed teacher, that fear and humiliation are the greatest forms of motivation. And like Claire’s old teacher, she’s slightly terrifying. Claire wouldn’t have pictured her crying over anything much at all.

“Yep.” Hani grins. “Someone’s grandmother bought her new bathers for her birthday, and she wanted to show them off. Badly.”

Claire tips back her head and laughs. She’d forgotten that feeling when you were kid, when you had brand new clothes and wanted to parade them in front of the world.

“Cried for nearly half an hour. I thought it was going to go on all day. If I’d known you were here, I could have got you out here to stay with the kids for a bit, and walked her there. Just to shut her up at least.”

Claire smiles. She’s learning every day that Hani really is softer than her world-weary, no-nonsense persona makes her appear. She always tells the kids that if they come too late in the morning and everyone has gone for the activity, then it’s too bad, and that they will miss out. But really, Claire knows now she’ll always help them if she can.

Claire looks over at Katie. There is no trace of this morning’s tears now. “How did you get her to chill?”

Hani rolls her eyes. “I didn’t. Just left her to it. She only stopped when Madi turned up late and she had someone to hang out with this afternoon.”

“Of course.” Claire smiles as she looks over at the inseparable pair, working in unison. It’s funny, but when she agreed to do this job, she hadn’t really thought about whether or not she’d like the kids. She’s never really spent that much time around them. And she had no idea they’d be so funny. She’s lost count of the amount of times one or more of them have made her laugh or crack a smile against her best judgement.

Hani stretches her long arms and yawns. “Right, are you working with us now?”

Claire nods.

“Great, I’m going to make some phone calls.”

Claire watches her stride away and then looks around the small yard. She wonders what she should do now. There’s only a handful of kids left.

Danny, of course, is busy throwing his ball compulsively against the brick wall. He pauses every now and then to look longingly at the courts on the other side of the grounds where older kids from the apartment blocks are playing. He hardly ever wants to do the activities, so he purposefully turns up late. He told Claire last week that when he’s twelve his mum is going to let him off the holiday program, and then he can go play basketball all day at the local park. Until then, he told her, he’s biding his time here. She tried not to laugh when he said that as if it was some sort of prison sentence he’s suffering.

Over on the concrete area, Paul, who usually works in the kitchen with his wife, is fixing a bunch of chairs. They’re beaten-up versions of the small, uncomfortable wood and steel things Claire remembers from primary school. He tightens screws and sands them while a couple of the older kids paint them bright colours.

Claire wanders over. “Do you need a hand?” She kind of hopes the answer is no. It’s way too hot to be painting.

Denyse, one of the oldest girls, stands and puts one hand on her hip while the other holds a brush aloft. Bright red paint drips onto the asphalt. “Well we would say yes, but we’ve only got three paint brushes.” She points hers at Paul. “Dummy over here forgot to get more.”

Paul swipes sweat from his face and squints at Denyse. “Thanks, Nyse. Thanks so much for your support.”

Denyse feigns a gracious you’re-welcome smile and goes right back to her work.

Paul turns to Claire, grinning. “I was so impressed with myself for scoring the free paint from the local paint store, I forgot to beg for some brushes and stuff.”

Claire smiles. Then she remembers Hani’s constant reminders to make sure the kids stay hydrated. “Hey, have you guys drunk some water lately?” She feels like a schoolteacher as she says it, though.

Denyse shrugs and the other two boys don’t even seem to hear. They’re too busy engaged in a surreptitious little war with their paintbrushes.

Claire shakes her head at them. “You do know how hard that’s going to be to get off?” She feels even more like a schoolteacher now. “That kind of paint doesn’t wash out with water, you know.”

Paul looks up and nods. “She’s right. Keep that up, and you’ll have to shower in turpentine to get it all off. And you’ll stink for a week. Not to mention be highly flammable.”

One boy holds a hand up to deflect another strike. “Stop it, then. My dad’ll kill me if I wreck my clothes.”

Claire heads back into the hall. In the kitchen she pulls a big plastic jug of cold water from one of the shuddery old fridges and a pile of plastic cups from the shelves. As she walks back through the hall with them, she hears a voice from the art supplies corner.

“Miss, can you help me?”

She spies a boy sitting at one of the large, long tables with a pen in his hand.

“Don’t call me miss,” she says automatically, mimicking Hani’s constant war cry. Hani always tells the kids it makes her feel old. “My name is Claire,” she tells him. “And I’ll be right back.”

She goes outside and dumps the jug and the cups on a bench next to Paul and the kids. “Drink water!” she says loudly in an attempt at stern. She casts an eye toward Madi and Katie under their tree before she heads back to the hall. They’re still busy at work and deep in talk, looking like little old ladies in a knitting circle of two.

She heads for the corner where she spotted the boy. He’s hunkered down over a large notepad, feverishly erasing something from the page. He can only be about ten years old. Short and a little chubby, he has round cheeks and spiky black hair that stands at attention all over his head. He looks at her, his face a study in serious. “Miss, what’s your name again?”

She rolls her eyes. “Claire.” She picks up a couple of pencils lying on the floor and throws them into one of the art supplies drawers. “What’s yours?”

“Loc.” He doesn’t look up from his paper as he swipes away the crumbs of eraser from a page covered in small, meticulous handwriting.

“Why aren’t you at swimming?”

He shrugs. “I get water up my nose.”

She laughs “Fair enough. What do you need, Loc?”

“Help with spelling.”

“Okay. What do you want to spell?”

“Lots of words.” He frowns at the page in front of him disapprovingly.

She smiles to herself. This kid is way too serious for holiday time. “Okay, fire away.”

“Catapult.”

Claire wonders fleetingly what he’s writing about. Then she spells it out for him. He listens carefully, an ear turned towards her, pencil at the ready.

When she’s done, he immediately puts the pencil to paper, and then pauses, as if he isn’t quite certain.

“Are you sure?” he asks, dead serious, as if his whole future rides on him getting this word right.

“I’m sure.” She wants to laugh, but it’s probably not a good idea with this solemn kid who is looking at her as if he’d like her to produce certification of her spelling abilities.

She steps over to look at the page, but he leans over it and places a protective arm around the writing. She smiles again and takes a step back. Well, it’s clearly top-secret kid business.

She tries a different tack. She pulls a piece of scrap paper and a pen from the shelf prints the word. “Here.” She holds it out. “That is definitely how you spell it, I swear. I’m really good at spelling. I was the best in my class when I was in grade five.”

It’s not really true. Christian Steiner was the best speller. But Claire was second best, a fact that always bugged the hell out of her primary school self. But Loc doesn’t need to know that. Besides, his doubting little face tells her she really needs to sell herself a little right now.

“Thank you.” He says it politely, automatically, as if manners have been drilled into him. He takes the piece of paper and begins to copy it down.

She smiles at the way his little chipmunk face scrunches even more when he writes. “Anything else?”

“Received?”

She holds out her hand for the paper, prints the word and passes back to him. Once again he takes it, look at the word, and glances back at her suspiciously. Before he can even question her, though, she tries to assure him.

“It’s right, trust me. Didn’t your teacher tell you the i-before-e rule?”

He shakes his head, his arm still curled protectively around his page. “What’s that?”

“That it’s i before e, except after c.”

“I never heard that.” He shakes his head, his tone still dubious. “Really?”

She laughs. “Really.”

He looks at her for a second, his pencil hovering over his page.

“Looks as though you’re going to have to trust me on this one, aren’t you?” She gestures around the empty hall. “There’s no one else around to ask, is there?”

He looks around as if to check that fact, and then gives her a slightly more trusting look. He pulls in a long breath as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders and scrutinises the page in front of him. “So I’ve spelled achieved wrong too, then.” He sighs and picks up his eraser.

“Nope, that’s spelled the other way. It’s only when it comes straight after c,” she explains.

He sighs again, loudly this time. “Then it should say that. It should say i before e, except when it’s straight after c.”

“I didn’t invent the saying.” She grins. “But you do have a point.”

“So what are you writing anyway?” She’s curious about what this exacting little document could actually be. Especially out of school time, too.

“A letter,” he mumbles. His tongue lodges between his teeth as he carefully erases and rewrites a word.

“Who to?”

“My brother. He’s in Bacchus Marsh. I can spell that.” He puffs his chest a little.

“Lucky you. I can never remember how to.”

“I thought you were the best speller in your grade?”

Claire shakes her head. There is no getting past this one. “That was a long time ago. And even the most perfect people, such as myself, can’t be perfect all the time.”

That actually makes him smile.

“Do you write to your brother a lot?”

“I write to him every week.”

“Wow, does he write back?”

“Sometimes.” He leans back and pulls a piece of folded paper from his pocket. He hands it to her gravely as if bestowing a great favour.

She takes it reverently as she stifles yet another smile. She unfolds the small piece of paper. It’s written in an undecipherable script, only the date recognisable. “What language is this?”

“Vietnamese”

“You can read it?”

He shakes his head. “My grandma reads it to me. I can talk it and hear it, but I can’t read it. Too hard.”

Claire stares at the complex scrawl. She wishes she could write characters like that. Then she notices the date is from three months ago. “Is this the last letter you got?”

He nods.

Claire feels an instant rush of pity for the kid. He writes his perfect weekly letters only to wait months for an answer.

“What’s he doing in Bacchus Marsh?”

“Dunno,” he replies as she hears the sound of loud voices outside. “Working, Lanh says.”

Before Claire can ask who Lanh is, Hani appears from the office. She claps her hands as she strides to the door. “The troops have returned.”

Loc calls out to her urgently. “Hani, how do you spell received?”

Claire gives him a look and shakes her head. He still doesn’t believe her.

“R-e-c-e-i-v-e-d. Didn’t your teachers tell you the i-before-e rule?” Hani disappears down the steps.

Claire turns to him, victorious. The little pedant is going to have to take her word for it now.

Before she can tease him for his lack of trust in her mad spelling skills, a girl barrels over to the table and stands over him. Her wet hair hangs in tangles around her face and her hands are planted on her hips. Claire doesn’t recognise her, but suspects she’s his sister. The girl glances at Claire suspiciously and then thumps her fist on the table next to Loc’s hand. As soon as Loc looks up, she begins to gesticulate wildly at him.

It takes Claire a moment to realise she’s using sign language. Claire wonders how the centre manages with a deaf kid here on the program and if anyone knows it.

At least she wonders it for half a minute, because Loc stares at the girl dully as she signs and then shrugs. Then he looks back at his page and mutters something back in Vietnamese at her. Claire frowns. Well, the girl is clearly not deaf. Maybe she can’t speak?

It doesn’t stop the girl from thumping on the table again and then louder again when he ignores her. Reluctantly Loc looks up, clearly resigned to whatever it is she’s communicating.

The girl begins to sign furiously again.

Loc sighs loudly and then looks at Claire. “How do you spell complicated?”

Claire spells it out for him while the girl stands there and glares, hands on hips. “Is this your sister?” she asks.

He nods.

“What’s her name?”

“It’s Vien,” the little girl snaps. “You can ask me, you know.”

“Yeah, she can talk,” Loc mutters. “She just signs to be annoying.”

Claire smiles.

“Shut up, Loc,” Vien tells him, and then tacks on a couple of words in Vietnamese. “And next time you have to come swimming instead of sitting around writing your stupid letters. Lanh says you’re getting too fat.” She turns on her heels and marches to join the other kids as they traipse in the door, damp and smiling and on the hunt for food.

Loc sighs and returns to his letter. He whispers, just loud enough for Claire to hear him. “She’s so bossy. I already have a grandmother and a big sister without her bossing me as well.”

Claire grins. “Yeah, she kind of sounds like my mum. But don’t tell her I said that.”

He shakes his head and gives her a small conspiratorial smile. Then he hunches back over his letter and picks up his pencil.

CHAPTER 19

Claire is bored. Capital B bored. It’s the deadest of dead nights at the bar. And Nina called in sick. She’s at home with a stomach bug. A real one, too, not an I’m-too-hungover-to-come-in-for-one-night-so-I’m-faking-it bug. And that’s left Claire on her lonesome. Sometimes she pretends to clean, but mostly she just stands and stares, arms folded over her chest, and dreams into the void.

And that’s what she’s doing at nine-thirty, exactly two-and-a-half hours before closing time, when the door swings open, and she hears excited voices coming through the door. She loads her least welcoming look and is about to aim and take fire when she realises she recognises them.

Mia, Robbie and Eli, walk toward her, all grins and waves. Mia smiles affectionately at her as she rests her forearms on the bar. “Hi.”

Claire gives her a small smile. “Hey.” She still feels a bit bashful with Mia in front of Robbie. He’s so damn full of himself for being the only one who knows about them.

But Robbie’s not even paying attention. He comes around to the entrance of the bar and holds his arms out. “Come here. Give me some love.”

Claire strolls over, faking reluctance.

“Don’t be like that, grumpy!” He grabs her into a bear hug and pulls her around in a half-circle. “I haven’t seen you for ages. Where have you been?”

“She’s been looking after Melbourne’s needy children, remember?” Eli gives Claire a warm smile. She smiles back. She always forgets how much she likes Eli until she sees him.

“Fuck that!” Robbie frees her from his embrace. “I’m Melbourne’s needy children.”

Claire laughs. “Yeah, but you’re a different kind of needy, Robbie.” She squeezes his hands and drops them. “Beer?”

“Beer,” Robbie echoes.

Claire pours them each a pint and lines them up along the bar. “So what are you guys doing here?”

Eli sips his beer. “A friend of Nan’s is doing some performance thing at a bar near here.”

Robbie checks his phone. “In half an hour.”

“So we thought we’d come and say hi first,” Mia adds.

“You mean you thought you’d come here and tease me with the fact you’re all going out and having fun while I’m stuck in here with this scintillating company?” Claire waves a hand at the room.

“Oh poor Claire,” Robbie teases.

Mia reaches into her pocket and pulls out a bag of M&Ms. She hands them to Claire with a consoling grin.

Slightly mollified, Claire takes them without a word and immediately tears the packet open.

Robbie turns to Mia, a look of mock shock on his face. “I love it. You already know how to tame the beast!”

Mia gives him a knowing smile. Then, as she turns to Claire, it switches to apologetic as she registers the death stare she’s currently receiving from the other side of the bar. Claire pours a small handful and throws it straight into her mouth, revelling in the chocolate-y goodness. Robbie holds his hand out, but Claire clasps the small bag closer to her chest for moment, chews mechanically, and ignores him. And he keeps his hand out.

Eventually she caves and hands the packet to him.

He pours some into his palm and turns on Eli. “How come you never bring me treats at work?”

Eli shrugs, busy with his phone. “Because you’re a brat.”

“So? So is Claire, and Mia brings her treats.”

Claire laughs and then suddenly stops. She narrows her eyes questioningly at Mia.

Mia smiles tentatively at her. “I told Robbie he could tell Eli. I hope that’s okay?”

Claire shrugs, but of course the inevitable blush washes over her cheeks.

Robbie thrusts the bag at Claire. “And now that he knows, we can double date.” He claps his hands gleefully. “It will be just like the fifties!”

“Or we can not,” Claire counters.

Eli laughs and takes his beer. “Just ignore him.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” Claire smiles at him, glad that Eli doesn’t seem to be making a big deal of the news. Another reason for Claire to like him more than she already does.

Robbie slouches in his chair and pouts. “Hey, don’t be mean. I was a dear, kind, good-enough friend to lend you girls my flat, remember? So you could get up to your secret Sapphic fun in my absence.”

Mia elbows him in the side. Hard.

“Ow!”

Claire grins sardonically and pours herself another handful of M&Ms. That’s her girl.

He wags a finger in Mia’s face. “And for that, I never will again. Besides, Patty was traumatised after two days with Claire.”

“Traumatised?” Claire scoffs. “Patty couldn’t muster enough energy to be traumatised.”

She stalks away to do her job for a minute. By the time she serves a customer and returns to their end of the bar, Robbie is checking his phone again. He slaps his hand on the bar and grabs his pint. “We better go, guys. It starts in ten minutes.” He drains what is left of his beer.

Eli does the same and then waves at Claire. “Good to see you, Claire. I wish you could come with us.”

Claire frowns. “Me too.”

“Poor Claire,” Robbie says, serious this time. “What if we staged your kidnap?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Bribed a couple of these folk with beer to be witnesses?”

“Thanks, you’re sweet, but I think I’ll stay here and earn me some money.”

Robbie grins, leans over the bar, and kisses her cheek. He heads for the door with Eli.

Mia lingers a moment. She surreptitiously squeezes the end of Claire’s finger and gives her a doleful look. “Bye. I really wish you could come with us. What time do you finish?”

“About twelve-thirty. And then I have to be at the centre at eight tomorrow morning.”

Mia sighs. Claire nods in agreement. That’s what it’s like for them these days. And even if she didn’t have to be at the centre, Mia would inevitably be doing an early morning shift at the café. So much for summer holidays.

Mia presses on her finger again. “I’ll see you soon?”

Claire nods. As if she has to ask. “Bye,” she says, doing her best not to be bitter as Mia gives her a small sad wave and heads for the door.

CHAPTER 20

Claire spots her straight away from the other side of the park. That’s how tuned in she is to her presence these days. Blue is there, too. He and another dog, a wiry brown mutt, lope in lazy circles together on the grass, sniffing and head butting and doing their dog thing.

Slowly, she saunters across the wide swath of grass peppered with people moored to the shadows of the trees. It’s yet another stinking hot Melbourne day.

Lying stretched on her front under a low-slung oak, Mia doesn’t see her coming. Doesn’t even look up from her book. In fact, she doesn’t even notice her until Claire is standing right in front of her.

She squints at Claire, drops her book, and checks her watch. “You’re early.” She sounds pretty happy about it, though.

“Yeah, well,” Claire grumbles, hot and irritated. She kicks off her boots and pulls off her socks. “Got to make the most of this forty-five minutes we’ve managed to find to hang out.”

“Ssh.” Mia grabs Claire’s wrist and pulls until she sits on the grass beside her. “It’s something at least.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Claire stretches her legs on the cool green grass and leans back on her hands. She can already feel her irritation at the heat fading as she takes in the welcome sight of Mia.

“Hi.” Mia gives her that lazy, only-for-her smile she always gives when they first see each other.

“Hi.” Claire smiles, unable to maintain her sulk in the face of Mia’s bright mood.

Mia tugs at the bottom of her tank. “How was your day?”

Claire ignores the question and narrows her eyes. “How do you manage to always be so cheerful without being annoying?”

“I don’t know. It’s a rare gift, I guess.”

Claire runs her hands through the grass. It’s the good kind—the soft, fluffy grass that makes you want to lie in it and absorb its cool greenness. She moves them back and forth, feeling the narrow blades sliding between her fingers.

Blue trots over and greets Claire with a few attempted face licks. She ducks and weaves until, welcome done, he ambles away and flops sideways on the grass, panting.

“I still haven’t heard from Melbourne,” Mia says quietly.

Claire keeps her gaze fixed on the grass. This again. She doesn’t answer for a minute, not sure she wants to enter this conversational territory. But then she can’t help herself. “Did you hear from anywhere else? Queensland?”

“Nothing since the Sydney letter.” Mia presses a finger into Claire’s knee. “I would have told you straight away if I had.”

“Stupid Sydney.” Claire twists a small clump of the grass between two of her fingers, turning and turning until the blades starts to snap and break away. She brushes the grass from her hands and does it again.

“If I do go, I’d come back here for my holidays, you know. And the long weekends too, probably.”

Claire shrugs. That doesn’t amount to much when she thinks of how many weeks there are between the breaks. And Sydney is not like where Brendan is, where you could make the drive for the weekend any time. She’d have to fly to see Mia. And she’d have to spend all her money on plane tickets, just to see her for a couple of days at a time.

“And maybe you’d come and see me sometimes?” Mia adds, sounding hopeful.

Claire sighs loudly, unwilling to go back through all the obstacles she just ran through in her head out loud. “Why are we even talking about this again?” She flops over onto her back on the grass, covering her face with her arm. “It’s pointless.”

“Because I might be moving to Sydney,” Mia says simply.

“And you still might be getting into Melbourne.”

“I know, but I might not, too. You know, only twelve people from my school made it into the course last—”

“I know, Mia.” Claire lifts her arm, fires her a look, and then drops it over her face again. “I have heard you spout that particular statistic before you know.”

Mia grabs a hold of her wrist and gently shakes it. “Hey, why are you being so angry?”

Claire takes in a deep breath. She wishes they could know already, so they wouldn’t have to talk about it. She exhales loudly. “I just don’t want to think about it. And you keep bringing it up.”

“Well I’m thinking about it. A lot.” Mia sounds a little angry herself.

“Well I don’t want to think about it.”

Mia doesn’t respond. Claire lays there, chews at her lip, and blinks at the fragments of impossibly blue sky she can see from under her arm. She knows she should say something to make up for her brittleness, but she doesn’t know what to say that won’t keep bringing them back to this same conversation, this same disquieting uncertainty.

Mia finally speaks. “I guess I’m worried. I’m scared of maybe having to move cities. Worried about what will happen to us. And you not talking about it makes me even more nervous.”

She says it in such a frank, sad way that Claire immediately feels a stab of guilt. It’s not Mia’s fault this is happening. She sits up slowly and takes in Mia’s tense, sad face.

Then she sighs and shakes her head.

Claire wasn’t ready for it. Not one bit. She wasn’t ready for any of it. Wasn’t ready for how her whole mood could depend on seeing her or not, on the reading of some silly, sweet, message in the morning, or receiving a call before bed. Or even on a look passing fleetingly over her face. And she wasn’t ready for how Mia looking like this right now would make her feel. Claire has only ever been worried about how she feels. But right now, Mia’s expression and her quiet reaction to Claire’s anger makes Claire’s guilt complete. And suddenly, all she wants to do is make it better.

She scoots over on the grass and wraps her arms around Mia’s neck, feeling like a giant jerk.

Mia clutches the back of her shirt, and the fierceness of her grip makes Claire feel even worse.

“I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch,” she mumbles.

Mia doesn’t say anything.

“It’s not like I’m not worried about it either. I am,” Claire insists. “But I can’t deal with imagining the worst-case scenario, planning what might happen when it might not even happen, that’s all. It feels too bad. Too scary.”

Mia nods again. “Okay.” She sits up. “I get that.” She’s frowning, though.

Still feeling contrite, Claire grabs her hand so Mia looks at her. “Hey, whatever happens, we’ll figure it out, though.” She smooths her thumb back and forth over the back of Mia’s hand. “We’ll have to. And really, I’m just being a brat because I really, really don’t want you to go.” She smiles apologetically.

Mia gives her a wan smile and then a short, resolute nod. “Okay. Then let’s talk about something else. How was the centre this week?”

They lie in the grass facing each other, and Claire tells her about the centre, and about Loc, the funny little perfectionist boy and his Very Important Letter. Mia laughs at his doubts about her spelling abilities and at Claire’s description of his feisty, cryptic older sister, Vien. And when she’s done, they lie there and stare indulgently at each other, that tense charge between them gone back into hiding.

“You know what?” Mia rests her head on her hand and smiles at Claire. This time it’s one of her sassy Mia smiles.

Claire eases a blade of grass from the ground and tickles the back of Mia’s hand with it. “What?”

Mia whips her hand out of reach of the teasing grass blade. “Sometimes I feel like all I want to do is talk to you, all of the time, forever, about everything.”

Claire grins. “I don’t know, Mia, I might run out of fabulously witty and intelligent things to say eventually.”

Mia ignores her. “Other times when I’m with you, I just want to sit and stare at you. Because you’re so lovely, I want to take you in. Then other times…” She pauses, biting her lip.

“Mm?” Claire looks at her suspiciously, unsure whether to be flattered or nervous yet. “Then what?”

Mia gives her a coquettish grin. “The rest of the time I feel this compelling need to remove all of your clothes. And that feeling may have just kind of come over me.”

Claire laughs but feels that instant, electric awareness she gets when Mia is like this.

“And it’s most inconvenient to be feeling that right now because we’re in a very public space.”

“Very.”

Mia pouts, but before she can say anything else, Claire quickly rolls over and pulls herself over her. She pushes Mia against the ground and kisses her. She can feel Mia’s surprise in the rapid intake of breath and the small sound she makes as Claire presses herself right onto her and deepens the kiss. It only takes a second before Mia catches up, though, and grabs at the back of her tank and kisses her right back. She eases her hands down her back and slides them into Claire’s back pockets.

When they finally come up for air, Mia laughs and pinches Claire’s waist. “Oh my God what is this? Is this Claire Pearson doing PDA level eight?”

“I guess.” Claire lifts her head and looks around the nearby section of park. There are a few people close enough to take them in, but they’re far too busy with their own park time to pay any attention to Claire and Mia. “I have to, anyway.” She drops her head and nips gently at Mia’s earlobe. “This might be the only chance I get until next week. Got to make the most of it, don’t I?” She bites down a little harder. “So shut up and make out with me, Mia.”

Mia doesn’t even answer, just does what she’s told, easing her fingers under Claire’s top and scraping her fingers along her lower back. It makes Claire wish they were somewhere, anywhere, near a bed.

Eventually, Claire pulls away and checks her watch. “I have to leave for work in five minutes.” She rolls off Mia and sighs loudly. “Story of our lives.”

Mia sighs too. “Damn.”

Claire turns over to her back. “So what are you going to do tonight?”

“I’ve got a Skype date with Kristen. She’s coming home in a few weeks for a visit. And then I’m going to a party with Pete. Some people from uni.”

Claire nods. She feels a small stab of what is becoming a familiar envy at Mia’s plans. She’s always doing something—and usually with the others—while Claire is nearly always at work.

Claire is starting to wish she had a day job so she could go out with them more. Summer wasn’t supposed to be like this. But if she stopped working nights, she’d have to give up the community centre, which she’s starting to like. A lot.

“I wish you could hang out with us more,” Mia tells her, as if she knows what she’s thinking.

Claire pouts. “Me too.”

Mia takes a hold of her hand. “More importantly, though, when are you going to come over to my place one night so we can, you know, be undressed in a bed for more than an hour at a time?”

“When I’m not working and you’re not going out. And besides, what do you mean?” Claire giggles and kisses her hand. “We’ve had sneaky sex at my house twice in the last week while my parents were at work. At least one of those times must have been a little over an hour.”

Mia laughs and pulls their hands toward her so she can kiss Claire’s in return “Look, don’t get me wrong; I’m all for stealth sex at yours. And I’m also a fan of your stellar air-conditioning and your pool. But I’m also one of those annoying, mushy types who sometimes like to lie in bed and snuggle afterwards, maybe even have a conversation. Not run out the door the minute it’s over so you can get to work.”

“Or get dressed and make a break for it when my brother rolls home early?” Claire snickers. They had quite the near miss last week. “Didn’t like that, Mee?”

“Can’t say I’m a fan.” Mia jabs Claire in the stomach. “So when are you coming over to hang out?”

“Soon. I promise.” Claire says it even though she knows she’s stalling. She still feels awkward about putting their relationship in front of parental units and has managed to avoid any meetings with John and Tasya so far. It hasn’t been that hard given how little time she and Mia have had together anyway, but she knows it will have to happen eventually. She can’t help it, though. She feels weird about it. But she doesn’t know how to explain it to Mia. So she doesn’t. “As soon as we both have time.”

“Good.”

“Anything else you want to nag me about, Mia?”

This time, it’s Claire who is served a punch in the arm.

CHAPTER 21

She finds them all in the shaded beer garden at the back of the pub. Clustered around a tabletop already covered in pint glasses and empty jugs, they’re clearly enjoying another daily dose of post-work freedom. Even though she doesn’t have long until she starts work, Claire thought she’d come anyway. Between the bar and the centre, she hasn’t seen anyone much lately. She misses them all. Eli’s cousin Nan is there too, holding court, deep in whatever she’s saying.

Everyone calls out in a chorus of greetings as Claire takes the only available seat, sandwiched between Robbie and Nan, and shrugs off her jacket.

“Hey,” Claire says as Robbie throws an arm around her and squeezes her briefly. Pete fills a spare glass with beer and pushes it across the table toward her.

“Thanks.” Claire catches Mia’s eye as she picks it up. Mia gives her a small private smile.

“You good, Claire?” Eli asks.

She leans against the back of the chair and holds her beer aloft. “I’m good now.”

Nan leans forward. “Claire, right? I met you a couple of weeks ago, didn’t I?”

Claire nods and gives her a vague half-smile. She hasn’t seen Nan since that night at the bar when they had that argument about police. Well, it wasn’t even really an argument. She’s heard plenty about Nan since then, though. It turns out she’s moved from her apartment on the other side of the river into a vacant room at Eli’s place. It explains why she has all of a sudden appeared out of nowhere.

“Nan was telling us about this interview she was doing today,” Robbie explains.

“An interview?” Claire raises an eyebrow. “What do you do?”

“I’m studying journalism. And I’m doing an internship with this small city paper.”

“Right.” Claire tries not to sound impressed.

“So what was this woman saying, Nan?” Eli asks.

“Right, yeah.” Nan leans forward. “Remember that woman I was telling you about on the phone, Mee? The one who thinks she was fired from that office?”

“The one from Geelong?”

“Yeah, that one.”

Claire looks between them. They already spoke today? She knows the two them have hung out a lot lately. They all have, except Claire. She had no idea they were becoming closer friends, though. She takes in Nan’s smile and wonders fleetingly if Nan is attracted to Mia. It’s hard to tell. Nan seems to be one of those types who is kind of flirty with everyone. Claire remembers how she behaved with Pete’s date that night at the bar. And she probably pulls plenty, too.

Nan goes on. “Yeah, so this woman was telling me that, even though she’d been sleeping with women for thirty-five years and is married to one and has no plans to ever sleep with a man again, she identifies as bisexual. Just because she slept with a couple of guys before she turned to women.” Nan raises an eyebrow. “Weird, right?”

Robbie tips his head to the side. “Wow. That’s weird.”

Nan nods. “Uh huh.”

He shakes his head and sips his beer. “Never heard that one before.”

Pete leans forward. “Hey, uh, call me out on my complete sheltered, straightness, but I don’t understand. What’s so weird, exactly?”

“Well,” Eli explains, “you don’t have to identify as bi because you slept with guys once. If I counted the girls I dated in high school, I’d be bi. And believe me, I’m incredibly gay—as in never touching another female again, gay.” He laughs. “No offence, ladies.”

“Believe me, none taken,” Claire assures him with a snide grin.

He pulls a face at her and smiles.

“Oh yeah, I remember those poor, misled girls you used to date back then,” Nan teases. “I used to wonder how they never figured it out.”

“Oh leave them alone. I hadn’t even figured it out yet. Besides, you were probably just jealous because it meant you couldn’t have them.” He grins. “Nan’s one of those people who’ve known they were gay since birth.”

Nan grins and shrugs. “I liked what I liked.”

“Right,” Pete says, nodding. “So you’re saying this woman should just call herself gay?”

“Yes.” Nan glances at him impatiently, as if he’s been too slow to get the point.

Claire throws her a look, but Nan doesn’t even notice. So what if Pete doesn’t get it straight away? Claire is not sure she gets what’s such a big deal about this, either.

“Yeah, I had a girlfriend for four years in high school, and I still say I’m gay,” Robbie tells them.

“You did?” Claire laughs. Loud. She cannot imagine Robbie with a girlfriend.

“Yes, I did, smart ass. And she was lovely.” He smacks Claire’s leg. “She was also the one who informed me I was probably gay.”

That makes Claire laugh harder.

“So what did you say to this woman?” Eli asks Nan.

“I didn’t say anything at first. I was so kind of stunned.”

As she talks, Claire sneaks a look at Mia, wondering what she’s making of this. Considering she’s only working all this stuff out for herself. But she’s just quietly listening. It’s hard to read her expression.

Nan lounges in her seat and crosses her foot over her knee. “I felt like—well, if I wasn’t working and if it wasn’t highly unprofessional—sitting her down and explaining to her that she isn’t bi. And that she should call herself a lesbian if she’s only dating women.”

Claire thinks about how patronised she’d feel if someone told her she was wrong about something like this.

“Why, though?” She screws up her face. Why does Nan always have to go on about how things should be? As if she knows better than anyone? Police should do their jobs. People should label themselves the right way. It’s annoying.

Claire leans back in her seat, elbows hooked on the back of her chair. “Why does this woman need anyone to tell her she’s wrong? Does it really matter how she categorises herself? I mean, as long as she’s okay with it?”

No one says anything at first, probably a little taken aback at Claire suddenly giving a crap about something like this, at this funny story suddenly turned to argument.

“Like I said, I’m pretty clueless about this stuff, but I kind of feel like Claire’s got a point,” Pete offers.

Claire gives him a grateful look.

Nan folds her arms over her chest and pulls her chin back, dubious. “But it doesn’t make sense.”

Claire continues, feeling strangely protective of this woman. “To you, maybe. But it doesn’t matter if it makes sense to us, as long as it makes sense to her, right? It doesn’t change anything about her life, does it?”

“It might,” Nan argues.

“But how?” Claire holds her hands up. “How? She’ll still be sleeping with women. She’ll still be married. She’ll still have slept with those guys when she was younger. She can call it what she likes. It’s how she identifies that matters, not how you do.”

“I do find it weird, but I guess you’re right,” Robbie says.

“I think it’s her business, that’s all,” Claire mumbles. She finishes her beer instead of looking at anyone, slightly awkward now about jumping to this stranger’s defence so vehemently. She can’t help it though. It’s this woman’s business and no one else’s. And there’s just something about Nan’s know-it-all manner that makes Claire want to argue with her.

Everyone falls into a brief, slightly awkward silence.

“So, how do you identify, Claire?” Nan suddenly asks in this baiting voice.

Claire greets the challenge in Nan’s dark brown eyes with an indifferent smile. “I identify as none of your business,” she says lightly as she thrusts her wallet into her pocket.

“Fair enough.” Nan sits back and grins. Nothing seems to faze her.

Claire checks her watch. “I’ve got to get to work. As usual.” She leans over and gives Robbie his kiss on the cheek before he demands it. He slaps his hand over the place where she kissed it, gawping, as if it’s the most precious thing he owns. She gives him a withering grin. “I’ll see you guys soon.”

“See you,” they all chorus, waving and lifting beers in her direction. Claire grants them a weary, reconciled smile and catches Mia’s eye. She gives her a split second longer of that smile as she makes her way to the door.

And as she walks quickly back to her car, she wonders what would have happened if she had leaned down and kissed Mia goodbye then and there, in front of everyone, just to let Nan know about them. If she doesn’t know already.

She wouldn’t have done it, of course. She has no idea if Mia has told Pete, and he is Mia’s friend to tell, especially given their awkward history. And she also didn’t because this is not a movie and, let’s face it, she’s still way too awkward for that kind of public expression yet. But she can’t help thinking as she unlocks her car that it would have been kind of awesome.

As she pushes the key into the ignition, her phone vibrates in her pocket. She pulls it out and stares at the screen.

You sure told Nan. I tried to come up with a reason to walk you out, but I couldn’t think of anything believable. xo

She smiles and puts her phone away.

CHAPTER 22

Claire smiles as she finds the little boy in the same seat as last week, pencil in hand, huddled over a piece of paper. “Another letter?” She starts tidying all the mess on the table left over from this morning’s activities.

“Same letter,” Loc mumbles.

“The same one?” Claire raises her eyebrows. “Wow. You must have a lot to say.”

“He never stops writing those dumb letters.”

Claire turns around. It’s Danny, ball tucked under his arm. He tries to peer over Loc’s shoulder.

“They’re not dumb,” Loc mutters.

“They are if you won’t play basketball with me because you’re too busy writing them.”

Loc lifts his head from his paper long enough to say, “I hate basketball, so I wouldn’t play anyway.”

Danny opens his eyes wide and mimes taking the derision of his favourite sport as a bullet to the chest. He clutches at his heart and staggers around.

Claire shakes her head at him. “Stop being a drama queen. Do you ever write letters, Danny?”

“No.” He pulls a face. “Not unless I have to.”

She can’t help smiling. She feels pretty much the same. She stacks pieces of cardboard into a pile and shoves them back with the rest of the art supplies on the shelf. There is a piece of card left lying on one of the chairs; Nick is ugly scrawled across it in crayon. Charming.

Danny spins his ball between his fingers. “Our teacher made us write letters once, though. We had to write to these kids in Darwin. In handwriting. Pen pals, she called them. It took ages.” He sticks out his tongue. “Why couldn’t we just email them?”

“I have no idea,” Claire tells him, thinking he kind of has a point.

Danny turns back to Loc. “Why don’t you email your brother? It’d be much faster.”

Kids begin to pour back into the hall, returned from swimming and bringing that summer stink of chlorine and sunscreen with them.

“He doesn’t have internet.”

“Who doesn’t have internet?” a voice asks. It’s Vien, Loc’s sister. Her towel is wrapped around her neck.

Danny tosses the ball into the air. “Your brother. That’s why Loc writes him letters.”

Vien pulls a duh face. “Yeah, well you don’t get internet in jail.”

Claire freezes for a moment. She wasn’t expecting that. She continues with her tidying before the kids notice her reaction.

Loc shakes his head. “He’s not in jail.”

Vien flicks the end of her towel at him. “Yes he is, dummy.”

Claire looks between the two of them, unsure what to say or do. Danny, on the other hand, just twirls his ball between his fingers and watches the exchange as if this kind of conversation is nothing new to him. It amazes Claire how some of these kids are more world-weary than she is.

“Lanh says he’s working,” Loc argues. His gaze never leaves the page.

“Yeah, in jail. That’s what she tells you, because you’re a baby.” Vien snatches Danny’s basketball. But he instantly bats it out of her hands and catches it.

“I’m older than you,” Loc tells Vien.

“Yeah, but you’re still an infant.” She turns to Danny. “Play?”

Danny nods vigorously, and they dash for the door.

Claire looks at Loc. His chubby little face is fixed on his letter, and his pencil hovers over the page. She feels a rush of pity for the kid and his letters to a brother who may or may not even get his painstaking little missives.

“Need any help with your spelling?” she asks him hopefully, because it’s the only way she knows how to help.

He shakes his head and begins to write again. Doesn’t even look up. She watches him for a moment longer and then leaves him to it.

* * *

Cai is in the office, furiously scrubbing her hair with her towel.

“I freaking hate swimming days,” she grumbles as Claire walks in to get her bag. “I hate chlorine. I hate swimming. And I freaking hate hanging out in tepid water where I just know babies wee all day.”

Claire smirks. “Good afternoon, then?”

Cai grins and tosses her towel over a chair. “The kids had fun, that’s what counts, I guess. Meanwhile I suffer in stoic silence. And so does my hair.” She pulls at the limp damp strands of what is usually a head of perfect, glossy black hair. She drops the hair and inspects a faint bruise on the side of her tanned calf. “Oh yeah.” She rubs the leg. “And I hate getting brutalised underwater by hyperactive kids. I was helping Nisha learn backstroke, and she kicked me! By accident, of course, but it freaking hurt.”

“Definitely a great afternoon, then.” Claire smiles and feels luckier by the minute that she got to stay holed up in the office working this afternoon.

Cai smiles her wry agreement and pulls her hair back, expertly wrapping it into a tight bun at the top of her head. Cai is the only one left from that first group of volunteers Claire trained with. The hippie guy who picked on Claire about her French never even came back after the first tour of the place. The note-taker lasted a week before a road trip up north with her uni friends tempted her away. She has no idea what happened to the other girl.

And that left Claire and Cai. If Claire had to guess who she thought would last this long, she never would have picked Cai, the intensely quiet, nervous girl from the first day. She barely spoke a word. But here she is now, and nothing like she was that day. Just like Claire, she has relaxed into the place. And she responds to the endless demands of the kids and the program with a kind of quiet, dry humour Claire has quickly learned to appreciate. It’s comforting to have someone who felt as new and raw as she did when they first started.

“So anyone try to drown someone?” she asks as Cai throws her bag into the corner with the others.

She laughs “Nope. Not this time. In fact, get this, Vien taught Dylan to swim.”

“Vien?” Claire leans against the door. “Angry Vien?”

Cai laughs. “Yep, angry Vien. Dylan’s been desperate to get into the big pool, so she’s spent the last couple of days teaching him to swim enough so the lifeguards will let him go in there.”

Claire shakes her head. “I would not have pictured her doing that.”

“An act of kindness for another human being?” Cai smiles. “Me either, but she did. She’s an odd one, that kid. I never know whether to duck when I see her coming or to give her a hug.”

Claire smiles. “Her own grandmother probably feels the same.” She tells Cai about the exchange with Loc before, and about the letter and the brother.

Cai nods. “I think he might be in jail from what I’ve heard from the others. I think he and the dad are both dodgy.”

“What about their mother?”

Cai shakes her head. “Don’t think there is one. It’s the sister who drops them off. I’ve met her a few times. She’s maybe a couple of years older than us? I think she might be a half-sister. And then there’s the grandmother. She’s deaf.”

Claire nods. That explains the sign language. “Sad,” she says quietly.

“I know.” Cai opens her bottle of water and takes a long sip. “Sometimes there’s too much sad too, you know?” she says and wipes her mouth. Do you know Nick told me the other day that the only present he got for his birthday last week was some socks?” She frowns. “And you know, I know that there’s a lot worse—you hear worse stuff sometimes just in the kids’ passing conversation some days. I mean, I know that there are kids here who don’t get enough to eat, or who get hit or completely ignored.” Cai sighs. “But I still find even little things like the socks completely depressing.”

Claire folds her arms and leans against the doorjamb. “That’s because it is. It still is.”

“You know, my cousin is getting married in a few months, and tonight me and the other bridesmaids are meeting her to help plan the wedding. And you know what?” Cai smiles as she rubs her forehead. “Usually I hate doing that crap, but tonight I kind of can’t wait to think about nothing but shallow stuff like dress colours and manicures.”

Claire laughs in sympathy. She realises, too, how much of this depressing stuff she misses, working in the office all day away from the kids. Until Loc and his sister, anyway.

Cai shakes her head. “I’m sure I’ll get over the bridesmaid thing the minute I see what my cousin wants us to wear, but for now it will be a change from sad kid stories.” She looks at her watch and squares her shoulders. “Only a couple of hours to go. I’m on pick-up tonight.”

Claire nods. Every day one person has to stay until all the kids have gone home or been picked up. It can take a while, because there are always parents who are late or forget. She watches Cai stretch wearily, and feels sorry for her. Her day has been way harder than Claire’s.

“You know, I can stay for pick-up if you want,” she says. “I’m not working tonight, so I’m in no hurry. You can go have a break before all that talking about poufy dresses.”

Cai grins. “Nah, my cousin is a tart. We’ll probably be in super short dresses. Are you sure you don’t mind staying?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then I might take you up on it. I’m going to go home and wash this stink out of my hair.”

Claire grins. “And the baby wee. Don’t forget the baby wee.”

Cai sticks out her tongue as she grabs her bag. “Gross. Now I’m really glad I’m going. Thanks, Claire.”

Claire just grins and waves.

CHAPTER 23

They sit at the end of the bar, glasses of iced tea in front of them.

Nina laughs. “Look at us little old ladies. I never thought I’d see the day I’d finish a shift drinking tea.”

Claire smiles wearily. “Me either.” But it’s hot, and she’s tired and doesn’t feel like drinking.

Nina sighs and rubs her forehead, eyes closed. “After last night, it’s probably a good idea.”

“What did you do last night?” They were so busy tonight Claire hasn’t even had a chance to ask about the source of this particular hangover.

“I went to a party with Robbie and Eli and Eli’s cousin, Nan. Do you know her?”

“Yeah, I know her.” How can Claire not know her? She’s everywhere these days.

Nina shakes her head. “That girl is…intense.”

Claire nods slowly. “Yup.”

“Like, when I told her I wanted to be a writer, she started going on about all this current affairs stuff. I had no idea what she was talking about. I don’t want to be a journalist. I know nothing about what’s going on in the world, and I’m okay with that. I want to write stories. Anyway, she’s really smart and interesting, but she…I don’t know.” Nina sighs, untying her hair and shaking it out. “She makes me feel as if I haven’t done my homework or something. It’s really…in your face, you know?”

Claire nods, thinking of Nan’s impatience with Pete the other day.

Before Claire can say anything, Nina goes on. “I mean you’re really smart. Mia and Robbie and Eli are really smart. But you never make me feel, like, intimidated by it. Like, if I don’t know what you’re talking about, I can ask and you won’t make me feel like a total fool for not going to uni or being a brain.”

“Neen, you’re not a fool.” Claire pokes her straw through the ice in her tea and shakes her head.

“It’s okay, I know I can be a bit ditzy sometimes.”

Claire sighs and jabs her friend in the shoulder. “You’re smart. You have this weird, sweet innocence about you, sure. But you’re not stupid. And you’re way more world smart than I am. Way more.”

Nina smiles. “Yeah well, maybe my hippy parents never made us go to school when we didn’t want to, but they did teach us independence. But where is being world smart going to get me?”

“I bet it’ll make you a great writer.”

“Maybe.” Nina sips her drink. “Anyway, I don’t mean to be bitchy about Nan or anything. She’s fine. I like her. She’s just…intense.”

“I hear you. She’s intense.” Claire is relieved that someone else has a similar problem with Nan. She was starting to feel as if she’s the only one who doesn’t get her.

“I mean, she’s not deliberately mean or anything,” Nina adds quickly, as if she’s the one who is afraid of being mean. “And me feeling dumb around her is probably more about me than her.”

“I know what you mean. It’s okay.” Claire has had enough of talking about Nan now.

They sit there in cosy silence as the music whines away in the background, the same tired mix Andrew has been playing for weeks.

Claire takes a deep breath and a sip of her iced tea and watches Nina play with her phone. She almost wishes her drink had booze in it now as she braves up to do what she promised herself she would do tonight.

“So,” she finally says into the silence that falls at the end of a song. “You know how you always complain that I’m like this really withholding friend who plays hard to get? Who never tells you anything?”

“Why yes I do,” Nina agrees. She puts down her phone and gives Claire a smart-ass smile.

Taking a deep breath, Claire stares intently at her drink and stirs the straw around. “So, I’m going to tell you something.” She turns to look at Nina, going for as casual a smile as she can muster through the embarrassing pinch of nerves.

Nina leans an elbow on the bar, an eyebrow cocked in exaggerated surprise. “What? You, Claire Pearson, queen of the under-share, are going to divulge actual—dare I say it—personal information about yourself?”

“Yes.”

Nina’s eyes widen. “I already feel like I’m going to fall off my chair.” She clings tightly to the bar as if it’s the only thing keeping her in place. “Wait, is this going to be about feelings?”

Claire tries to swallow back the blush that is already coming. “Shut up.”

But Nina laughs, her face scrunched with amusement.

Claire shakes her head. If this is Nina’s reaction to just the mere fact she plans to share something with her, she almost wants to give up on this right here and now.

Nina bounces a little in her seat. “Wait, is this about that dude you wouldn’t tell me anything about? The hot guy who came in here and then came to the party? The one you left to come to stay at my house? Because I could not understand that one at all.” She shakes her head like a concerned parent, one who is not angry, but very disappointed. “I will never understand.”

Claire sighs. “No, it has nothing to do with him. And seriously, you have to shut up now, or I’m not going to tell you anything. Ever again.”

Nina claps her mouth shut and nods. Her eyes are trained on her, intent, like an obedient dog waiting for its post-trick treat.

Claire decides to get it out before she loses her nerve. “So I am with someone, but it’s not that guy.”

Immediately Nina’s eyebrows shoot up, asking the silent question who then?

“It’s…Mia.” Claire glances at Nina long enough to see her mouth fall open and then looks away. She feels the inevitable blush wash over her face as she says these words out loud for the very first time. Even her ears feel hot.

“Our Mia?” Nina gasps. “Genius Mia? Amazon Mia?”

“Yes, all those Mias. Well except for the last.” Claire can’t help but smirk. “She’s not that tall.”

“She is if you’re me.”

“It’s only kind of new,” Claire starts to say. Then she trails off, not sure how to start with telling Nina about this.

It doesn’t matter. Nina’s still stuck at point one. “You and Mia? You two are…hooking up?”

Claire nods. She prays for this moment to pass, but also feels an urge to correct Nina, to explain to her that it’s way more than that. But she doesn’t know how to. And it doesn’t help that Nina is still staring at her, deeply entrenched in stunned mode.

“Wait. What do…when?” Nina stutters.

“You get three questions.” Claire holds up the requisite fingers. “I just decided. Three!”

“Okay.” Nina nods, agreeable as ever. Then she falls quiet, chewing on her lip.

Claire frowns. “What, you don’t have any now?” She thought Nina would be firing them at her.

Nina sips thoughtfully at her drink. “Of course I do. I’m just trying to figure out what I want to know most.” She smirks. “Don’t want to waste a precious question.”

Claire cringes in anticipation. Finally, Nina takes a breath, sets her shoulders, and turns to Claire, leaning her chin on her hand. “Okay, so I’m going to assume she’s the first girl you’ve been with, because you sure as hell never mentioned anything before.”

Claire nods. “Never.”

Nina points at her. “That wasn’t a question, by the way. I assumed, and you chose to tell me.”

Claire laughs, still blushing. “Yes, bossy.”

“So then, why Mia?”

Claire sits back in her chair at that opener. “Whoa. I wasn’t expecting the hard-hitting questions.” She laughs awkwardly. “I was kind of expecting the old who, what, when, and where stuff.”

Nina rests her chin in her hand. “Maybe I could be a journalist. Anyway, I could ask you boring stuff like when and how long, but if I waste my questions I might never get you to tell me anything important ever again. Not that Mia isn’t awesome and lovely and everything, but I’m just curious, I guess. I think I’d be curious about anyone you really liked. Because you’re so…so…”

Claire frowns. “Cold? Standoffish?”

Nina gives her a shocked look. “Jesus, no. Just private, I meant.” She jabs Claire in the arm. “Don’t talk smack about my friends. Now, answer my question.”

Claire laughs. Nina really is a good friend. Claire forgets that sometimes. She’s patient, that’s for sure. And kind of sweetly protective, too.

So Claire sips her tea and does as she’s asked. “I don’t know what it is about her, exactly, to be honest.” She leans her chin on her hands and stares at Andrew’s collection of foreign coins stuck on the wall above the register. “You know when something is just…right?”

Nina nods.

“Only, maybe because I wasn’t expecting it, I thought it was a friend thing at first, and that we were getting really close. But then I realised it wasn’t just that. So did she.” Claire chews her lip as she tries to find a way to put it into words. “So, I don’t know what to say. It’s all the stuff you know already. She’s fun, she’s smart, she’s kind. But really, it’s because we get each other. Because…oh, I don’t l know if I can explain it.”

Nina sighs. “I love that thing. When it’s just a feeling, and you can’t describe it, but it’s this rightness.”

Claire grins. Nina’s such a romantic. “Do you have that with Dan?”

Nina gives her a stern look, and for a moment, Claire wonders if she said the wrong thing, if maybe something has gone wrong between Nina and Dan.

Nina wags a finger at her. “Who said you could ask anything, missy? It’s my turn to interrogate. And I will not be distracted from this momentous opportunity to hear Claire Pearson form normal human feelings words.”

Claire laughs at her attempt to be all stern and holds up her hands. “Sorry. My bad. Next question.”

“So do you think you’re into the ladies now?”

Claire sighs. God, another question she doesn’t know how to answer.

“I don’t know. I never even looked at a girl like that before. And I honestly have no idea whether I will again or not. It’s just…I don’t know…” She shrugs. “Right now it’s just about Mia, you know? That’s all I know. And I don’t even know if I want to think about the rest now.”

“So don’t then.”

Claire nods and finishes her drink. “My mum will probably want to know the answer to that question, though.” She sighs, feeling that doomy sensation she gets in the pit of her belly when she even vaguely pictures telling her parents.

“Well it’s none of her business.”

“She thinks everything is her business.”

“Yeah, well, it’s already a long-established fact that your mother is a giant pain in the butt. I don’t think that’ll change any time soon.”

“True.”

“Anyway, I still have one more question,” Nina reminds her.

Claire sighs. “You do, too.” She wonders what the hell is coming next.

“We’re still going to hang out, aren’t we?”

Claire looks at her, confused. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Nina traces her finger over a mark on the wooden surface of the bar and doesn’t look at Claire. “I guess I had kind of thought that when Mia came along, she was becoming your new, amazing best friend. And maybe, you know, she’ll be like the friend and the girlfriend all wrapped up in one. One of my sisters started dating her best friend, and they never saw anyone else. Just hung out together all the time.”

Claire shakes her head. “I’m not going to do that. God, even if I wanted to spend all my time with only her, we’d never be able to. She works days, and I work all the time now. We hardly have time to see each other as it is.”

“Right.” Nina nods and starts to plays with the edge of the bar mat.

“Besides,” Claire adds when she realises that’s not what Nina needs to hear from her. “Even if it wasn’t like that, you and I would still be friends, dummy. You’re like, my best friend.”

Claire blushes again with this declaration. But it’s pretty much true these days. And their conversation tonight has definitely confirmed it.

Nina gives her this small, pleased smile.

“And I don’t dump my friends for relationships. Only shitty friends do that.”

Nina is quiet for a minute. Then she smiles at Claire. “Well I’m really happy for you guys. I am. I kind of love Mia. She’s one of the good ones.” She kicks her feet against the bar. “One of the really good ones.”

Claire smiles. “She’s pretty great.”

“Listen to you. All smitten.”

“Shut up.”

And Nina obediently claps her mouth closed, climbs off her stool, and puts her tips in her pocket. “So you’ll still come and camp on my couch sometimes and watch trashy TV and talk about…well, boys and girls, whatever, and hang out?”

Claire feels a rush of warmth. “Hell yes. In fact I’m staying tonight, if that’s okay?”

“Good. Let’s go. I have some amazing crap recorded.”

They flick off the lights, yell up the stairs to Andrew that they’re leaving, and make for the door.

Just before they get there, Nina stops in her tracks. Claire nearly runs into the back of her. Nina places a hand over her mouth, turning toward Claire, eyes wide.

“What?” Claire asks, wary.

“At the lake. You and Mia. The night before your birthday. Of course.”

Claire grins and pushes her hands into her jeans pockets to dig out her key.

“You two were in the…and I was banging on the door. Oh crap. Sorry.” Nina tips her head back and giggles. “I had no idea.”

Claire smirks and reaches above Nina’s head to push open the door for them. “Yeah, it was a little distracting.”

She laughs at Nina’s mortified squeal as they skitter into the empty, dark street and head for Nina’s flat.

CHAPTER 24

She looks up from her computer and glances at the clock. Four-thirty. Mia had an early shift, so she’s probably home by now. And the mail has probably already arrived, too. That now-familiar dread washes over her. Just because she has told Mia repeatedly that she doesn’t want to talk about the possibility of her studying elsewhere, doesn’t mean Claire doesn’t think about it. She does. All the time. She has no say in that. Well, to say she thinks about it is inaccurate, but to say the uncertainty makes itself known to her at every chance it gets would be closer. It’s raucous in its presence.

So, a slave to her desire to know the outcome, she picks up her phone and types in her message. Heard anything?

The response comes quickly. Nothing xo

Claire sighs loudly, louder than she meant to.

“Okay, hon?” Moi asks from her corner. She peers over her laptop at Claire.

Claire nods and does her best not to blush. “Yep.”

Moi continues to stare at her. “Claire, you know, honey, if you’re tired, or need a break, or even a day off, please take it. You know you can, right?” She rests her chin on her hand. “You’ve been incredibly dedicated, but I also understand this is supposed to be your summer holidays. You’re supposed to be having fun, too.”

“Oh no, it’s not that.” Claire shakes her head. “I like being here. It’s just…never mind.” She turns back to her work, embarrassed.

“Well, okay then,” Moi says at length. “But remember what I said.”

And Claire nods. She wonders if she’ll ever be brave enough to say something. She’d like to tell Moi about Mia. But telling her feels one step closer to telling her mother, and Claire is not sure she wants to get any closer to that particular moment in time.

She also wants to tell Moi because she wants Mia to meet her. And she wants for Moi to meet Mia. She knows Moi would like her so much. And Claire feels this compelling urge to show off this beautiful person she has found to someone whose opinion she really cares about. But she’s not ready yet.

Her phone buzzes quietly on the desk next to her.

I’m being a sap again, I know, but I miss you.

Claire smiles at the way Mia is always so unapologetic in her affections. At the cutely fastidious way she always spells out every word of her messages. At how her sending this message means she’s thinking of Claire right at a moment when Claire is thinking of her. All of the above makes her smile.

Ssh. Some people are actually trying to do some work, you know.

CHAPTER 25

“Now.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes, now.”

“Uh uh.”

“Come on.”

“No, I’ll wait here.”

“Oh God, Claire.” Mia rolls her eyes and tugs at Claire’s wrist. “Just come inside.”

“Why can’t I just wait here?” Claire stubbornly clutches the steering wheel with one hand. “You’ll only be like, five minutes.”

Mia sighs. “Because exactly. I’ll only be five minutes.”

“So I’ll wait here.” Claire points casually at the car radio. “Take in some news.”

Mia grins and shakes her head. “You don’t listen to the news.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” Mia grabs Claire by both shoulders and pulls her around to face her. “Claire,” she says slowly. “Just come in and say hi. That’s all you have to do. It will be that easy. Then my parents will say hi right back. And then they’ll probably ask you how you are. Then, in what we call a simple exchange of social niceties, you get to answer and ask them the same in return. It’s known as small talk.”

Claire shoots her a death stare. “I will kill you,” she says in her best psychopath voice.

Mia grins and continues. “And then I’ll get changed from my work clothes, and we can go and get dinner and hang out like we haven’t been able to all week.” She squeezes the top of Claire’s arms and shakes her a little. “It’s time to stop avoiding them.”

“I’m not avoiding them.” Her voice rises to an indignant pitch.

“Yes you are,” Mia tells her matter-of-factly. “You totally are.”

Claire chews on her lip. Yes, she totally is. “I’m shy.”

Mia laughs. “I never thought I’d hear you describe yourself as shy.”

“I’m shy of parents. They never like me.”

“Claire.” Mia lets go of her arms. “My parents already know you, and they already like you. Why would that change?”

Claire shrugs. She has no idea why. She’s just stalling.

“They are not like your parents. They’re not judging you. They like you and want to see you. You stayed here, remember? And they were nice, remember?”

“They were really nice,” Claire admits in a small voice, keenly aware of how childish she sounds.

“So come in.”

Claire tips her head back against the car seat and moans. She knows she’s going to have to say yes at some point, but part of her wants to put it off as long as humanly possible.

“Okay, that’s it.” Mia sits back in her seat and folds her arms over her chest. “You’re making me do this. If you don’t come in and see them, I won’t go to dinner with you. I’ll go inside, take a shower, get changed and hang out at home and watch TV with my parents. And you can just sit here.”

“Really?” Claire turns to her, eyes narrowed. “You’ll do that, will you Mia?”

“Yes, really.” Mia gives her a steadfast, determined grin. “I will.”

Claire almost considers calling her bluff, just to test it, but then caves. She can see that behind that grin is a resolute, unflinching Mia, the one who most probably means every single word she says.

“Alright.” She slowly unclips her belt and pulls the keys from the ignition.

Mia grins, grabs her face between her hands, and kisses her, exuberant. “Come on then.” She climbs out of the car.

* * *

As Mia turns the key in the front door, Claire can already feel the blush rising over her face. What is wrong with her? Mia’s right. It’s not like she’s never met these people before, or as if they’ve given her any reason to fear them. But she feels almost unbearably awkward.

Mia’s father is standing in the middle of the large living room, contemplating a hat he’s cradling in both hands. Blue jumps off his cushion in the corner of the room and trots over to Mia.

John holds up the hat. “Mee, settle…” He stops mid-sentence when he sees Claire behind her. “Ah Claire! Fresh eyes!”

Claire gives him an uncertain smile.

“What do you need fresh eyes for, Dad?” Mia asks warily as she strokes Blue’s ears.

He points a finger at Mia. “Because I already know what you’ll say.”

Then he kisses Claire on her flaming cheek, draws her into the living room, and holds the hat in front of them. It’s one of those tweedy old men hats, the kind Claire used to see the local geezers wear to the church near the lake every Sunday. He clutches her arm “Claire, tell me, if you were my wife, would you let me wear this hat in public with you?”

Claire shrugs. “Maybe, but I’d make you walk at least ten steps behind me.” Then she blushes even harder. One minute in the door and she’s already insulted someone.

But John throws back his head and guffaws. He lets go of her arm. “Well that answers that.” He turns on Mia. “And I suppose you vote the same way? You always side with your mother.”

Mia gives him a smile, as if she knows she doesn’t need to answer.

“Then I guess it’s goodbye to the hat.” He sighs as Tasya strolls into the living room, sorting through a pile of envelopes. “You win,” John informs her. “Claire has officially nixed the headwear.”

“Wise girl.” Tasya turns to Claire. “Thank you for that,” she says warmly.

Claire steps back against the wall. “Uh, no problem.”

“And good to see you.” She returns to her envelope sorting.

Mia gives Claire a reassuring smile and turns back to her parents. “Hey, so we just stopped in to…” she starts to say.

Tasya holds an envelope out.

Mia immediately takes it and stares at the label. “Melbourne.” She looks at them, eyes wide.

The room suddenly becomes very still. Claire presses herself right against the wall. Nerves squeeze at her chest. God, if she feels like this, what must Mia be feeling?

Tasya sits on the arm of the chair, the other mail clutched, forgotten in her hand. “Finally.”

Mia looks at the envelope for a long moment, and then back at them. Then her gaze returns to the envelope. She doesn’t move. Claire folds her arms tighter and silently urges Mia to hurry up and open it so the stupid university can decide their fate. But she just stares at the envelope, seemingly paralysed.

“Excuse me,” Mia suddenly mumbles. She strides from the room, envelope still in hand.

Claire’s eyes widen. She wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction from Mia. She pushes herself away from the wall, wondering whether she should go with her.

“Don’t worry,” John says. “Just leave her to it. She’ll be back when she’s read it.”

And he’s right, because within a minute Mia is back, a smile on her face and the letter dangling from her hand. “I’m going to Melbourne.”

And Claire lets out a breath, awash with relief.

John pulls Mia into a fierce hug. “Fantastic! Congratulations.”

As soon as Mia lets go of her father, Tasya pulls her into an embrace. “Thank goodness. Call me a selfish mother, but I didn’t want you to move cities. I want you here.”

Mia laughs. “Don’t worry, Mum, I wanted to be here, too.” Then she turns to Claire and grins. “Melbourne.” She sounds breathless with happiness.

“Melbourne.” Claire nods, takes in a slow breath, and tries to halt the embarrassing slick of tears that seem to be coming from nowhere. Mia drags her into a fierce hug, and she hides her face in Mia’s neck.

“Melbourne,” Mia whispers again, as if she can hardly believe it.

Claire nods, unable to speak.

* * *

Claire sits on the edge of Mia’s bed. Still sniffing, she stares at the brief form acceptance letter while Mia calls Pete. She can already tell from Mia’s tone that Pete didn’t get in. But Claire can’t even find it in her to sympathise with Pete right now. She’s too relieved, too happy that she and Mia won’t have to negotiate the tyranny of distance when they’ve only just come together. She only has room for those thoughts right now.

Mia drops her phone on the bed. “Pete didn’t get in. But he already got in to Queensland, and he’s pretty happy about moving there, so…” She shakes her head. “I’m going to miss him though.”

Claire nods. She can’t speak yet.

Mia frowns. “Hey, you’ve been crying.”

“No,” Claire retorts, embarrassed. “Okay, a tiny bit.”

Mia smiles and presses her palms against Claire’s face.

“I’m relieved.” Claire tugs at Mia’s hair, which is hanging all around her face in a thick curtain.

Mia drops a kiss on her. “Me too.”

She pulls back, and Claire stares at her, still overwhelmed by these feelings, both captive to and creator of their enormity. “I just really didn’t want to go back to being here and not having you around. Like before I knew you.”

Mia’s about to say something when a voice calls up the steps.

“Hey Mee?”

Mia holds Claire’s gaze a fraction longer. The expression on her face tells Claire that, even though they have been interrupted, she’s nowhere near done hearing that thought or feeling the feelings Claire’s statement has wrought.

Mia stands, holding her hands against Claire’s face. “Yeah Dad?”

“We’d love to take you to dinner to celebrate tonight, if you’ll let us.”

Mia looks at Claire. She nods. Their own plans can wait.

Mia calls back to him. “Sure!”

“And Claire, if you’re not too busy with your schedule of avoiding us, we would love it if you’d come with us.”

“Dad,” Mia chides loudly.

Claire feels her face turn bright, beet red. “Uh, okay, thanks,” she squeaks as Mia grins at her.

“Half an hour?” John suggests. “Think of somewhere you girls want to eat.”

Mia turns back to Claire, and pulls her into an embrace. “Sorry about that.” But she’s laughing as if she’s probably not really sorry. “He loves to tease. And it was pretty obvious you were avoiding them.”

Claire pokes her in the side “Shut up, Mia.” But she can’t help laughing.

CHAPTER 26

“So he doesn’t know his brother is in jail?” John asks as they all walk through the darkened streets back from restaurant.

“I think maybe he does, but he doesn’t want to believe it.”

“That’s sad,” Mia says.

“Yeah, and it’s sad that his little sister is so damn matter-of-fact about it at nine years old, too,” Claire replies.

John smiles. “Yes, well this girl does sound like a rather hardcore little realist.”

Claire laughs. “That’d be putting it mildly.”

Tasya suddenly speaks out of the silence she has maintained during the story of Loc and his family. “You know, I always feel that what they say about kids being resilient is so true. The kids I teach are older and certainly more fortunate than the ones you’re working with, Claire. But still, sometimes I’ve found out something one of my students has been going through, and I’m shocked by what some of them can cope with.”

Claire nods and thinks of what Cai was saying the other day about how the comparative awfulness of things doesn’t stop even the little things being depressing. She says as much to Tasya.

She nods, frowning. “I can imagine. And I suppose you’ll become a little inured to it over time, but it must be difficult at first.”

As they walk along the road by the brightly lit hospital, Claire tells them, at Mia’s urging, about the grant application she’s helping to write.

Tasya squeezes Claire’s shoulder. “It’s really wonderful you’re doing this work, you know. Taking time out of your summer to give these kids some support and some fun.”

Claire shrugs, but she can’t help feeling a small burst of pride at this acknowledgement. “I like doing it.”

They turn into their street. Mia and her father chat about a neighbour of theirs, and Claire tunes out. All night she has lapsed into these brief out-of-body moments, hyper-conscious of this new strangeness that is she and Mia and Mia’s parents.

Dinner was lovely, really lovely, and full of easy talk. Nothing like Pearson family dinners, that’s for sure. Every now and then, Claire found herself mentally pausing, arrested by the duelling ordinariness and strangeness of this occasion. There she was, sitting next to the person who she’s just starting to get used to calling—mentally at least—her girlfriend, at dinner with her parents. And the most shocking thing of all was that it was fine. It was normal. It was nice, even.

She wonders how long it will take her to get used to this new state of affairs.

* * *

When they get back to the flat, John and Tasya go straight inside to watch the late news. Claire and Mia stay outside, unwilling to depart from the newfound cool of the evening or each other.

So they sit there on the red brick steps, still warm from the sun as Blue sniffs around the small garden at the front of the apartment block. They take their time as they fill each other in on the days they’ve been apart. It’s as though now they both know they have all the time in the world to tell each other stories, however small or mundane.

Claire tells Mia about letting Nina know about them, about how sweet and cool she was. How when they got back to Nina’s, Claire, made brave and open by Nina’s chilled but curious reaction, told her more than she ever imagined she would. In turn, Mia tells her about how Pete said to her over the phone that he never really expected to get into Melbourne, but how he knew she would.

Mia frowns. “He was so cool about it. I don’t think I would have been if he got in there and I didn’t.”

“But he did say he wouldn’t mind moving away as long as it wasn’t Perth, so there wasn’t as much riding on it.” She grins at Mia. “Besides, I get the feeling he’s not quite as insane a high achiever as you.”

Mia knocks her shoulder against Claire’s. “Insane?”

“A little. In a totally cute way.”

“Well that’s okay then.” Mia’s fingers tenderly climb the ladder of vertebrae from the collar of Claire’s T-shirt to the nape of her neck. Claire shuts her eyes and basks in the pleasure of her touch.

They sit there in the evening quiet a while. Claire watches the neighbourhood pass by below them on the street. There are people everywhere, taking dogs on last walks, stepping out for late night jogs, or even still coming home from work.

Mia stretches her legs down the steps, leans back, and lets out a sigh. “I’m so relieved.”

Claire smiles. “Me too.” And then because she finally feels free to say it, she does. “You know, I already did that distance thing with Brendan. It was so hard. Much harder than I thought it would be. And he was only an hour away.”

“Of course. I kind of forgot about that.”

Claire smiles ruefully as she plays with her boot laces. “And look how well that turned out.”

“That’s why you never wanted to talk about what we’d do if I had to leave, wasn’t it?”

“I guess.” She bites her lip. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I should have realised that.”

“And I probably should have said.”

“Maybe.” Mia tugs gently on Claire’s earlobe. “I hated you going silent on me. I hate not knowing what you’re really thinking.”

Claire takes in the seriousness of Mia’s expression and wishes she’d explained herself a bit better. That she’d found some way to say it all out loud. “I’m sorry. But I didn’t want to anticipate the same thing happening to us if we had to live apart. That seemed kind of shitty.”

“Do you think what happened with that girl would have happened if he’d been at university here?”

Claire shakes her head. She’s thought about this plenty of times. “Probably not. But you know what? I also don’t think we would have lasted much longer even if he hadn’t met her. After he left for school, our lives became so different, and we had less and less to talk about. And even though he really was lovely, I always had this feeling that once his new life started, he was kind of less interested in me and what I was doing. I don’t know…I felt like I became kind of an effort for him…or something.”

“That must have been awful.”

“It was, even though I know he really wouldn’t have wanted me to feel like that. And I used to wonder if we’d still be together if he hadn’t moved away, too. I wondered that for a long time,” she confesses. It’s the first time she has ever said these things to anyone.

“And now?”

Claire turns to her. “And now what?”

“Do you still wonder?”

Claire stares at her for a minute, not quite believing this question is coming from Mia’s mouth. “And now? And now I don’t even care. I don’t even think about it. You know that, don’t you?” She gives her a fierce look, one that dares her not to know that.

Mia nods. “I don’t even know why I asked.” She stares at her hands. “I think I’ll always be a bit curious about him, you know? I can’t help it.”

Claire chews her bottom lip, trying to recall what she can of that time. But it’s hard now. “It’s weird how you forget feelings. It’s like, I remember how much I loved being with him, and then I remember how angry I was at him. And hurt. But it’s like I have no access to those feelings anymore. The good or the bad. Not that I want them. But still, it’s strange, something—someone—you spend so much time invested in, and then it’s gone.”

Mia nods. “I guess your heart lets you forget, so you’ll be able to do it again.”

“Maybe.” Claire turns to Mia with a smart-ass grin. “Getting wicked deep there, Mia.”

Mia laughs, but she looks faintly embarrassed. “Hush, you. I’m thinking more how the mind is programmed to forget extreme pain. One of my lecturers once told us that if we weren’t, women would never go through childbirth more than once.”

Claire laughs. “Good to know.”

They fall silent as an elderly man makes his slow way up the stairs. Mia quickly stands and moves aside for him to pass. She smiles warmly as he greets them on his way to the door. As soon as he’s indoors, she drops back onto the step and leans her shoulder lightly against Claire’s. “God it’s so nice just to be able to sit here with you. I wish we got more time together. I think I’ve seen Nina more than I’ve seen you this week.”

“I know, but I don’t know what to do about it, either. Even if I didn’t work at the centre, you’d still be at work most days.”

“I know, I know,” Mia says hurriedly. “And I’m not asking you to change anything. I’m just whining because it’s annoying to miss you when I know you’re right here.”

“Better than if we were far away from each other. Like, Sydney far.”

“True.”

They stare at each other and smile, Claire alive to the fact that this prospect no longer hangs over them.

And that’s what they’re doing when Claire hears a window slide open above them.

“Girls?” It’s Tasya, leaning out of the living room window.

Mia tips her head back. “Yeah Mum?”

“I’m off to bed. I wanted to say goodnight. Lovely to see you, Claire.”

“Goodnight, Tasya,” Claire calls. “You too,” she adds shyly.

“Night, Mum.”

“And Mia?”

Mia looks up again. “Yup?”

“If Claire is going to stay the night, make sure she knows about that thing with the tap in the bathroom. The plumber is coming tomorrow. At least he says he is. And find her a towel.”

“Okay. Night.”

The window slides closed above them. Claire can feel Mia’s grin without even looking at her.

“So, being that Mum is far more subtle than Dad—”

Claire giggles. “Everyone’s more subtle than your dad.”

“True. Anyway, I’m fairly sure that was her way of letting you know you’re welcome to stay here.”

“Got that, Mia.” Claire plays for aloof, but she can’t help but blush. Why does she have to be so awkward around parents? And about this?

“So stay.” Mia wraps both her arms around Claire in a sideways hold. She pulls her against her chest and shakes her a little. “Stay tonight.” She whispers it right into her ear and then presses a kiss into her cheek. “Don’t be all weird and shy and stay. Please.”

Claire pretends to consider it for a moment. “Mm, okay.”

Mia lets her go and gives her a tender smile. “I’m kind of ridiculously happy right now.”

“Me too.”

Mia stands, grabs Claire’s hands, and pulls her up. “Let’s go to bed.” She tips her head back and smiles, as if to bask in the glow of this delicious possibility.

Claire grins. “Got some serious spooning to do, Mia? Need your snuggle time?”

“Yup. So much of it. Come on.” She whistles for Blue and pulls Claire up the stairs and into the apartment.

CHAPTER 27

Claire kicks off her boots, takes off her socks, and sits on the edge of the heavy oak table Mia uses as a desk. She gazes around the room. The last time she was here was after Cam’s accident. She’d forgotten how at home she’d felt in this peaceful, airy space tucked at the top of the stairs above the rest of the apartment. It smells of Mia’s light scent, combined with the fragrance of wood from the furnishings and floorboards.

It’s particularly welcoming tonight. The small bedside lamp tosses amber around the room, and the open windows draw in a soft breeze, a buffer against the remainder of the day’s warmth. Everything inside is neat and in its place except for Mia’s bed, a ruffled navy and cream mess of sheet and bedspread, clearly a by-product of her rush to start the morning. Claire folds her arms over her chest and smiles, amused. Who would have thought, of the two of them, it would be Claire who makes her bed religiously every day?

She feels an almost exhilarating sense of comfort from being in this room. It’s partly residual from her time here, when it was both refuge and haven. But it’s also evoked by the sheer loveliness of just being here, spending the night with Mia without clock-watching or worry. She knows now that the best thing she has done for herself all day—all week, even—is to quell her anxieties and come inside when Mia asked her to.

Eventually she can hear soft footfalls, and Mia enters the room, showered and smiling. A huge T-shirt hangs to her knees, and her hair falls in damp tendrils around her face. Claire feels an instant slide of warmth through her body, a radiance drawn from the intoxicating fact that everything from now on is theirs because of a handful of words sent in a letter.

Mia saunters over to her and holds out a packaged toothbrush. “Look what I found in the depths of the bathroom cupboard. Of course,” she grins, “I probably would have let you use mine if I hadn’t.”

But Claire doesn’t react to her taunt. Nor does she move from her seat on the desk. She has no mind for such things right now. Instead she unfolds her arms slowly, bypasses the toothbrush held aloft in Mia’s hand, encircles the slim brown wrist with her fingers, and draws Mia to her. Then she takes the toothbrush from her hand, abandons it on the desk, and presses her lips to the delicate skin of Mia’s inner wrist. It’s paler than the rest of her arm and threaded with small veins. And at Claire’s small show of tenderness, Mia’s smile shifts from something less teasing to something attentive. But Claire doesn’t return the smile. Instead she leans in slowly and catches Mia’s lips with her own. Mia automatically drifts closer her, and her hands come to rest on Claire’s thighs.

Feeling an intense need for the magnetic comfort of proximity—one that seems to suddenly require the contact of skin, Claire takes a handful of each side of Mia’s T-shirt and inches it up as she kisses her. Mia pulls back and raises her arms in the air, obediently complying with Claire’s silent request. And then she stands there, bared to her underwear, her eyes narrowed like a quietly curious cat, clearly awaiting Claire’s next move. Claire draws her own tank top over her own head, and places it on the desk. Mia stares at her, and for a second, Claire is recalled to that first sweet, nervous night at the lake house when they timidly undressed each other.

Mia takes a small step backwards and slowly sweeps her gaze over Claire. And with the slightest hint of a smile, she takes a hold of the waistband of Claire’s jeans and uses it as leverage to close the distance between them again. Claire folds her arms around her, and they cling to each other in a profound, busy silence.

Claire draws in a deep, unhurried breath. At last she has everything she wanted since hearing the news—to feel engulfed by Mia’s physical immediacy. And she has the security of knowing she can do this whenever she wants.

When she’s done wallowing in the pleasure of those thoughts, Claire pulls back and kisses Mia. As their kisses inevitably deepen, and their breath starts to catch, desire takes over. It always does. Claire slides her hands around the curve of Mia’s ribs to her front, and brushes her thumbs over the arc of Mia’s breasts. Then she teases them over her nipples in a languorous sweep back and forth, one that elicits a small sound from the depths of Mia’s throat.

At first, Mia just submits. Her breath hollows, and her forehead pushes against Claire’s. Then her own hands suddenly respond as she deftly undoes Claire’s jeans and glides her hands around the skin at her waistband to her back. Then they coast back up, riding the trajectory of her spine. She unclips Claire’s bra and pulls it from her.

They remain here in the opening refrains of something more heated—at least they do until Mia suddenly steps back and turns to the open windows. Then she frowns, pulls her hands from Claire’s jeans, and hurries over to the bedside table and flicks off the lamp.

The room is quickly reduced to the silvery wash of streetlight. Mia circles back to Claire and draws her from the desk. Sweeping aside the mess of covers, Mia pulls Claire onto the sheets with her. Their eyes meet momentarily and they smile. They are smiles of mutual recognition of this freedom from uncertainty, replaced now with a delicious awareness of endless possibility.

And from that moment, the night is reduced to the thrill of skin sliding under hands, illuminated by threads of light that catch on skin and light the mattress around them. And it’s accompanied by the soft sounds of breath sped and slowed and sped again.

And, in this seemingly bottomless moment, Claire finds all kinds of ways to elicit surprised, urgent breaths, and to conjure those almost impatient sounds from Mia as she slowly and deliberately works to inflict a delicious, voltaic array of sensations on her. But—even better—she does it without ever giving up their proximity. At all times, she keeps an arm hooked around Mia’s neck or drawn tightly over the breadth of her back. That way she gets to feel Mia’s body reflexively respond right against her and hear those quick-drawn breaths against her ear. And it also fulfils her project, which has suddenly become the most important one of all, to be as near to her as possible.

And when she’s done, and Mia’s breath and body have finally calmed again under her hands, still she works at this task. She buries her face in Mia’s neck, knots her arms around her waist, and presses her lips against her collarbone. And Mia matches these efforts. She curls her limbs around Claire’s, tightening her grip in a moment when usually she’d be loosening it, regaining her breath and gathering herself in the aftermath before she turns back to Claire.

They lie this way as cars slide past on the street outside and a dog barks some sort of lazy warning into the darkness nearby. Silently Claire clings to this erosion of distance.

“I’m so glad you came in tonight,” Mia finally whispers into her ear, so quietly it barely ruffles the air around them. Claire nods her agreement as Mia releases her and crawls on top of her. She dips her head and drops a kiss on one of Claire’s pale breasts and then leans right over her. She gives her a frank, sweet smile. “And I’m so glad you stayed.”

Claire pulls affectionately on a damp strand of hair and smiles back at her. “And I’m so glad you’re staying.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of sensing that.”

“Good.” Claire hooks her arm around Mia’s neck and pulls her down for another kiss.

Mia does as she’s bidden and then nuzzles her face into Claire’s neck. “What time do you start tomorrow?”

“Not until eleven. Moi has a morning meeting.”

“Really? I don’t start until ten-thirty.”

Claire taps her fingers on Mia’s back, excited. “Mmm, want to sleep in? Want to lie around together? It’s been a while.”

Mia wriggles under Claire’s hands. “And snuggle?”

Claire smiles. “And snuggle.”

“And eat toast and drink tea in bed?”

“If you make it.”

“I’ll make it.” Mia pushes a kiss into Claire’s neck. “And have non-silent sex once my parents leave for work?”

Claire smirks. “That too.”

“Then yes!” Mia raises her head and squeals. “All of the above!”

“Ssh!” Claire slaps a hand over Mia’s mouth.

Mia pulls the hand away and grins. “Sorry, I’m just excited. About everything.” Her smile is radiant, even in the darkness. “And, as usual, I’ve missed you.”

“Me too,” Claire whispers as Mia pulls the sheets around them and curls against her side.

But tonight, now Claire knows Mia is here to stay, missing her from this proximity doesn’t seem so bad at all.

CHAPTER 28

Claire and Robbie stroll out of the centre. Robbie still holds his camera at the ready, ever on alert for a choice shot.

“Thanks again for helping out with this,” she says.

He skips down the steps next to her. “Oh no problem. I’m glad I could help.”

For most of the afternoon he has wandered around taking pictures of the holiday program in action for their grant application. A few weeks ago, Claire saw an application by a similar program in Sydney that had used photographs to bolster their proposal and thought they should try the same. And Robbie, being Robbie, offered to come take them.

They stand outside in the thick afternoon heat, taking shelter under a tree. The hall is quiet behind them for once while the kids are briefed on the plan of action for the next day’s excursion by Hani and Paul. They have been invited on a free tour of a chocolate factory a couple of suburbs away. There’s not one single kid who isn’t completely excited by that.

Claire smirks. “It’s like they think the sky is going to rain candy when they get there. Even Loc is excited. And he never gets excited about anything.”

Robbie laughs. “You can’t blame them. That’s exactly what I would have thought, too. I’d be having all kinds of Willy Wonka fantasies.”

Claire grins. “Yeah, me too, probably.”

“Are you going with them? Bring me back a chocolate bar.”

She shakes her head. “Office day for me.”

“Oh. Poor you.”

“Oh, I’m totally okay with missing a twenty-kid-strong contact sugar high.” She grins. “What goes up must come down, remember?”

He laughs. “I wish you could come on our trip tomorrow. It’s going to be great.”

“What trip? Where are you going?”

“Didn’t Mee tell you?”

“I haven’t spoken to her since yesterday lunch.”

“Oh, okay, we decided last night. We’re driving to this spot near Leith Valley for the day. I’ve never been there, but Nan says it’s amazing by the river.”

Claire nods, trying not to roll her eyes. Another Nan plan.

“We’re going to have a picnic and swim and stuff. Could you get the day off? Come with us?”

“Doubt it.”

“Boo.”

“Who’s going?”

“Everyone, except for you now, I guess. Eli, Nan, Mia, Pete. Nina too, I’m pretty sure.”

Claire nods and tries to quell the queasy hurt feeling that they all have this grandiose plan for the next day she has no part in. Of course, the logical part of her knows that Mia probably told them already that she’s working and won’t be able to come. And she knows there is no reason for anyone not to invite her. But it doesn’t stop those stinging, old high school feelings of being left out of something. She swallows it down, though, not wanting to let on to Robbie that she’s having these petty, wounded little thoughts.

Robbie moves away from the tree. “Well I better go.” He grabs her and kisses her cheek. “Call in sick and come with us.” He claps his hands together. “I’ll miss you.”

She smiles and punches him gently in the arm. “I’ll think about it.”

CHAPTER 29

Claire frowns at the empty stretch of highway before her.

She usually loves driving, especially longer trips when she gets to leave the predictable grid and the endless flux of the city. It’s relaxing to hit a long stretch of uninterrupted road, where she can tease at the edge of the speed limit and dream.

But not today.

Even though she has the gilded offering of a day off before her, she can’t find that sweet spot in her mind. And that’s because she didn’t realise she’d be driving steadily east on her own. But here she is.

In fact, she didn’t even know she’d be doing this drive at all until last night. It was a last-minute decision. Enticed by Robbie’s entreaty to take a day away from the centre, she decided to ask Moi, to test out that offer from the other week. Of course Moi agreed immediately.

But Claire pictured this day differently. She was sitting at the bar with Nina, waiting to start her shift, when she rang Mia to tell her.

“Hey,” Mia had said wearily into the phone, only just finished with her own long day. “I miss you. Why do you have to be at work tonight?”

“Because it turns out if you don’t go, they don’t pay you.”

Mia laughed. “It’s still not fair,” she whined.

And even though she kind of likes it when Mia gets whiny about wanting to see her, Claire smiled and echoed Moi’s favourite line, the one she loves to throw at the kids when they’re complaining something isn’t fair. “Life is an endless series of small, petty tortures like that, Mia. You better get used to it.”

“Hmph,” is all she got for that. Which is pretty much what the kids say, too.

“Well if makes you feel any better, I’m coming with you guys tomorrow.”

“You are? Really?”

“Yup.” Claire smiled at Mia’s instant excitement. “I got the day off.”

“That’s awesome. Okay, I’ll stop complaining now.”

“Want me to pick you up from your house?”

“Actually, Nan is picking me up. She’s driving Pete, too. His car died. Maybe you could drive over here and come in the car with us?”

Claire frowned. “Can’t. I need to take my own car in case I have to leave earlier than you guys. I have to be at work by seven.”

“Oh, right.”

“Couldn’t you tell Nan you’re coming with me? And Pete could drive with her?”

“Not really. They barely know each other. I feel kind of responsible for Pete.”

“He could come with us, too?” It isn’t Claire’s ideal scenario, but at least she’d still be hanging out with Mia.

“Yeah, but it would be kind of rude to dump Nan like that. The whole thing was her plan. And she was nice enough to offer to drive us and everything…”

“Oh, right.” There was a silence as Claire tried to quell her irritation. She’d assumed that once she’d decided to go that she and Mia would take this trip together. It’s wasn’t turning out to be the day off she imagined, not by a long stretch.

“I’m sorry. You know I’d love to ride up there with you.”

“Mhm,” is all Claire could muster at that point. “Anyway, I better go. I’m at work.”

“Uh, okay, but Claire?”

Claire sighed. “Yeah?”

“You’re not…mad, are you?” It sounded like part question and part statement of disbelief.

“No,” Claire said, knowing Mia’s at least given her a valid reason to not be angry.

“Okay.” There was a hint of doubt in her voice, though. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? And I’m so glad you’re coming.”

“Yeah, me too. Bye.”

And that is why Claire is barrelling up an empty highway and not enjoying it one little bit.

* * *

She stretches her legs along the sunbaked rock, covers them with a towel, and watches Mia clamber over rocks with Eli. They head out into the middle of the river where the current rushes roughly over the rocks. Blue sits next to Claire, his stare fixed on Mia, whining softly every now and then. Claire strokes his soft fur, but he merely flicks his head sideways, licks her wrist, and turns straight back to Mia’s distant figure, as if it’s his gaze alone that keeps her safe.

It’s a beautiful spot. They’re in a narrow slip of valley where the river shallows out into a rocky, rushing bed, shaded in spots by tall sheltering eucalypts. It’s far too shallow to swim, but they have found dips and hollows between the rocks where they can sit, the water sliding over them.

It’s a gorgeous day, too, frivolous and unthreatening. And while she recognises its potential, Claire cannot quite lift her mood to match it.

Claire watches Mia jump up next to Eli on a rough-hewn rock and throw her arms out for balance. She stares at the tanned spread of her back. She loves Mia’s back, particularly the freckled brown lowlands between her shoulder blades. She wishes she could go over to her and place her hand there or, even better, press her lips on it. But no way is Claire going to climb all those rocks, even for that reward. Even if she were willing to do something like that in public.

She is yanked from her thoughts as Nan sits next to her; a baseball hat perched precariously on her curly hair. She holds out a container of strawberries to Claire as she settles in next to her. Claire takes one warily and nods her thanks. Is she going to have to make conversation now? She doesn’t really have any idea how to talk to Nan.

But that’s not a problem for Nan, of course. Because apparently nothing holds her back when it comes to moving her mouth.

“So Robbie told me about that holiday program you work for, and the grant proposal. That’s so cool. I helped write one of those once, for a friend’s arts camp for kids.” She grins, biting into the flesh of a strawberry. “They sure make you work for that money, don’t they?”

Claire nods again. Of course Nan has already done something like that. Nan seems to have done everything, to know everything, and seen everything. It’s highly annoying.

“So how’s it coming along?”

“Okay.” Claire realises she’s going to have to contribute to this conversation at some point. “We’ve still got a while before the closing date.”

Blue trots over to Nan and sniffs at the strawberries. She grins and pets him, and he settles beside her.

Traitor, Claire thinks.

“So what is the proposal for, exactly?” Nan asks her.

Claire reluctantly fills Nan in on the program and the year-round after-school program and homework club they have outlined in the proposal. And for the first time since she has encountered her, Nan is actually quiet. She listens and nods. Claire didn’t know she had it in her.

When Claire finishes, Nan leans forward and wraps her arms around her knees. “You know, one thing my friend did which was really cool was short interviews with the kids and their parents about the project. You know, asking them stuff like what it meant to them, how it would help to make their lives easier and stuff. And then we used a bunch of the quotes in the proposal.”

Claire nods, impressed. “That’s a really good idea.”

Nan holds out the strawberries again. Claire takes one and sits back. She adjusts the towel draped over her legs.

Nan grins. “Worried about sunburn?”

“Yep. When you’re this pasty, you have to be paranoid.”

Nan laughs and stretches her long dark legs on the rock. “I’m so dark that, after a certain point in the summer, I can’t even go red. I turn this kind of weird blue-greyish colour. My mum’s the same.”

Claire smiles and bites into the strawberry. “So do you like studying journalism?”

Nan nods. “I really do. It was kind of terrifying at first, but I love it now.”

“Terrifying?”

“Yeah. My degree is famous for this throw-you-in-the-deep-end mentality, you know. Except I had no clue about it when I started. So on the first day, we walk into class, I was expecting…I don’t know…to learn the inverted news pyramid or get a grammar lesson. Instead our lecturer hands us a voice recorder each and tells us to go outside and not come back until we’d found a story. And that it had to be researched and written by the end of that morning.”

“Whoa, that’s intense.”

“Uh-huh. They did that sort of stuff to us all the time. At first it was completely scary, especially if you couldn’t find something to write about, or when the teacher picked your work to pieces. But we all got used to it. And then we got super competitive about it.”

Claire stares out to where Nina and Robbie and Pete sit in a small pool made by a rough circle of rocks. “So what was your story? That first day?”

Nan laughs. “Some incredibly prosaic article about a fundraising event that was being held near the admissions office.” She shakes her head. “It was so boring. But I was too panicked about getting it done in time to find something better. And I couldn’t figure out how to just conjure a story from nowhere. Of course, my teacher thought the finished product was lame, too.” She laughs again. “Some other kids had done really cool stuff from asking other students random questions, finding stories from the answers. One guy asked all these kids about their attitudes to marriage and wrote this amazing trend piece. I was so jealous. I swore I’d never do such a half-assed job again.”

Claire smiles. She smiles because she knows she would be exactly the same in that situation, that she’d find a way to be better.

Blue suddenly clambers to his feet and returns to lie right next to her leg. She smiles and runs her hand along his side as she looks across the water. She automatically seeks out Mia. She and Eli are on the other side of the river now, exploring a track that leads into the fern-laced scrub.

“So what are you studying?”

“French, mostly. Language and lit.”

“Je m’appelle Nan. Ça va?”

Claire frowns. That’d be right. Of course Nan speaks French. “You speak it too?”

“Nope, two years in high school and that’s all I can say. Oh, and moi aussi.” She says it in a satisfyingly awful accent. “I’m terrible at languages.”

Claire smiles, feeling more pleased about that than she’d ever admit out loud.

They sit in silence for a while. Claire watches the water flow ceaselessly past. A nearby bird lets out a raucous call, as if indignant at their presence.

“What are those two doing?”

Claire looks up. Nan is pointing at Mia and Eli. They’re well above the rocks now, sliding down the steep slope on their backsides as if they’re little kids.

Claire shrugs and smiles. “I have no idea. Being insane.”

Nan chuckles. “Well my cousin is a little insane, but sometimes I think Mia might be the sanest person I know.”

Claire doesn’t say anything. This is the first time she has heard Nan talk about Mia. And again, she wonders if Nan has a thing for Mia.

Nan lifts her baseball cap and tucks her hair more tightly under it. “You know, she has this kind of…” She frowns and scratches the back of her neck, clearly trying to conjure the right word. “She has this kind of…gravity. It’s amazing. No one else I know is like that. No one our age, I mean.

Claire nods as she watches Mia and Eli jump from rock to rock on their way back to the water. Next to her, Blue shifts impatiently as he registers Mia’s imminent return. “I know what you mean. But Mia does have her moments.” As Claire says it, she feels almost proud, possessive of this knowledge she has of Mia that Nan does not. “She’s definitely not always that relaxed.”

Nan grins. “That’s kind of a relief to know.” She collects a small handful of pebbles from the ground and starts tossing them one by one into the water. Some skitter off rocks while others make satisfying plops into pools of water. “It can be kind of intimidating.”

Claire’s eyes widen slightly. She is surprised to hear that Nan feels exactly the same way she felt when she first met Mia. She gives her a surreptitious sidelong glance, wondering once again if Nan knows about the two of them. She certainly hasn’t said anything to suggest she does, meaning she’s either way more discrete than Claire ever thought she could be, or she simply doesn’t know.

Nan suddenly sighs extravagantly and throws out her arms and stretches them above her head. “It’s hot. Wanna go and join them?” she asks, indicating where Mia and Eli have sat with the others in the water.

“Sure.” Claire pulls the towel from her legs and stands.

CHAPTER 30

And once again, Claire is on the highway back to Melbourne sans Mia. And it happened even though they all left at the same time. Even though Pete and Nan must surely know each other enough after a day of hanging out to share a car alone. Even though Mia could have easily said she was going to keep Claire company. But she didn’t. And this time Claire is kind of pissed.

Instead she’s got Nina, who offered to ride with her when she realised Claire was driving alone. It’s no Mia, of course, but she’s grateful for the company to distract her from these bitter, stabby little feelings of annoyance.

And what is even more annoying is that she can see them in her rearview mirror. Nan’s car speeds along on the highway behind hers, so close she can even see them chat and laugh between backseat and front. And all of a sudden she can’t stand Nan again, even after all that potential friendship ground they made today.

The most irritating part is that Mia didn’t even offer as they made plans to depart. She just fired Claire one of her trademark Mia smiles, told her she’d speak to her later, and jumped into the passenger seat of Nan’s car.

Claire pulls her eyes from the view behind her and steps on the pedal harder, creating a little distance between their cars so she can’t see them so clearly. This time she doesn’t get it. Does Mia not want to hang out with her? Or does she want to hang out with Nan and Pete more?

“So why isn’t Mia riding with you, anyway?” Nina suddenly asks as she fiddles with the radio dial. The music keeps dropping in and out, offering only short bursts of static peppered with distant tinny voices.

“I wish I knew,” Claire says quietly.

“Is everything okay?”

Claire shrugs.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Claire bites her lip. “Just annoyed.”

“Yeah, well I probably would be too. Though maybe she has a good reason?”

“Maybe.”

Nina resumes her search of the radio stations. “Well, let me take your mind off it with some truly awful music. Possibly even some truly freaking awful country music if you’re lucky.”

Claire pulls a face and then smiles. “That’s why you’re a true friend.”

“Correct.” Nina settles on some twangy guitar song with a triumphant clap. She starts a hoedown all of her own in her seat, elbows out and swinging, a goofy grin on her face. “Feel better now?”

Claire smiles in spite of herself. “Much.”

* * *

About half an hour later and low on fuel, they pull into a busy little petrol station on the edge of a tiny blink-and-you-miss-it town. It’s not much more than a cluster of buildings huddled together on the side of the highway.

She fills the tank quickly and gets back in the car, waiting for Nina to raid the shelves of the tiny store for junk food. She’s about to toot the horn, urging Nina to hurry, when she spots Nan’s car parked near the store. She stares into the rear-view mirror and wonders if they’ll spot her.

Nan and Pete don’t as they jump out of the car and head straight for the store. A second later, though, Mia climbs out of the car and waves in her direction. Claire frowns. She’s so irritated about this whole driving thing, she’s not sure she even wants to see Mia. But it’s not as if she’s going to drive off now. Besides, Nina would be kind of dark if she did. And Claire would miss out on her M&Ms.

Mia dashes over, yanks opens the passenger door, and jumps inside.

“Hey,” she says, breathless and smiling.

“Hey.” Claire stares out the window. She can see Nan and Pete inside the small store, talking to Nina.

“Did you read my message?”

“What message?” Her gaze doesn’t move from the windscreen.

“The message I sent after we left.”

“My phone’s in my bag.” She tips her head back to indicate that it’s in the backseat. She can feel Mia staring at her but she doesn’t return her gaze. She shrugs, her tone wooden. “Can’t text while I’m driving.”

“Well, do you want to know what it said?” Mia asks the question slowly. Her voice is slightly cold, clearly a response to Claire’s chill.

“I guess.” Claire folds her arms over her chest. “What?”

“I wanted to tell you why I didn’t ride back with you. I would have—I wanted to. It’s only because this morning I organised to go for a drink with Pete when we get back to town, because I need to talk to him. And then, of course, he’d have had to come with us too because it wouldn’t have made sense for us to go in separate cars. And then that would have been kind of leaving Nan in the lonesome after she was so nice about picking us both up and driving us and everything and—”

Claire can’t help teasing her, in spite of her irritation. “Did you put all of this in your message? That’s going to be kind of expensive.”

Mia gives her a sarcastic grin. “Ha ha. Anyway, the reason I’m going for a drink with Pete is because I want to tell him about us tonight.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Mia nods. “He’s the only one who doesn’t know, now.” She pulls Claire’s hand from the steering wheel and presses it between her fingers. “And I just figure I better do it soon, because once he knows, it’ll be a lot easier for us. Because when everyone knows it would be kind of a given that I would want to ride with you or that we might want to be alone sometimes or whatever. And then we won’t have to dance around all this.”

Claire considers this. True, it will be easier. Much easier.

Mia squeezes her hand. “That’s why I didn’t ride with you. So will you stop being pissy at me, please?”

Claire glares at Mia. But Mia just looks at her with that calm, steadfast look again. There’s a warning in that look, too. One that quietly suggests she’s not willing to put up with whatever this is. And it kind of surprises Claire how much its quiet force compels her to back down.

Claire sighs expansively, as if Mia has just asked to loan a twenty or something, playing for comedy to get past this moment. “All right.”

Mia gives her a wry smile as if to acknowledge that Claire has made a decision, and then she moves on. “Anyway, I’ve got to tell Pete, and I’ve kind of been putting it off.”

“Because you dated?”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know. I don’t know how he’ll react. It could be fine. It could be weird.” She gives her an apprehensive smile. “I guess I’ll find out.”

Claire nods slowly. Then she turns back to her, curious. “Hey, so does that mean Nan knows about us?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How long has she known?”

“Since last week or the week before.”

“Oh.” Claire nods again. Well that answers that question, then.

Mia laughs and smooths a finger along the inside Claire’s forearm. “I had to tell her. She kept going on and on about how hot you are.”

Claire pulls a face. “She did?”

“Yeah, after you had that argument with her at the pub. She kept saying how you’re beautiful and feisty.”

“Right,” Claire says slowly, unable to quite fathom how that little verbal spat led Nan to think she’s hot.

Mia laughs again. “Don’t worry. Nan’s always going on about how hot a lot of girls are. But still, she was pretty enamoured of you for a minute there.”

Claire grins. “So you just had to let her know I was taken.”

“Of course. I had to shut her up.”

Claire smirks, but she’s kind of tickled by the thought of Mia’s jealousy. “What did she say when you told her?”

“Nothing, really. That I’m lucky. She’s pretty relaxed about this stuff. She’s always talking about girls. But she stopped talking about you. That’s all I care about.”

They smile at each other as if their affection is recalled. Claire traces the delicate stretch of Mia’s collarbone with her finger, and then dips it into the hollow at the base her throat. “I actually thought she might have a thing for you.”

Mia laughs and shakes her head. “Nah.” She leans in closer. “And, you know, it wouldn’t have mattered if she did.”

Claire flicks an eyebrow at her. “Really? You two seem to hang out all the time. And she’s super smart. And pretty hot.”

“Yeah I know she’s hot and smart. She’s great. I think we’re going to be really good friends.” She pokes Claire in the arm. “But she comes nowhere near my hot, smart, beautiful grump.”

“Brat, thank you.”

Mia smiles and corrects herself. “My hot, smart, beautiful brat.”

Claire gives her a self-satisfied smile and stares across the concrete expanse of the petrol station. The others are still inside, waiting in line to pay. Pete says something and Nina tips her head back and laughs.

Mia follows her gaze and then hooks her hand onto the back of Claire’s neck and pulls her towards her. “Quick.” She plants a hurried kiss on Claire’s mouth. Claire smiles and kisses her again, slower this time, wondering at how quickly Mia can always turn her mood around. Mia’s first instinct always seems to be to defuse tension by confronting it. And she feels suspiciously as if Mia is managing her when she gets like this. But she also suspects that maybe sometimes that’s not such a bad thing.

“Mm.” Mia tips her head back and moans. “I so want to ride back with you.” She grins. “Aside from the fact I just want to be with you, Nan has no air-con. And she has terrible taste in music.”

Claire grins. “Not to mention, the view isn’t anywhere near as good.”

Mia runs her fingers over Claire’s bare thigh and grins. “Well that goes without saying.”

Claire spots the others getting ready to leave the store and gives Mia a teasing little farewell wave. “Bye bye, Mia. Enjoy the drive.” She shoos her away.

Mia shakes her head. “You are evil.” She slaps Claire’s leg, climbs out of the car, and trots back over to Nan’s car as the others emerge from the store.

While Nina piles into the car with her snacks and Claire’s M&Ms, Claire gives them a wave. She pulls out of the gas station and back onto the highway.

Nina tosses a bag of M&Ms to Claire and chomps on a licorice stick. “So, did she have an acceptable excuse for her absence from this vehicle?”

“She actually did.”

Nina nods decisively. “Good.”

Claire smiles. “What would you have done if she didn’t?”

Nina shrugs and twirls the licorice. “Nothing really, just disapproved heartily of her from afar.”

Claire shakes her head and grins. Thank God for Nina. She’s so awesomely herself. And loyal. Claire is so glad she’s her friend.

CHAPTER 31

“It is so lovely to see you,” Christine croons as she settles into her seat opposite. “It feels like forever since I’ve laid eyes on you.” She places an affectionate hand over Claire’s.

And for once, Claire can’t dismiss this as her mother’s kneejerk guilt trip because it’s true. Between Christine’s usual frenetic schedule and Claire’s newly matching one, they’ve barely seen each other these last few weeks. Her mother has taken the afternoon off so they can do their Christmas shopping.

Claire smiles at her. Her mother’s hair is pulled back into a brisk, no-nonsense bun. The type she wears when she has meetings all morning.

“So, how are you?” Christine sits back and crosses her legs, settling in.

And she asks the question so warmly, so sincerely, Claire wonders for a moment what it would be like if she could ever tell her mother the truth when she asks that question. What it would be like to always be able to tell her mother the real version of her life? Not the mum-wash version? What would it be like if she could tell her how she’s busy and happy but maybe still a little unnerved by the new shape her life is taking? Or to feel free to share when things are particularly good or bad, or to be able to admit when she’s struggling? She cannot imagine it.

But as the waiter slaps down menus with an officious smile, Claire answers her mother as best as she can. “I’m good. Busy, but good. You?”

And maybe because she has had a break, and maybe because this happens every time she has a little space from her mother, absence has made the heart grow tolerant. Everything seems a little easier than usual. It’s easier to listen to her mother when she breaks into one of her lengthy case stories or tales of office politics. And it’s actually okay to answer the usual barrage of questions sent her way.

Everything is easier. Maybe it’s because for once they don’t touch on her love life or perceived lack thereof. Or maybe it’s because her mother is doing much less haranguing about her job situation. This is, Claire is sure, because she likes that she works at the centre. Fabulous résumé fodder, Christine always says.

And maybe this is why she tells her mother the idea that has been flitting back and forth in her mind for the last few weeks.

“I was thinking maybe I might want to go into social work,” she announces quietly, turning her coffee cup around in its saucer. “Work like Moi is doing now.”

But it only takes one look at her mother’s face tell her that it was a bad idea to mention it.

Christine grimaces as she sweeps some invisible crumbs from the table in front of her. “You don’t want to do social work, sweetheart.”

Claire sighs inwardly. Of course her mother doesn’t like this idea. Because it’s Claire’s idea. Not hers. But still, she has to ask. “Why not?”

“Well, for starters, it’s difficult. And it’s also thankless.”

Claire frowns. “I can’t imagine losing cases earns much thanks either.”

“No, but the people that you help to win—and there’s just as many of those—are often very grateful.”

Claire shrugs. “I don’t need thanks.”

But her mother doesn’t even hear it. She’s only just beginning, apparently. “Not to mention, the starting wages are terrible, and they never really get any better, because there’s nowhere to move up.”

Claire stares at her coffee. Yep, there they are. There are the first flickers of that irritation that so often tingles through her blood whenever she talks about things like this with her mother. “But what if I just like it? What if I don’t care about making money?”

Christine shakes her head. “Sweetheart, if you want to help people, become a lawyer and get paid well to do it. Or join the police force and climb the ranks quickly like your brother is doing.”

Claire pulls a face. “I don’t want to be a lawyer. Or a cop.”

“Okay then, don’t be.” Christine puts her coffee down and rests her forearms on the table. Claire automatically leans back a little. It’s like a reflex.

Christine takes a deep breath, arranging that special, patient, patronising look on her face, the way she does when she’s preparing to explain a situation, but she’s already expecting the person not to get it.

“Honey, look,” she says. “Of course it’s important to like your job. But honestly, trust me, if you went in to social work, you’d be limiting yourself in terms of a career, and in terms of the kind of lifestyle you could afford in the future. And that may not seem important now, but believe me, it will when you want to do things like marrying and buying houses and having children.” She signals for the cheque. “You know, your father and I were certainly not rich when we started, or even when you two were little. Life was a struggle. But in our fields we had an opportunity to move up.” She leans forward. “Trust me, honey, if Moi wasn’t getting money from the force for what happened to Gary, there’s no way she’d be surviving in that field now and raising her kids.” She leans a little further forward. “But in other fields, once you get a hold of the career ladder, you can find a very comfortable existence for yourself. But only if there is one to climb. Think about it. You two certainly didn’t lack for anything, did you?”

Only for parents, Claire thinks but doesn’t say. Her mother definitely isn’t talking about that. And the last thing Claire wants, considering they have made it through this lunch peacefully so far, is to start a fight. So she shakes her head.

“No,” she finally admits, pushing her empty coffee away. “I’ll think about it. Shall we go?”

* * *

As soon as Claire sees her exit the café, pulling her hair out of its tight ponytail, she dials Mia’s number. She watches her take her phone from her pocket as she strolls along the sunlit street, the spring in her step probably borne of post-work relief. Mia smiles as she sees the name on the screen. A burst of warmth shoots through Claire.

“Look left,” Claire instructs her, smiling slyly to herself as Mia’s expression turn confused.

Mia does as she’s told, but she doesn’t spot the car at first.

“A little bit more left.”

And then she spots the car, and a slow smile spreads over her face as she recognises it. She dashes across the street, opens the door, and climbs right in, grinning. “Are you stalking me, creeper?”

“Yup.”

“Good.”

Claire grasps her leg with both hands and squeezes it affectionately. “I wanted to see you for a minute before I go to work.” She drops her head onto Mia’s shoulder.

“Mm, genius plan.” Mia runs her hands through her hair.

“Of course. It was mine.” Claire lifts her head again, gives her a cocky grin, and kisses her. “So, how was work?”

“Oh fine.” Mia dismisses that subject with another, lengthier kiss, moving so close she’s practically sitting on the handbrake. “How was yours?”

“Same, fine. Had lunch with Mum. It was almost tolerable. Almost.”

Mia gives her a sympathetic smile.

They sit in silence for a while and trade kisses, taking a decadent minute with each other.

“So what are you doing tonight?” Claire tries not to sound jealous, but she is. Mia seems to have something on every single night some weeks. She’s making the most of her last summer before she starts medicine. She always tries to keep the nights Claire isn’t working free for the two of them, but she goes out all the other nights, it seems. She’s having the kind of summer Claire used to have. But not this time around.

“Pre-Christmas drinks with some people from my biochem class.” Mia looks as if she’s less than enthused about it. “It’ll be nice, but there’s a few kind of socially awkward people who are going to be there. Pete’s coming, so that should help.”

“Oh, hey, what happened when you told Pete the other night?” Claire can’t believe she’s forgotten to ask her that.

Mia leans back a little and laughs.

“What?”

“Sorry.” Mia tries to stop giggling. “It’s just that he was really cute and funny.” She takes a deep breath and grins. “So, when I told him, he admitted that he maybe kind of suspected I was into girls after we broke up. But then he said he felt really bad for thinking it. He was all worried he was being some sort of egotistical bastard only thinking I was a lesbian because I didn’t want to date him.” She shakes her head, still grinning.

Claire laughs. “That’s kind of a testament to how cool he is that he even thought of that.”

Mia nods, smiling. “Exactly. Anyway, yup, he was fine. It was fine.”

“Good.”

Mia picks up her hand, turns it over, and kisses the back of it. “So, everyone knows.”

Claire nods slowly, staring at their hands knotted together. “Everyone knows.”

Mia kisses her hand again. “Tell me something about you.”

So Claire tells her about her conversation with her mother about the potential of doing social work. When she relates how her mother reacted, Mia’s face turns weary. She shakes her head.

“Claire, don’t let what she says affect you. Not if you want to do it. She always seems to makes you doubt everything—doubt yourself. And you shouldn’t.”

Claire drops her head against the car seat and sighs. “But this career stuff is something she’s actually really good at. What if she’s right?”

“How could anyone but you be right about what you want to do with your life? You should do whatever you want to do.”

Claire nods slowly. Mia is right. She knows Mia is right. So how does her mother always have the ability to cast uncertainty over everything she thinks or does?

Mia pulls at her T-shirt. “You know, you’re one of the smartest people I know. And you could do anything, Claire.” She says it so frankly, so easily that Claire feels another rush of warmth.

“And you’re a suck.”

Mia smiles and nods agreeably. “Yep. And I’m also right.”

Claire checks her watch. “Work time,” she says wearily. “Want me to drop you home first?”

“Oh no, that’s okay, you don’t have to. I can walk.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

“Then okay.” Mia gives her a crinkle-eyed smile. “I won’t refuse you.”

Claire pulls out into the traffic, Mia’s hand resting on her leg. And, as ever, she wishes they had the night to hang out. But they won’t have a night until the weekend, probably. As she stops at some lights, she rests her head against the seat and enjoys the sweep of Mia’s fingers as they absently caress her knee. Everybody knows, she thinks. What a strange new world.

Well, everybody knows except every single member of her family of course.

CHAPTER 32

Two weeks later, Claire runs down the stairs and yanks open the front door. The bright afternoon sun backlights Mia’s figure, reducing her to a dark outline in the doorway.

“Hi.” Claire smiles at the shape in front of her. She takes her by the wrist and yanks her inside, bringing her into high-definition Mia. She loops her arms around her waist.

Mia laughs as she draws them even closer together. “I take it no one is home, then?”

“Well yes, Mia, that would be why we’re hanging out here tonight.”

“So where is everyone?”

“Mum and Dad are at the lake until tomorrow. Cam’s at work. Then he’ll probably go out. We should have the place to ourselves for a while.”

“Good.” Mia purrs.

“Yes, very, very good.” Claire kicks the front door closed before kissing her in case any of the neighbours are around. Not that it really matters. It’s not exactly neighbourly—let alone gossipy—around here.

They remain in the doorway, staring at each other in a kind of indulgent self-satisfaction at earning a night together.

And they stay that way until Mia leans into her, smiling covetously. She cups her hands to Claire’s cheeks. “So that’s what you look like.” She presses a series of vehement, breathless kisses on her. “I was trying to remember this morning.”

Claire smiles ruefully. “Yeah, that was too long.”

Mia nods her ardent agreement. “So, Christmas sucked?”

Claire nods. She has already told Mia about the huge argument her mother and aunt had after lunch. And about the undercooked chicken. “Yeah, and New Year’s was boring.” Every year Claire’s parents host a party for family and friends. And every year Claire is expected to go, at least until midnight. This year she planned to meet Robbie and Eli in town after but couldn’t be bothered dealing with the epic wait for a cab to pick her up from the suburbs. Besides, she knew she’d just get drunk and spend the whole time wishing Mia were there, only to pay for a cab home later. So instead she stayed home and hung out with Cam and her cousin upstairs while the oldies partied.

“Your New Year’s couldn’t have been any more boring than mine. Rosa went to bed, and Mum and Dad and I yawned our way to midnight, drank champagne, and then they went to bed, too. I sat up and watched some terrible horror film and tried to message you, but I couldn’t get any reception.” She pouts. “Boring and depressing.”

Claire screws up her face. “Aw.”

Mia’s pout turns slowly into a smile. “But now we have tonight.”

Claire nods and kisses her. “We have tonight. So, what do you want to do?”

“Oh, I think bed,” Mia says, all serious and thoughtful like a doctor advising on the optimum course of treatment for a patient.

Claire shakes her head. “You are so incredibly predictable.”

Mia lets the jibe slide on by with that highly amused smile of acknowledgement Claire has seen a thousand times before. Then she gives Claire a playfully coy smile as she slides her hands inside her top. “Well if you’d like to play Scrabble or watch the news, I can do that too, Claire. Whatever you want.”

Claire gives her a withering look. “No, bed will be fine, thank you.” She grabs her by the hand and leads her up the stairs.

* * *

Claire shuts the bathroom door, pulls her T-shirt around her legs—insubstantial protection as it is from the bracing cool of the air-conditioning—and dashes back down the hall. She leaps back into the bed, warming her cold legs against Mia’s bare skin.

Mia instantly encloses her in her arms and rests her chin on the top of Claire’s head. “Did you know you’re not supposed to have your bed so your feet are facing the door?”

“Huh?” Claire frowns. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with my bed?”

“It’s supposed to be totally bad Feng Shui or something.”

“And what the hell is Feng Shui?”

“It’s something to do with arranging your home to attract the most good fortune or luck or something. Kristen’s mother was really into it. And having your bed positioned so that your feet face the door is supposed to be one of the worst things you can do.”

“Oh.” Claire looks around the room and shrugs. “Well, it’s always been like this. No wonder I’m such an unlucky person, then. It’s my feng shoooee.”

Mia chuckles at her deliberately terrible pronunciation. “Do you really think you’re unlucky?”

“I dunno.” She doesn’t really want to think about it too hard. Not right now. “Maybe I should change it around, though,” she muses.

“Maybe.”

“Meh.” Claire shrugs again. “I’ve made it this far.” She kisses Mia’s sternum. “That’s the thing I like about you, Mia, you’re always full of totally useless obscure facts.”

Mia pokes her in the side. “Um, maybe turn your bed around and find out if it’s actually useless first? And I sincerely hope that’s not the only thing you like about me.”

Claire grins and gropes a little. “Nah, I like your rack, too.”

Mia laughs and idly strokes a stretch of Claire’s upper arm as they lie there quietly. “I like it in here, though,” she finally says.

Claire pulls a face as she looks around her bedroom. “Why?” She’s never been much of a fan. It’s nowhere near as nice or cosy as Mia’s roomy wooden space on top of her parents’ apartment. She’s never really considered changing it, either. The plan is—and has always been—to get out.

“I think it’s just because it’s yours, and I can see bits of you in it. And because it smells like you.”

Claire stares around the room and tries to see it through Mia’s eyes. “I think it’s been the same in here since I was twelve. Only the books and the clothes have changed.”

“Really?” Mia takes another look around at the lightly decorated walls and the neat white furniture. “You were one hell of a grown up twelve-year-old.”

“I had no say in how it looked. Mum had the whole house redecorated years ago, after she and Dad both got promotions. I came home from school camp, and it looked like this.”

“Even the doona cover?” Mia lifts the corner of the zebra print fabric.

Claire smiles. “Okay, that’s changed.”

“What was it before?”

Claire screws up her face, trying to recall. “Purple, I think. Yep, bright purple with some sort of white flowery crap on it. Mum again. Why?”

“I don’t know. I wanted to picture what it was like. It’s smaller than I thought it would be, too. The rest of the house is so spacious.”

“Yeah it’s weird, the living areas are huge but the bedrooms are small. I guess we were supposed to all be hanging out in the family areas. But I spent most of my time hiding in here.”

“But I thought your parents were never home?”

“I know, but I still hung out in here. Don’t know why.” She frowns. “Well, one reason was because you never knew when they’d be coming, so you couldn’t get too comfortable. And when Mum was home, she would never shut up. It’s as if she thought she could make up for coming home really late every night by jamming in an interrogation session about every single thing in my life when she did see me. Every. Single. Thing. Inquisition as table conversation.” She rolls her eyes at Mia. “I swear she would have asked about what stage of my menstrual cycle I was in if it wouldn’t have made Dad choke on his takeaway.”

Mia snickers. “And Cam? Did he stay in his room, too?”

“Yeah, if he was home.” Claire plays with a strand of Mia’s hair, wrapping it around her finger. “But that’s because he had his PlayStation in there. And where that was, he was.”

“So, what did you do while you were holed up in here all the time?”

“I don’t know. My homework, reading, TV, diary.” She grins. “And a lot of hours staring at the ceiling, wishing I was somewhere else.”

“You kept a diary?”

“Yeah, for a few years; from when I was about twelve until, I don’t know, I think I stopped writing it when Brendan and I started going out. Did you?”

“I never had one. What did you write about?”

She unravels Mia’s hair from her finger and smiles. “Nothing interesting, I bet. I haven’t looked at it in years, but it’s probably really boring. Lots of FML-ing and whining.”

Mia grins.

“I don’t know; it wasn’t as if I was some aspiring writer or anything. It was just somewhere to get my thoughts out. There were never any actual humans around. Mum and Dad were always at work—even if I did want to talk to them. Cam was in his smelly boy cave down the hall or at training. And because I changed schools for high school, none of my new friends lived that close to me. Not walking distance, anyway. So if I was home, I was kind of on my own. So I wrote it all down.”

“That sounds kind of lonely.”

“I guess. Wasn’t it the same for you? I mean, being an only child?”

“Sometimes, but not really. I mean, for starters, my parents were home after work, mostly. Dad was even home some days when he was writing his books. And if they went to dinner or something, I went with them. We had lots of visitors, too. And at the old flat, we even had a few uni students of Dad’s stay with us sometimes. There was always someone around. And I was at Kristen’s a lot, too, or she was at mine.”

Claire nods as she feels a small surge of envy at Mia’s childhood. She wonders what it would have been like to grow up in Mia’s family, so vivid and warm.

Mia drapes a leg over Claire’s and smiles. “I kind of love picturing you sitting in here scribbling in your secret diary.”

Claire smiles. “I had to be incredibly careful it stayed a secret, though. I was terrified Mum would find it.”

“What do you mean? Would she come into your room?”

“Yeah, I mean, I never caught her, but I’m pretty sure she snooped every now and then, looking for…I don’t know, whatever she could find.”

“I thought only mums in movies did that kind of thing.”

“Nope, so do mums who are lawyers, Mia.”

Mia grins. “Of course. I don’t think my mother ever really came into my room without me knowing. Not once I was old enough to clean it myself, anyway.”

“Well I think we both know your parents are completely awesome, while my parents—well my mother, anyway, is kind of a monster.”

“She’s not a monster, Claire. She’s just kind of uptight and intense. And maybe a little overbearing?”

Claire laughs. “A monster.”

Mia makes a face as if maybe she might agree a little but isn’t going to say. “So, did she ever read your diary, do you think?”

“No chance. I hid it way too well, even for her.”

“Where?”

“Why would I tell you that?” Claire pokes her in the side again and grins. “That’s my best-kept secret.”

“I was just curious.” Mia pulls a face at her. “Whatever, Claire.”

“Well, if you were me, where would you hide it?”

Mia immediately sits up against the pillows and examines the room. Eventually she points at the large white wardrobe. “Behind that.”

“Nah, way too obvious.” Claire likes this game already.

“Okay then.” Mia bites her lip and continues to look around. Claire smiles at her earnest expression. “I know.” Mia wriggles up the bed some more and points at the desk. “Taped under the bottom of the desk or a drawer.”

“Come on, Mia. We’re talking about a woman who catches people out for a living. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Mia sighs. “Inside a fake book in your bookshelf?”

Claire shakes her head. “Nope.”

“Under the carpet?”

Claire gives her a withering look. “I think someone might have noticed the lumps, Mee. Now you’re not even trying.”

Mia grins and elbows her in the side. She returns to her search. Finally, she sits back against the pillows again and frowns. “Oh, I don’t know, in a hole in your mattress?”

“Nope. I would have been murdered for wrecking it. But nice try.”

Mia lets out a resigned sigh. “I give up.”

Triumphant, Claire climbs astride Mia’s legs and grins at her.

Mia swats at her face, laughing. “Yes, yes, you win, her royal smugness.”

Claire grins a little harder, wriggles triumphantly, and drops a kiss on her nose. “I know.”

“Lucky you’re so damn cute.”

Claire kisses her again and climbs off the bed.

“Where are you going now?”

Instead of answering, Claire takes the pile of clothes from the chair by her door and throws it onto the floor. She turns the chair upside down.

“What are you doing?” Mia asks, quickly followed by a knowing, “Oh,” as she realises the answer to her question.

Grinning, Claire uses her fingernails to lever the thumbtacks she inserted into the wood so long ago, similar enough to the bronze furniture tacks that no one would notice the difference unless they were really looking. Claire had enough faith that her mother would not ever be that committed to her task of hunting out contraband to notice that. Not unless she was looking for something specific.

Mia scoots to the corner of the bed closest to Claire, the sheet pulled around her shoulders like a cape, looking completely intrigued. “Seriously?”

Claire smiles and pulls back the canvas fabric, exposing the innards of the seat. And there it is in its faithful hiding place between the second and third springs, equidistance from both the cushion and the canvas where no one would feel it if they happened to sit on it, or spot it if they happened to turn the chair over. She lets out a self-satisfied sigh. This little hiding spot is one of the few personal victories she has ever had over her mother, and she’s embarrassingly proud of it.

She slides the small book out and holds it aloft. “Ta da!”

Mia grins and shakes her head. “Wow. Just wow, Claire Pearson. You are stealth.”

“Know it.” Claire smiles widely as she slides the little blue book right back in, replaces the fabric and tacks, and flips the chair back over. “Kind of extreme, I know, but it was nearly impossible to keep anything from her.”

Mia smiles sympathetically. “I can imagine.”

Claire gives her a radiant smile as she wanders slowly over to the bed and then rests on the mattress with one knee. “So, you Mia Prince, are the only person in the whole world who knows where I keep my diary.” She lowers herself into the arms held out automatically to receive her.

Mia laughs and clutches her against her chest. “An honour. And I promise to never, ever, divulge that secret. Not even in a torture situation, should it arise.”

“Even if my mother is sticking bamboo splinters under your fingernails?”

“Even then.”

Claire smiles. “Good.”

CHAPTER 33

They are sprawled across the couch in the living room watching TV when she hears what might be a car in the driveway.

She lifts her head from Mia’s lap and looks toward the entry. She sighs. Yep, that is most definitely a set of car headlights shining through the glass panels at the side of the door.

“Shit.”

“What’s up?”

Claire scrambles to untangle herself from Mia and shuffles across the couch. “The party’s over,” she grumbles. “I think Cam’s home.”

She looks back at the car lights. They’re still there, beaming through the glass.

Mia nods and rearranges herself cross-legged on the couch while Claire silently gives thanks that they got dressed before they came downstairs. Her paranoia about someone coming home has paid off.

She frowns as the car pulls away. Why the hell does Cam have to come home so early tonight? It has been so freaking blissful to lie around with Mia and watch movies and snuggle and do a decadent nothing. They never get to do this.

As the key turns in the lock, she grabs the remote, and turns the sound up louder. Mia gives her a questioning look. Claire shrugs. Cam won’t be quiet about coming home. He doesn’t do anything quietly after he’s been at the pub. Already she can hear him struggle to get the door open. After a few false starts with the key, the door finally bursts open.

“Well hello!” The door slams closed, and Cam swaggers into the living room, holding his arms out expansively as if he’s a host welcoming guests of honour. Claire can tell he’s kind of drunk. He’s not slurring his words or anything, but he’s a little lurchy, and he has that bright, overly convivial look in his eyes. He is way too cheery for the end of a long Friday shift. The dead giveaway, though, is his roughed-up hair. He has this weird habit of scruffing his hand excitedly through his hair when he’s drunk and telling his dumb stories. And he has clearly been telling a few tonight, given the way his hair stands completely on end.

She prays that he decides go to straight to bed, even though she knows it’s futile. It’s way too early for Cam. And he loves company when he’s three sheets to the wind.

So she shoots him a dirty look and hits pause. She holds the remote aloft deliberately, as though she’s waiting for him to shut up and hopes he’ll take the hint and go upstairs.

But of course he ignores it. “I wasn’t expecting company!” He grins at Mia. She smiles and kind of waves back.

“You remember Mia?” Claire mumbles. She puts down the remote and folds her arms across her chest, sulky.

“Of course. The med student who deigns to hang out with my slacker sister. Hey!” He plonks himself on the armchair. “What are you guys doing tonight?”

“Really Cam?” Claire waves at the pizza boxes and the television. “Really? You can’t use your finely honed powers of policing deduction to put together a scene?”

Cam grins and yanks off his jacket. “The snark is strong with this one, Mia.”

She grins knowingly at him and nods. “And how.”

Claire fights the urge to thump Mia in the arm. It’s bad enough Cam has turned up early and ruined their night. Mia is not allowed to gang up on her with him. That’s just salt in the wound.

She turns on him. “So how’d you get drunk and get home so early?” She checks her watch. It’s only 10:40 pm.

“I’m not drunk,” he protests.

“Yeah, well, your hair says otherwise.”

He grins and pats it down. “Forgot to eat dinner between shift and beer. I’m starving.” He leans over and flips open the pizza box on the coffee table.

“We ate everything, sorry. Mia’s a pig.”

Mia gasps and jabs her in the arm. “I’m a pig? I got, like, three slices of that at best.”

“Don’t worry Mia, I know you’re the victim here,” Cam assures her. “I used to have to eat dinner with my arm around my plate because she’d steal stuff. Or she’d try and swap the vegetables on her plate for the good stuff on mine.”

Mia laughs. “Sounds like Claire.”

“That is not true!” Though it’s a little bit true.

Mia looks between the two of them and smiles, clearly completely amused.

“What am I going to eat?” Cam sighs loudly. “I’m starving.”

“It’s a mystery to us all.” Claire sits back against the sofa. Her brother’s drunken appetite is the least of her problems right now. More pressing is the interrupted snuggling she’s missing out on. “And not a very interesting one, so shut up.” She hits play again.

Mia looks at her and shakes her head. Cam slumps back in his seat, frowning. Then just as quickly he shoots forward again and claps his hands, which makes them jump. “Nachos!” His grin is wide, and his eyes wider, as if it’s the best idea he has ever had in his whole life. “You girls want some nachos? Mia?”

Claire turns to her. “If you’re smart, you’ll say no.”

Mia smiles and shakes her head. “I’ve eaten plenty. Thanks, though.”

“You’re missing out. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He hauls himself from the chair and disappears into the kitchen.

As soon as he’s gone, Claire turns to Mia and gives her a sulky pout.

Mia cranes her neck, looking around Claire toward the kitchen door. Then she darts over the cushions and presses a kiss onto her frowning mouth. “Don’t be cranky. I like Cam.”

“So? So do I.”

“You have a weird way of showing it.”

“Oh no,” Claire tells her, dead serious. “That’s how we show love.”

Mia nods slowly. “Right.”

“A deprived only child such as yourself could never understand the love between two siblings.”

Mia gives her a dubious smile. “I think I’m starting to learn.”

“Anyway, Cam’s alright.” Claire pushes out her bottom lip again. “But I wanted to cuddle.”

“Me too.” Mia kisses her again. “We can later.” Then she frowns. “Or should I not stay here now?”

“Nah, you can still stay. He won’t suspect anything. He’s too drunk. And dumb.”

Mia laughs. Then she drops another kiss on her and shuffles back to her end of the sofa.

Claire turns up the volume even further to combat the bangs and crashes now coming from the kitchen. But she can’t concentrate. She’s stewing now and annoyed that they can’t relax and be now that he’s home. She stares at the screen and chews on her lip, contemplating the potential fallout if Cam knew about them. Would there be any? It’s not as if he’d do anything like tell their parents. Cam’s too loyal for that. And he’s not likely to turn out to be some weird homophobe. She’d probably know about that already. The most likely reaction is for him to use it for his own amusement for a little while. And that would be kind of annoying. Not to mention embarrassing. But it’s going to happen sometime.

Then, before she has even really made any kind of decision, she grabs the empty pizza box, jumps off the sofa, and strides into the kitchen.

In the ten minutes he has been in there, he has already managed to make a hot mess of the place. Corn chips, salsa, and sour cream are scattered across the counter, decorated by a decadent sprinkle of the hot chilli flakes he loves to add to everything. There is a gummy mess of avocado on one of the chopping boards and grated cheese everywhere. He stands in front of the open freezer and eats ice cream straight from the tub as he waits for the microwave to do its thing.

She flattens the pizza box and appraises the mess. “Fabulous work here, brother. Fabulous.”

He looks around and smiles proudly. “Thank you. I thought so.”

She watches as he shoves the ice cream back in the freezer, opens the fridge, grabs a piece of chicken, and begins to gnaw on it, caveman style. She pulls a suitably disgusted face at him and then returns to the task at hand. She folds her arms across her chest. “Right, so, I’m going to tell you something.”

“Okay.” He takes the mayonnaise from the shelf in the door and squirts it straight onto the piece of chicken.

“And by the time you’re finished with this culinary catastrophe and are ready to return to the living room, I’m going to need you to be okay with it, okay?”

He pauses mid-chew, instantly confused.

But before he can say anything, she pushes the words out, afraid she won’t if she doesn’t immediately. “Mia’s my girlfriend.”

He stares at her blankly, no sign of comprehension.

She sighs. Is this really the best time to do this? While he’s drunk? Oh well, it’s too late now. She sighs and starts again. “And I don’t mean my girlfriend as in a girl who is a friend. I mean my girlfriend as in I’m dating her. We’re dating.”

His eyes bug a little, and his chewing decelerates. He looks like a cow chewing the cud, dopey and slow.

“Do you follow?” She wonders if maybe he’s a little drunker than she thought. Maybe he won’t even remember it in the morning? She does not want to go through this again. “Comprenez-vous?”

He nods slowly and wipes his chin with his wrist, clearly still computing. “I read.”

“Good. Now hurry up and get over it.” She drops the pizza box into the recycling container, turns on her heels, and strides back into the living room. She resumes her position of earlier, curled on the cushions with her head in Mia’s lap.

Mia’s hand hovers in the air over Claire. She looks suitably confused.

Claire snuggles in a little closer. “It’s okay. He knows now.” She grabs Mia’s arm and pulls it over her.

And by the time he returns to the living room with his plateful of nachos, they’re cosy again, staring at the TV.

Of course, Cam can’t completely leave it alone, though. He drops into the armchair, kicks his legs onto the coffee table, and starts to cram corn chips into his mouth.

“So, I assume the mothership is not aware of this development?” he asks through a mouthful.

Claire keeps her gaze fixed on the screen. “You assume right, boy genius.”

“And I assume we’re keeping it this way, at least until further notice?”

“Correct.”

He stares at them for a minute, chewing, contemplative. Then he shakes his head and stuffs another handful of corn chips and melted cheese into his mouth. “You’re a brave soul, Mia. That’s all I can say.”

Claire hears Mia snicker above her. “Oh I know,” she assures him. “I know.”

Cam snorts into his food as Claire applies an elbow to Mia’s ribs.

CHAPTER 34

When they wander downstairs in the bright light of the mid-morning, Cam is already in the kitchen making another mess on top of the mess he left from last night.

Claire stares at the chaos and tries to visually separate the breakfast carnage from the nacho carnage. “What are you doing now?”

“Pancakes. I woke up this morning and my hangover wanted pancakes.”

“I thought you weren’t drunk last night?”

“So did I.” He sounds bitter.

Mia leans on the counter next to her and watches him work.

“But does your hangover even know how to make pancakes?”

“No, it doesn’t. But it doesn’t matter, because pancake mix knows how to make pancakes.” He holds up the container gleefully. “And my hangover and I know how to mix.” He shakes the contents of the bottle vigorously and flicks on the stove. “Teamwork!”

Claire turns to Mia. “I’m actually a little bit nervous. Nachos are okay. That’s just the microwave. But pancakes? That’s some serious stovetop cooking action. And I’m as clueless as he is.”

Mia laughs and sits on a stool behind the counter.

“I can hear you, you know,” Cam informs them over his shoulder. “And everything is going to be fine, Mia. Neither of us has started a fire in here for years.”

Claire grins and nods. “That’s true.”

Claire smiles at Mia, but she’s watching Cam, clearly highly entertained. It’s so strange to have her in their kitchen in broad daylight, sitting right where her mother sat the other day while she delivered a lecture on why success is all about having the right attitude. Which Claire apparently does not.

This, today, is a blissful contrast. She glances over at Cam. He’s completely fixated on whatever is happening on the stove. She traces her fingers over Mia’s still sleepy face and follows it with a delicate drift of kisses across her cheek. “Want coffee?” she asks.

Mia smiles lazily, and hooks a finger into the waistband of her shorts. “Yes, please.”

Claire stamps another quick kiss on her and heads for the machine. But the machine isn’t even switched on. “So, Cam, why the hell does your hangover not know how to make coffee all of a sudden?” She turns around to Mia, her hands raised. Mia sits there, chin in hand, looking far too amused given the gravity of this coffee-less situation. Claire glares at her.

Cam spins around, spoon aloft. “Because, Claire, while my hangover is currently capable of carbohydrate-grade greatness, there are limits to what it can achieve all at once.” He waves the wooden spoon and wriggles his eyebrows and grins, used car salesman-like. “But, if you should be so kind as to make coffee, there’s breakfast in it for you.”

Claire turns to Mia. “Feeling brave? Cam-pancakes brave?”

She nods, grinning. “I am.”

Claire turns back to her brother. “Deal.”

Cam grins, grabs a frypan from the cupboard, and spins it by the handle before throwing it onto the stove. He adds a hunk of butter. The kitchen quickly fills with a delicious smell.

“Now Mia,” Cam says over his shoulder. “Go ahead and ask me anything you want to know about Claire—especially anything you think you might need for survival. Feel free to consider me your tour guide into the psyche of my sister.”

Claire dials up her best death stare and turns it on Mia, a silent warning to consider her acceptance of this offer very, very carefully.

But it turns out she doesn’t need to.

Mia laughs as she folds her arms on the counter. “I’m all good, thanks Cam. I’m one of those people who actually likes surprises.”

“That’s lucky,” Cam muses. “She’s good at surprises.” He gives Claire a look as if to tell her he’s not done being thrown by this latest revelation from her.

“Good.” Mia gives Claire a smile. And it’s a “don’t worry, I’m always going to be on your side” smile.

Claire smiles right back at her. This girl. She fills the water and sets the machine to start heating. “Good, now I won’t have to break either of your pretty faces.”

Cam ignores her. “Okay then, Mia, if you don’t want anything from my Book of Claire Revelations, let’s play a little getting to know you Jeopardy.” He holds the bottle high over the pan and pours out his first pancake.

She laughs. “Um, okay. What’s that?”

“It’s easy.” He takes a flipper from the drawer and starts chiselling at the edge of the pancake. “First we provide personal specialty categories. Mine are—Weird Arrest Stories, How to Hit Level 28 in Soul Crusher, How to Survive an Interrogation From Lawyer Parents—also a Claire specialty—and When Not to Tell a Prospective Lady-Friend You’re a Cop. You?”

“Wow.” Mia grins and rests her chin thoughtfully on her arms. “Okay, I’ve got—Gross Medical Facts, How Not to Faint at Your First Autopsy Demonstration, How to Break it to Your Science Geek Parents That You Failed a Maths Test—”

“You failed a maths test?” Claire turns, coffee mugs in hand, staring. “You? When?”

“Only once.” Mia grins at her. “Never again, believe me.”

Cam spins around and throws his first pancake, a misshapen but seemingly edible item, onto a plate. “Ooh, speaking of gross medical facts—”

“We weren’t,” Claire points out.

He ignores her again and grins at Mia. “Want to see my awesome leg scar?”

Mia leans forward, way too excited. “From the car accident?”

“Yup.”

“Yes please.”

Claire shakes her head and climbs off her stool. She’s out. She’s seen it enough. Besides, it seems as if it’s pretty safe to leave these two in each other’s company now.

“I’m going to have a shower,” she tells them. “I expect pancakes, coffee, and better conversation by the time I get back.”

But they don’t even hear her.

CHAPTER 35

Later that afternoon, Claire trots down the stairs in her work clothes and heads straight into the kitchen.

The other two are busily cleaning the mess from breakfast. And lunch.

This morning, the three of them ended up taking their impromptu pancake breakfast outside onto the terrace. And, as the day warmed up, it somehow turned into a laze around on the grass, swimming in the pool, shooting the breeze, and eating encore nachos for lunch kind of day. And Claire has to admit, it was kind of fun to hang out with Mia and Cam together. Those two actually seem to take a perverse delight in the other’s weirdness, and Claire spent most of the day sitting out of the conversation, listening to them banter. It was highly entertaining.

As Claire grabs her car keys from the fruit bowl, Cam checks the wall clock. He holds up the cloth he’s wiping the bench with and grins triumphantly. “Parental units are due home in T-minus thirty minutes and the kitchen is clean. Victory is mine!”

Claire smirks. “Yeah, somehow I think that has more to do with Mia than it does with you.”

Mia grins and nods her ardent agreement from the sink.

He raises his hands. “So? Breakfast had a lot to do with me. And besides, I notice you haven’t had to do a thing, princess.”

“Yeah well, that’s why I keep you two around.” She smiles and turns to Mia, shaking her keys. “We’d better go.”

Mia nods, wiping her hands on the dishtowel as she comes over to Claire’s side.

“What are you guys doing now?” Cam asks.

“Dinner with Mia’s parents, then I’m going to work.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Dinner with the parents? You’re doing in-law stuff already?”

Claire nods. “Yeah, well Mia’s parents are a lot more chilled than our parents. A lot.”

He grins. “That would not be hard.”

“True.”

He folds the tea towel and throws it onto the counter. “Righto, see you guys later then.”

“Bye, Cam. It was great hanging out with you,” Mia says.

“For sure. You too.” He grins at her and then turns to Claire. “So, I’m going boldly into a week of night shift. I’ll see you on the flipside, yeah?”

Claire nods. Soothed and maybe a little sweetened by the effortlessness of his normality about her and Mia, she feels a sudden, urgent rush of affection for her goof of a brother. So much so that she can’t help but aim and fire a quick fierce hug at him.

“Uh okay then,” he mumbles, clearly surprised. “It’s only a week. You’ll survive without me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She grabs Mia’s arm and drags her from the room, not wanting to be there when her parents get home. This weekend has been too good to spoil.

CHAPTER 36

Tasya opens the door. A deep crease cleaves the space between her eyebrows. She smiles briefly as she greets Claire, but it turns quickly to a distracted frown.

“Claire. Come in.” She pulls the door open wider and walks away, peering around the room.

Claire steps timidly inside. She pats Blue as he trots over to greet her and wonders what this tepid greeting might mean. Tasya usually at least stops to chat for a minute, and it’s a certain, silly point of pride for Claire that she has become used to, good at, even, these small, requisite conversations with Mia’s parents.

She watches Tasya wander around the room, clearly searching for something. “Uh, is everything okay?”

“Oh, fine.” She shifts some sofa cushions and peers behind them. “Just lost my glasses. As usual.”

“Oh.” Claire bites her lip, relieved. It’s not about her at all. She gazes around the room, but she can’t see them anywhere.

“Oh, don’t you worry about it, hon.” Tasya flicks a hand at her and moves around to the armchair to check there. “They’ll turn up. Mia is in her room.”

“Um, okay.” But Claire continues to search the room as she crosses to the stairs. Just before she reaches the foot, she spots them on top of a bookshelf, folded neatly on a dictionary. She passes them to Tasya. “Here.”

Tasya’s face relaxes into a grateful smile. She pulls them on. “Thank you. I need to get one of those chain thingies. I feel as if I’ve lost at least ten years of my life looking for my glasses.” She drops on to the sofa, takes a folder from the pile on the coffee table, and sighs loudly. “And another ten to marking tests.”

Claire smiles sympathetically and trots up the stairs, Blue at her heels, her eyes now on the prize.

And there it is. Mia’s door is wide open, and she’s sprawled on her bed holding a handful of papers over her head, reading. A large opened envelope lies on the doona next to her. She puts them down the moment she hears Claire. A leisurely smile stretches across her face, and her bare legs curl behind her as she turns to face Claire.

She pats the covers invitingly. “Hey. Am I glad to see you.”

But Claire doesn’t come to her immediately. Instead she smiles from the door, dawdling in the pleasure of anticipation. Blue trots to the other side of the room and settles on the rug. She holds on to the doorframe and simply takes her in for a moment—her mellow, freckled grin, and those brown eyes shining behind her glasses. But soon Claire can’t resist. She kicks off her shoes and flops on the mattress next to her.

Mia’s arm wraps around her waist as she leans in and presses her lips to Claire’s cheek.

Claire smiles. “Hi.”

“Claire.” Mia says it matter-of-factly, as if announcing Claire’s presence to herself.

It makes Claire smile. “Mia.”

“How was your day?”

“Oh fine.” Claire picks up the envelope sandwiched on the covers between them, slowly being crushed. “Watcha reading?”

Mia takes the empty envelope from her and drops it on the floor behind her. “Stuff from the university. Orientation information.”

“Exciting.”

Mia plays with the thin silver bracelet around Claire’s wrist. “I guess.”

“What do you mean, you guess?”

Mia pulls in a breath and lets it out slowly as she rolls onto her back. “Oh, I don’t know.” She says it lightly, tucking her hands under her head. Or as if she’s trying to say it lightly.

Claire stares at Mia. Mia smiles at her, but her gaze shifts slowly to the ceiling. As Claire scrutinises her, she begins to press her lips together, serious, her mind wandering elsewhere.

Claire frowns as she tries to read this slightly strange mood. She takes a hold of a strand of Mia’s hair and tugs it slightly to capture her attention. “Aren’t you excited about orientation? It’s going to be amazing.”

“It’s going to be intense.”

“Yeah, but amazing intense. You got into medicine, Mee. And at the best uni. That’s amazing.”

Mia nods slowly. “I guess.”

“Hey, what’s with all the sudden I guessing? Don’t you want to do medicine anymore?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why aren’t you all dorkily excited by this?”

Mia grabs her hand and smiles, as if that little restive spell of hers never happened. “No, I am excited.” She grasps Claire’s neck and draws her in for a kiss. Claire complies, but she pulls back quickly and peers at her, not at all convinced by this sudden shift in outlook.

And she’s right not to be. Mia still looks tense. A crease—that very same crease Claire just witnessed on Tasya—slowly creates a small furrow between her eyebrows. Claire smiles but then quickly suppresses it. Mia can never hide how she feels. Not anymore. Claire has become too attuned to her moods and expressions.

“Seriously, what’s wrong, Mee?”

The crease deepens. “I don’t know. Just reading everything I realised it’s going to be really high pressure, which of course I already knew. But also…” She chews at her lip, sliding her fingers between Claire’s and gripping her hand. “Everyone is going to be really, really good.”

Claire nods. “Probably.”

Mia nods. Her gaze returns to the ceiling.

Claire leans in a little, studying her. “So?”

Mia says nothing at first. She lets go of Claire’s hand and starts to play with a strand of her own hair, tying it in small knots and untying it again. Claire watches her until finally Mia replies. “So what if I’m not as good as everyone?”

Claire gives her a dubious look. “Why the hell wouldn’t you be?”

Mia raises her shoulders. “I don’t know. But what if I can’t handle it? All the work and the pressure?”

“You have so far.”

“But that was different. It wa—”

Claire presses a hand on Mia’s stomach to silence her. “You will,” she says simply.

Mia nods and stares at the ceiling.

Claire shakes her head, wondering how Mia, so brilliant and so driven, can tie herself in knots like this. It makes no sense. It’s exams all over again. She shakes her head again, more violently this time. She pokes Mia hard in the ribs. “No way.”

Mia rubs her side. “Ouch. What?”

Claire pokes her again. “No way are you being this stupid, Mia.”

Mia frowns. “I beg your pardon?”

Claire clambers over her until she sits astride Mia. “Nope. Non. Nein. Nyet.” She jabs her harder in the sternum with each word and glares. “You are way too smart to be this dumb.”

Mia grabs the hand and holds it tight, smiling, but looking a little rattled. “Well, gee, thanks, Claire.”

Claire shrugs, dismissive. “Well you’re being stupid.” She yanks her hands free of Mia’s grasp and holds them palm up. “I mean, how many bloody times have I had to listen you—since the minute I met you—go on about how impossible it was to get into this course whenever you were in panic mode? How there were only this many people who made it into this program every year? How it was all exclusive and for science geek geniuses and crap?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Nuh uh.” Claire pokes her again. “Look, I might not have your outsized brain, Mee, but even I know that if the best people got into this course, and you were one of those people, the math says you’re going to be as good as them. It’s simple logic. Do you think you can manage that?” She digs the finger harder into her skin. “Can you?”

Mia tips her head to one side and narrows her eyes as she pushes the torturing hand away. But then she breaks into a faint, amused smile, and shakes her head.

Claire runs her fingers over Mia’s collarbones. “Mia, you get to be nervous. Hell, I’d be terrified. It makes sense to be nervous. But you can’t go in thinking that you would be any less qualified to be there. Because that’s stupid. And dumb.” She jabs her chest one more time for emphasis. “And…stupid.”

Mia lets out a small, breathy laugh and recaptures Claire’s hand. Smiling hard, she pulls it towards her and kisses her palm.

Claire leans over her. “You’ll be incredible, Mia. You’ll be incredible because you’re incredible. Because you’re this hot, smart, incredible geek person who’s going to kill it.” She leans over and drops a handful of ferocious kisses on her face and mouth. “Kill. It.” She points at her, stern. “Okay?”

Mia nods, obedient. Then, almost immediately, she shakes her head and smiles bemusedly at her.

And Claire simply delivers her most winsome smile in return “And you’re also going to love it, because you’ll finally be among those who also sing the song of your geek people.”

Mia laughs and squeezes Claire’s hands again. And then the laugh fades, and she stares at her, her eyes shining again. “Okay, I believe you. How could I not?” She wraps her arms around Claire’s neck and draws her closer. “Now come here.”

And Claire does as she’s told.

Mia folds her into a hug and whispers the words into her hair. “Thank you.”

Claire smiles a blithe, self-satisfied smile to herself. “Not a problem, Mia. Here to help.”

CHAPTER 37

Nina’s balcony is so microscopic it barely qualifies as a balcony. In fact, it’s really just an outdoor shelf. There’s barely enough room for the two of them, parked on the two spindly outdoor chairs Nina rescued from someone’s trash, and the ailing herb pots at their feet.

They sit side by side under the surprisingly benign morning sun, eating cereal and drinking coffee. The world is already wide awake below them. The traffic hums, voices talk to the other end of phone lines, and doors slam open and closed in neighbouring flats. It seems the day has started without them. But Claire doesn’t feel in the slightest bit guilty, because the rest of the world that is being all mover and shaker below her probably didn’t have to work until late last night. They didn’t have to serve inebriated crowds of people who have no business getting that drunk and obnoxious on a Wednesday as far as she’s concerned. Not that they cared one bit what she thought, of course. They just kept drinking.

Claire sits cross-legged on her chair, hunched over the bowl in her lap as her spoon makes the treacherously long journey from bowl to mouth. Nina rests her feet on the balcony railing, stirs the milk into the last of her cornflakes, and holds the bowl below her chin as she eats. “Hey, how’s Mia doing? I haven’t seen her for a while.”

Claire shrugs, chewing rapidly. She always eats her cereal as quickly as possible. She hates soggy cereal. “Alright, I guess. She’s all panicked about starting medicine.” She shovels another spoonful into her mouth, shaking her head. “Thinks she won’t be good enough.”

Nina pulls a face. “That’s ridiculous. Mia’s, like, a genius.”

Claire nods, still crunching. “I know, right?”

“And you two are good?”

Claire nods. “Mhm.” She shovels more cereal in, smiling as she thinks of Mia, who is probably already well and truly at work. But she suppresses it just as quickly lest Nina witnesses her being all mushy.

“Good.” Nina tucks her arms behind her head. “You know, I was thinking of studying this year, too.”

Claire stops chewing. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“Studying what?”

“Astrophysics.”

“What?”

Nina laughs. “Writing, Claire. I’m thinking of studying writing.”

“Oh.” That makes more sense. She shoots her a look. “Okay smart ass, what’s the course?”

“It’s this one-year diploma thingy.”

“Thingy, huh?” Claire grins. “That the technical term?”

Nina giggles. “Uh huh. It’s sounds pretty cool. It’s a writing course. You do all kinds of classes, creative writing, journalism stuff, editing, scriptwriting.”

“That sounds really great.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“So have you applied yet?”

“Not yet.” Nina wraps her arms around her knees. “I can’t decide.”

“Why?”

“You have to write something for the application. An autobiographical piece. And then they offer interviews if they like it.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“So, I might not be good enough.”

“Only one way to find out.”

Nina shrugs and chews on a fingernail. Claire stares at her, waiting, but Nina doesn’t look back at her. She holds her hand in front of her face, inspects her fingernail, and begins to chew it again.

Claire gives her shoulder a small shove. “You should do it, Neen. You’re always saying you want to write, so go do it.”

Nina nods, but she doesn’t look convinced.

Claire rolls her eyes. What is it with everyone around her suddenly lacking in self-confidence? She should start charging for all the cheerleading she’s been doing this week. “When are applications due?”

“A month.”

“So you’ve got a four whole weeks to write something for it. Do it, Neens.”

“Maybe.”

Claire shoves her again. “Oh come on, what else are you going to do?”

“Nothing, probably.” Nina laughs half-heartedly. “Work in a bar until I’m old enough to be a burden to society?”

Claire smirks. She stands, ready to go inside.

“Speaking of.” Nina picks up their bowls and follows her in. “I got offered a shift at another bar on Sunday. If I do your shift for you tomorrow night at ours, can you cover me then?”

Claire flops onto the couch and reaches for the remote. A Friday night off? She’s just fine with that. “Sure.”

She flicks on the TV. Nina drops onto the armchair, still making a meal of her fingernails.

“You know, Neens, if you wanted me to look at your application piece when you’ve done it, I would. I wouldn’t be mean about it or anything. But I could, you know, I don’t know, tell you if there’s anything I thought could be improved, or whatever. I don’t know much about writing, but I read a lot for uni. And I helped Robbie with his essay a while back. And he doesn’t hate me.” She grins at her friend.

Nina nods, still staring at her nails. Finally she gives Claire a diffident smile. “Thanks,” she says, clearly noncommittal.

Claire smiles back, slightly hurt by Nina’s obvious reluctance. She wonders if it’s because she has always teased Nina too much about everything. What if maybe now she doesn’t trust Claire to know when to be sensitive? It saddens Claire to realise maybe she has created this situation, especially given how much closer they’ve become this summer.

She tosses a cushion at Nina to recapture her attention. “But Neens, whether you show me or not, though, I really think you should do it.”

And Nina smiles at her again and leans her head against the armchair. But at least this time it seems like a slightly more convinced smile. “Yeah maybe.”

CHAPTER 38

Claire watches Paul jog down the front steps of the hall, a broken chair in each hand. He drops them with the pile of others by the side gate and runs back up the steps. When he disappears inside, she returns her attention to the group of kids around her on the grass, beading or playing board games or lying around chatting. They’re slightly more subdued than usual. Some of them talk about what just happened, but a lot of them have already moved on.

Claire hasn’t yet though. She can still feel the last of the draining adrenalin. It makes her feel both tremulous and tired.

She still has no idea what even triggered it. One minute things were peaceful—well, as peaceful as the centre can be when all thirty or so kids are there. The next it was utter chaos.

They spent the morning at a local park, doing a nature treasure hunt some volunteer organised. Back at the centre, the kids were having some post-lunch free time. Half the kids were outside, the other half inside, playing with the art activities or games. It was loud, as usual, and frenetic. And the weirdest part, Claire realises now, is how, when everything turned to chaos, the room actually became quieter than it had been moments before.

Claire was sorting out a spat over some art supplies when she heard the resounding crash, and then another, setting off startled gasps among the kids. At first she thought one of the shelves had fallen. But when she whipped around, she saw Jamie, red-faced and in the throes of some sudden, all consuming silent rage. He picked up a chair and threw it at the shelves lining the back of the room. It ricocheted off them and bounced across the wooden floor, dangerously close to some of the kids.

Most of the group playing near him retreated quickly, ducking instinctively out of the way. Chairs scraped back and toys and games were dropped. Most dashed for the door of the kitchen. Some ran outside.

A group of the smaller kids who were playing on the carpet froze, some only a few feet from Jamie’s rampage. Claire’s first instinct was to get them the hell out of the way. She darted over and grabbed two of them by the arms and dragged them to the doorway of the kitchen.

When she turned back around, she found Jamie had moved on and was grabbing some of the smaller wooden stools and tables and was throwing them at the walls. They crashed into the painted brick with loud crashes, splitting apart on impact. And there, in the thick of it, Claire suddenly noticed, was tiny Nisha, only steps from one of the stools. Only seven, and the size of a much smaller kid, Nisha stood there paralysed, her mouth a frozen O-shape as she stared at him.

And then the yelling began. Jamie turned to the shelves. Then books and toys and games started hurtling across the room, bouncing off walls and tables. He roared and shouted as he threw things. He wasn’t making words, though, just furious, strangled sounds. Knowing there was no way she could do anything on her own in the face of that rage, and thinking only of getting Nisha out of the way, Claire stepped over a flung chair and grabbed the skinny little girl. She yanked her out of the firing line as Jamie picked up another stool.

Nisha grabbed hold of Claire’s neck in a terrified stranglehold. At the kitchen, Claire tried to put her down, but Nisha clung to Claire and let out a piercing wail in her ear. Flinching, Claire carried her with her as she dashed back to get the last of the kids.

Clutching the girl, Claire quickly shepherded another couple of curious older children standing too close to the scene for her liking toward the kitchen door. As Paul and Hani sprinted inside, Claire shoved the kids inside to where the others were standing around Cai, a sea of serious little faces. Even unflappable little Vien looked a little daunted.

Claire turned back to see what she could possibly do to help Paul and Hani. They already had a hold of Jamie. He was fighting them hard, yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Take them all outside,” Hani ordered, surprisingly calm considering the effort she seemed to be making to keep a hold on Jamie.

Claire nodded and, with the screaming Nisha still adhered to her neck, did as she was told.

That was an hour ago. Claire looks down at the head on her lap. It’s taken some time, but Nisha is finally silent now, fast asleep next to her. Claire smooths her hair back from her cheek as Nisha curls her hand tighter around the corner of the blanket.

Things are quiet in the hall now. Moi arrived twenty minutes ago, and she and Hani have Jamie in the office with them as they wait for an uncle to come and get him. Paul is doing the best he can to clean up. Some are with Cai, playing a ball game on the concrete area. The rest are scattered around the grass under the tree near Claire, waiting for it to be over.

Claire takes a look around at her motley little group under the trees. The kids seem mostly pretty chilled. A couple of the girls and the younger kids cried at first from the fright. But a lot of them, especially the older ones, seemed to take it in stride. For some of them, it’s just another event in their already volatile lives.

And Claire doesn’t know whether to be relieved or saddened by that.

All she knows is that she’s probably more shaken than some of these kids by what happened. And never has she found herself at the epicentre of such an unexpected and violent outburst, even one so brief. Not even Sam, after Moi’s husband Gary died. It only took moments to grab those kids, and then herd the others outside, but it felt longer. And she has no idea what she would have done if she had to be the one to try to subdue Jamie.

As she’s thinking these thoughts, Denyse suddenly leans over and ties one of the bracelets she has woven around Claire’s pale wrist. Claire smiles. She already has quite the collection of these at home, gifts from the girls’ craze.

“Thanks.” She inspects the neat patterns of purple, blue, and pink. “It’s a really pretty one.”

Denyse shrugs and smiles as if it’s no big deal and starts on another bracelet. “Bad day.” She says it quietly, matter-of-fact, as if she’s an old lady commenting on the weather.

“Not our best,” Claire agrees, smoothing Nisha’s hair back again as she stirs in her sleep.

And Denyse just nods.

CHAPTER 39

Hani hands out the last of the ice creams she has dug from the freezer and turns to Claire with a weary smile. “You okay?”

“Of course,” Claire tells her, although she’s still feeling the slight aftershocks of that unnerving little moment. There’s no way she’d tell Hani, though. Not when Hani has been so coolly returning everything back to normality.

They gather the empty ice cream boxes. “Thanks for before,” Hani says as she darts to save a wrapper from being picked up by the wind.

Claire shrugs as she flattens the empty boxes. “I didn’t really do anything.”

“Yes you did. You reacted really quickly, and you got the little kids out of the way.”

“I was worried they’d get hurt.”

Hani tosses the wrapper into a bag and sits on the bench under the tree. She tucks her long skirt around her ankles. “And you didn’t freak out. Some volunteers freeze when stuff like this happens.”

Claire feels a trickle of pride at this rare praise from Hani and starts to fold the blankets that have been left on the ground. “Does this kind of thing happen a lot?”

“Sometimes.”

“So what happened, anyway? To make him so angry?” Claire instantly wonders if she should be asking.

Hani holds out her hand for a blanket and begins to fold it. “Not sure. Sometimes there’s no reason. Other times there’s a really good one. Last summer, one of the kids threw a total fit at the park. She was usually a pretty quiet girl, too. Gave one of our workers a black eye.”

Claire cringes, glad that nothing like that happened today.

Hani throws the folded blanket on the pile. “It turned out she’d found her grandmother dead in the next room that very morning. And her mother just sent her off for the day as if nothing happened to get her out of the way.”

Claire’s mouth drops open. “What?”

Hani nods. “Her mother was pretty messed up.” She takes another blanket and folds it quickly. “But other times, there is no way of knowing what triggers it. Sometimes the kid doesn’t even know. Jamie says he doesn’t know. He said he just suddenly felt really angry.”

“Yeah, well, he really knows how to get angry.”

Hani smiles wanly. “He does.”

“So, will he be allowed to come here now?”

“Yeah, sure.” Hani shrugs. “With some stern words about his temper and mandatory appointments with the counsellor. But what else are we going to do? Ban him? He wasn’t actually trying to hurt anyone. And he’s better off here than at home with his father, believe me.”

And after all she has heard since she started here, Claire does believe her, so she simply nods, picks up the pile of blankets and carries them inside.

* * *

It isn’t until the kids have all gone home and Hani asks her what she’s doing with her Friday night that Claire remembers she has the night off. Usually she’d go straight from here to work, but she has swapped with Nina.

Psyched at the thought of not having to take this fraught day into a frantic Friday night at the bar, she immediately wonders what Mia is doing. And what the others are doing, too. They’re bound to have some kind of plan. They always do. And maybe, for once, Claire can actually go out with them. Maybe they can go to a party, or a bar, or just hang out. Maybe they can dance. She smiles. Dancing it out after this day would be blissful.

Pushing the last of the unbroken chairs into position at the table, she takes in a deep breath and lets it out. Yep, after this day, she can’t think of anything she’d love to do more than spend a Friday with her friends. In fact, now she knows it’s a possibility, it’s what she needs.

The minute she gets to her car, she whips out her phone to call Mia. As it rings, Claire tips her head back against the seat, more grateful than she has ever felt to be away from the centre. Smiling to herself at the promise of the night ahead, she waits. But it goes straight to Mia’s voicemail. Claire checks her watch. She should have finished work by now, but maybe she stayed back, covering for someone. She often does that.

Claire doesn’t leave a voice message, though. Mia always takes too long to listen to them. She types one instead. What r u doing? Have night off. Wanna play?

There is no immediate response. And by the time she drives home, showers, and eats something, Mia still hasn’t replied. Claire stares at her inert phone, frowning. That’s strange. She should have finished work already, even if she stayed to the bitter end.

Claire waits another impatient half an hour stretched on her bed, listening to her parents get ready for some dinner thing they’re going to. Then she calls again. Once again, it rings out to voicemail. She types another message. Um, hello?

Nothing. And still she waits. Cam comes home and goes out again, leaving behind an airborne toxic event of stinky boy aftershave that tells her he’s on a pick-up mission tonight.

Bored and restless, she takes herself onto the back patio with a glass of wine from a bottle found in the fridge. She sits at the back table, chin in hand as the evening light dissolves into darkness and tries calling Mia’s house. She’s worried now. Maybe her grandmother is sick again? She dials Mia’s landline number and gets her father. But he and Tasya are just home from dinner, and he hasn’t seen her.

“She’s been and gone, by the looks of things,” he tells her. “Maybe she’s run out of battery, or left her phone here?”

“Maybe.” Claire frowns. “Thanks John.”

“No problem. If I see her, I’ll tell her to call. See you soon, sweetheart.” He hangs up.

Then she messages Robbie. Hey, u with M? Can’t get hold of her.

His reply comes quickly. No. I wish. Eli and I @ world’s weirdest dinner party. Send help.

Claire smiles, but it’s followed rapidly by a fierce frown. Where the hell is Mia? She scowls at her phone. And why doesn’t she call? Even if she doesn’t have her phone, she could call on someone else’s. This is chased by the realisation that Mia probably doesn’t know her number off the top of her head. Claire doesn’t know Mia’s. She’s never had to. It’s stored in her phone.

Frustrated, she spends the rest of the night fidgeting in front of the television, waiting for something.

By the time her parents get home and Claire takes herself off to her bedroom, she’s downright irritated. And when she finally turns her light off at 2am, still having heard nothing, she doesn’t know if she’s more annoyed at this waste of a night or at Mia.

CHAPTER 40

The café doesn’t open until nine o’clock on Saturdays. Still, Claire, tired and now slightly worried after waking up to still no contact from Mia, gets there earlier.

She yanks off her sunglasses and pushes open the door. An apron-clad guy wielding a broom rushes over, hand out. “Sorry, we don’t open for twenty more minutes.”

Claire stubbornly remains in the open doorway. “I just wanted to see Mia quickly. Is she here?”

“Oh.” He drops his hand. “Sure. She’s probably by the coffee machine.”

Claire walks slowly over there, feeling grainy and tired. A blonde girl gives her the same unwelcoming look Claire usually gives customers who walk into the bar ten minutes before closing. “Um, hi?”

“Hey, I’m looking for Mia.”

“Oh, right. She’s getting something from the back.” The girls smiles and then looks over her, curious. “You’re not Claire by any chance, are you?”

Claire nods.

“Oh, cool. Nice to meet you.”

Claire gives her a half-hearted smile. She’s not in the mood to make chitchat. She just wants to see Mia, find out why the hell she hasn’t heard from her, and then go back home to bed

“You want a coffee, Claire?” the girl asks.

Claire shakes her head. “No thanks. But thank you,” she adds vaguely, craning her neck as she spots Mia muscling a crate of milk cartons through a door.

The girl calls out to her. “Hey Mee, you’ve got a visitor.”

The minute Mia sees Claire, her face lights up. “Hey! What are you doing here? I just read your messages.”

Claire frowns. “Just now?”

“Yeah, I left my phone here last night. Right here on the coffee machine like an idiot. But of course I didn’t realise until the place was locked up, so I couldn’t get it back until this morning. It was so annoying. I don’t have anyone’s numbers anywhere but on my phone.”

“Oh.” Claire folds her arms, frowning. “I was trying to call you. All night.”

Mia nods. “I know. I thought you were at work, so I didn’t realise you would have been trying to call. How did you get the night off?”

Claire shrugs, feeling sulky. Why did she have to forget her stupid phone? “A swap.”

“Oh.” Mia smiles ruefully. “I wish I’d known. You could have come out with us.”

“I wish you’d known too.” Claire frowns. “Who’s us?”

“I went out with Nan and some of her uni friends. They’re really great.”

For some reason that information annoys Claire even more. “What did you do?”

Mia grins and leans in. “Actually, they took me to my first lesbian night, and—”

“Oh, well good for you,” Claire mutters, petulant. “I watched TV and waited for you to call.”

Mia stops mid-sentence and stares at Claire, looking puzzled. But Claire says nothing. She’s too irritated by the thought of Mia forgetting her stupid phone at work, by Mia being out with some bunch of new friends, by her being at a lesbian bar for the first time—without Claire. And, of course, by the fact Claire had nothing to do but wait for her. Everything about that is annoying. She grits her teeth, feeling mutinous.

“Hey, what’s up?” Mia’s voice is soft.

Claire doesn’t answer the question. “So, did you have fun at this lesbian night with your new friends?”

Mia doesn’t answer. Just gives her another baffled look. She puts her hand over Claire’s on the counter. But Claire pulls hers away, too irritated to be touched right now. She’s tired and sulky, and she does not want to be placated.

The other girl comes out from behind the counter. She gives them a curious glance as she begins to straighten the chairs around the tables.

Mia lets out long sigh and leans closer. “Claire, what’s wrong?”

Claire doesn’t answer. Instead she scratches a pattern with her fingernail on the wood of the counter and bites on her lip.

“Claire, could you please use your words and tell me exactly what you’re so upset about.” Mia is starting to sound terser herself, now. “I need to get back to work.”

For some reason, that annoys Claire even more. “Oh, I’m so sorry to inconvenience you.” She thrusts her hands in her pockets. “I’ll go.”

“Oh come on, Claire.” Mia sounds exasperated, but Claire won’t look at her. Instead she stares at her feet, turning her earring furiously in her ear.

“Is this all because I didn’t call? Really? Claire, I couldn’t call you.”

Claire stares at her, gritting her teeth. “You could have figured out a way,” she finally says, before turning on her heel and stalking out of the café.

* * *

She is striding down the street toward her car, fighting frustrated tears when she hears it.

“Claire!”

She spins around. There’s Mia, still in her apron, standing on the footpath. Claire stays perfectly still.

Mia marches over to her, face flushed, her arms over her chest. She stops in front of her. She’s breathing a little heavily, as if she might have run from the café. She holds up her hands, and shakes her head. “What are you doing?”

“Going home.” Claire says it in her best duh voice.

Mia gives her a withering look. “That’s not what I mean. I mean what are you doing being so angry with me? You’re being crazy.”

Claire raises an eyebrow at the crazy comment.

Mia ignores it, clearly too intent on her own frustration. “Claire, I left my phone at work. It’s not as if I purposely ignored your calls or anything. I don’t have your number stored anywhere else, and no one I was with knows it or you. And I’m really sorry you got the night off and we didn’t get to hang out, but I couldn’t know that. And if I did know you were free, of course I would have found a way to call you.”

Claire stares at her, her lips pressed together. She kind of knows Mia is right, but her frustration at last night’s events seems to have its hand firmly on the over-ride button. She can’t seem to stop feeling anything but surly.

Mia looks more irate than Claire has ever seen her. “You know, you don’t get to be angry about this Claire,” she says quietly. “And you certainly don’t get to come into my work and be angry at me for something that is completely unfair for you to get angry about. And then just stomp away like that?” She shakes her head and raises her hands. “You don’t.”

Claire takes a deep breath, feeling a wave of remorse start to wear at the edges of her ire. And she knows that maybe it’s the shock of seeing Mia well on her way to angry for the first time ever that might be making that happen. But before Claire’s anger is completely vanquished, Mia drops her arms by her sides, as if suddenly too exhausted to deal with this. Now she just looks hurt and weary and over it.

“I have to get back to work before I get into trouble. Figure it out, Claire. See you.” And before Claire can say or do anything, she turns on her heels and jogs back to the café.

* * *

Completely startled from her temper by Mia’s reproachful little dressing down, Claire is pretty much ready to make things right before she even finishes the short journey back to her car.

But although she’s ready, she waits. She waits because she can’t bear the thought of leaving a message while she knows Mia is at work, of having to wait for her to take a break or finish work before she responds. And she can’t bear the thought of having to wonder whether it’s work or her anger that prevents Mia from responding if she doesn’t. Claire has already spent enough of the last twenty-four hours staring at her phone. And look where that got her. So, she’ll wait until she knows Mia has finished work.

Morose and contrite, but unable to do anything about either feeling, she whiles away the day as best she can. Finally, after an eternity, it’s past five. Mia should be home now. Suddenly too nervous to actually call, in case she’s still angry, Claire lies on her bed and sends her a timid message.

I’m so sorry. (this is me talking in my small voice. in my really small voice).

She curls on her bed, phone clutched in her hand, her cheek pressed into the pillow. The return message arrives what feels like an interminable ten minutes later. You better be.

Frowning, she nervously types a response. I really am. I was awful.

You were.

Claire bites her lip. Mia’s not helping with this apology one iota.

I know. And I’m really really really sorry.

Okay, apology accepted. You’re allowed to stop grovelling now.

Claire smiles, relief surging through her. She turns onto her side and types another message. So, what now…?

Now? I think you should come over and take me somewhere nice to make up for being such a jerk.

Claire smiles at the screen. But what if I’m broke?

Then come over and bring me a sandwich.

Claire giggles. No, I’m not. Just checking you’re not a gold digger.

You’re hilarious. No, really. Now hurry up.

CHAPTER 41

They wander down the busy street away from the restaurant.

Claire elbows Mia lightly. “Better than a sandwich?”

“Better than a sandwich.” Mia rubs her stomach. “I feel a bit queasy, though.”

“Ah.” Claire waves a hand at her, dismissing it. “That’s all part of the Ping’s experience, Mia. First there’s the anticipation, then there’s the greasy, salty goodness, and then there’s the nausea that tells you that you did the job right.”

Mia holds up a hand. “Okay, please stop talking about it.”

Claire grins. “Yes’m.”

They cut through the university grounds. Mia bumps her shoulder as they traipse down a tree-lined path. “So, you want to come over for a bit?”

“Do you want me to?” Claire still feels a little bit tentative, chastened by her behaviour this morning.

“Of course I do, silly.”

Without discussing it, they veer from the path to Mia’s for a while, tempted by the mild evening air and the seductive, violent green of the grass. It’s particularly fluffy now it has been left undisciplined for the summer break. They flop onto their backs and stare at the cloud-scattered sky.

Mia’s fingers immediately slide over Claire’s. Claire holds on to them tight. “I’m really sorry, Mee.”

Mia squeezes her fingers. “I know. Now shh. I don’t want to talk about that.”

And Claire shuts up. She has already apologised several times since picking Mia up at the flat. She can’t help it. But she obediently does as she’s told and changes the subject. She squeezes Mia hand again. “So tell me about this lesbian night you went to.”

Mia rolls onto her side and tells her all about the bar and about Nan’s loud, funny friends from her university.

Claire listens to Mia describe her night and tries to ignore the small pangs of hurt. She’s not even sure what is nagging at the edges of her repentance more right now. It could be the fact that Mia is hanging out with this fun new group of girls that Claire has never even met and going to gay bars with them. Or it could just as easily be the fact that all the drinking, dancing, and laughing is exactly what Claire wished she could have done last night.

Still, she knows that now is no time to betray even a little of these feelings, not when she should probably consider herself lucky Mia is even talking to her. So instead she swallows back the bitterness and listens.

* * *

It isn’t until they’re back at the house, sitting in the kitchen, that Claire tells her about what happened at the centre the day before.

Mia passes her a mug of tea and sits at the table with her. “Wow. That sounds really intense.”

“It kind of was.”

“What did you do?”

She describes how she grabbed Nisha and got the kids out of the way. Then she tells her about how some of them were freaked out, while others acted as if barely anything had happened.

Mia listens, a leg draped over Claire’s knees and a hand on Blue’s head. “I bet you were great,” she says when Claire finishes telling her about it. “I remember you with those kids at the lake. You’re great in an emergency. You were so chilled. It was incredible.”

“I was calm on the outside, I think. But I was kind of scared,” Claire admits. “Both times.”

Mia nods. “I don’t blame you.”

Claire chews on her lip. “I think because I was a bit freaked out, that’s maybe why I reacted worse when I couldn’t get in touch with you. I think I really wanted to see you after that, and so I was even more frustrated when I couldn’t.”

Mia stares at her cup of tea for a moment before looking at her. “Probably.” She doesn’t shrug, but the distanced, almost indifferent way she says it suggests it all the same.

And that’s all she says. As if maybe she’s going to concede it, but as if she’s not going to accept it as an excuse either. And so although Claire knows Mia has forgiven her for this morning, she now also knows how much of a line she might have crossed.

She is about to apologise again when the front door opens. Mia lifts her legs off Claire’s and goes to the door.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hello, daughter!”

Claire smiles at his exuberance. Mia’s father is never not in a good mood. At least that’s the way it seems.

“Rosa called. There’s a message. Claire’s here too.”

“Oh, good. Hi Claire.” John pokes his head around the kitchen door, waves, and retreats again. “Mee, remember to ask her about that book thing, okay? I’m going to listen to the news.”

“Okay.” Mia comes back into the kitchen and holds out her hand to Claire. “I still feel sick from dinner. Want to be horizontal for a bit?”

Claire stands. “Sure, but I’m not sure I can be with such a Ping’s lightweight.”

“Sure you can.” Mia takes her hand and leads her through the living room to the stairwell. The strains of John’s news show streams through the closed study door.

Upstairs Claire throws herself on the bed. Mia follows her more sedately, lowering herself gently onto her back. Claire wriggles over to her. “What’s the book thing?”

“Huh? Oh, Dad wrote another book with a couple of colleagues from his faculty. Climate change physics stuff. They’re having this launch party dinner thing at the university, and he said I should invite you.”

Claire screws up her nose. “Really? I’m invited?”

“Yeah, really. Why not? Please say you can come. The food’s always really good at these university shindigs, but the company is…” She sighs.

Claire grins. “Scintillating, huh?”

“Well, they’re all really nice, but everyone is at least a thousand years older than me.” Mia grins. “So please come and keep me company.”

Claire plays with Mia’s necklace. “So I’d be going as your date? As your girlfriend?”

“I guess so. If you don’t want to, we can go as friends.”

“Oh, no.” Claire sits up on the bed and climbs over Mia. “That’s not what I meant. I guess I’m still getting used to your parents being so…normal about all this. It still throws me a little that I’d be invited, like it’s no big deal.” She leans in a little. “I like it, though.”

Mia smiles at her. “Me too.”

“Okay.” Claire picks up Mia’s hands and squeezes them. “I’ll come to this party and heroically save you from boredom.”

Mia raises her fists. “Yay.”

Claire bats her eyelashes. “So, do I have to dress nice?”

Mia grins and pokes her in the stomach. “I thought you always dressed nice, Claire.”

Claire, suddenly feeling shamelessly flirty, says, “That is correct. I do.” But right now, she might want to be undressed. She lifts her T-shirt and yanks it over her head.

Mia flicks her eyebrows at her. “So then you should be just fine, shouldn’t you?”

“I suppose so,” Claire says insouciantly. She reaches back, unclips her bra and slowly removes it. “But, I mean, is it formal?”

Mia shrugs casually, clearly pretending to not have noticed that Claire is now completely topless. “Not formal formal, but I suppose it would be appreciated if you dressed up.”

Claire narrows her eyes at her. “Appreciated, huh? By you?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Mia grins. “By me.”

“So you’re saying if I dress nice, I might get laid, Mia?”

Mia looks like she’s trying to act indifferently, but gives in quickly. She narrows her eyes and runs her hands over Claire’s belly and her breasts. “It’s likely, yes.”

Claire grabs her hands, mock stern. “You know, I don’t really appreciate being objectified.”

Mia smiles slyly at her, pulling her hands free of Claire’s. They continue to roam. “Yes you do.”

“Okay, yeah I do,” Claire admits as she leans forward and breathes hard into Mia’s suddenly more intrepid touch.

* * *

Claire lies across the covers in the weakening light and watches clouds track by in the dusky sky outside. Mia draws in quiet breaths as she dozes, pressed against Claire’s side. Claire smiles and sweeps her fingers gently back and forth across her bare back.

Downstairs, the television is on and voices chatter loudly. John and Tasya must have visitors. She yawns widely and checks the time. She has to be at work in forty minutes. It’s only a short night, though. A rock star shift, Nina calls it—where you just have to turn up at ten o’clock, for the busiest part of the night and help for three hours and then leave again without having to pack up. Claire’s favourite type of shift. She hardly ever gets them.

Still, she wishes she could roll over, smooth herself around the shape of Mia’s back, and slide into sleep, breathing in the light musk of her skin instead. But it’s not an option.

So she eases herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. As she stretches she watches Mia rearrange herself around her sudden absence, turning onto her belly and burrowing her face against the pillow. Claire smiles at the sight, so glad that Mia was ready to forgive her, and that they got to have these few hours together tonight before their schedules separate them for another few days.

As she dashes into the little upstairs bathroom to shower, she thinks back to the walk to the restaurant, and to Mia’s candid response after Claire apologised for the third time since she’d picked her up.

“I know you warned me you were going to be high maintenance, Claire,” she said as they walked together through the quiet streets, too early to have hit Saturday-night-grade busy. “And, you know, I actually find your brattiness kind of endearing most of the time, sadly.” She shook her head. “But not this morning. That was different. That wasn’t fair. I thought you were at work until late. And I even got Nan to message Eli so he could get your number from Robbie, just so I could message you a goodnight from Nan’s phone. But he didn’t reply until this morning. I tried, Claire.”

“I know.” Claire hung her head—that’s how ashamed she was feeling by then. “I’m sorry.”

And then, steadfast in her wish for this morning to be behind them, Mia determinedly steered the conversation away and didn’t let it go back that way the whole time they were in the restaurant. And Claire, not sure how to explain her extreme over-reaction in any clear, sense-making way, was grateful. That’s because she’s not even all that clear on why she reacted that badly. And she’s not one hundred percent sure how to respond to Mia’s overt reticence to discuss it any further, either. All she knew was that right then she wanted things to be okay. And that Mia was letting that happen. That was enough.

Showered, she returns to Mia’s room, puts on her clothes, touches up her makeup, and grabs her wallet from the bedside table. Blue lifts his head from the rug by the bed and whines softly. She strokes his head and pulls gently at one of his silky ears. Just as she’s tiptoeing to the door, Mia’s sleepy voice rises behind her.

“Hey you. Not so fast.”

Claire turns on her heels. Mia rolls onto her side, beaming. She holds an arm out. Claire grins and wanders back to the bed, smiling a suddenly unhurried smile at her. She leans right over her and bestows a series of slow, indulgent kisses on Mia’s cute, sleep-heavy face.

Mia curls her arms around her neck and clings on to her for a moment. “Bye. Be good.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Claire smiles into her hair. “See you soon?”

And Mia nods and draws her down for one last kiss before she releases her. “Definitely.”

CHAPTER 42

Claire turns the small white piece of card over and over in her hands. She has already read it. Twice.

Michelle’s birthday. Awkward.

She taps the corner of the invitation against her front teeth and contemplates her next move. The rubbish bin is seductively close, but she knows she needs to give it at least a minute’s thought before she gives in to the temptation to make this invite disappear.

Does she have to go? The answer immediately chases down the question. Yes, she has to go. Even though they haven’t spent that much time together lately. Even though their friendship has been reduced to a few quick catch-up calls, followed by mutually earnest—but ultimately empty—promises to meet for a meal sometime soon. Still, Claire’s got to go. Because that’s what you do for friends. You go to their birthday parties.

Not going sends a message that Claire knows she cannot send. Not to Michelle. It would basically tell Michelle that their friendship is over. Because if Claire can’t muster the effort to celebrate her friend’s birthday, she probably can’t be bothered to maintain the friendship. That’s what it says.

And even though the tract between them seems kind of interminable sometimes, Claire is not entirely ready to let it go. She likes Michelle. She’s sweet. And there’s also the fact that Michelle is the last of her old friends left standing. And Claire isn’t sure she feels ready to desert that life or that version of herself completely.

So, she’s going. But how is she going to make it less painful? That’s one question.

There are other questions too.

The first and most obvious is will Brendan be there? Everything says he might. His best friend is Michelle’s boyfriend. In fact, he would probably consider Michelle a friend. Then there’s the matter of him bringing the new girlfriend along with him, too. Claire frowns. Well, not so new anymore. It’s been nearly eight months.

Claire has no idea how she will feel if actually confronted by the presence of Brendan, let alone the girlfriend. Claire hasn’t seen him since the moment they broke up. Is there any way their first encounter won’t be weird? Is that even possible? She has no idea. She knows the idea of him doesn’t really upset her anymore. And she knows he doesn’t make her feel angry or sad or hurt anymore, really. But there’s still that little bit of wounded pride, that sense of face lost that makes her want to hate him a little.

But the rest? That’s gone. And she knows that’s mostly got to do with two things—time and Mia.

And that brings her to the next question—one Claire would never thought she would ask herself. But suddenly, she is. Should she bring Mia?

She blinks into the afternoon light, a little stunned that she’s even remotely entertaining this thought. Does she really want to submit this relationship to that level of quietly gossipy scrutiny? She knows everyone will be outwardly cool. Of course they will. Her old crowd takes it as a point of pride that they’re worldly and experienced and all over things like diversity.

Claire rolls her eyes. Most of them have no idea how unworldly and sheltered and closed their little private school world has been. Besides, the mere fact that they would think two girls dating is something they have to act worldly and sophisticated and unperturbed about just shows how unworldly they really are.

Claire knows she can deal with their reactions, but she’s not sure she can deal with the undercurrents. She knows surreptitious scrutiny and quiet talk will inevitably accompanying their arrival. If they go as girlfriends, that is.

There is the option of just going as friends. Then there would be none of that eyeballing and undertone. And Claire wouldn’t mind the support and the diversion of a friend at what will most probably be a painful social experience. And she’s half-sure Mia wouldn’t mind going as friends, either.

But the other question is whether it’s even fair to submit Mia to her old crowd? To what will probably be a long, boring afternoon of getting drunk on Michelle’s parents wallets and enduring endless surface-y catch-up conversations? Just because Claire wants moral support? Can she really ask that of Mia? Claire smiles. What did Mia do to deserve that kind of social torture?

But she also knows if she asks, Mia will do it for her. Because that’s what Mia is like. Now Claire has to figure out if she’s ready to expose herself to her old friends in such a way.

CHAPTER 43

“Yes, Mother, I know.” Claire throws her bag on the sofa and marches straight into the kitchen. “That’s why it’s called an information night. But I don’t understand why you’d think I could possibly need one.”

Her mother is hot on her heels. “Because, sweetheart, you might understand that there are a lot of things you could do with a law degree.”

“Yeah, Mum, because I really need that. Then my life would be complete.” Claire yanks open the fridge, drags out a bottle of juice, and unscrews the lid. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m completely surrounded by lawyers. What could I possibly not know that an information night could tell me? That I couldn’t ask you? Or Dad?” She lifts the carton to her lips.

Her mother points at her, glaring. “Don’t you dare.”

Claire grins, raises the juice to her lips and takes a couple of huge gulps.

Her mother shakes her head, disgusted. She tosses her handbag on the counter and reaches for a wine glass.

“Don’t panic, Mum.” Claire grins and shakes the container. “It’s the end of the carton. No one’s going to get germy.” She tosses the empty carton into the recycling bin, ridiculously pleased with that little win. Then she immediately chastises herself for her pettiness when she knows she has a bigger battle to win right now. She needs to focus. First, though, she opens the pantry door and goes on the hunt for snacks. “So, in answer to your question, I’m not going to attend the information night for which you left yet another flier on my pillow last night like some annoying, passive aggressive careers counsellor,” she says from its depths.

“It is not passive aggressive, honey. It’s helpful. It’s a mother trying to help her daughter focus on making something of her life.”

Claire clenches her jaw. There it is again, the implication that she’s currently doing nothing. “Well, Mother.” She shakes out a handful of almonds from a jar and throws them in her mouth. “If I ever feel I need to know anything about it that you haven’t already nagged me about, I’ll be sure to ask, okay? No need for an information night.”

Her mother sits at the counter and pours herself a wine. “See, sweetheart, the reason I want you to go to the information night is so that it’s not me telling you about it. I’m not blind or stupid. I know my daughter, and I know that you automatically despise any option I place in front of you.”

Claire stops chewing for a second. She wasn’t expecting that level of insight or understanding from her mother. Not out loud, anyway.

“And as obnoxious as I find this pigheadedness of yours…” Her mother pauses and sips her wine.

Claire starts to chew again, suppressing a grin. That’s more like it.

“…I’d hate for that to be the reason you don’t take a life opportunity that might be wonderful for you, that you could experience real success in, just to annoy your mother.” Christine turns on her most chummy smile and holds up the bottle of wine, clearly an offering in return for her co-operation.

Claire chews slowly, contemplating what she’s letting herself in for. But the bottle wins. She nods.

Her mother smiles and takes another glass from the cupboard near her head and pours her a modest amount.

Wondering how quickly she’ll come to regret chasing down this particular dangling carrot, Claire pushes herself cautiously away from the wall and walks slowly to the counter.

Christine gives her a careworn sigh. “I just think maybe if you heard it from someone else, let someone else paint the picture for you, you might realise going into law could be a really good career choice for you. Really, there are so many opportunities to advance, so many places you could take it. So much more than social work.”

Claire takes a sip of the cool, crisp wine and shrugs. She’s not ready to give up the social work idea. But as much as she’d hate to admit it right now, there are a lot of reasons why maybe legal studies might be an option, too. She’s got to do something when uni is done.

Christine suddenly leans forward and places her hand on Claire’s. “Sweetheart, can I ask you this favour? Could you at least please consider attending one of these nights at some point before you start another school year? And if you do, you never even have to speak to me about it. You just have to consider it as an option. That’s all I’m asking.”

Claire stares at her mother’s hand with its dark red fingernails, slightly startled by this rare, real affection. She nods slowly. “Okay.”

And she looks up in time to witness the full bloom of one of her mother’s contented, self-congratulatory smiles.

Claire eyes narrow. She takes another long sip of the wine, draining half the miserly glass her mother poured. “Maybe.”

CHAPTER 44

The first thing she sees as she enters the pub is the familiar sight of a wavy mess of hair falling over a long slender back. Mia is leaned against the bar, clearly waiting her turn to be served. Even from behind Claire can tell she’s wearing Claire’s favourite top of hers, a beautiful deep green thing, its neckline a deep V that drops a little lower than her others. Not slutty, of course. Just a little flirty; the way Claire likes it, apparently.

She shoves her hands in her pockets, smiles to herself, and walks straight up to her as she places her order. She leans into her back, her mouth right up against her ear. “Hello.”

Mia whips around and beams. “Hello to you, too. You look good.”

Claire looks at her top and jeans, confused. “It’s what I wore to the centre.”

Mia purses her lips, clearly amused. “So? You still look great. Take a compliment.”

Claire shakes her head, but she does as she’s told. “Thank you, Mia. You look rather hot yourself.”

Mia leans in a little closer, her eyes gleaming. “Requesting permission for PDA?”

Claire laughs, grabs the belt loop of her jeans, and gives her a light peck on the lips. “Permission granted.”

Mia’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow.”

Claire shrugs. And Mia’s exuberant response is to fling an arm around her neck and kiss her harder before she turns back to pay for the jug of beer placed in front of her.

* * *

Outside, the beer garden is packed as always. Eli and Robbie are squashed into a corner table by the ivy-covered gates that close the garden off from the busy street outside.

The air is cool tonight, and there is even a light tease of a breeze coming in from somewhere. As she crosses the beer garden carrying the pile of glasses, Claire breathes in the freshness. A shimmer of pleasure shoots through her. Tonight she gets to relax in the crisp night air and drink with her friends, instead of being locked behind the bar at work, grouching at customers. She’ll take it as a win.

“Hello!” Robbie claps his hands gleefully as he spots Claire behind Mia. “It’s our lucky day.” He leans back in his seat, giving her a mock stunned look. “What we’re being treated to today, ladies and gentlemen, is a rare sighting of the lesser-spotted Australian Claire Pearson species!”

Claire grins. “Hello, Robbie.”

Robbie pats the chair next to him and talks loudly to combat the din of the crowded seating area. “So, please tell me you don’t have to run off to work or go save the children or comply with one of your mother’s evil social demands in the next ten minutes?”

“None of the above.” Claire rubs her hands together and picks up the beer Mia has poured for her. “I’m here to stay.”

Eli smiles warmly at her and holds up his glass. “Well, cheers to that. It’s fabulous to see you.”

They all hold up their glasses.

“Oh wait,” Robbie holds up his hand, before they can all put them together. “Eli’s got something else for us to toast.”

“What is it?” Claire asks.

He grins, his deep, brown eyes shining. “I found out today that I got accepted to do my Master’s research and it’s with my favourite history lecturer as supervisor.”

“Eli, that is awesome!” Mia raises her glass a little higher. “To high achievers and nights off!”

They clink their glasses together and drink.

Robbie slams down his glass and sighs extravagantly. “Ah!” Then he looks around at the group of them and grins, impish. “Hey…I just realised something.”

Claire narrows her eyes. “What?”

He slaps a hand against her thigh and squeezes it. “We’re finally on our double date.”

“No we’re not,” Claire says automatically.

“Uh, yes we are.” Robbie waves a hand around at the little group. “I think I can do the math, Claire. Four people, two couples. That, my friend, equals a double date.” He practically sings the double date part as he leans right in to Claire’s face. She swats him away.

Mia shifts her chair forward so a guy can carry a handful of drinks past her to the next table. “Yeah, I’m not sure it can actually constitute a double date unless all parties consent to it being so.”

“Hmm, and also maybe in order for it to constitute a double date, all parties must be previously notified as to the time, date, and nature of the double date. And, you know, agree to the double date,” Eli adds.

Mia nods. “Previous consent.”

“Oh and who here would not agree to the double date?” Robbie scoffs. He flaps his hand in Claire’s direction. “Her? The Grinch that stole Valentine’s Day? Don’t worry about her.”

Claire reaches out and thumps him in the arm, her face expressionless.

Mia laughs. “It’s nowhere near Valentine’s Day, Robbie.”

“I was speaking metaphorically, Mia.” Robbie rubs his arm. “Anyway, I think it should be democratic. If the majority of those present vote for it to constitute a double date, a bill shall be passed to deem it so. Eli?”

Eli grins sheepishly at Claire. “I mean, it kind of feels a little bit like a double date, I guess. Please don’t hit me.”

Robbie tips his glass against Eli’s and turns to Mia. “Mee, what do you think?”

Mia folds her arms across her chest and shakes her head. “No, I’m not doing this, Robbie. You can’t make me.”

Claire smiles.

“What? Making you choose between us?”

Mia frowns at him. “Exactly.”

“Oh come on, Mee.” He grins evilly at her. “Bros before hos.”

“Oh my God, you did not just say that, did you?” Claire shakes her head and delivers another punch to the same bicep.

“Ouch!” He rubs his arm, grinning at Claire.

“He did just say that, didn’t he?” Eli presses his palm to his forehead and stares at Robbie, then at Claire and Mia.

Mia leans forward, elbows on the table, grinning at Robbie. “The fact that you would even entertain the notion of me responding positively to that outrageous piece of wrongness, Robbie, even if I weren’t already too scared of Claire right now to vote against her—”

Claire turns on her. “Scared of me?”

Mia laughs. “Well, your flying fists, anyway.”

Claire shoots her a look. “Whatever, Mia.”

Robbie takes a long sip of his beer and then taps the bottom of the glass a few times against the table. “Come on, no distractions and answer the question, please, Mia. Does this or does it not—the four of us drinking beer together—constitute a double date?”

Mia takes a leisurely sip of her beer, and puts it down just as slowly. “That, I can neither confirm or deny, Robbie, but…” She takes a hold of Claire’s closest arm, gripping it firmly. “I suppose the configuration does resemble a double date,” she mutters grudgingly. She looks apologetically at Claire, still holding tight to her wrist.

“I’m not going to punch you, you know,” Claire tells her.

Mia smiles and lets go of her wrist.

“Not now, anyway.” Claire smiles sweetly at her. “I have other revenge methods.”

“Okay, enough with the domestic violence threats.” Robbie nudges her in the side. “Do you believe me that it’s a double date now, Claire? Now everyone has admitted to it but you?”

Claire leans back in her seat and gives him a withering look. “Actually, what I don’t believe is how much effort you’ll put into being right, Robbie.”

Both Mia and Eli start to laugh.

Robbie slaps Eli’s leg. “Shut up, you.”

Eli hiccups and laughs again. “But it’s so true, Robbie. You’ll do anything to prove a point.”

“That’s not true.”

“Uh, yeah it is.” Claire smiles at him sweetly and holds up the empty jug. “By the way, isn’t it your round?”

Robbie pouts, takes the jug from her and stands. “You only know that because you’re a know-it-all, too.”

Claire doesn’t dignify it with an answer. She gives him her sweetest smile and waves as he heads for the bar.

CHAPTER 45

Later they stroll, beer-flushed and laughing, through the dark side streets back to Mia’s place.

Mia hooks her hand around Claire’s elbow. “I forgot how much you and Robbie make me laugh.”

“Glad we’re here for your amusement, Mia.”

“Oh and you do amuse me.” Mia shakes Claire’s arm. “And it was great to hang out with you guys again.”

“What, don’t like your new friends any more, Mia?”

“What?” Mia gives her a quizzical look. “Of course I do. But I love seeing you and Robbie. I don’t know, it’s just…you’re my favourite people.”

Claire thinks over their night together, all the talk and stories and silly arguments, first over pints in the beer garden and then over dumplings and more beer in the city. It was so fun and relaxed and easy. “I know what you mean.”

Claire breathes in a deep breath through her nose, taking in that smell of summer nights in the city, of hot concrete, traffic fumes, and the smoky smell of the kebabs commingling with the sweet stink of the biscuit factory nearby.

“I love summer,” Mia says with a sigh.

“Hey, when does your friend Kristen come visit?”

Mia claps her hands together excitedly. “The twentieth. I can’t wait!”

The date reminds Claire. Michelle’s party. She never did decide what to do about it. But, perhaps intoxicated by the beer and the being with Mia, she plunges right in.

“What are you doing on the eighteenth?”

“Not sure. Nothing that I know of. Why?”

Claire asks it quickly, before she can change her mind. “Want to come to a party?”

Mia raises her eyebrows. “A party? And what party might this be?”

Claire tells her about the invitation to Michelle’s birthday and how she knows she has to go even though it will be kind of painful and boring. She doesn’t mention the fact that Brendan might be there, not wanting to offer too many complications at once.

“And you want me to come to this party? With your old friends?”

“Well, I’m not sure I’d call many of them my friends any more, except Michelle, but, well…yeah, I do.”

Mia unhooks her arm from Claire’s and takes a hold of her hand instead. “Then sure, I’ll come.”

Claire squeezes her hand, suddenly nervous. She gnaws on her bottom lip and then says it. “So, uh, maybe the jury is still kind of out, though, on whether we’re going to this party as girlfriends, or just friends?”

Mia squeezes her hand back. “Okay.”

Claire looks at her. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“No. Should it?”

“Maybe.”

Mia pauses in the middle of the deserted footpath, turns, and takes Claire’s other hand. “Claire, it’s not up to me if your friends know about us or not. If you want me there for support or just as your friend, I can do that. If you want me there as your girlfriend, I’ll be there as your girlfriend. I don’t mind. Besides, these people don’t even really seem as if they’re in your life any more. Why do I care what they know about us? I mean, I guess if it were Nina or something, I’d be a little hurt if you still hadn’t told her. But even then, I’d still want you to take your time.” She squeezes her hands. “I don’t want to out you or rush you if you don’t want people to know yet, okay? It’s not about me.”

Claire takes in an involuntary breath, overwhelmingly grateful for this extraordinary gift of a person. She presses her palms against Mia’s cheeks, nods slowly, and kisses her. And Mia simply smiles and takes her hand, resuming their walk down the dark streets. All around them, people party on rooftops and balconies and in backyards. Laughter and music spills around them, but Claire cannot see the makers of the sounds. It’s strange but kind of nice, as if they’re part of this effusive, celebratory night, but secluded too. They walk on in their own little bubble, attached both by their hands and some mutually contented mellow mood.

Claire smiles into the half-lit street and squeezes Mia’s hand. “You’re going to hate it, you know.”

Mia squeezes it back. “Probably. But so are you.”

Claire grins. So true.

CHAPTER 46

Claire slides her legs against the sheets, relishing the delicious sensation of still being in bed. She rests her elbow on the pillow and watches Mia get ready for work. She likes to watch Mia do things. There is a kind of…positivity to the way she moves. Claire can’t think of another way to describe it. Not overly cheerful, but kind of relaxed and happy. Quietly buoyant. And she’s even like that today, ridiculously early on a Saturday morning when she’s about to go and spend the next eight hours making people coffee. Claire has to give her credit for that. She couldn’t muster even half of that energy or good humour faced with that kind of day.

Mia moves purposefully between the furniture in her room, hunting out clothes. She only wears jeans so far, and her wet hair hangs around her shoulders. As she turns from her chest of drawers with a T-shirt and bra in her hand, Mia catches Claire watching her and raises an eyebrow. “Comfortable there?”

Claire smiles and stretches luxuriously. “Why yes, Mia, thank you, I am.” Then she rolls over onto her back and continues to watch her.

Mia smiles indulgently. “Good.” She drops the T-shirt on the bed and picks up her bra.

Claire holds out a hand. “Oh no, you’re going to have to come here for a second.”

Mia gives her a quizzical look but does as she’s told, coming around to the side of the bed. She takes Claire’s hand.

Claire yanks her down on top of her and slides her hands over Mia’s back, feeling the warm press of her breasts on her own through the sheets. She pushes her lips into Mia’s neck and kisses it loudly, making her laugh. “I just think we should take a moment to bear witness to the passing of naked Mia,” she mumbles into Mia’s neck.

Mia laughs. “You’re nuts.”

“Maybe,” Claire muses, as her hands roam across Mia’s back. Mia lets out a sorrowful little moan. It sounds like a sad, sorry I-don’t-want-to-start-this-day sound.

Claire smiles. Good. She is human, then.

Eventually Mia raises her head and gives her a sleepy-eyed smile. “I better get moving.”

“Mmm,” Claire moans. She brushes some damp hair from Mia’s face. “Bit longer? I can drive you to work, remember?”

Mia kisses her. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s on my way home. Besides, I want to.”

“But you don’t have to go now, you know.”

“Yes I do. I have to go home.”

“No you don’t. You can go back to sleep and leave later if you want.”

“What?” Claire frowns. “And go downstairs on my own and wave goodbye to your parents on my way out?”

Mia nods, looking confused. “Well yeah, if they’re here. If not, you can let yourself out.”

Claire gives her a dubious look. “No way.”

“But why not?

“Too weird.”

“You’re weird.” Mia laughs.

“No I’m not.” Claire pokes her in the ribs. “I just don’t feel comfortable hanging out here if you’re not here.”

“Okay, well whatever. Maybe one day you will. I guess it was hard enough to get you in this house in the first place.” Mia grins and ignores Claire’s dirty look. She kisses her nose. “Baby steps and all.” She pushes another kiss onto her lips and climbs off the bed. “I mean you are taking me to a party.” She laughs as she pulls on her bra and T-shirt. “That’s enough brave from you for one week.”

“Shut up, Mia.” Claire leans over the side of the bed, hunting for her clothes. “Where’s my—”

Mia dumps a pile of her clothes next to her.

“Thanks.” Claire begins slowly getting dressed, starting at the top, unwilling to get completely out of bed yet.

Mia leans over her desk and flips through her diary. “Oh, hey Claire, what date did you say the party was?”

“Eighteenth,” Claire replies. She finally gives in and climbs out of bed to pull on her jeans.

“Oh.” Mia turns around, a look of consternation on her face. “It’s a late thing, right? Party o’clock?”

Claire shakes her head. “Actually no, it’s a late afternoon thing. In their garden. Champagne and afternoon tea. Why?”

Mia frowns. “I already have a thing that afternoon. I forgot.”

Claire ties her hair back into a ponytail. “Can’t you get out of it?”

“No, crap, I can’t.” Mia stands up. “I promised.”

“What is it? A family do?”

No.” Mia sits on the end of the bed and sighs. “It’s Nan’s thing.”

Claire scowls at her feet as she yanks on her socks. “What Nan thing?”

“Oh she asked me ages ago to go to this thing for her uni. She’s one of two students who’ve been asked to speak at this future of journalism symposium thing.”

Claire smirks. “Sounds scintillating. You don’t have to go.”

“I do.”

“Since when are you that interested in journalism?”

“I’m not, really.” Mia runs a brush through her wet hair, and draws it back into a ponytail. “But I think it’s a really big deal to be asked to be a part of it. Nan only got a few tickets and she asked me and Eli and another friend, Trish, to come for moral support.”

“Oh.” Claire bites on her lip. That’s different. She takes in a deep breath. “Then I guess you do have to go.”

Mia puts down her brush and turns to Claire, looking rueful. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

But it’s not. Not really. Claire would love to show how upset she feels about this, even though she knows that Mia is right, that she does have to go. Even though Claire would probably do the same thing in that position, it doesn’t stop her from wanting to sulk and be annoyed and say “so what?” about Nan’s thing. And it doesn’t stop her from feeling resentful about Mia having another reason to hang out with these new people instead of with her.

But she won’t, because that’s the kind of pissy behaviour that got her in trouble last time. So she focuses on tying her boots and tries not to be upset.

The mattress sinks as Mia sits on the bed next to her. A hand strokes the base of her neck. “I am really sorry, Claire. I really want to come to the party with you.”

Claire keeps her focus on her shoelaces. “I know,” she says quietly.

CHAPTER 47

Claire looks up from her keyboard as Moi pushes he chair from her desk. “We’re nearly there,” she announces through a yawn.

Claire nods, leaning her elbows on the desk. “Nearly there.”

The grant application is close to being done, thank goodness. And even though Claire has enjoyed helping with it, she’ll also be pretty glad to finalise it all, send it off, and not have to think about it until they find out whether it’s granted. She hopes the centre gets the money they’ve asked for, though. She can’t imagine what it will feel like to have spent this much time working on something for it not to have any result. That would suck. A lot.

Moi doesn’t go back to her work. Instead she leans over and flicks on the kettle she keeps at the ready on her desk. She leans back in her seat, brushes back her wild red curls, and stretches back until her head rests against the wall behind her.

Taking her cue from Moi, Claire abandons her work, pushes the keyboard away from her, and sits back, resting her knees on the edge of the desk.

“I think we can pretty much finish up for the day.” Moi throws a tea bag from the box into her cup. “Take an early mark for our hard work.”

“That is absolutely fine with me.”

“Thought it might be. Cuppa?”

Claire shakes her head. It’s too warm for tea.

Moi pours the boiling water into her cup and comes around the near side of her desk. Leaning on the edge, she dunks her tea bag in and out of her cup and smiles warmly at Claire. “You good, kiddo?”

Claire nods. “I’m good.”

“That’s good.” Moi tosses her tea bag into the trash and turns back to scrutinise Claire. Her smile turns suddenly knowing. “So, anything you want to tell me?”

Claire stiffens in her seat. An immediate blush threatens. “Uh, what? No. Why? Should I have?”

Moi grins and blows on the steaming tea. “Just a line I used to run on the boys, sometimes. A fishing expedition, if you will.” She sits back, chuckling. “Bore some unexpected fruit every now and then.”

Claire rolls her eyes. But she’s can’t help smiling at Moi, shaking her head at the same time. “You and Mum and your interrogation techniques.”

“Well, I’ve got to put those old policing skills to good use somewhere.”

“Okay, but spare me.”

“All right.” Moi contemplates her for a long moment. “But everything’s good?”

Claire nods, definite for once. “I’m good. I am.”

“You look good.” Moi tips her head to the side as she stares. “You look different all of a sudden. Like a grown up.” She takes a deep breath in and pushes it out loudly. “It both terrifies and delights me.”

Claire frowns. “Why?”

Moi shakes her head yet again. “I don’t know how to explain it, hon. But you see kids around you grow into adults, and you cannot believe it. It’s like you don’t notice, and then all of a sudden, bam, you do. But adulthood suits you.” She nods, her eyes narrowing fondly. “It does. I just wasn’t expecting it so soon.”

Claire smiles. She gets out of her seat, grabs her bag, and walks slowly over to Moi.

Moi smiles widely at her and enfolds her into one of her huge Moi bear hugs. Claire squeezes her right back and grins. “Yep, Moi, you’re old.”

Moi gives her an affectionate shove away from her. “Smart ass. Now go have fun with your friends. Do something irresponsible.”

“Yes ma’am.”

CHAPTER 48

Claire picks out Robbie’s hair from a distance on the far side of the lawn. As she traipses slowly across the broad stretch of grass, she makes out Mia and Eli and Nan, too.

She managed to drag herself out of bed earlier than usual so she can meet everyone for a quick coffee before she heads to the centre today. She knows they’re not going to be in a great state, though, after the party they went to last night. One of Nan’s friends, again. Some huge thing at a warehouse in town. And as usual, Claire went to work. And when she and Nina finished the long pack down from a super busy night, it was late and all she wanted was bed. She didn’t have an ounce of party in her by then.

The upside, though, was that Nina went to stay at Dan’s, so at least Claire had a bed to sleep in. And when she woke up, there were messages from Robbie and Mia, demanding her presence for coffee. Who could resist?

Finally, she reaches them. Dropping onto the grass between Mia and Robbie, she responds to the chorus of greetings with a wave.

Mia hands her the last coffee left in the take-out tray and squeezes her knee lightly. “You’re here.”

“Thanks.” Claire smiles, happy to see her. It’s been since Tuesday. Too long.

Mia leans in so only Claire can hear her. “I missed you last night.”

Claire smiles at her. “I’m sorry I didn’t come after work. I was too tired.”

Mia gives her a sympathetic look.

She looks wan and kind of ill herself. Her skin is pale—for Mia, anyway—and her eyes are a little red.

Claire frowns. “Hey, you okay?”

Mia nods slowly and takes a deep, careful breath. “Just really hungover.”

Claire nods, surprised by this level of shabby from Mia, usually so vibrant even when she’s weary. “You actually look it.”

“Where were you last night, Claire?” Eli asks.

She pulls the lid from her coffee. “Where do you think? Work, of course.” She takes a sip of the tepid liquid and raises an eyebrow. “So why are you all hanging out at uni?”

“We’re not exactly.” Eli sighs loudly. “We were walking through campus, and then we just kind of sat down.”

“Yeah, we were on our way to breakfast,” Robbie says slowly. “And then all of a sudden we were sitting.”

Claire smiles at him. Robbie looks shabby, too, actually. In fact, they all look shambolic.

“And sitting is good.” Mia puts her coffee on the grass, staring balefully at it, as if it’s the one responsible for her current pain.

Claire shakes her head at her. Mia looks positively sickly. Claire places her palm on Mia’s far cheek and pushes her head onto her shoulder. Mia immediately complies. She nuzzles into Claire’s neck and whimpers slightly.

Claire looks around accusingly at them all. “Who broke Mia?”

Nan smirks as she flicks a piece of grass off her lap. “Pfft. Mia broke herself.”

Mia moans quietly.

“So was it at least a good party?” Claire asks.

Eli grins. “Yeah it was. Really fun.”

Robbie nods and half-smiles as if he can’t quite be bothered mustering the whole thing.

Claire is about to ask them what they’re going to do now when two girls wander over to them, one tall and blonde and broad-shouldered, the other small and cute with a pixie-ish haircut.

“Hey!” Nan leans back on her hands and grins at them. “How are you two doing this morning?”

The smaller girl grimaces while the blonde grins and shrugs. “I’ve felt better,” she says.

Robbie gives them a wave and flops right down on the grass, his head on Eli’s lap. Claire listens to Nan chat with the girls while Mia shuffles in even closer to her and loops her hands around Claire’s arm, her head fixed firmly on her shoulder. Claire smiles and pats her cheek idly as she listens to the chatter.

Nan grins at the broader blonde girl. “So, you pull? That girl from the balcony?”

The girl shrugs and grins again, tucking her hair behind her ears as if to say maybe she did, but she’s too cool to say either way. “You ready to eat?” she asks instead.

Nan nods. “Yeah, I’m hungry. You guys ready to go?”

Eli groans slightly, but Robbie sits up, suddenly alert. “Yes! I could murder some grease. Let’s go.”

Claire smiles at his turnaround. Nothing will ever get between Robbie and his food.

Robbie stands and nudges Eli with his boot. “Come on, I’ll buy you some scrambled eggs.”

“Alright,” Eli moans. He climbs slowly to his feet. “And a giant juice?”

“And a giant juice.” Robbie tucks his arm through Eli’s, blows Claire a kiss, and walks slowly away across the grass with his invalid. Nan clambers to her feet and wanders off with her friends.

Claire stands up and takes Mia’s hands. She holds tight to Claire’s fingers and rises unsteadily. Then she smiles shamefacedly. “I feel terrible.”

“You look it.” Claire smiles apologetically. “Sorry.”

Mia takes in a shaky breath and smiles. “No, I know it. I was stupid enough to look in a mirror this morning. I think I’m going to have a piece of toast and go home and sleep some more.”

“Good idea.”

Mia squeezes her hands, pouts, and presses her forehead against Claire’s shoulder. “I wish you could come with me.”

Claire watches the others as they take their sweet time to cross the lawn in their hungover pack and grins. “I don’t. You’re a mess.”

Mia doesn’t even lift her head. Just lifts a finger and jabs her in the side. Claire edges away, dropping Mia’s hands.

Mia looks at her and smiles. “I suppose I’m not the most attractive specimen in the world this morning.”

Claire smiles back at her, squinting into the sunshine. “Nah, despite the messiness, you’re still kinda hot.”

Brushing some of Claire’s hair back behind her ear, Mia stamps a kiss onto her lips. “And you’re still lovely.”

“Well, unlike some people, I behaved myself last night, Mia. So did you have fun?”

Mia nods. “It was really fun.”

“Okay, no need to rub it in.”

Mia frowns. “Sorry.” She gives her a teasing smile. “Not as fun as if you were there, of course.”

“Yeah, you have to say that.”

“Only because it’s true.”

“Suck.” Claire gives her a withering look but leans in and kisses her, wishing she could go home and snuggle with her.

Mia smiles a sleepy smile at her, and curls an arm around her neck, keeping her close. “Hey, by the way, I’ve fixed it. I’m coming to Michelle’s party with you on the eighteenth.”

Claire takes a moment to catch on to this rapid change of subject. “What?” She stares at Mia. “I thought you had promised, that Nan begged you to come to her journalism thing?”

“She did. And I’ll still go see her talk, but not stay for the whole thing.” She drops her arms from Claire’s neck to wrap them around her waist instead. “And I’ve organised to borrow Dad’s car that day so I can drive straight over and come to this party with you after—if you don’t mind me being a little late?”

Claire frowns. “Of course not.” She’s not quite ready for details. She’s still busy processing the part where Mia is now coming to the party with her. She looks over toward Nan as she gesticulates expansively on the other side of the park, clearly telling a story. She turns back to Mia and frowns. “And Nan is okay with this?”

Mia shrugs. “She has to be.” She squeezes Claire’s waist. “I felt really awful that I said I couldn’t come to this party with you.”

“I know, you told me a thousand times.” Claire grins and leans her forehead against Mia’s. “But you did make this plan with Nan ages ago. And it’s important. I do get it, you know.”

“Still.” Mia shakes her head, vehement. “We already never get to do enough things together because of our stupid, clashing schedules. So I really wanted to be able to do this thing with you.”

Claire stares at her as she speaks, radiant warmth flowing through her. She was not expecting this. After the initial pangs of hurt, when Mia first said she couldn’t come to the party, she had accepted that Mia had made these plans way before Claire ever asked her, however annoying the fact. But she can’t help feeling stupidly happy that Mia has changed the plans for her.

She makes a last valiant effort at caring about Nan’s feelings. “You’re sure she’s okay with it?”

“Nan was cool about it. She gets it. She knows what it can be like for us, finding time. She’s heard me whine about it enough.” Mia smiles ruefully. “I think I felt worse than she did about me changing plans—not that I didn’t want to change them,” she adds hurriedly. “I really did want to. But I hate not doing what I say I’m going to do, you know?”

Claire nods and kisses her. “I do know.” She actually loves that Mia is so doggedly loyal to her friends that this is all of such gravitas and importance. That’s the kind of person Mia is. But she also loves that Mia is telling her she’s more important. She, Claire, is the romantic imperative. And that feels good.

She stares at Mia a long moment, smiling. She thinks about how much easier this party is going to be to deal with now Mia will be there with her. Not to mention how much more fun it will be. “Thank you. I’m really glad you’re coming.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s how it should be.” And something in Mia’s expression kind of deepens as she speaks, making Claire hold on to her a little harder.

She fixes her own eyes to Mia’s and gives in to the treacly good feelings borne of her words. At least she does until her inner brat slaps down her inner sap and takes right over. She grins, triumphant. “So, basically, what you’re saying is, I’m your favourite?”

“Claire, that’s such a stupid question I won’t even dignify it with a response.” She squeezes her waist and shakes her head. “Duh.”

Claire grins

“So, see you tonight? For Dad’s thing?”

Claire nods. They have John’s book launch tonight at the university. “Of course.”

Mia face brightens a little. “And then can you stay, after?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not working tomorrow, either. We can sleep in!” Mia bounces a little on her toes and then frowns.

“We can.” Claire kisses her and then pushes her gently away. She can see the others standing together on Stanton Street at the edge of the lawn, clearly waiting for Mia to catch up with them “You should go. The others are waiting, and I’ve got to get to the centre. I’ll see you later?”

Mia nods her agreement but stubbornly doesn’t move, making Claire smile. Instead they stare at each other, clearly both entrenched in their inviolable us-ness for a moment.

And Claire find herself smack bang in the midst of one of those overwhelming waves of feelings that besiege her sometimes. One where, no matter how tired and bedraggled Mia looks right now, no matter how little she has seen her this past week, she feels unbearably, fatefully, smitten with this girl.

And as though she maybe feels the same, Mia stares, taking her in for a long moment. Eventually she bestows one of her trademark lazy, affectionate smiles on Claire. “Have a really good day. I’ll see you later.” She squeezes her hand and then slowly walks over the grass to the others.

Claire smiles at her back, returns Robbie’s wave from across the sweep of lawn, and turns back to where her car is parked.

CHAPTER 49

Claire inspects her fourth outfit in ten minutes. This will have to do. Mostly because she’s running out of time. For some reason, getting dressed for this thing is incredibly difficult. Probably because she has worn little else but jeans or shorts and tops all summer. She wants to get it right for this night. She doesn’t want to be overdressed, but not underdressed either. And she wants to look good.

Knowing she’ll have to content herself with the dress she’s wearing now, she drags herself away from the mirror and hurries to her dresser.

As she leans toward the mirror, a voice calls from the hallway. “Hey, are you clothed?”

“Yeah.” She picks up her eyeliner.

Cam waltzes into her room. “Hello. Long time no see.”

She flicks her eyebrows at his reflection. “Hmm, I thought my life seemed especially good this week, but I couldn’t put my finger on why.”

“Oh you are so funny, Claire.” He parks himself at her desk and moans. “I’ve been doing the most boring surveillance known to mankind. Everybody else says they have seen stuff when they do their shifts. But me? Not a thing.” He shakes his head. I’m actually beginning to think it’s all a huge joke the boss is playing on us to test my patience, because we’ve seen nothing.”

“What, so you’re stuck in a van or something, waiting for nothing?”

“Nope, an empty apartment near Bell Street.”

“Well, at least there’s a toilet, right?”

“This is true.” He nods thoughtfully. “So, what are you doing? You look fancy.”

“I am fancy.” She swipes another layer of eyeliner over the top of her eye and then underneath. “I’m going to Mia’s dad’s book launch.”

“A book launch? Sounds cool.”

“It’s a book about science.”

“Oh.” He frowns. “Not so much then.”

She smiles at his reflection and gently brushes shadow over her eyelid.

“So…we haven’t talked about it,” he says.

She narrows her eyes and avoids his. “Talked about what?”

“You know. You and Mia.”

Claire gives him a wary look. “And what, Cam, is it we need to talk about exactly?”

“Nothing really, I guess. So, are you going to tell Mum?”

“Nope.” She drops the eye shadow on the dresser top and grabs her mascara.

“Ever?”

“Don’t know.” She turns and glares at him. “Don’t you dare tell her!”

He gives her a look. “I can’t believe you even suggested I would.”

“Sorry.” She gives him a half-smile and turns back to the mirror.

“So, how did this happen, anyway? You and Mia? I mean, I always thought you were into us menfolk. Well, not me menfolk, because that’s gross and weird and all kinds of wrong, but other kinds of menfolk—”

“Oh my God, shut up.” She takes a deep breath and unscrews the lid of her mascara. “And, to answer your question, I don’t know.” She shrugs as she applies the wand to her eyelashes. “It just kind of happened.”

He chuckles as he picks up a magazine and stares at the cover. He starts to ask another question. “So is this—”

She spins around and shoots him a look, clutching her lipstick. “If you’re about to ask me if I’m just experimenting, I will kill you.”

He laughs. “Chill, sis. I’m not going to ask if you’re just experimenting. I’ll save that one for Mum. I don’t know…you guys seemed pretty serious.” He pauses. “So…it’s serious?”

She nods slowly at the mirror. “Serious like a heart attack.”

“Okay, well, I don’t know, I guess I was just…checking in with you.”

She turns and gives him a brief, grateful smile. “Things are good.” She immediately blushes.

He nods. “Good. I like her. I think we should keep her. She’s funny.”

Claire smirks. “You know, she said exactly the same thing about you. The funny part anyway.”

“Of course she did. I’m hilarious.”

CHAPTER 50

Tasya opens the door. Her hair is swept into an elaborate bun, and she’s wearing an elegant green dress with a patterned silk scarf at her neck. She looks beautiful, kind of regal and handsome. Relief washes over Claire at the sight of her outfit, glad she doesn’t seem to be in the least bit overdressed for this night.

Tasya smiles warmly at her. “Claire.” She steps out of the way to let her pass and drops a kiss on her cheek as she does. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you.” Claire smiles shyly at her. “So do you.”

“I have to say I’m surprised to see you looking so well. Mia has been positively sickly today after whatever it is that you all got up to last night.”

“Oh, I had nothing to do with that.” Claire grins, loving that she’s the good girl in front of a parent for once. “I was at work last night.”

“Ah.” Tasya nods. “That explains it. Well Mia has been asleep most of the day.” She chuckles. “I’ve never seen her looking like that.”

Claire smiles and then frowns. “Is she awake now?”

“Yes, barely. She’s upstairs getting ready. You better go and see if she’s managed to pull herself together.” She checks her watch. “We leave in half an hour. I need a cup of tea before we go.”

Claire nods and walks carefully up the stairs. It’s been a while since she has worn heels of any kind, even a pair as tame as these.

Mia’s sits at her desk in a slip, brushing out her wet hair. She turns at the sound of footsteps. Her mouth drops open slightly as Claire enters the room.

Claire grins. “Hi.” She flops onto the bed, kicks off her shoes, and pulls her stockinged feet up beside her.

Mia turns in her seat, staring at her. “You look…” She shakes her head, falling silent.

Claire feigns incomprehension. “What?”

Mia comes over to the bed and shakes her head again. “You look incredible.”

Claire continues to play nonchalant as she plucks at the capped sleeves of the demure but fitted blue dress she decided to wear. “Do I?”

She’s glad her outfit seemed to meet with Tasya’s approval. For some reason, parental approval seems just as important tonight as Mia’s more appreciative, if not ogling, admiration. She still kind of can’t believe Mia’s parents asked her along to this thing, no matter how cool they have been about her and Mia. It’s all so crazily normal.

Mia crosses her arms over her chest and nods, definite. “Yes, you look so beautiful.” She comes over to her and places one knee on the mattress, smiling at Claire.

Claire smiles right back at her. Mia looks less ill than earlier, but there are still faint traces of tiredness around her eyes.

Mia touches her fingers to Claire’s cheek. “In fact, you look so amazing I don’t even know what to do.”

Claire smiles cockily at her and traces a finger lightly along the neckline of Mia’s slip. “Well, you should probably start by getting dressed for your dad’s launch, shouldn’t you?”

Mia nods wearily. “Probably. But not before I stare at you a bit longer.”

Claire smiles and shrugs as if to say whatever.

But Mia doesn’t stare. Instead she climbs right onto the bed, hooks her arm around Claire’s neck, and draws her onto the bedspread with her. As she leans in to kiss her, Claire can smell the honey scent of Mia’s freshly shampooed hair. But as she inhales luxuriously she can also smell that other scent, that indisputable, unnameable Mia fragrance that always makes her feel electric and like she’s at home at once.

She responds to the tender urgency of Mia’s kiss by running a hand straight to the damp base of her neck and another along the smooth span of her upper back. Mia presses herself on top of her. Her wet hair falls over Claire’s face and shoulders as she runs a hand up and down her side.

“Mmm.” Mia drops her head and delivers a series of swift kisses along Claire’s décolletage. “I kind of almost wish we could stay here now.”

Claire snickers. “Well.” She whispers the words in Mia’s ear, which is pressed near her cheek as Mia drops some more meandering kisses onto Claire’s neck. “You know, I’m coming back here later, remember?”

Mia pauses in her seductive little task and nods into Claire’s neck. She drops one last kiss onto her. “I suppose,” she grumbles and climbs slowly off her.

CHAPTER 51

Just like the cliché, champagne always goes a little to Claire’s head. In a good way.

So, as she sits with Mia and her parents and their friends at a wide table, she’s feeling pretty good. In many ways this book launch is like all the events she has had to attend over the years for her own parents’ career milestones and celebrations. The only difference is the flavour of the shoptalk going on around her. And the fact that she’s actually enjoying herself. That probably has a lot to do with the company, though. Here she has Mia beside her. Between brief, polite catch-up conversations with other party guests, Mia tells her about the people around her, some of them long-time colleagues and friends of her father’s. People Mia has known most of her life. Claire enjoys filling out the mental map of Mia’s history a little. It’s nice.

At her parents’ events, Claire had only the adults to talk to. Somehow, Cam always managed to wriggle out of these things. And when he was there, he often had Moi’s and Gary’s boys for company. While they talked their boy crap, Claire would have to sit there with her parents’ friends, making that painful, repetitive small talk adults make with younger people. So the other part that is making this night so damn enjoyable is that the focus is well and truly off her. The small talk and the questions are pretty much the same, but it’s all for Mia. Except for a few polite asides to Claire upon introduction, she’s pretty much left alone. Claire mostly gets to sit back, sip her drink, and listen.

Mia chats to the wife of one of the men who co-wrote the book, telling her about the structure of the first year of the medical degree. Claire half-listens and looks around at the tables of people talking and eating, creating a muted din.

They are in some sort of old dining room in one of the oldest parts of the university, all gleaming polished wood and soft lighting. It’s quite lovely. Claire never even knew rooms like this existed here. Idly wondering whether she should have another drink, she watches a slender, dark-haired man get up from his table and walk quickly over to theirs.

He claps his hand on Mia’s father’s shoulder. “John! Congratulations.”

John immediately stands. “You’re here! I heard you were coming to work here.”

The man clutches John’s arm, smiling widely. “On your recommendation, I believe. So, thank you. I’m indebted to you again.” His accent is lovely. Part Scottish and part Indian, Claire guesses, a curious but attractive mix.

John turns to the table. “Tasya, you remember Navid?”

Tasya look up from her conversation and breaks into a warm, wide smile. “Of course I do.” She stands and receives a kiss on the cheek from him. “One of our former houseguests. How could I forget?”

Navid beams at her. “Hello, Tasya.”

She grasps him by both his shoulders “What are you doing back here again? You look so well.”

“I’ve moved back from Glasgow to work here at the university.”

“Do you have a family now?”

He smiles. “Yes, my wife and two children have come with me.”

“Two?” Tasya claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh I feel so old.”

“Well you don’t look it.”

She grins. “Smart boy. But seriously, how long has it been since that summer you stayed with us?”

“Ten years.”

Tasya shakes her head. “Wow. That’s all I can say. Wow. How old are your children?”

“Five and three. Girls. And how is your daughter?”

John points his finger in their direction. “Navid, you remember Mia?”

“Of course I do.” Navid’s eyes widen as he take in Mia. “That’s Mia?” He shakes his head.

“Mia!” John calls.

Mia turns from her conversation.

“You remember Navid?”

Mia stares at him a moment, then smiles widely. ”Navid! Of course I remember.” She comes over and enthusiastically embraces him.

“I can’t believe it.” He shakes his head and smiles. “That you are Mia. You were all limbs like a newborn foal back then.”

Mia laughs. “I remember you tried to teach me to play basketball because I was so tall. I was awful at it.”

“And I remember you made me a lopsided cake with blue icing for my twenty-fifth birthday. It was decorated with a red pi symbol.”

Mia laughs, flushing a little. “I did, too. I remember!”

John places his hand on Claire’s shoulder. “Claire, this is Navid. He stayed at the flat with us during the final summer he was completing his PhD. Navid, this is Claire, Mia’s partner.”

Claire watches the tiny flicker of comprehension pass over Navid’s face at the word partner, just like it has with most people here tonight. He smiles politely. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Claire smiles back. “Hello.”

Then he turns straight back to the little family, asking and answering questions, catching up.

Claire blushes ever so slightly. She still can’t quite stop feeling a little awkward and embarrassed at being introduced as Mia’s date. At being constantly exposed to people’s quickly suppressed reactions of surprise or, in a couple of cases, slight initial awkwardness. It’s only fleeting, but so ineffably there, especially from those who know Mia and clearly have for years.

And this is what she hates about this coming out thing. Claire wishes she wouldn’t have to deal with how other people feel about them. Not that anyone is being terribly weird about it. But she can still feel those little ripples of comprehension, of reaction. It never comes without some kind of response, however small. She wishes she didn’t have to notice it.

* * *

Later, after a raft of brief and surprisingly amusing speeches, people start move between tables, mingling and chatting.

That’s when they decide to escape for a minute. Clutching glasses of champagne, they flee down the steps of the dining hall and take shelter in a corner of the courtyard. Shrouded by shrubbery, they sit on some wide stone benches and breathe in the balmy night air. A few people are seated on the other side, chatting and smoking, but they have this end to themselves.

Mia turns and plants a kiss on her. Then she peers at Claire, smiling. “How are you holding up? Are you bored stupid?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s way more fun than my parents’ work parties, that’s for sure.” Claire digs in her purse for her lip balm. “Those are painful.”

Content now they’re alone for a minute—and a little tipsy—Claire slides her arm around Mia, leans into her shoulder, and sips from her champagne flute.

Mia rests her head against Claire’s. “So why are your parents’ parties so painful? Aside from the obvious presence of your mother.”

“Having to answer all those questions over and over. How old are you now? What are you studying? What are you planning to do? Are you working? Planning any adventures?” She nudges her. “All the questions you seem to be really good at answering tonight.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of boring. But it’s just one night.”

Claire giggles. “Your dad keeps calling me your partner.”

Mia laughs and kisses her cheek. “I know. It makes us sound ancient, doesn’t it?”

“A bit. But it’s nice he’s trying.”

Mia nods. Then she turns to Claire, as if she’s had enough of that topic. She grins and presses her lips to Claire’s again. She kisses her with intent this time. Her tongue boldly finds Claire’s, and her hand strays to the hem of her dress.

Claire grabs the wayward hand. “Mmm, stop it, tease.”

Mia grins brazenly.

Claire pinches her waist. “You’re excessively chipper for a hungover person. And flirty. Drunk again, Mee?”

Mia laughs. “Maybe a little tipsy. I feel a lot better.” She kisses Claire’s neck. “And I can’t wait to go home with you.”

“Well you look a hell of a lot better than you did at the park this morning.”

Mia grins. “Nan’s friend Lily said she woke up this morning with beer in her hair. She doesn’t even know how it got there. But it was the first thing she smelled when she woke up.”

Claire grimaces. “That is gross.”

“Uh huh.”

“Was she the girl from the park this morning? Nan’s friend?”

“Yeah, the tall blonde one.”

Claire nods. “And the other one, the little one?”

Mia takes a sip of her champagne. “That’s Trish,” she says quietly.

Claire nods and thinks their names would suit them better the other way.

They sit there in silence as some of guests stomp down the steps. A lanky, bored-looking teenage boy follows two adults. The parents are clearly embroiled in some small domestic spat, given their hushed, strained overtones. The man is still pulling on his jacket as they walk down the path through the courtyard. Claire snickers as the woman grabs one side and yanks it over his shoulder, aggressively helpful. She shakes her head. That’s one thing she’ll give her parents. They never really argue much. And when they do disagree or bicker, it’s never in public. For that, she’s grateful.

Mia lifts her head from Claire’s shoulder. “I think Trish was pretty surprised to see you this morning.”

Claire is pulled from her musing. “Me? Why? I’ve never even met her before.”

Mia turns her glass in her hand, staring at it. “Yeah, I know.”

“So why would she be surprised?”

Mia kind of half-laughs and takes a sip of her drink. “Because she tried to kiss me last night.”

Claire breathing is stopped by the sudden clench in her guts. “What?” It comes out quiet.

“Yeah, it was so awkward. We were on the dance floor, dancing—obviously. And then she just kind of launched herself on me and kissed me.”

“Why?” Claire is immediately aware that this is probably not the question she needs to ask, but it’s hard to focus with the sickening rush of adrenalin moving through her body and roaring in her ear.

“I don’t know. I guess she decided she liked me.”

It takes Claire a moment to collect enough wits to ask what she really needs to know. She shakes her head, trying to dull the roar. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.” Mia puts her own drink down. “I was so shocked—not to mention drunk. I just pushed her away. And then I remember laughing, because I felt so awkward. But I think she mistook that for something else, for me teasing or something, so she tried again.”

“And then what?” Claire puts her glass on the ground, unsure of her ability to hold on to it.

“And then I pushed her back again and got the hell away from her.”

“She didn’t care that you have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t think she knew.”

Claire turns to her, eyes wide. “She didn’t know?”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant by she was surprised to see you this morning. She was pretty sheepish after she saw us together in the park this morning. She apologised.” Mia smiles a tentative, conspiratorial smile at her.

Claire stares at her. A hot flicker of anger ignites in her belly, though she asks the question coldly. “But why should she feel sheepish, Mia? She’s not the one who hung out with some girl all night and neglected to mention she had a girlfriend.”

“Hey.” Mia takes a hold of her wrist. She starts to look concerned. “It never came up.”

“Right, so you spend hours talking to her at a party and don’t mention me at all?” Claire yanks her arm away, an automatic response to this small but significant betrayal. “And it didn’t, I don’t know, come up after she tried to kiss you?”

Mia presses her hand onto Claire’s leg and frowns. “We weren’t hanging out by ourselves for hours, Claire. Just for a while before that, and we were talking about films. And like I said, I didn’t say anything because I just tried to get away from her. I was drunk, and I wanted her not to be doing it.”

Claire looks at the hand on her leg and then at Mia. She stares back at Claire, clearly shocked by the sudden turn in this night, by the way this little limbo of peace they were in five minutes ago has turned so quietly tense.

But maybe not as shocked as Claire.

“Well, just a suggestion for next time you find yourself in this situation, Mia. Maybe telling someone you have a girlfriend might help with the whole them not kissing you thing.” She pushes the hand from her leg and stands. Mia immediately stands too, reaching out for her.

“Hey, I—”

Claire puts a hand up to stop her. “Or maybe you don’t want your new friends to know you have a girlfriend, Mia? Is that it?”

Mia stares at her, pale and wide-eyed. She shakes her head slowly.

And as she opens her mouth to answer, Claire suddenly feels as if maybe she could be sick right here. She turns on her heels. “I’m leaving.”

As she stalks away, Claire harnesses the last threads of her ability to keep it together and focuses it on walking in a firm, straight line. As far away from this revelation as she can get. She walks quickly, ignoring the plaintive sound of her name chasing her in the darkness.

CHAPTER 52

Claire sits at the kitchen counter, a cup of tea going cold in front of her. She leans her forearms on the spotless countertop and stares blankly into the fluorescent brightness.

This is how it started last time.

She swipes away an errant tear. This is exactly how it started.

And there is one thing she told herself after that humiliation—that she would never let it happen again, that she would know how to read the signs next time.

But here she is.

And now, in the stinging freshness of this new round of hurt, she’s recalled to the same misery and abandonment she felt as she watched Brendan slowly discover his new life, his new friends, and eventually, that new girl—the one who fit in better with his new life.

It started with small changes, some so inconsequential and trivial they barely registered as changes at all. But then, the next thing she knew, everything had ruptured. And the most painful and humiliating part is that she watched and let these things slowly march into their relationship, not realising what it might mean. She did that instead of getting the hell out while she still had her dignity and her heart intact. That was her own stupid fault.

Which is why she won’t let it happen again.

At first, they barely thought the short distance was something worth worrying about. It wasn’t so far. They’d only be an hour’s drive apart. Sure it was inconvenient, but it wasn’t impossible. They could easily drive back and forth on the weekends. Brendan assumed he’d be coming home for most of them, anyway. Then there were breaks and public holidays. It didn’t even occur to them to worry.

And it was fine at first. They missed each other, but that wasn’t such a bad thing. It just made it even better when they did see each other. In fact, Claire never felt as close to Brendan as she did that first semester of being apart. And she definitely felt his need for her more tangibly than when they’d been in the same place, able to take each other for granted.

At first, when she visited they’d barely leave his room or even get out of bed. They were too invested in missing each other. And when he came home, they quickly fell back into the rhythms of their old social life. They’d catch up with friends, go out, or hang out at each other’s houses and study. And the days they weren’t together, they spoke on the phone. Absence did work like the cliché.

And when it did start to happen, it began so slowly she didn’t even notice. One week she would have to stay home for some reason. A party, a family event, study. Other times he’d want to stay and go to something held on the weekend, hang out with his new friends. And they’d simply agree to make time the next weekend.

At first it wasn’t even a bone of contention. They were both too busy adjusting to their new post-high school lives. But then, before they even noticed it was happening, they were seeing each other only every few weeks. It suddenly got harder. That was when she started to notice that the distance had become more than just a geographical symptom. Because when she did go there, they’d spend less time alone together, and she’d have to tag along with him to parties and club nights, meeting a barrage of new friends and teammates. Soon she began to feel like he wasn’t even mentally present. And when he did come to the city, his talk was full of what was going on there with his new friends, his new universe.

That’s when she should have noticed.

She did start to sense he wasn’t as interested in hanging out with their old school group, that these people he was starting to socialise with there had started to take their place, to match his interests better. And even though Claire was tiring of these people, too, and of the sameness of their social lives; she didn’t have anyone to replace them like he did.

The common ground seemed to shrink and then kept shrinking. And so did his interest in her life. And it got to a point where she couldn’t help but take his sudden lack of interest in their Melbourne world as a slight against her. At first she sulked, feeling ignored—abandoned even—by his new life. And when they were together, he seemed distracted, as if a little part of him was absent. And she was stupid enough not to wonder where that piece of his mind went. If it wasn’t with her, who was it with?

Then, in that last ditch attempt to remind him of them all over again, she dumped everything to go there for that surprise weekend, intent on spending the kind of time together they hadn’t found in a while. He acted pleased. And he said he was, but she could feel that distance, that it was all an effort. That felt awful. It had never, ever felt like that before. And she was shocked into a painful sense of inevitability—they were growing apart.

Then the stupid, scary thought popped in her mind, like an unwelcome guest—maybe there was someone else he was thinking about. And of course, that was the day she asked the question it had become increasingly more obvious that she needed to ask.

She swipes another tear away. How is it that she’s back here again?

What’s wrong with her? Why do people stray from her? Why do they lose interest? Why is she not enough?

This time she doesn’t want to wait until Mia finds someone better, someone who can absorb easily into this new world of hers. This time Claire is not going to wait for it to happen. Because she does not think she could take this all over again.

* * *

By the time she actually registers and reacts to the sound of the front door opening, it’s too late to make her escape. Swiping a finger under each eye to gather up any tear-strayed makeup, she jumps off the stool and makes for the fridge.

“Hello, darling!” Her mother and father stroll wearily into the kitchen. They’ve clearly been to a dinner or something. He’s in one of his good shirts, the ones that her mother always picks for him. She’s in a dress, a deep red scarf wrapped perkily around her neck. “We didn’t expect to see you here on a Saturday night,” Christine says.

“Hey,” Claire mutters. She uses the refrigerator door as a screen, masquerading her need to hide as a snack hunt and attempts to pull herself into some semblance of normal.

A hand squeezes her shoulder. She looks up as her father reaches past her, grabbing for the milk. She takes the carton and passes it to him.

“Thanks, hon. Tea?”

She shakes her head and takes a bottle of water from the shelf. It’s the first thing she sees that she could stomach even pretending to consume right now. Well, except for a bucket of tequila. That would also work, but her parents aren’t really in the habit of keeping that kind of hard liquor around.

Her mother sighs wearily, removes her earrings, and takes some mugs from the cupboard. “Oh my goodness that dinner was painful. Jeanine actually suggested I join her crafternoons. What on earth suggests that I might be a suitable candidate for crafting, I ask?”

Claire musters a smirk. It would be pretty funny to see her mother doing needlecraft or whatever people do at those things.

As Claire steps back from the counter, Christine appraises her. “Oh honey! Don’t you look nice? I didn’t think you even knew how to dress yourself like that anymore.”

Claire is so tired and so hurting and angry right now that she skirts her usual kneejerk, mother-fed sarcasm and heads straight to angry. “Wow, Mum. Why do you have to be such a bitch?”

Her father gives her a look. “Excuse you, young lady.”

“Well she is.” Claire grabs her purse from the counter and scowls at her mother. “Seriously, why do you have to say things like that?”

“Oh honey.” Her mother tsk tsks, and heads toward her, arms out, placating. “Why do you have to be so oversensitive? I was just teasing.”

Claire puts her hands out to stop her mother before she can get any closer. “Well it’s not funny. Back off for once, Mum.”

She heads for the door before either of them can say another word.

CHAPTER 53

“Give me the blue! It was mine.”

“It’s not yours; it’s everyone’s, and I’m using it.”

“No you’re not; it’s just sitting there.”

“Well, I’m about to use it, and you’ll have it forever!”

“Who has a blue house, anyway?”

“Plenty of people, I bet. My mo—”

“Oh for crap’s sakes!” Claire sighs loudly, reaches over to the next table, and fishes a blue pencil from one of the tins. She tosses it over to between them. “Katie, use that one. And please, please can you two shut up about the pencils?”

Madi obediently shuts her mouth and smiles triumphantly, the original pencil of contention lying unused next to her.

Katie inspects the new pencil Claire has passed to her, frowning. “This is kind of blunt.”

Channelling her mother, Claire points at Katie. “You’re giving me problems, I want solutions.”

Katie gives her an uncomprehending look and then hollers down the long table. “Anyone got a pencil sharpener?”

Shaking her head wearily, Claire gets up. She does not want to hear another word about pencils or the colour blue. She wanders away to another table and sits between Vien and Denyse. She watches Vien slowly sketch a picture of a figure standing with her hands on her hips, a turquoise scarf wrapped around her head. It only takes Claire a second to realise it’s supposed to be Hani. Vien is quite an incredible little artist for her age. On the occasions she will sit still long enough to participate in arts activities, that is. Like everything else with Vien, it’s hard to get her to do it unless she wants to.

But it’s Hani’s birthday tomorrow, and Paul suggested they all make her cards. And the kids have actually sat down at the tables and set themselves to the task. This is kind of stunning to Claire. But that’s how popular Hani is with the kids. They will actually sit still for an hour to make her something.

Claire watches Vien draw, knowing better than to talk to her while she works. In fact, Vien would prefer no one spoke to her at all ever, it seems. Instead Claire pulls her phone from her pocket to check the time. This day has been crawling. Part of her can’t wait to finish and go home and lie around, and wallow. But then the other part of her would rather be here, distracted from her own shitty life for a while. Besides, there is nothing like being here at the centre to put her crappy excuse for a life into perspective.

As she stares at the screen, that thudding drop attacks her guts the way it does every time she lets herself be distracted from all this crap with Mia for a moment. Another missed call. Yet another voicemail message to sit there, unlistened to, along with all the others. There are fourteen unread text messages now, too, from between now and Saturday night. She bites at her lip. Despite wanting to make these gross feelings to go away, she still has no desire to hear a word Mia has to say right now. She’s too angry.

“Should you be looking at your phone while you’re at work?”

Claire looks up. Vien gives her a taunting smile and turns back to her drawing.

Claire grins and shakes her head. “Probably not. Should you have such a mouth on you at age ten?”

Vien shrugs. “Probably not.”

Claire stands. “I’m going to see your brother. He’s more pleasant to be around than you.”

“Yeah, well, I got the looks and the brains. He had to get something.”

Claire laughs. This kid is kind of fabulous. Obnoxious, but fabulous.

She saunters over to the far table. Loc sits with Danny and a couple of the other boys.

Danny’s chin rests on his basketball on the table in front of him. Loc is hunched over his page, as usual, completely focused.

Danny is talking as Claire walks up behind them. “Mike’s brother had a piece with him last night. At the courts.”

Another kid shrugs, not even looking up from his tiny card. “Did not. Where would he get a gun?”

Claire shakes her head, completely thrown. She has never in her life heard kids talk about guns. That’s the kind of talk she’s only heard in movies.

“His mum’s boyfriend’s or something. He showed it to me.” He nudges Loc. “I saw it.”

Loc hunches further over his work. “Big deal.”

“Big deal?” Danny picks up his ball, twirling it between his fingers. “Bet you’ve never seen a real gun.”

“Yeah I have.” Loc shrugs.

Claire freezes behind them.

“Oh yeah, where?”

“At our house. Dad’s friends have them.”

Claire purses her lips, admittedly shocked by the offhand speed of Loc’s response.

Danny punches him in the arm. “That’s crap.”

Loc just moves aside. “Is not. Ask Vien.”

“Okay, I will.” Danny scrapes his chair back.

Claire pulls herself together fast enough to step forward and puts hand on Danny’s shoulder, intent on at least stopping this conversation from going further than this table.

“Danny,” she says lightly, as if she didn’t hear a thing. “How’s your card coming?”

Danny picks up the piece of paper he has folded clumsily in half, showing her the front. It’s blank aside from a small lopsided H drawn in red pencil.

Claire shakes her head. “D’you think you could put in a little more effort than that?”

He smiles bashfully, like he knows he’s being totally slack.

She raises her eyebrow at him. “I mean, Hani was the one who got the money donated to put the basketball ring in here. The one you use every day.”

He grudgingly sits down, picks up a pencil, and starts to draw.

“Good boy.” She sits down with them, so they’re forced to change the subject. “So, Loc, what are you making?”

He holds out the card, his chubby little face scowling with concentration. Clearly he has nothing of Vien’s talent for drawing. Scratched on the front of the card is a picture of what may or may not be a group of kids. Or trees. It’s kind of hard to tell.

She suppresses a grin. “That’s great.”

He gives her the faintest hint of a smile as he leans right back over the page. “Thanks.”

CHAPTER 54

There are forty-eight squares in the plaster pattern on the living room ceiling. Claire should know, she’s counted them twice. What else is she going to do? It beats the hell out of thinking.

She’s been lying here for hours now. And she’s not even bored. Because, completely taken up with being morose and bitter and sorry for herself, Claire couldn’t be bored. There’s no room for boredom. Besides, she can’t think of a single thing she wants to do right now more than lie here, prostrate, and dwell on her anger, eat chips, and ignore her phone. Except maybe to take another trip to the kitchen to change flavours.

Footsteps thud down the steps, but she doesn’t look up. She already knows it’s Cam.

He flops into an armchair and kicks his legs onto the coffee table. “God, I cannot believe I’m home on a Saturday night. That’s incredibly sad.” He looks over at her and grins. “But hey, at least you’re as pathetic as I am.”

“No, wrong.” She shoves a chip in her mouth, her gaze still fixed on the ceiling. “Unlike you, I’m choosing this as my Saturday option.”

“That in itself is sad, Claire.” He tips his head against the back of the armchair and sighs loudly. “I need to start dating again.”

“Oh, wow, a lucky day for womankind.”

He gets up, plucks the bag of chips out of her hands, and sits again. “How come I don’t have a girlfriend?” He grabs a fistful of chips and shovels them in, talking through his mouthful. “Seriously. How come you have a girlfriend and I don’t?”

Claire doesn’t dignify that with an answer. She gets up, snatches the bag, and lies down again.

“I mean, I am way hotter.”

“Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that.” She tips the packet into her mouth, chewing the last crumbs. “You don’t have a girlfriend, Cam, because you’re a great big whiny girl.”

“Shut up.”

She throws the empty packet on the coffee table. “Besides, you had a girlfriend. Remember? And you picked a terrifying, crazy one, and you kept going back to her even though you knew she was nuts. Your current singleness is clearly the universe telling you that you have no business finding a girlfriend on your own.”

“Help me, then.” He picks up a cushion and tosses it into the air and catches it. “Got any single non lady-loving friends I’d like?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong with you today anyway, cranky pants?”

She keeps her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Nothing.” No way is she going there.

He scoffs. “Crap. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

She folds her arms over her stomach. “Okay, I amend my former statement. There is nothing wrong with me that is any of your damn business. That better?”

He holds his hands up. “Okay.”

They sit there in a mutually self-pitying silence. And Claire can’t help being recalled to those nights they used to spend together as teenagers doing just this, lying around in the living room feeling sorry for themselves with the TV on as backdrop to their mutual adolescent angst.

Their parents were never around. And, though they never really spoke about it, she knows it was the shared abandonment that compelled them to forge a delayed sibling closeness. It came late in their adolescence, at a point when they both found that they sometimes wanted to hide away from their social worlds for a night at the same time.

Before that, they’d never really paid that much attention to each other; their interests, their ages, and probably their gender kept them apart. But in those years, they actually got to know each other in a deeper way than that instinctive knowledge-bond you have with someone who grew up in the same house. And they became some strange, needy version of close.

As mutual survivors of this household—of their mother—they both get it. And Claire knows that both of them treasure this bond in ways they’d never say out loud. But that doesn’t mean she’s going to talk about this with Cam. Not now. Not yet. She can’t.

“Is it about Mia? Don’t tell me you screwed that up already?”

Sighing, she turns to him. “Yes, but please shut up.”

“Okay. Then do you want to go get some grease and not talk about our problems? Maybe a vapid movie after?”

“Yes, Cam. That’s exactly what I want to do.” She sits up and immediately begins to pull on her boots.

He grins and pushes himself out of the armchair. “Okay, I’m driving.”

“Then I’m picking the film.” She heads for the door, deliberately leaving her phone on the coffee table.

He slams the front door closed behind them. “Whatever.”

CHAPTER 55

It’s more like an assault than anything. One minute, the bar is basically empty, and the next, it’s full. And loud. It happens somewhere around nine, a crowd of people pour in, buying jugs of beer and crowding at the booths and around the pool tables.

Claire turns instantly surly. She is not in the mood for celebratory.

The groups that have gathered are clearly loosely connected. People mill between the tables and booths, chatting and laughing with each other. And they seem ready for something tonight, because the mood is loud and frenetic for a Wednesday.

They stay for an hour, the volume getting louder with each jug of beer purchased. Then, out of the blue, a guy climbs onto a chair and blows on a whistle, making Claire jump and glare at him. Everyone chugs the last of their drinks and quickly files out of the bar.

Suddenly the place is shocked right back to its earlier quiet. The customers who were there before the onslaught look around at each other, dazed and relieved, as if they want to ask each other if they just imagined it.

Claire grimaces as she and Jordan, the new guy, clean up the mess of glasses and empty jugs left in their wake. “I hate pub crawls.”

Jordan grins and rests a tall stack of glasses against his shoulder. “Me too, but it’s always great when they move onto the next place. Better than if they stayed. Or, imagine if we were the last place they went to? That would have been messy.”

“Yeah, okay, that is definitely something to be grateful for.”

More customers trickle in after that, but the mood stays calm. Even though it’s reasonably quiet, Claire doesn’t see or hear her come in. She only registers her presence when she turns to walk to the beer fridge, intent on beginning her re-stocking for the night. That’s when she sees her standing in front of the bar near the door. Her palms rest on edge of the bar as she waits for Claire to spot her.

Mia.

Claire’s blood seems to still for a moment. And then it starts again, giving her a vague, seasick sensation.

Her face looks thinner than usual and strained with a quiet tension. And for a moment, as she takes in Mia’s miserable expression, Claire feels sadness, and even a touch of sympathy. But then it’s quickly pushed back by the icy sludge of her anger.

Claire slows her pace, folds her arms across her chest, and approaches her. She stops in front of Mia, her pen and paper for the stock list held ready in her hand, her face set as if stone. “What? I’m working.”

Mia’s expression turns instantly incredulous. “You can’t talk to me for two minutes?” She steps back and looks pointedly around the semi-empty bar.

Claire feigns indifference. But really, she has absolutely no idea what to do or say, how to find anything to respond with but this brittle anger that is engulfing her yet again.

“Well, I’m sorry to bother you at work, Claire, but you won’t answer my calls or respond to my messages.” She raises her hands. “What else am I supposed to do?”

Claire shrugs and inspects the ragged edge of one of her fingernails, deliberately not making eye contact. Claire can feel her stare on her, but she doesn’t look up. She can’t look at her. She’s too busy dancing too close to some other feeling she doesn’t want to set free.

Finally, Mia steps back up to the bar again. “Claire.” Her voice is quiet but firm. “Why are you ignoring me? I’m sorry you’re upset, I really am, but I didn’t do anything.”

Claire remains deeply committed to her silence, staring at the fingernail.

“Look, I told you, she tried to kiss me. I wasn’t expecting it, and I really, really didn’t want her to.”

Claire can’t leave that one alone. “Sure, maybe, but then you didn’t even tell her you had a girlfriend.”

“No I didn’t. I told you that was because I was kind of drunk and I was just trying to get as far away from the situation as I could. And as quickly as I could. Because I certainly didn’t feel like sticking around and chatting to her after that.” She stares almost beseechingly at her. “Claire, why are you so angry?”

“Because, Mia, you should have told her before this even happened. You were hanging out with her all night, and you didn’t even mention me?” Claire takes a deep, slightly shuddery breath. She will not cry.

“Claire.” Mia says her name so gently it almost makes Claire crack a little more. “I told you, we weren’t hanging out all night. We spent maybe half an hour chatting just the two of us, and we were talking about films, and bo—”

“So do any of those friends of Nan’s even know about us?”

“Yes, of course. Most of them know. As soon as we agreed it was cool to start telling people, I told people. I mean, maybe a couple of them don’t know yet because I’ve just met them and barely know them. Trish being one of those.” She shakes her head and frowns. “Seriously, why do you think I wouldn’t tell people?”

Claire raises any eyebrow. She’s not ready to let this go. “Because, Mia. Like I said the other night, I wondered if maybe you prefer them to think you’re single? Given you want to hang out with them all the time.”

Mia gives her a dumbfounded look.

Claire shrugs.

“Why the hell would I want them to think that?” Mia shakes her head again. “I’m with you. And I have no desire to keep that fact a secret. Claire, please stop being so paranoid. I don’t understand where you get these ideas.”

Claire shoots her a look, incensed. “Paranoid, huh?”

Mia leans in, her expression plaintive. “Claire, this seems so crazy to me because, basically, I would be with you all the time if that were actually possible. But you know, you do work most nights, and you work at the centre all week—and that’s great,” she hurries to add. “What you’re doing there is so awesome, and I don’t begrudge that. But you’re not exactly available all the time. What is it you expect me to do when you’re not around?” She holds out her hands, speaking softly. “Sit at home alone and wait for you?”

Claire goes to retort, but Mia continues. “And you know, whenever I know you’re not working, I’m always there, aren’t I? Except for that one time when I didn’t have my phone and I thought you were at work.”

Claire bites her lip. That is actually true. Mia is always asking her for her roster each week, making plans for the nights they can spend together, or at least making sure she’s free on those nights. But there is no way she’s ready to give Mia that right now. She’s too bitter and hurting.

Mia sighs. “Claire, I’m just making some new friends, that’s all. They’re fun. But I would never knowingly choose hanging out with them over being with you, and I’d never ever keep you a secret unless you wanted me to. And if I’ve ever let you think otherwise, I’m really so sorry.” She stares, steadfast, refusing to relinquish eye contact. “You know, I wish you could get to know them, too. Most of them want to meet you.” She stares at Claire. “What happened the other night was the last thing on earth I wanted. In fact, when Trish jumped at me, I had been dancing and trying not to check my phone every five seconds to see if you were coming to the party after work.”

Claire simply shrugs again. She will not melt. Not now. They stand there, choked into some sort of stranglehold of silence.

Eventually Mia sighs. “Come on, Claire. This is not fair.”

A customer drifts up to the bar. Claire considers walking away to serve him. But before she can decide, Jordan is onto it.

Mia leans against the bar, looking weary. “Claire, can you please meet me after work or tomorrow or something to talk to me about this properly?”

“I thought I was talking to you about this right now.”

Mia shakes her head. “No, I’ve been talking to you. You’ve been flinging unfounded accusations.”

Claire baulks at this for a moment. “Unfounded? Really, Mia? I shouldn’t worry?” She smirks. “I mean, it’s not as if you don’t have a habit of getting drunk and making out with randoms, is it?”

Mia leans forward, eyes wide. “What?”

“Well, I mean you are the girl who cheated on her boyfriend. Right in front of him, right?” She tips her head to one side, challenging Mia to deny that fact. “How do I know you won’t do it again?”

Mia stares at her, mouth open. “That is not fair,” she finally counters. “You know that I did that because I was really conf—”

“Oh and aren’t you the one who turned around and slept with some random girl at a party because you thought the person you actually liked didn’t like you back?”

Mia shakes her head, eyes wide, aghast. “You’re going to use that against me?”

Claire shrugs. “Just saying.”

Mia’s eyes fill with tears. “Claire, you know it wasn’t like that.” She practically whispers the words. “You know there were reas—”

“No, I don’t know anything, Mia. I have no idea what to expect from you. And given your past, how do I know you won’t get drunk one day and find one of these new cool lesbian friends you’ve been hanging out with hot and hook up with them?” Claire raises her hands. “Should I just wait until you get bored of me? Until you decide you want one of them instead?”

And that’s when Claire sees the switch flick inside Mia as she shifts abruptly from hurt to outright anger. And what is left of that hopeful plaintiveness she walked in with has departed.

She lowers her chin, her stare turned cold. “So that’s what you think of me?” She grips the edge of the bar. “I’m sorry, Claire, but you’re not being fair. And I think you’re being really fucking immature by not just talking to me about this, about this stuff you’re feeling.”

Claire leans back slightly. And it’s the fact that this is only the second time she has ever heard Mia utter the F-bomb that stops her in her tracks. For a moment, anyway. Then the anger quickly outpaces the shock. So she sets her face to a deliberate blank and stares right back.

Mia looks even angrier, her lips thinned into a straight little line. But Claire is beyond caring. She will not be called immature. “Well, if you don’t think I’m grown up enough for you, Mia, you know exactly what to do.”

As soon she says the words, a small part of Claire wants to reach out and yank them back. But the rest of her is too furious to care.

Mia stares at her, frighteningly unflinching given what Claire has said to her. She takes a small step back from the bar and tips her head sideways, as if considering what is being laid out in front of her.

“So,” she says slowly. “You’re just going to keep being mad at me? Because I didn’t stop to tell some random girl you were my girlfriend when she tried to kiss me? Because of that…” She pauses a moment, staring at Claire, disbelieving. “Because of that, you’re going to keep up this silent treatment? And because I did some dumb things ages ago when I was really confused, you’re going to punish me for it?”

“Well, Mia,” Claire says lightly, still smarting too much to play it any other way, “I guess I’m way too immature to know how to behave, so yeah, that’s what I’m going to do.”

Mia takes a deep breath and lets it out in a frustrated sigh. “Oh come on, Claire.”

Claire doesn’t respond. Just looks pointedly at her watch then back at the bar.

“So, what? This is it? You’re done? I don’t get a say in this at all?”

Claire stares at the wall behind Mia. And even though she refuses to meet her gaze, Claire can feel the intensity of her stare. Then she hears her sigh again. She looks up in time to see Mia’s shoulders drop with defeat or resignation.

“Okay, well…if that’s what you want, goodnight, I guess.” Mia turns on her heels.

And even though she’s the one who pushed things to this point, a flash of panic shoots through Claire at those parting words. Maybe she didn’t mean to let it get to this? Maybe she did. She has no idea. All she knows is she’s angry. And now Mia is angry, and Mia is leaving her here with her anger, just like Claire told her to. Maybe permanently. Because for some reason—one that Claire is not one hundred percent sure of right now in this sudden surrendering of her rage to shock—she has left Mia no other real choice.

And despite being the one to send her away, Claire cannot help but watch Mia as she walks to the door, pushes it open, and disappears into the street. And a moment later, the door swings shut behind her, and that seasick feeling takes up permanent residence in Claire’s guts.

Steeling herself against the betraying tears, Claire returns, in a daze of automatic, to what she was doing before Mia walked in.

CHAPTER 56

Angry stays with her. But not for nearly long enough.

She wishes it had. Angry is safe. It’s simple. It’s clean. It’s an anathema to any other feeling that might be trying to surface.

And it keeps her going for a while. It fuels her to move through the days, to not think, not feel, and definitely not talk about it.

But then she wakes to Saturday, a day strangely unfilled with work, the centre, or plans. Nothing. Just an interminable stretch of hours waiting for her to fill them. And, to make things worse, the anger is all spent. Instead, she surrenders to consciousness in time to greet an instant storm surge of sadness. And as it turns out, it is a sorry and far less numbing replacement for the white cold rage that propelled her through the motions of the last few days.

Saturday is the day when denial departs and the shocking simplicity of misery kicks in. Now all she feels is something sad and raw, as if she can’t bear to be left with herself. That would lead to thought. And Claire is pretty damn sure she doesn’t want that right now.

As she comes to terms with this empty day ahead, she thinks about how only a week ago she would have been happy to wake up to the freedom of a day off. She would call Mia to see what she wanted to do if she wasn’t working, or to find out exactly what time she’d be finished if she did have a shift. Maybe Claire would have already been with her, burrowed in bed with her in her room, keeping the day in abeyance a little longer.

At this thought, Claire’s stomach does its doom thing, turning heavy and seasick. She presses her face into the mattress and feels the first real throes of miserable realisation of this new reality. One where she and Mia are no longer. They’re no longer going to wake on a Saturday morning and arrest the day together or make plans for later.

And Claire feels like she has no idea how it happened. But she has to admit that when she really thinks about it, a little part of her is not surprised either. She’s started to think she’s not designed, like others, for couple-dom. How else can she explain her extremely shitty romantic track record? It seems she has the will, but lacks the ability to execute.

Already dogged by these horror-inducing thoughts five minutes after waking, she quickly decides that today her best bet will be to run distraction on them. So, as she lies under the covers and contemplates the spectre of this empty day stretched ahead of her, she goes through the possibilities of distraction. What can she do that isn’t lying right here thinking about all this?

She can’t go hang out with Nina, because she’s camping with Dan until sometime next week. She hasn’t even told Nina. She hasn’t told anyone, actually. Saying it makes it real. Cam isn’t around, either. He’s on shift until tonight, and then he’ll probably go straight out. If she’s really desperate, she can probably go and join him wherever he drinks later. But that is hours away. She can’t hang out with Robbie. He, of course, is out of the question. He probably wants nothing to do with Claire.

Oh God. She sighs into the morning quiet. She hadn’t considered that part. This is just like last time, with Brendan and Michelle and that whole damn mess. One break up caused her to lose two people. Yep, Robbie is most definitely going to be collateral damage to this. And that sucks.

Running out of choices and feeling desperate now, she considers calling Michelle. But then she remembers it’s Michelle’s birthday party tomorrow, so it would be weird to invite her to spend time today when she’s going to see her at her house the next day.

She sighs and squeezes her eyes shut. Nope, there is nobody she can spend the day with and ignore the sad sorry state of her life for a while. She’s stuck with herself. And it feels suddenly, bitterly, like old times.

She stares at the bright sunlight stealing in around the curtains, and listens to the sounds of the house, coming to unhappy terms with her re-found solitude. She can hear the brisk tap of her mother’s footsteps somewhere downstairs as she goes about whatever she has chosen to be her business today. Claire bites at her bottom lip. Well, if all else fails, her mother is home. And Christine has bitched about their lack of quality time more than usual.

Claire groans quietly to herself and digs her face into the pillow. Has it really come to this? Is she seriously contemplating spending time with her mother out of a fear of being left alone with her own clamorous, depressing thoughts? She has to admit, though, the frustration of being lectured and nagged and talked at all day is pretty distracting. Playing defence all day would probably work.

Sighing loudly, she sits up.

Yes, it seems it has come to this.

“Hey Mum?” she calls into the morning and drags herself out of bed.

CHAPTER 57

Claire takes a glass from the waiter, walks through the living area past the rain-washed windows, and sips her champagne greedily. It’s pouring outside—a late summer tropical deluge. Poor Michelle. Her elegant birthday garden party washed out by rain.

Now everyone is crammed into her big beautiful house while her mother runs around trying to organise places for the all the damp jackets and coats.

As expected, the party is a slightly unsettling blast from the past. All the faces are familiar, but so much has changed for Claire in so little time, it feels like much longer since she’s seen them. It takes her a moment to place faces, to conjure names, and recall the simplest autobiographical details needed in order to hold a conversation.

Everyone is friendly, too. Even people she’s pretty sure she wasn’t ever close with or even particularly nice to back then. There is a kind of warm, apolitical sense of reunion about this party, as if it has been much longer since they all inhabited the same educational imprisonment, and now everyone is willing to forget the factions and grudges of not so long ago.

Smiling at a group of girls she vaguely recognises, she wonders fleetingly what it would have been like if she had brought Mia to this party as planned. Then a wave of ensuing gloom prompts her to tuck that thought away just as quickly.

She decides to find a toilet and then join Cam again. Even though the conversations—largely a repetitive litany of ‘what are you studying?’ and ‘where are you working?’ and ‘remember so-and-so?’—are relatively painless, Claire is glad to have Cam and Vito to retreat with every now and then. Well, Cam, anyway. Vito is an unfortunate by-product of Claire begging her brother to come. And the only way he was willing to do that, he said, was if he could bring a wingman. And Claire, desperate, agreed, even though she knew who that wingman would probably be.

She weaves through the crowded hallway and tries to remember where the downstairs toilet is located.

“Hey Claire, love your hair,” a girl says as she passes.

“Thanks.” Claire pauses and smiles at her, confused for a moment. It feels like forever ago that she changed her hair, but most of these people haven’t even seen it. She quickly tries to place the girl’s face. History, maybe? Or bio?

She chats to the girl for a minute, scraping through the exchange without ever figuring out exactly how she knew her—and without giving that fact away. Desperate for the bathroom and pleased with her effort, she extricates herself from the conversation.

Before she makes it, though, Michelle steps out of the crowd and clasps her wrist. She looks beautiful with her hair gathered loosely behind her head and her makeup light but effective. Subtlety has always been one of Michelle’s talents.

They embrace briefly and then stand there and smile at each other.

Claire shuffles a little, awkward. “Hey, I’m sorry we haven’t caught up for that coffee. Things have been…”

Michelle waves it away, the bracelets on her wrist jangling. “It’s okay.” She plays with the small silver ring on her middle finger. “I know we’re doing different things now, and I know you don’t really like Kate and Kerry any more—if you ever really did.”

Claire goes to protest, but Michelle doesn’t let her. She grabs Claire’s wrist again. “But I miss you, and I’m so sorry about what happened with me and you and Brendan and everything.”

Claire feels a flash of guilt that Michelle still worries about that. Claire hasn’t even thought about it for months. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m over it.”

Michelle gives her a rueful smile. “I want us to still be friends. I miss hanging out with you.”

“Me too,” Claire tells her. And as she says it, she means it. Sure, the last time they saw each other was capital A awkward, but that might have as much to do with the circumstances as anything else. She promises herself she will organise to have dinner with Michelle, without the other girls.

Michelle leans in, looking nervous. “Hey, you know Brendan is here somewhere, right?”

Claire nods. “I kind of figured he would be. It’s okay,” she adds, shrugging. “If I see him, I see him.”

Michelle stares at her a moment longer and then nods as if she chooses to believe her. “Okay, well I better go and see if Mum is coping with the rain problem.” She shakes her head. “She was freaking out enough already.”

Claire smiles sympathetically. Michelle’s mum could give her own mother a run for her money in the uptight department.

Michelle grabs her hand and smiles. “Come find me later?”

Claire nods. “I promise.”

She watches Michelle be absorbed into the crowd and finds the toilet. As she emerges with a fresh new coat of lipstick armour and rescues her drink from where she left it, she spots him. He is leaning against the wall, talking to another guy. In a deeply familiar stance, one hand is wrapped around a beer, the other dug into his front left pocket.

At the sight of him, a jolt of…something courses through her, but she’s unable to tell what precisely the feeling is made from. It isn’t hurt or fear or anger or any of the feelings she might have expected to feel. No, it feels more like the simple shock of recognising something that was once so completely, utterly, familiar is now so strange. It’s a strange, discomfiting feeling, but it doesn’t sting in any way. She really isn’t quite sure how it feels. All she knows is that, even though she’d entertained it as a passing thought, Claire still wasn’t quite prepared for what it would be like to see him after all this time.

Before she can look away, before she can decide if she wants to find a way to avoid this imminent meeting, she sees him spot her over his companion’s shoulder. His eyes widen ever so slightly, and she notes the slight twitch of his jaw as he registers her presence.

He immediately places a polite hand on the guy’s shoulder and says something, then pushes himself away from the wall and walks slowly toward her, smiling. Unable to even get her mind into gear enough to fashion an escape route, Claire stays fixed in place and awaits his approach.

“Claire.” He says it completely matter-of-factly as he draws up close, with that frank, knowing smile of his.

She contemplates letting loose the bitchkrieg on him, but she can’t really be bothered. What’s the point, really? She leans casually against the wall, folds her arms across her chest, and tips her head slightly, taking him in. His light brown hair is shorter than usual. “Brendan.”

He waits for a couple of people to squeeze past them and then turns to her, his expression turned serious. “I tried to call you. To tell you I’d be here.”

She raises an eyebrow disdainfully. “It’s okay, you know. I don’t exactly require psychological preparation for your presence, you know. It has been a while.”

He holds up his hands. “I know, I’m sorry. I just thought—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she mutters.

They stare at each other for a drawn-out moment, both obviously trying to decide if this should be the end of this little meeting.

He clearly decides it shouldn’t, because he mirrors her and leans on the wall. Digging that hand back into his pocket, he asks, “So, how are you doing?”

She shrugs, not having a single clue how to play this. She always had the idea that if she ever saw him again, she’d be cutting and cold and dismissive. But she can’t seem to conjure enough ire to bother. She can’t seem to conjure anything much at all in the way of angry. Maybe she already used it all up this week.

“Fair to middling,” she finally replies, echoing words Mia said to her at a party long ago. “You?”

“Good.” He grins, wry. “You know, I never thought our first conversation after this long would include an inquiry after my wellbeing.”

“Well don’t get too excited.” She crosses one leg over the other, playing casual. “I don’t actually care. It’s just the socially required small talk.”

He chuckles. “My bad. So, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” She looks at the crowds around her. “Being assaulted by the past.”

He smiles. “I know, right? Everyone’s here.”

“Everyone loves Michelle,”

“Yeah, well she is a sweetie. So, how’s your summer?”

“Fine.”

“How’s uni?”

“It’s okay.” Uni seems as if it were a thousand years ago.

“And how’s your mum?”

“Really?” She flicks an eyebrow at him. “Do you really care?”

He laughs quietly and nods at the ground. “Yeah, no. Just being polite. What about your brother?”

“He’s good. He’s here somewhere if you want to say hi.” She gives him an ominous grin. “I wouldn’t, though.”

“Yeah, maybe not,” he agrees. The he smiles at her. “So, the hair?”

She shrugs. “The hair.”

“It’s uh…dramatic.”

She has no idea where he’s going with that, so she decides to agree. “Uh huh.”

He changes tack. “So, Michelle says she hasn’t seen you much lately.”

“Yeah,” she says slowly, shifting slightly, rendered awkward by this conversational turn. She instantly wonders if he knows why they fought in the first place. Does he know that it was about him? She hopes not. She feels pretty safe to assume Michelle would have at least been discreet about that, out of fear of Claire if anything. So she decides to brush it off. “Things have been really crazy. Hard to find time, you know?”

He nods. “So, are you seeing anyone?” Then he frowns. “Am I allowed to ask that?”

“You’re allowed to ask that, I guess. I don’t care. I was, but…” She trails off, not able to explain the mess that is her love life right now, especially not with the revelations it contains.

He simply nods.

She flashes him a teasing grin. “Why? Miss me?” And before he can say anything to that, she jabs a finger into the air between them. “That was a joke. That was a joke intended to show how cool and past us I am, not a plaintive flirt for your attentions. Just so you know.”

He tips back his head and laughs. “Got it.” He stares at her, smiling, and holds up his beer as if saluting her. “You know, I do miss you. I miss talking to you. You were always so…” He shrugs. “Just you. Nobody is like you, and nobody sees the world in your weird, brutally honest way.”

And Claire can immediately hear what lies beneath these words. This new girlfriend lacks her uniqueness, her particular brand of saltiness—something he always got such a strange, amused kick out of. But she also knows this is no plea to have her back. Not that she’d want it. It’s just Brendan telling her she’s special. And despite how much she wants to not care what he thinks of her, there is a welling of warmth inside her at his words. Because she so badly needs someone to tell her something good about herself right now.

She stares at him and turns a question over in her mind. Yep, it’s time to mention the so-far unspoken. “So, where is she?”

He stares at his beer. “At her parents’ place. On the coast.”

Claire nods slowly. “Is it going well?”

He looks back up and stares at her like he wonders if she really wants to know. She meets his gaze, calmly waiting for his response. Taking her cue, he nods gently. “Yeah, it is.”

She nods. “Good.” And even though she says it, she cannot deny the trickle of hurt. But she also knows that this hurt is less about him and this girl being happy, and more about Claire and her inability to give the same response about her own situation. Should she actually want to speak about it, that is.

“So, what happened?” he asks suddenly.

She decides to play dumb. “What do you mean?”

He gives her a look. “You know. With the guy.”

She doesn’t bother to correct him, of course. “I don’t know. We fought.”

“Oh.” He gives her a wry grin. “Did you give him the Full Pearson? Because that temper of yours is kind of terrifying.”

She shoots him a filthy look, but then backs down immediately, defused again by this unexpected ceasefire of emotion she has experienced on seeing him. “Maybe,” she admits, rolling her eyes. “Probably.”

“Too bad.” He smiles back at her.

“Was I that bad?” she asks before she can stop herself.

He nods. “Sometimes. When you’d kept everything in so long you’d just lose it.”

She nods slowly. Tears sting at the back of her eyes.

“But only sometimes. The rest of the time you were awesome. Evil, but awesome.” He grins at her.

She smiles back, grateful.

“It’s good to see you,” he says quietly.

“You too.” And what surprises her is that it’s true. But it’s also time for this to be over. “I better get back to my brother.” She gives him a shimmer of a smile and steps away from the intimate little space they have created. “See you, Brendan.”

“See you, Claire.”

She can feel him watch her as she walks down the hallway, but she doesn’t look back.

* * *

Vito drives them across town, speeding along the surprisingly busy Sunday night streets. The slick road surface glistens with what has slowed to a light drift of summer rain.

As he drives them back to their place, Claire tells them about the conversation she heard from the kids about guns at the centre last week. She’d actually forgotten about it in all this hell with Mia. But she was recalled to Loc’s casual comeback about the guns at his house when Loc and Vien didn’t show up at the centre on Friday. In fact, that is the first day she can ever remember them not coming to the centre. They’re among the most fiercely regular of the kids. Others miss a day here and there, or turn up halfway through the week, but not Loc and Vien. They always show.

“Why the hell is he living in a house with guns lying around?” Claire asks, shaking her head.

“Yeah well,” Cam says, “his dad is into something dodgy for sure. This is Melbourne, not the Bronx. No one keeps a gun in this city just to be one the safe side.”

Claire sighs. “I hate the fact this little kid sees them in his house, and that it’s routine to him.” She tips her head back against the front seat, feeling tired and slightly drunk and glad to be away from the party. It was nice—nicer than she ever imagined it could be—but exhausting.

“Greeve Street block, right?” Vito asks her. “That’s where the centre is at?”

“Yup.”

He screeches around a corner. Claire shakes her head. Vito’s driving is pretty colourful for someone who works in law enforcement. He turns and looks at her instead of at the road. “You know I’m working on surveillance at those apartments. He’ll be into drug stuff for sure.”

“Really?” Claire stares into the sodden streets.

Vito nods. “Yep. My bosses are trying to put together enough info together for a raid. You could give me his name and I’ll pass it on. The dad.”

Claire’s eyes widen at that thought. She’s not sure she could do that. “I’m sure they can do something for the kids at the centre. I’m going to talk to Moi about it on Monday.”

“Well, you tell me anything you find out,” Vito orders her as he veers onto an exit ramp. “Social services can’t do shit with these kinds of things.”

Claire nods, unwilling to commit or to give Vito a reason to feel any more full of himself. She needs to talk to Moi about it. And she probably should have done it last week.

“Well, think about it. We might come across him during this investigation anyway, who knows?”

She nods and stares at the sweeping white lights of the highway.

CHAPTER 58

“Night, Claire.”

Claire gives Jordan a wave and continues to clean the shelves at the end of the bar. She tries not to feel jealous that he, the new guy, gets to swan out of here early while she’s stuck overseeing a handful of people’s drinking until close. A minute later the door opens again. Thinking maybe Jordan has forgotten something, she looks up, ready to taunt.

But no, it’s Robbie.

There is a nervous tremor in her belly at the sight of him. He’s the last person she expected to see. Except maybe Mia.

Paralysed by his sudden presence, she just stares at him as he crosses the floor, cloth dangling from her hand. He walks slowly over to the far end of the bar where she stands and kind of raises his hands and his eyebrows at her. Without saying anything, even hello, he climbs onto a stool, rests his chin in his hand, and stares right back at her.

Finally, she gathers herself, puts down her cloth, and then points at the beer tap. He nods, and she pours him a beer.

“What are you doing here?” She asks the question quietly. Mostly because she isn’t sure she wants to know the answer.

“Eli is having a drink with some old uni friends down the road. They’re talking history stuff, and I got bored. So I’d thought I’d come and see you.”

She nods, not quite sure what to say. Not entirely sure what he knows. She passes him the beer.

He places the glass on the bar mat without drinking and runs his hand back and forth through his hair. “So, how are you?” He says it in this amused, lightly patronising tone, as if he needs to gently remind her how a normal conversation goes.

She wipes the sink instead of taking on the somewhat more onerous task of meeting his look. “I’m okay.” She glances at him, still wondering if he doesn’t know anything or if he’s playing with her for some unknown reason.

“So what the hell happened while I was away?” he asks.

And there is her answer. But she has no idea what to say. So she picks up her cloth again and starts to wipe the shelf behind the bar.

“I come back from a trip home and Mia tells me you two broke up? Why?”

Claire shrugs. She yanks bottles from the shelves, wipes them, and replaces them, maintaining a charade of busy. Finally, she sneaks a glance at him.

He grins. “Well, even though I get the feeling from your all-consuming silence that you maybe don’t want to talk about it, I’m still going to keep asking what the hell happened. Because that’s the kind of nosey guy I am. And because you two were so…” He shakes his head, looking genuinely thrown by this turn of events. “Claire, what the hell happened?”

Frowning, she keeps her gaze fixed on her task. She has no idea what to do with this question. Or with his presence here. With his even wanting to talk to her. Why is he here, with her?

Finally, giving in to her curiosity, she looks up at him. “Why don’t you ask Mia this?”

“Can’t.” He clasps his hands against the back of his head and leans back in his seat. “She’s gone away.”

Claire pauses mid wipe, then quickly resumes her work, trying to play it cool. Where did she go?

He answers her silent question again. “She’s gone somewhere with Kristen and her family.”

For some reason, knowing this makes Claire feel even worse, but she doesn’t know exactly why.

“And besides, I was more worried about you.”

She scowls at the bottle she’s scrubbing. “Why? I’m fine.”

“Yeah, well, you would say that. So what happened?”

She puts the bottle back on the shelf, twirls the rag between her fingers and glares at him. “Is this actually any of your business?”

He smiles. “No, it’s not. But that’s never stopped me before. Okay then, let’s start with when did it happen?”

She doesn’t say anything, but he waits for her. Finally, wanting this loaded silence to be over more than anything, she answers. “A week ago.”

“Who have you told about it?”

“No one.”

He nods, as if he knew her answer already. “And that’s why I was worried about you.” He smiles at her again. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re kind of alike, Claire. And I knew that if I wouldn’t have talked about it with anyone, you probably wouldn’t have either.”

She stares at him, apprehensive, as she rinses her cloth at the sink. “Shouldn’t you be on Mia’s side? And talking to her about this?”

“Maybe, but Mia’s okay. Well, no she’s not, of course. I spoke to her for, like, five minutes, and she’s completely miserable. But she’s got Kristen.”

Claire doesn’t say anything, overwhelmed by the competing overtures of her renewed misery and her envy at Mia being away with her friend right now. God she wishes she could walk out of this bar, drive home, crawl into her bed and stay there for a week. Maybe a month. However long it takes until this all feels even slightly less painful.

Robbie sips his beer and gives her a rueful smile. “And also, you know, Mia’s so damn well-adjusted, with those normal, nice parents of hers. She knows how to talk about her feelings, and, you know, how to feel her feelings.” He says feelings in a deeply meaningful talk show voice. Then he folds his arms on the bar and leans his chin on his elbow, smiling at her. “You, on the other hand, like me, are a product of shitty, emotionally withholding parents, and are thus, I’m guessing, equally bad at this stuff.” He smiles wider. “Am I right?”

She can’t help but grant a small, acknowledging smile at this. “Maybe.” Relieved by this small but significant gesture of solidarity, she puts down the cloth and sighs a long, unwieldy sigh. She’s surprised by how grateful she is to be around someone who knows what has happened. Even if he doesn’t know all the details. Even if he’s the last person she’d have expected to see in here tonight. At least it means she’s finally allowed to be miserable in front of someone.

“So I kind of figured you need a friend more than Mia does right now.” He fixes his stares on her. “So, are you okay?”

He asks it with such quiet sympathy that she feels the immediate press of tears. It’s as if they’re daring her to give in to them.

“Yeah.” She practically whispers it, though, pushing the words through the strangle of tears. She goes to the tap and pours him another beer so she doesn’t have to look at him. But when she puts it in front of him, he grabs her wrist and forces her to stay in place.

“Claire, seriously.” His gaze is steadfast. “What the hell happened?” He squeezes her wrist tighter before he lets it go “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, of course. But if you want to talk, I won’t tell anyone or judge. I don’t do that gossip crap.”

She takes another breath, and debates walking away from him, from his question, and from his unsettling and unwaveringly kind intentions. But when she tries to do it, she can’t. Instead she contemplates him. He looks right back at her, a warm, unthreatening smile on his face.

So she wraps her arms around her stomach, leans against the wall, and gives in. She tells him about the night of Mia’s father’s book thing at the university, about Mia’s revelation about the attempted kiss, and about how angry she was. And then, because he says nothing, just sits and listens, she tells him about how she feels as if Mia is losing interest in her, how she’s always out with these new friends. And then about how awful she felt when she found out that this girl, and probably others, are interested in Mia.

Robbie doesn’t say anything for a minute. And then when he finally does react, he just smiles. In fact, he looks downright amused.

The smile puts her on the instant defence. She folds her arms over her chest, scowling. “What?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, babe, I don’t want to be the friend who waltzes in and tells you what to do or how to feel, but I have to be that guy for a minute.” He leans forward, grinning. “Because you’re being a paranoid idiot.”

“Thanks,” she snaps. “Thanks a lot.”

“Well you are.” He grabs both of her wrists this time. “You want to know why?”

She is just about to retort to the negative, but her overwhelming need to hear something hopeful right now fights back hard and wins. She pulls her wrists out of his grasp and folds her arms over her chest. “Why?”

He grins at her. “Because I’m going to tell you something that might make you feel a lot better.”

“What?” She narrows her eyes at him, but a little spray of hope flushes through her chest in spite of it.

He takes a slow sip of his beer and then leans his elbows on the bar. “So, I don’t know, I think it was maybe a week or two before you two idiots broke up.”

She shoots him a filthy look, but he ignores her.

“I was out with Eli and Mia and Nan and a couple of other people from the café after work, having a beer. And there’s this new girl who started working with us. Also gay.” He stops in his tracks, tipping his head to the side. “I wonder if our boss actually realises she has hired half the queers in the city? Or maybe she’s doing it on purpose?”

Claire glares at him.

He smiles, acknowledging her impatience. “So yeah, this girl was kind of new and we invited her to come for a drink with us.” He scratches his neck, frowning. “Actually, what happened to her? I haven’t seen her for a while. Maybe she quit?” His eyes widen. “Ooh, or maybe she got fired. She was kind of a terrible waitress. I wonder—”

“I can’t begin to tell you how little I care which it was.” Claire taps her boot, looking around the bar and hoping no one is going to order a drink before Robbie tells her whatever it is he seems to think she needs to hear.

He laughs. “Sorry. Anyway, we were all hanging and trading stories, and it eventually became completely obvious this girl is totally crushing on Mia.” He grins and scruffs up his hair. “Now that she’s a known gay, girls love Mia.”

Claire glares at him again. Why the hell does she need to hear that? He isn’t coming even slightly close to assuaging her misery.

He shrugs. “Sorry, but it’s true. Anyway, this girl was being all fawny and asking all these questions, all her attention on Mia. I mean, she might as well have been batting her eyelashes at her. And this girl is pretty cute.”

“How the hell is this supposed to make me feel better?”

He holds a hand up. “Because right when this girl is being a total attention seeker, leaning in close and talking about, of all things, some article she read about people who love public sex, Mia suddenly responds with this story about how her girlfriend’s brother is a cop and how he told her he caught some uni kids hooking up on the roof of the old brewery or something.”

Claire nods as she remembers Cam telling Mia that story the day they three of them hung out at Claire’s house.

“So of course, at the word girlfriend, this girl backs right off, goes bright red, and turns around and starts talking to someone else. Then ten minutes later she’s off home. And I’m thinking, well played, Mee.”

Just as Claire is about to ask Robbie why a story about a girl flirting with Mia is supposed to help her in any way, a customer comes over to the bar holding an empty jug and a note. Claire refills the jug with beer and impatiently snatches the money. She rings it through the till and thrusts the change at the girl without saying a word. The girl gives Claire a dirty look and goes back to her seat.

She turns back to Robbie.

He chuckles. “Still the meanest barkeep ever. Good to know.”

She glares at him. “Well I’m still waiting for the bit where I feel better.”

He grins at her. “So, we’re walking home, me and Mia and Eli, and I tell her how impressed I was by her completely smooth brush off.” He leans forward “But you know what?”

“What?”

He laughs. “Dude, she had no idea what I was talking about.”

Claire frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, stupid, she didn’t even realise this girl was coming on to her.”

Claire lets out an exasperated breath. “And I ask again, jerk, why is that meant to make me feel better?”

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Because, Claire, she’s so starry-eyed stupid into you she’s completely unaware of some cute girl who is practically trying to sit on her lap. That’s how oblivious she is to anyone else right now.” He gives her a look. “Come on, Claire, if that doesn’t tell you how little you need to worry, I don’t know what will.”

Claire leans back against the bar. It’s true; the thought of Mia being completely incognisant to some girl’s flirtations does actually make her feel better. It’s definitely a little soothing—not to mention ego stroking-ly good—to hear.

Robbie leans back in his chair and picks up his beer. “So, my bet is that Trish kissing her that night would have shocked the hell out of Mia. The dummy probably didn’t see that one coming either. And you know, my guess is that’s probably why she didn’t think it was such a big deal to tell you, because to her it was kind of nothing. Just some weird thing that happened.”

Claire chews this new information over.

He leans forward again. “Claire, Mia isn’t a totally insensitive person. You know that. She’s a sweetheart. But maybe she’s a bit oblivious to some stuff. I think she’s not used to having to read between the lines, so she’s probably not going to know something’s wrong unless you tell her. I bet she had no idea you were feeling like this or that telling you this would upset you that much. She probably just feels so secure in her feelings for you, maybe she assumes you feel the same?”

Claire nods slowly.

“And you know, in some kind of whack way, that’s a really sweet thing to be bad at, right?”

He smiles at her. And she smiles back, giving him a small nod. He’s probably right.

She takes in a long breath and traces her finger over the edge of the bar mat. “I don’t know, I feel like we never get to hang out. I’m always at work, and she’s always with those people.”

“But that’s not entirely her fault, is it? Not saying it’s yours, either, but…”

“And she’s got this whole new life, and these people are all really cool and interesting and gay, and—”

“And what? You think because she’s hanging out with other gay girls she’s going to meet someone else?”

Claire swallows hard, not looking at him. “Maybe.”

He sighs, punching her gently in the shoulder. “Well, I have two things to say about that, Claire. One, how would you feel if Mia got all weird and jealous of you hanging out with straight guy friends?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Huh?”

He punches her again. “Because that would pretty much be the equivalent.”

She pulls a face. That’s ridiculous. Maybe. Or maybe it’s not.

“And secondly, you know, I don’t know if it’s the same for Mia, but…” He rests his cheek on his hand. “The best thing for me about moving to the city and coming out—aside from the wealth of hot guys here, of course, was meeting and making friends with other people who identify the same way. It’s a really good feeling. I can’t explain it.”

Claire frowns. “What, because I might not be gay, she needs to hang out with people who—”

He shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s not about you, Claire. Stop worrying!” He squeezes her arm. “Seriously. What I’m talking about has nothing to do with you, at all. I just meant Mia is having that first moment of hanging out with other people who are like her. I think meeting Nan has been really great for her in that way. And it’s not about going out and cruising girls together necessarily. It’s about… I don’t know.” He shrugs. “It sounds sappy, but it’s this feeling of belonging, or something.”

Claire rests her arms on the bar, places her chin on her arms, and sighs. She hadn’t really thought about this part of it, but that is pretty much exactly what Mia said. I’m just making friends, Claire.

And instead of listening to her, she basically accused Mia of being a slut. She cringes slightly. Maybe not her best move. She squeezes her eyes shut. What stupid, stupid thing has she done?

Robbie runs a hand along her back. “Claire, it’s Mia.” He says it softly. “And she’s so into you. Your paranoia is wasted here.”

She nods, blinking back another round of tears. She lifts her head slowly and looks at him.

He smiles affectionately at her. “I don’t want to tell you what to do, but maybe, just maybe you’ve over-reacted a little?”

She nods slowly. She knows she has.

They stand in silence for a minute, his hand on her back as the idle chatter around them competes with the quiet background music. And as she contemplates what he has been telling her, she realises how much her own insecurity might have played a part in the way she has read Mia’s behaviour of late.

God, why can’t she relax? Why does she have to be so uptight and doubting about everything? Why can’t she just accept that good things might just be good things? Not something bad disguised as something else, waiting to reveal itself? Oh yeah, she puts her chin back on her arm and frowns. Because that’s what always seems to happen to her. She bites hard on her bottom lip. But maybe this time she’s jumped the gun a little.

His phone buzzes loudly on the bar, making them both jump.

He checks it, thrusts it into his back pocket, and downs the last of his beer. “I have to get going. Eli’s done.”

She nods and frowns, missing him already. It’s been a lonesome week.

He presses a kiss to her cheek and rubs his hand in comforting circles on her back. “And, you two idiots need to fix this. Talk to her.”

She nods. That’s if Mia will ever speak to her again, of course.

He gives her one last pat. “I’ll see you soon.”

Fighting tears again and unable to speak, she waves as he walks away.

And suddenly, she’s left alone to confront a whole load of something shaped uncannily like regret.

CHAPTER 59

Claire kicks her feet against the desk and frowns. “So you can’t do anything? Even though I heard him say it?”

“Well we’ve been here before, Claire. Lots of times.” Moi hoists her handbag onto her shoulder. “So I’m not sure we can. I mean, we’ll try, but if the kids don’t cooperate…” She shakes her head. “Hani’ll tell you about it. I have to go to this meeting.” She stops and squeezes Claire’s shoulder fondly. “But I’ll definitely sit down with the kid and talk. And I’ll see you to finalise the grant on Wednesday?”

Claire nods. “Of course. See you.” She turns to Hani.

Hani nudges to box of sports equipment into the corner with her foot, making some room on the floor in their tiny, shared office.

“Sadly, Claire, Moi’s right.” She gives Claire a weary look as she begins to tidy up her desk. “We go through this a lot. You hear kids saying something like that among themselves, but then when you try and talk to them yourself, they clam right up.”

“Really?”

Hani nods, shoving some paper inside a file folder. “Unfortunately a lot of them have had experiences with police, or child protection before. Or even if they haven’t, they’ve heard about it from other kids. And in their experience, talking to these people usually results in some major life disruption or trauma, so they aren’t exactly keen to chat about it in any official way.”

“Even to us?”

Hani smiles regretfully and nods. “Yup, even to us.”

Claire nods slowly, playing with the stapler on the desk next to her, thinking about Vito’s offer. It doesn’t sound so stupid now.

Hani sorts through a pile of papers on her messy little corner desk. “It doesn’t mean I won’t try and talk to Loc about it. I will. So will Moi. I’m just letting you know that, sadly, in order for us to do anything, we need the kid to say it to one of us.”

Claire frowns. “He did say it. I heard it clearly.”

Hani stops what she’s doing. “Oh, I’m not doubting you, Claire, not at all. I’m sure you heard what you heard. And if he had said it straight to you, even, that would give us something, but he has to say it to one of us before we can do anything.”

“Oh, okay. But he might not?”

Hani nods. “Sadly, he might not.”

Claire nods slowly and hopes he tells the truth.

* * *

She trots down the steps of the centre, shading her eyes against the late afternoon sun. She shakes her phone. Still nothing.

Taking in a weary, resigned breath, she heads for the gate to where Robbie is waiting for her, right where he said he would be. She has no idea why he’s here, but she found a message on her phone after lunch that said he’d meet her when she was done. His hair is a shade lighter than it was the other day in the bar, and half his face is covered in large black sunglasses. He looks way too hip for this part of town. But Robbie looks way too hip for most parts of town.

He doesn’t even say hello as she approaches. Just unfolds his arms and launches right in. “Have you spoken to Mia?”

She shakes her head.

He frowns deeply as they fall into step together.

She yanks her sunglasses off the top of her head and puts them on, glaring at him. “Hey, you can quit being like that. I’m trying, okay?” She stops and leans on the door of her car, sighing. “I’ve tried and tried to call her, but her phone is off. And she won’t answer my messages either.”

“It’s not that.” He comes and stands next to her, his hands thrust into the pockets of his jacket. “Her grandmother died.”

Claire clutches her keys tightly. “What?”

“She called me yesterday.”

She swallows hard and asks the question even though she knows the answer. “Rosa?” It comes out as a whisper. It has to be. Mia’s other grandmother lives somewhere in South Australia.

“The one who lives in the mountains?”

Claire nods. Rosa. “When?”

“Two days ago.”

“Was it a stroke?”

“She didn’t say.”

Claire shoves her hands in her pockets and stares blankly at a group of kids hanging out on some benches. Poor Mia, she thinks.

Robbie kicks at the cracked concrete and says it aloud. “Poor Mee.”

Claire nods slowly. And her poor parents. Poor John, especially. She thinks of Mia’s dad, who already lost his father and his sister. Now his mother. She cannot imagine how sad he must be.

They stand there inhabiting a grave little silence while Claire processes this news. She feels sick. And angry with herself. Mia has lost her grandmother, one of her favourite people in the world, and Claire has lost all reason or right to be able to be there for her, to comfort her in these first, acute days of her grief.

And even though she didn’t actually think it was possible to feel any worse about this sad, sorry state of affairs they find themselves in, Claire now knows it is. But that is nothing, she knows, compared to how Mia is feeling right now. Nothing.

She turns to him. “When’s the funeral?”

“Saturday.”

“How are you getting there?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know if I can go. I want to, obviously, but I looked it up, and the town is kind of out of the way. And Eli and Nan are away, so I can’t get a ride. And I looked at timetables, but I’m not sure a bus will get me there on time—”

“I’ll drive. Where is it?”

He hesitates. “I don’t know if th—”

She elbows him. “You might as well tell me, Robbie, because I’m going to go anyway.” She stares at him.

He screws up his face, as if thinking it over.

“And, don’t forget, my brother is a cop. I can find out where a funeral is being held if I need to.” There is no way she’s not going up there, even if it’s just to stay well and truly in the background, to silently be there for Mia. “I’m going to the funeral,” she says again, stony. “So if you want a ride, here’s your ride.”

He smiles at her. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Good.”

And then they stand there a while longer. She watches as the group of kids wander along the street, laughing loudly about something.

He sighs loudly and says it again. “Poor Mia.”

“Yup.” She sighs too, wishing Mia would answer her calls. Then Claire could somehow find a way to communicate how deeply, deeply sorry she’s about everything that has passed between them and how sorry she’s that this has happened to Mia. But she can’t.

Eventually, she takes out her keys and shakes them. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“Thanks.” He pushes himself away from the door of the car. But instead of turning to go around to the passenger door, he folds her into a brief hug. She squeezes him back and climbs into the car.

* * *

When she gets home, she tries to call Mia, but there is no answer. Remembering the reception problem last time Mia went up there, though, Claire realises she has no idea if this lack of response is Mia not answering her calls, or Mia not even knowing she’s trying to make contact. Part of her wants to know the answer to that question, but part of her really, really doesn’t.

It comes though. Later, she lies on the couch and stares mindlessly at the television, the volume turned right up against her mother’s loud phone conversation in the kitchen. That’s when her phone vibrates impatiently on the cushion next to her. Her desperately hopeful heart beats faster as she snatches it up.

It’s her. I’m not ignoring you. Rosa died. I just can’t right now.

Claire nods helplessly at her phone as the tears prick at her eyes. She breathes slowly, still staring at the screen, consumed by a wave of guilt borne of the fact that what happened between them is probably only making things worse for Mia right now.

Finally, she types back the only thing she can think of to say. I’m so, so sorry about Rosa.

Then there is nothing.

Claire takes herself upstairs, before her mother sees her tears and begins to interrogate.

CHAPTER 60

They are driving through unfamiliar, flat countryside on their way to Mia’s grandmother’s town when Claire decides to ask him.

“Robbie?”

“What?

He hasn’t talked much since he jumped inside the car outside his bedsit. Just muttered something about a late night. Claire doesn’t mind the quiet, though. She’s tired. And nervous. She couldn’t sleep last night, panicked about what to expect from today, from Mia, wondering if doing this was a good idea.

She stares at the road. “How did you know?”

He adjusts his seatbelt and sips from his drink. “Know what?”

“About me and Mia?” She glances at him via the rearview mirror. “Back then? You knew before everyone. How?”

He chuckles. “Because I’m an evil genius.”

Claire can’t help but smile. “Yes, yes you are.” She pops an M&M into her mouth. “But really, how did you know? Be serious.”

He takes the packet from her and pours himself a handful. “Okay, maybe I didn’t know for sure until you two disappeared that night at the lake, but I kind of hoped it would happen. And I kind of thought maybe Mia liked you, probably before she did.” He chuckles again.

“Really?”

He grins again. “Yeah, well, I suspected.”

“But how did you know?”

He shrugs and tosses an M&M at his mouth. He misses. “I don’t know. You two were getting really close. I knew she was kind of into girls. Again, before Mia did.” He fumbles around in his lap and finds the stray piece. He puts it in his mouth. “And I mean, it made sense. You were hanging out all the time. And you’re kind of hot and great. If you’re into lady bits, that is.”

Claire gives him a look. He smiles and shrugs.

“Did you think I liked her?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I hoped so. Partly because I thought you two would be kind of great together, but also because I didn’t want Mia to get her heart broken if she really did fall for you.”

Claire nods, staring at the barren stretch of road and sunburnt paddocks. “You love her so much, don’t you?”

“Of course.” He says it in that almost carelessly candid way that seems to come so easy to him. He throws another M&M in his mouth and chews it quickly. “What’s not to love?”

Claire smiles. Of all the questions she’s been forced to ask herself of late, that’s one she’s not sure she can answer.

“You know, at the risk of sounding like a total clichéd sap, since I met her, Mia’s been this island of sanity in my batshit crazy world. She’s such an incredible, beautiful person.” He turns to her. “You know that, don’t you?”

She glances shyly at him and nods. “Yeah, I know that.”

“Good, just checking.”

And that, she knows, is a warning. Don’t fuck it up, Claire.

They drive on through the empty landscape; the radio on low and the mountains still a smudgy hulk in the distance.

Robbie sips the last of his Coke, squashes the can, and puts it in a bag by his feet. “She’ll be glad to see you.”

She doesn’t respond, but she’s pleased he said it. Because she does wonder. She sighs and adjusts her hands on the steering wheel. “Maybe not. I said some kind of shitty things to her.”

“She won’t be thinking about that right now.” He pats her leg. “It’ll be okay.”

“I hope so.”

CHAPTER 61

They are almost late. Even though they left in plenty of time, Claire hadn’t anticipated weekend traffic heading north. Nor had she anticipated the road works just before the turn-off, shrinking what was already only a narrow stretch of two-lane highway into one lane and causing countless stops to give way to oncoming traffic. As they slowly covered the last stretch of miles up the mountain to Rosa’s town, Claire cursed and sighed, mortified by the thought of being not just unexpected and uninvited, but late, too.

They make it just in time. As they approach the small stone church near the centre of the town, the paved outside area is already nearly empty, and the last few mourners are filing in. They dash to catch up.

Standing in a row near the back, Claire pulls her jacket closer around her to guard against the chill of the church. Still trying to calm herself after those last urgent minutes of the drive, she breathes deeply. As she inhales the clash of polite scents, of flowers, perfume, and aftershave from the forty or so people that stand among the pews, she searches for Mia.

She spots Tasya first, in the front row, her head bowed slightly over her broad shoulders, her hair swept into an austere bun. John stands beside her in the aisle position, talking to someone. Claire feels a pang of something resembling homesickness. She misses Mia’s parents and their calm, kind presence in her life.

Then she spots Mia on the other side of her mother. Tasya’s hand rests on the collar of Mia’s dark grey jacket. At the sight of the long brown wave of ponytail hanging forlornly down her back, a welling sadness spreads through Claire.

And all through the brief, gentle little service, overseen by a surprisingly young priest, Claire keeps her gaze fixed on Mia. She’s barely aware of the occasional shuffle of the congregation or quiet throat clearing from Robbie next to her.

Mia doesn’t move much through the service, her body a radiant stillness to Claire. She looks up once when the priest names her as one of Rosa’s closest kin, but looks straight down again. Another time Claire sees her shoulders shake slightly as she laughs at one her father’s stories, told during his warm, funny eulogy about a mother he clearly respected and liked as much as he loved.

As a woman gets up and begins to speak about Rosa’s botanical work, Claire stops listening. Instead, as she watches Mia, encased in her grief, she tries to recall the funeral services for her grandparents. She can’t remember much. She vaguely recalls the relentless monotony of the funeral for her paternal grandfather, the endless procedural standing and sitting of that formal, religious ceremony. All she remembers of the funeral of her mother’s father is the interminable wake that followed the service, filled with an endless litany of stories and speeches told by self-important men in uniforms.

She remembers Gary’s clearly though. She remembers standing with Cam, a couple of rows behind Moi, her mother, and the boys. Claire stood frozen, watching the deep shudder of Moi’s shoulders as she cried silently through the ceremony, her usual forest of vibrant red spiral curls tamed into a bun for the funeral. She remembers that vague feeling of panic at witnessing someone weep so hard and for so long. She had never seen an adult cry that way before. Not out of the movies. Not in a way that seemed like it might never, ever stop.

When Rosa’s service is over they wait quietly, watching with the rest of the mourners as Mia and her parents follow the burnished umber coffin out of the church. This is the first time Claire gets a chance to see Mia’s face. She looks just as Claire pictured—pale and pinched and deeply sad. And like an automatic call and response, another burst of sadness sweeps through Claire.

Among the last to leave the little church, they move through the small crowd, and stand a discreet distance away from the real mourners. They lean against the back of a stone bench, and blink into the bright sunlight. With Robbie standing silently next to her, Claire nervously watches Mia and her parents talk to people as they file past. A girl with bobbed blonde hair stands close, her arm hooked around Mia’s elbow. This must be Kristen.

Claire stares at Mia. She wants to go to her, but she’s terrified of her response. She’s certain Mia has no idea that they’re even here yet.

And she’s so attentive that she witnesses the moment Mia finally does spot them. At first, she looks as if she thinks she might be imagining things, but then shakes her head slightly and immediately begins to walk slowly toward them, leaving the girl behind. Feeling her face instantly warming, Claire stares anxiously at her hands, not sure what to do now her time to make contact has finally come.

It doesn’t matter because Robbie does. He pushes himself away from the seat, strides over to her, and gathers her into one of his deepest, Robbie-grade cuddles. Finally, he pulls back and pushes some hair from her face. Mia smiles weakly as she clings onto his hand. He leans in and says something to her. And as he speaks, Mia turns her face fractionally toward Claire.

Whatever he says, though, doesn’t make Mia turn away. In fact, she walks slowly toward Claire, squinting into the bright sun. Claire moves away from the seat, and takes a couple of uncertain steps toward her. Her legs feel suddenly shaky, and she wonders again if she really should have come.

When Mia is finally standing in front of her, Claire loses all grip on how to form words. Besides, she knows there is nothing she can say right now. So instead she steps forward and draws Mia into a tight embrace, trying desperately to absorb a little bit of the weary sadness she can see etched on Mia’s face. Greedy too, though, she breathes in the light, familiar perfume of her hair and skin as she clings to her, wallowing fleetingly in it.

It is the fierceness of Mia’s grip, and the way she takes clinging handfuls of the back of her jacket, that tells Claire it was right to come. Overwhelmed with relief that she hasn’t made Mia’s day any worse, she hauls in a deep breath and gives her a final squeeze before letting her go.

Mia stands in front of them, her eyes cast downward.

“You doing okay, hon?” Robbie asks, as he takes her hand again.

Mia nods at him and glances across the yard to where her parents stand outside the church.

The girl with the bob cut comes toward them. “Mia,” she says quietly as she approaches. “I think we have to go.”

Mia nods again and looks slowly between Robbie and Claire, her face revealing little but blank exhaustion.

Robbie leans over and gives the girl a kiss on the cheek. “Hey Kris.”

She smiles. “Hi, Robbie. Good to see you.”

Claire looks at the girl, curious. She has a round, pale face, and equally rounded hazel eyes, almost doll-like. Yet she somehow manages to appear slightly fierce. She looks Claire up and down, clearly just as curious about her. And Claire is instantly aware that Kristen knows exactly who she is, even before an introduction.

“Kristen, this is Claire,” Robbie says to her.

“Hi.” Kristen gives Claire a brief, polite flash of a smile as she moves in to stand closer to Mia. Claire can feel the protective, lioness vibes coming from her.

Mia glances toward her parents and then back at them, a weary smile on her face. “Thanks guys. For coming.”

“Of course we did,” Robbie says simply and brings her hand to his face and kisses it.

Mia smiles. “I better go.”

They both nod.

Robbie enfolds her in another hug. “Take care, babe.”

Mia gives Claire the briefest, grateful flicker of a smile as she turns back toward the church. As they walk away, Claire watches Kristen throw her arm around Mia’s shoulders. She tries her hardest not to cry, wishing she were the one to walk back with Mia.

Robbie slips an arm through Claire’s, dragging her mentally back to him. “What now?”

“Now?” Claire takes out her keys. “Now we go home.”

“We don’t have to go to the party…thingy?”

“The wake?” Claire shakes her head. “Hardly a party, Robbie. And no, we don’t.”

“Oh, okay.” He sounds kind of relieved.

She takes deep, calming breaths as they return to the car. No, they don’t go. She knows it wouldn’t be right. It’s enough that they came, that Mia knows they’re there for her.

CHAPTER 62

For the next few days, Claire tries not to get too caught up in the fact that she doesn’t hear from Mia. But it’s hard. She knows Mia is still in the mountains with her parents because Robbie told her. And Claire knows she’s probably busy doing all those sad, unnervingly mundane things one must do after a death to help the departed finish the business of living. Mia probably can’t see her way clear of any of that to even think about Claire.

But that doesn’t stop Claire from thinking about her. All the time. There is no way she cannot. Not after seeing Mia endure this grief and knowing it’s her own fault she can’t be any comfort to Mia right now. Now all she can do is wait for some sign from Mia, even though she doesn’t even know what it is or when it will be or if there is even one to wait for. The communication ball, she knows, will be firmly in Mia’s court when she comes back from all this.

And nothing really changes until Robbie calls.

She is on her way from her car to the bar when she hears her phone. A trill of nerves shoots through her the way it has every single time it rings. But it’s only Robbie.

“Hey, did you get Eli’s message about his drinks? To celebrate getting into his Master’s?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Claire mutters. “Was it tomorrow night?”

“Yeah. And you have to come.”

Claire sighs. She’s in no mood for socialising. “I don’t know, I mi—”

“Mia’s coming.”

Claire stops in her tracks and leans against the window of a shop. “What? She’s back?”

“Yeah, well, she’s back tomorrow, and she’s coming. I think she wants to be out among the humans for a minute.”

Claire doesn’t say anything. She’s too shaken by the prospect of an imminent Mia sighting.

“So you should come.”

Claire stares at the ground, her teeth scraping at her bottom lip. “What if she doesn’t want me to?”

“I doubt that, Claire. Besides, she knows you’d be invited and she’s still going. Just come.”

Forgetting she’s on the phone, Claire nods.

“Seriously Claire, just come.”

She remembers to speak this time. “Okay, I will.”

* * *

She doesn’t drink at the pub. She doesn’t do much of anything, really. She sits at the far end of the table with Eli and listens to one of Eli’s friends talk about her recent trip to visit family in what sounds like it might possibly win the prize for the most boring town in New South Wales. And while she talks and Eli does all the responding, Claire sits in a stricken silence, hyper-aware of the fact that Mia is seated between Robbie and Pete at the other end of the table. Hyper-aware of the fact that they haven’t done any more than smile and say hello. Mia still looks tired and sad, but maybe as though she’s finished with that awful initial limbo of shock and grief and emerged into a quieter, more bearable sorrow. And Claire is grateful on her behalf.

All night Claire awaits her chance. Before she came, she had no idea what she was going to do or how she was going to live out this night, if she was even going to try and make contact. She wasn’t even sure if it would be okay for her to try and talk to Mia at this thing. But now she’s here, both electrified and paralysed by her presence. And she knows that there is no way she’s going to let this opportunity to make contact slip past her. She couldn’t even if she wanted.

So she waits. Her moment is a long time coming, though. There always seem to be someone talking to Mia, mostly Pete and Robbie, as they sit brotherly and protective at her side. So, unsure what is allowed, expected even, Claire remains stuck in place, frozen and unresponsive to those in her immediate vicinity, her whole being buzzing with Mia’s near-distant presence.

Around ten, just when she is wondering if she’ll ever get a chance to get near her alone, she sees a tiny window of opportunity open as Robbie squeezes Mia’s hand and goes off to the bar. Pete too, is finally occupied, talking to a girl on his other side. Claire decides to seize the opportunity. Without caring if it’s rude to leave Eli’s friend hanging mid-sentence, she shoots out of her seat on some sort of feverish automatic and goes straight over to her. She sits in Robbie’s still-warm seat.

She realises immediately upon sitting that, while she so desperately hoped to talk to Mia, she’d not given any actual thought to what she would say if she got near her. So she settles for the one thing she has already said to her tonight.

“Hey.”

Mia gives her a tiny, weary smile as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Hey.”

Claire, plays nervously with her wallet. “Um, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk to me, but, uh…I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

Mia nods and smiles. “I’m okay.”

Claire nods. “Good,” she says clumsily. Then she drops into a silence, unable to think of a single safe thing to say that can be said here in a busy bar on a Thursday night.

Mia plays with her glass of water. It looks as if she isn’t drinking tonight either. “I’ve got to go in a minute, actually.”

Claire nods, but her throat instantly aches with suppressed tears. Her small chance is gone already. And even though she knows it’s not fair to push things, to put anything on Mia right now, she can’t help but feel as if this is some sort of rejection.

Mia slips her phone and her wallet into her pocket. “I go back to work tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.” Then the question spills out before Claire even knows she’s going to ask it. “Can I drive you home?” She nervously pulls out her keys as if to show proof that she can come through with her offer. “I mean, I’m going to go anyway. I just wanted to—” She halts mid-sentence because it becomes suddenly imperative that she pull in a shaky breath. “I mean, I really only came here tonight to see if you were okay.” She glances at her, feeling completely flustered and clumsy and wishing she could disappear. “So I’m going to go now, too. I can drop you?”

Mia stares at her for a minute, her face unreadable. Then she nods. “Okay, thanks.”

CHAPTER 63

They are silent as Claire takes them on the short ride through the inner suburbs to Mia’s apartment. She drives especially carefully, as if even the slightest bump or sudden stop might do something to break this flimsy peace.

And while she drives toward the apartment, she can feel Mia’s quiet sadness beside her, taking up all the air in the car. And she wishes fervently that there was something she could think of to say that might help. But she can’t, so she just drives.

When she stops the car, Mia doesn’t move to get out. Instead she stares at her hands in her lap, weaving her fingers and untangling them, over and over. So Claire turns the car off and rests her hands on the steering wheel, making no sudden moves. She looks up at the apartment, expecting to be greeted with the usual flickering light of the television beating through the living room window. Instead it’s completely in darkness.

Before she can ask where John and Tasya are, Mia turns to her. “Thanks for driving me.”

“Don’t thank me.”

Mia nods. “Um, do you want some tea? Upstairs, I mean,” she adds hurriedly, as if Claire might think she’s going to pull a thermos from nowhere.

Something ripples through Claire at this offer. She nods and whips the keys from the ignition. “Sure.”

Mia climbs out of the car. Claire follows timidly, not knowing what or how much she should make of this sudden invitation, but incredibly glad it happened. As soon as they get inside, Mia steps into the kitchen and flicks on the lamp. It throws soft light across the room, and long shadows on the walls. But then instead of making tea, Mia pauses by the window and stares out of it.

So Claire gently takes over. She moves quietly, trying not to distract Mia, to cause her to question why she has invited Claire here. Busying herself with this little act of caretaking, she turns on the kettle and takes Mia’s favourite deep green mug from the dish rack for her. Then, she hurries to the fridge and pulls out a carton of milk. Mia finally moves from the window and drops onto one of the kitchen chairs.

When Claire turns to her with two steaming cups of milky tea, Mia is sprawled between the chair and table. One foot is hiked onto the chair seat, and her arm is draped across the wooden surface of the table. Her head rests on her arm as she stares into the middle distance.

Claire places the mug on the table in front of Mia and sits.

“Thanks.” Mia gives her a grateful little smile, lifts her head slightly, and draws the cup toward her. She doesn’t drink though, just lays her head back on her arm and draws circles on the wood, frowning.

And that small fact of her not drinking the tea gives Claire a small, selfish trill of hope. This might mean Mia wasn’t just being polite, offering her a conciliatory, peace-making cup of tea. Maybe she didn’t even want tea. Maybe she simply wanted Claire to come in and be with her in some form. Maybe Mia needs her.

At that thought, she puts her own cup down, too nervous to drink now. Instead, she sits there, hovering in this not uncomfortable, but not-anything-recognisable-either silence with her. The clock ticks quietly behind them, and Claire hears a child laugh uproariously somewhere nearby, as though witnessing the funniest thing ever seen.

Mia continues to stare at the tabletop, a small, sad frown on her face. Her hair falls, wayward, across her cheek.

Claire leans forward. “Mia, I’m so sorry about Rosa.”

Mia looks briefly in her direction, nods, and then returns to her project of tracing small arcs on the surface of the table.

Claire waits, unable to conjure anything meaningful or useful to say. This moment is so fragile, she knows. Delicate as the finest cut of glass. And she doesn’t want to destroy it by saying anything stupid.

Finally, Mia brushes her hair back from her face and speaks. “They found her in the kitchen.”

Claire nods and swallows hard.

“It was late morning when she died.” Mia continues to trace patterns, her gaze still directed at the tabletop. “She was probably making a cup of tea, otherwise she would have been outside.” Mia’s eyes dampen with tears. “They said she probably died really quickly. A massive stroke. It’s weird that they say massive.” She shakes her heads, blinking hard. “Why massive? Not huge? Or giant? Who decides on that?”

Claire shakes her head, remembering similar strange thoughts when Cam was in hospital. “I don’t know,” she says, even though she knows Mia doesn’t require an answer.

Mia takes in a deep, ragged breath. “I wish she’d been in her garden at least. That would have been, I don’t know…right. But making a cup of tea?” She shakes her head gently. “So wrong.”

Claire nods again, remembering Mia’s talk about Rosa’s stunning paradise of a garden where she spent all her time. Mia was going to take her there before the summer ended—to meet Rosa. She wonders what is going to become of the house now, the house John grew up in, that Mia spent all her holidays in. She rests her chin on her hand, thinks of John’s sweet, funny eulogy at the church. “How is your dad doing?”

“He’s okay, I think. He’s really sad, of course, and he’s quieter than I’ve ever seen him. He cried at the house a lot.” She takes a deep breath. “It’s so awful when your parents are sad, isn’t it? It’s weird, and kind of scary.”

Claire nods. She remembers she felt exactly that way when Gary died, when all of a sudden all of the adults around her became so fallible, so fragile. It was terrifying. “Where are they now?”

“They’re at the house until tomorrow.”

“You’re on your own?”

Mia nods, still frowning at the table. The tear that settled in her eye earlier threatens to spill.

At the sight of her renewed grief, Claire immediately wraps her hand around Mia’s slim brown wrist “Mia, I’m so sorry.”

Mia meets her gaze for the first time, smiling a little through her tears. She pulls her wrist free of Claire’s light grasp. Claire starts, but her anxiety is assuaged when she realises Mia’s only letting go so she can take hold of her hand instead. Her grip is light, though, unconvincing.

Unable to help herself, Claire leans in, rests her free arm on the table in front of Mia, and says quietly, “I am so sorry about Rosa.” She squeezes Mia’s hand. “And Mee, I’m so, so sorry about how awful I was that night you came into the bar. I said such shitty things to you.”

Mia nods slightly, but doesn’t look at her, as if she’ll acknowledge it, but maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it. Not now, anyway. She sits up a little and gently pulls her hand free. Claire tenses, hoping she hasn’t broken this tender little moment by recalling Mia to the mess that is them.

Mia wipes her eyes and stares at Claire, but Claire can’t read her face. She wonders if Mia is about to end this visit, whether she has pushed too far, made it time for her to go.

Mia suddenly stands, pushing herself wearily from the table with her hands. Then she takes a big breath, one that seems to pull her fully upright. “Do you think…will…can you stay here with me tonight?” Her voice is small, tiny even. “Please?”

Claire gives her a fevered, urgent nod. She wouldn’t be anywhere else. “Of course.”

Mia gives her an appreciative, exhausted little smile and turns for the door. Claire hurriedly gets up, leaving their undrunk cups of tea on the table.

She silently trails Mia through the darkened apartment. When they reach the top of the stairs, Mia veers into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. Claire steps tentatively into her bedroom, taking in the uncharacteristic mess in the dimly lit room. She automatically moves over to the bed, clears the chaos of clothes piled there and places them on the desk so Mia can just get straight into bed. She picks a few things up from the floor and adds them to the pile, tidies up the pillows on the bed, shakes the duvet, and lays it freshly over the sheets.

Unsure of what to do now, she leans on the desk and waits.

When Mia emerges from the bathroom, she pads into the room without a word. She looks ruined with tiredness, as if it has just hit her through the simple act of deciding to go to bed. She kicks off her shoes and jeans, removes her bra from under her T-shirt, and climbs into the bed. She glances at Claire before she lies under the freshly shaken covers.

Claire doesn’t even bother to remove her own clothes properly; she wants to get to her so badly. She simply kicks off her boots, yanks off her socks, and crawls into the bed next to her. She lies tentatively close and listens to the small steady sounds of Mia’s breath only inches from her, still dizzily unsure of how she came to be here in this bed with Mia and her quiet sorrow.

She is too alert to this strange new turn of events to hunt down sleep. And, having no idea what she’s expected to do, she lies there, still, and listens, hyper-conscious of the smallest shift or change in the rhythms of Mia’s breath.

But eventually, because she can’t bear not to, she places a timid hand on Mia’s back, needing to physically show her sympathy. Terrified, she waits for her reaction. But there is none, and Claire’s blood stills again. She keeps the hand there, a tenuous and platonic physical connection intended to tell Mia she wants to be there for her and nothing more.

Just when she’s starting to think maybe she’s already fallen asleep, Mia reaches back and gently takes hold of her arm and pulls it over her waist. Claire responds instantly to this silent instruction. She shuffles closer and curls the arm obediently around her. Mia settles back against her, her lower back resting against Claire’s stomach. Breathing in slowly, Claire presses her face into the back of Mia’s neck. She inhales her startlingly familiar scent and does her best not to succumb to the well of tears that have accompanied this physical permission to comfort Mia. And, remaining as still as she possibly can, lest Mia should change her mind, she simply closes her eyes and holds on. And she only allows herself to consider sleep when she feels Mia’s own breath shift into her downward drift to slumber.

CHAPTER 64

Like the morning has been carried out so far, the drive to Mia’s work takes place in a kind of committed, gentle silence. Claire pulls up at the kerb opposite the café. The street is still quiet. It’s too early to unleash the suits from trams and trains to rub up against the remaining hipsters who can still afford the rent around here.

Claire keeps a tight hold on the steering wheel. She has no idea where this night will leave them in the larger scale of things. And she’s too scared to ask, lest anything she says or does break this most fragile of peace they seem to have found themselves in.

Mia is also silent, staring out the window ahead of her. Claire can partly see from the corner of her eye, but partly just knows that is what she’s doing.

Finally, Claire asks. “Will you be okay?”

Instead of answering her question, Mia says, “I have to tell you something.”

Instantly wary, Claire lets her hands drift from the steering wheel onto her lap and stares down. Yesterday’s jeans. She stares at a small mark on the denim above her knee, worrying at it with her finger.

“I have to tell you something, because I wasn’t fair to you last night.”

Claire lifts her head, worried now. Where is this going? Mia keeps her gaze fixed on the street ahead of her, so Claire does the same.

“You know, that night that Trish kissed me, I just walked away. Like I told you, I was drunk, and I didn’t tell her about you because my instinct was to get away from her.”

Claire goes to speak, goes to say she does understand. That it was the shock and the recollection of what happened with Brendan that made her instantly lose it. But she can’t, because Mia goes on.

“But the night after I came to the bar, I did kiss someone.”

It’s as if something drains from Claire’s chest, leaving it instantly hollow and hurting. She swallows hard.

Mia suddenly lets out as small, gasping little sob and swipes at her face, still staring ahead. “I was so angry with you. Angry that you wouldn’t listen to me, that you wouldn’t hear anything I was saying. That you would let us just be over like that.” She hauls in a breath. “And I don’t know, I was so hurt that you were saying you expected me to do something like that to you, like I’m some sort of cheating, untrustworthy person you’ve just been waiting to mess up. I don’t know, maybe I was self-fulfilling what you expected of me.” She lets out a dry, bitter little laugh and sniffs. “All I know is that I was angry and sad and really drunk and this girl was just…there. And I kissed her, even though I wasn’t even a little bit interested. I only wanted to not feel hurt and angry for a minute, to cancel it out. And of course it didn’t work. It couldn’t have. It made everything worse.”

Claire has to remind herself to breathe. All she wants is to get away from this news, to have it never have been spoken out loud. But shock holds her vicelike in place.

Although Claire hasn’t said a single word, Mia shakes her head. Then she swipes briskly at the tears on her face, as if she’s trying to pretend—even to herself—that she’s not crying. “And I really, really wish I hadn’t done it. And I want you to know that if we were still together I would never, ever have done it. Or anything else ever.”

Claire stares at her hands, knowing somewhere inside her that she believes that. Not that knowing this stops the raw flood of hurt.

“You know, even if you and I had never even spoken to each other ever again, I would still regret doing it, and doing it to spite us. Because we were better than that.” Mia folds her arms over her chest. “But then, I thought we were better than a lot of things.”

Claire nods slowly. So did she.

Mia sniffs. “Anyway, I’m so sorry I did that to what was us. We deserve better.”

Claire doesn’t respond. Instead she sits in grief-stricken silence and watches the first trickle of suits emerge from wherever they have commuted from. Some walk into Mia’s café, expectant of caffeine. Mia should already be there, Claire realises. She’s going to be late.

Mia takes in another deep shaky breath. “Anyway, I thought I should tell you. Because after last night, I feel even worse. I should have told you then, but I guess I was being selfish. I wanted you to be with me because I needed you. Through all this, even though I was so angry at you, all I wanted was you. But that wasn’t fair.” She shakes her head. “I asked you to stay because I wanted you with me. But you probably wouldn’t have come near me if you knew this.” She lets out another choking little sob and stares at her hands, clenched tight on her lap.

Claire presses her lips together, muted entirely. Not by the shock now, though, but by the internal conflict wrought by what Mia is saying to her. This tug of war between the relief of knowing Mia still wants her and needs her, and the shock of this betrayal. She hasn’t a single clue what to do with any of this.

Mia takes in another deep breath and picks up her bag. “And now I’ve probably wrecked things even more than they were already. And any chance we have now. But I had to tell you.” For the first time she turns and looks at Claire.

But Claire can’t look back at her. She can’t speak either. Even if she wanted to speak, she couldn’t. She knows speaking will allow the tears a chance to penetrate the wall of numbness that has formed with this revelation. So Claire beats them back. Because she needs this numbness. She can’t fall apart now, not here in a car in the middle of a street, not when Mia is about to leave her any second, and not when she must go and tend the lives of others all day.

Mia hugs her bag closer. “I’m so sorry. You probably hate me now.” She wipes her face on the collar of her T-shirt and sighs. “Anyway, I don’t want to make you late for the centre.” She pulls at the handle of the car door. “Thank you for driving me, and I’m sorry Claire.” She takes another tremulous, teary breath as she pushes the door open.

Claire nods blindly. As she watches Mia walk away, her bag clutched to her chest, she realises she did not even speak that entire time. Not one word.

Despite her shock, somehow she manages to function. Because the simple, ineradicable fact that she has to be at the centre in a manner of minutes propels her into motion. She turns the key in the ignition and lets routine pull her through.

And it’s this numbness that carries her through the day. It gets her through the morning traffic and into her usual parking space at the back of the hall only a few moments late. It sets her in front of the computer and allows her to silently comb through the grant documents for any small errors, to double and triple-check attachments before she sends it. It walks with her to the park and allows her to answer all the kids’ questions in a litany of automated replies. And although she couldn’t recall any of it if asked, she somehow does her job. She maybe even musters a sarcastic joke or two.

If anger was her friend last week, automatic is her kindred now. She moves through the afternoon playing the Claire machine as babysitter, using whatever mental strength she has to stay in the safety of this numbness. It sits beside her in the grass and holds her gaze to the stopwatch. It reminds her to pick up the pen and mark times as kids bolt from one set of bright orange witch’s hats to another. It carries her back to the hall and guides her through pack up. And it stays with her, a faithful companion, as she watches the last kid hurry through the gates with her mother and screaming brother. It offers up a small farewell smile as Hani trots past her on the steps.

“Date night,” she calls, tapping Claire’s arm as she passes. “Moi’s going to lock up so I can actually go home and get changed for once.”

It holds her in place until Hani has pulled the gate closed behind her and disappeared around the corner for the bus stop.

And then it abandons her entirely, leaving her with just the rude, harsh reality of her misery. She sinks under its impossible weight. She presses her face to her knees and cries a steady white-hot stream of tears—the kind that give no relief but must be shed.

And she’s still there, encased in her grief, when she hears someone settle on the step next to her. A hand lands softly on the back of her neck and strokes her hair.

“Oh my girl, what have you done?” It’s Moi.

But Claire just shakes her head in response. She has no idea what they have done. She only knows how much it hurts.

CHAPTER 65

Claire wakes to the unfamiliar light of a stranger’s spare room. Confused for a minute, she simply lies there and blinks at the alien floral and pastel surroundings. And then, in a torrid surge of recall, yesterday’s awfulness storms back. She’s at Moi’s. Well, she’s at the apartment Moi is house sitting for this summer.

Last night, when Moi found a weeping pile of Claire on the steps of the centre, she gently forced her to come back here with her. And Claire did. Because where else would she go in that moment of awful release?

And of course, Moi made her talk. Because Moi could make most people talk. That’s what she does.

In fact, Moi did exactly what Moi would do, which was pretty much the opposite of what Claire’s mother would have done if she’d discovered Claire in this sorry state. She ordered Thai delivery on the drive home, opened a bottle of red the minute they were through the door, and sat her on the couch. Then, when the food had been delivered, she gently asked Claire what the hell was wrong. And while Christine might have mustered the food and wine, and even pretended to care long enough to ask that same question, Claire knows she would never have managed the other part, which was to just quietly listen to what Claire told her. There’s no way Claire would have been given the space and the security of silence to say what she needed to say with her mother. But that’s what Moi gave her.

Claire rolls onto her stomach and buries her face in the flowery blue pillow, not so sure she wants to face the day she has woken up to. Not yet, anyway. Instead she lies there and thinks about their conversation last night.

At first Claire, rendered shy, tried to talk around gender pronouns. But it didn’t last long, because once she started talking, it seemed she didn’t want to stop until she got to the bitter end of everything. And that meant she needed to just say it and be done with it. So she pushed past the bashful, said the word she, named Mia, and moved on, hoping like hell Moi would, too. And of course she did. In fact, at the mention of Mia’s name, Moi barely batted an eyelid and certainly didn’t say a word. She smiled slightly, and nodded, as if maybe she already knew Claire had been dancing around something ever since she’d started to speak.

So Claire forged on. She pushed her curry around her bowl with a fork, and finished the sorry little tale.

And when she was done, Moi put her bowl on the coffee table, picked up her wine glass, and turned to Claire. “You know what this sounds like to me?”

Claire wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve and shook her head. “What?”

“Two impetuous young people reacting to their hurt and confusion by doing stupid, impetuous things. Instead of talking about it.” Moi took a hold of Claire’s arm. And you know what else? I’m willing to bet that neither of you actually wanted to end up here.”

Claire stares at her food, not sure if she should hope Moi is right.

Moi squeezed her forearm. “Honey, tell me this, when you stopped talking to her, and then when you said those things you said to Mia, did you really want to break up with her?”

And with that one question, Claire found herself crying again. “No.”

Moi nodded. “Well I’m also willing to bet she didn’t kiss someone because she wanted to be with them and not you. Do you think that’s why she did it?”

Claire shook her head. “No.”

“Look, I don’t know her, of course, but my guess is that it has nothing to do with that girl, and everything to do with how she manages her own uncertainty and hurt.”

Taking in a deep breath, Claire put her bowl on the coffee table, picked up her wine, and stared into its rich, red contents. “You know, I think I’m really bad at relationships.”

Moi scoffed and shook her arm before letting it go. “Why would you think that?”

Claire held up her hands and frowned. “Because I epically screw them up. Like this.”

Moi shook her head, her red curls waving furiously around her face. “First, it sounds to me as though you both did a bit of the screwing up here, honey. And second, from what I remember of your last and only big relationship, you didn’t really have a say in how that ended, did you?”

“No.”

“Not really enough of a track record to pronounce that just yet, I’d say.” Moi chuckled and rested her feet on the table. A cat pounced on her lap from out of nowhere, purring loudly. It was a small brown and black thing, with a ruff of longish fur around its neck. Claire suddenly remembered Patty and wondered how she was doing. This little cat, purring loudly under Moi’s idle, petting hand, was only about a third the size of Patty, though. It settled in a tight little ball on Moi’s lap.

Moi idly scratched the cat behind one of its ears, sending it into paroxysms of purring glee. “You know what I think? I think what happened with that idiot Brendan has got you running scared.”

Claire let out a dry little laugh and shook her head. “He wasn’t really an idiot. Not until the end, anyway.”

“I know, I met him plenty of times, remember? I thought he was a lovely guy. Just lacking some balls in the honesty department, it turned out.”

Claire smiled. She couldn’t help it.

“And I think maybe what happened with him has left you feeling pretty insecure—which I don’t really blame you for. But it’s something you’re going to have to deal with. Especially if you think your friend Robbie is right about you being paranoid.”

Claire nodded slowly. She already knows Robbie is more than probably right.

“Or, you have to find a way to speak these insecurities aloud, at least. Not to try and bury them, because that’s when things like this happen.” She let out a long breath and turned to Claire, frowning slightly. “Look, honey, I know you like my own kid, and I’ve known your mum for years. And I think your mother is a remarkable woman, but she’s not the best when it comes to talking feelings. I can’t really blame her either, given the house she grew up in.”

Claire looked at her, curious. She doesn’t know that much about how her mother was raised, but she does know her mother’s parents were both incredibly rigid, formal people.

“And I also think that she’s maybe passed on a little of that to you. By example.”

Claire sipped her wine and contemplated this. She is pretty crappy at talking about stuff. Brendan had told her that again and again. She thought she was being better with Mia. But maybe she hasn’t been as good as she thought. She thinks about how brave and open she was when she confronted Mia after the trip to the lake. Why can’t she be like that all the time? And she’d never thought about this inability as something she was taught.

“And Claire, the quickest way to end these cycles is to recognise them and to learn not repeat them if you don’t want to.”

Claire turned on her, smirking. “Uh, okay, therapist.”

Moi grinned and flapped a hand at her. “Yeah, well, maybe it sounds like clichéd psychobabble. And you know what? It is.” She slapped her hand gently on Claire’s knee. “But it doesn’t stop it from also being true, kiddo. Look, what happened with Brendan was not an ideal way to end your first big relationship. But the biggest mistake you could make, hon, and one I think you already might be making, however unconsciously, is to think that everyone you care about is going to do the same thing he did.”

Claire nodded, because maybe she’s already partway figured that out.

“Because doing that will make it hard for you to trust. And it will make it difficult to speak your fears out loud. In case they turn out to be true.” She reached out and grabbed a hold of Claire’s hand, squeezing it tight. “But because that happened once, doesn’t mean it’s always going to happen.”

Claire nodded and tears began to fall again. Because she knew it was too late. She’d already done all those things Moi was saying. And everything had gone to hell because of it. She pressed her palm to her forehead and grimaced. Why couldn’t she have realised this stuff already? Then everything wouldn’t be such a freaking mess.

Moi squeezed her hand again. “You know where you are now?”

Claire blinked back tears. “Where?”

“You are at a point where you need to choose how to move on with this thing with Mia.”

Claire sniffed loudly and stared at Moi’s freckled hand grasping her own pale one. “But it’s too late. It’s over.”

Moi shook her head, let go of Claire’s hand, and patted it, thoughtful. “You know, I think it is only over if you want it to be.”

Claire looked at her, dubious. Moi stared right back, nodding.

“Claire, I think she wouldn’t have even told you what she’d done if she wasn’t still completely invested in this—in you. And you certainly wouldn’t be sitting here weeping on this couch, wondering what went wrong, if you weren’t at least a little confused and undecided about what you want to do.”

Claire pulled her sweater sleeves over her hands, sniffing, and hugged her arms to her chest.

“And you know how you decide?

“How?”

Moi smiled a wide, warm smile. “It’s actually deceptively simple. Figure out exactly how you feel about her and let that make your decision for you. Not about the silly mistakes you’ve both made, but how you feel about her. And if you decide to be with her, you’ll have commit not just to her, but also to figuring out what you both need from each other to make that work, and to make sure nothing like this happens again. And trust me when I tell you that, for it to work, you’ll need to forgive her. And her you.”

Claire took in a deep breath and nodded, feeling the first tiny glimmer of hope she had felt in a long time. “You make it sound easy.”

“Well it is and it isn’t.”

Claire was just about to ask about the part that isn’t when Moi’s phone rang. She snatched it up from the coffee table. “Just a sec, hon.”

She answered the phone. “Chrissy! I’ve got your daughter with me.” She patted Claire on the knee before standing up and walking off with the phone. “Just hanging out, catching up.” She went into the other room and talked out some plan they have made for the weekend. The cat immediately curled up in the warm space she left, glancing suspiciously at Claire.

Claire sipped her abandoned wine and wiped her face of tears.

Moi came back into the living room. “She said to tell you she’s forgotten what you look like.”

Claire curled her lip and sipped her wine, not dignifying the second-hand nag with a response.

Moi grinned knowingly, scooped up the cat, and sat back on the couch. “You okay, hon?”

Claire nodded, feeling the small push of tears. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“So,” Moi picked up her wine again. “I’m going to assume you haven’t told your mother about Mia?” She gave her another wry smile. “I’m thinking I’d probably have heard if you had.”

Claire shook her head, blushing. “No. She’ll freak out.”

Moi shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’ll be unexpected, sure, but she’ll get used to it.” She leaned forward and swept an affectionate finger across Claire’s cheek. “Honey, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but you can’t hide all this from her forever. If you and Mia get past this, I want you to promise me you’ll talk to your mum eventually. She might get a bit of a shock, but she’ll get over it. She will.”

Claire shrugged, mostly because she felt morose enough. She didn’t need to add a conversation about her fraught relationship with her mother to an already shitty day. She didn’t even want to think about her, let alone about what telling her this would be like.

And Moi grinned and flung an arm around her shoulder. “Okay, I’m done nagging. But do me a favour before we find some gloriously cheesy film to numb ourselves with?”

“What?” Claire asked warily.

“Just tell me a little bit about this Mia, would you?”

“Why?”

“Because, you brat,” Moi laughed, pulling her against her side, “I want to know more about this person who has thrown my favourite adopted daughter for a loop.”

Claire chewed on her lip, reluctant. But she knew she owed Moi this at least, if not a whole ton more. So she did as she was told, thinking back to those things she noticed about Mia when they were first becoming close. “Well, she’s really kind and funny. And she’s got a pretty whack sense of humour, but I kind of like that. And she’s really smart. Studying medicine smart.”

Moi raised her eyebrows. “Wow.”

“But she’s not, like, full of it like some super-intelligent people are. And she’s not patronising, either. She can be kind of quiet, but she’s also interested in everyone and everything. Like, she would talk to anyone about anything they wanted to, you know? She’s geeky and sweet like that. And, I don’t know, even though we’re completely different, we just got each other straight away.” She shrugged, tearing up again and completely embarrassed by the fact. That’s it, she decided. That’s all she’s got for now. Besides, she realised maybe Moi was asking this as much to remind Claire what she likes about Mia as she was because she wanted to know about her.

Moi smiled. “She sounds lovely. One more request?”

“What?

“If you two sort this out, which I really hope you do, can I meet her?”

“Maybe.” That’s all Claire was giving her.

Moi grinned and picked up the remote.

And now it’s morning, and Claire is left with the simple homework task that Moi has given her—to figure out how she feels. As she listens to the sounds of Moi starting her day somewhere in the house, she wonders if she dares let herself think about it yet.

CHAPTER 66

She is contemplating beginning her pack down of the bar a little early when the door swings open. It’s Robbie. He smiles serenely at her and meanders to the far end of the bar to where he always sits. But he doesn’t sit this time. Instead he stands there and waits for her to come to him.

She walks reluctantly towards him, not sure how much more talk she has in her after last night with Moi.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice comes out quiet.

He shoots her a withering look. “Why do you always ask me that? As if it’s weird that I, your good friend, am here to see you?” He shakes his head. “Sheesh, woman.”

She gives him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

He smiles back, all instantly forgiven. “Yeah well, we can work on that. Anyway, I’ve come to give you this.”

“What?” She steps off the end of the bar, looking at his empty hands, confused.

He smiles wider and folds her into a hug, wrapping her tightly in his arms. And surprising herself, she completely gives in to it and lets out a long, slightly tearful exhale. He runs his hands up and down her back as she blinks back the threat of tears. And, even more surprising, for the first time in their history of enforced hugging, she holds on to him longer than he holds on to her.

When she finally pulls away, he kindly does not acknowledge her embarrassing neediness. Instead, he simply climbs onto a stool. Without waiting for him to ask, she goes back behind the bar, pours him a beer, and places it in front of him.

“Thanks.” He leans his cheek on his hand and smiles a tiny rueful smile at her.

Safe in the knowledge Andrew is tucked safely upstairs, Claire gives up the pretence of work altogether. She climbs onto the stool next to him, rests her chin in her hand, and sighs.

He takes a hold of her free hand and shakes it gently. “Are you okay?”

She stares blankly at the beer taps. “I honestly have no idea.”

He nods, still holding on to her hand.

The song on the stereo ticks over into another one, and someone laughs quietly in one of the back booths.

“Mia told me.” He doesn’t say any more than that. He doesn’t have to. She bites her lip and nods instead of responding. What is she supposed to say?”

“I’m so sorry.” He takes a sip of his beer and rests his cheek in his hand, smiling contritely at her. “And obviously I didn’t know that when I barrelled in here and told you that you were being a paranoid asshole.”

She glances at him and then returns her stare to the restless shimmer of the light above the door. “It’s okay. I was still a paranoid asshole. That doesn’t change.”

And Robbie, being Robbie, agrees. “I guess so. Now you’ve both been assholes.”

Claire nods, sighs, and takes her hand from Robbie’s. She folds her arms across the bar and rests her chin on her upper arm, blinking back more tears. She wishes she could stop with this constant tearfulness. She feels as if she has done more crying or near-crying in the last few weeks than she ever has in her life. “Everything is such a fucking mess.”

He nods, and they sit there in another long spell of silence.

Eventually, he bumps his shoulder against hers. “I was pretty shocked when she told me.”

Claire clenches her jaw a little and then flashes him a look. “You were.”

“I know.” He leans in again and rests his cheek on her shoulder. “You know, I think I have this image of Mia as being incapable of doing anything wrong.”

“Unlike me.” Claire adds, only slightly bitterly.

“Or me. Or anyone, really.” He kind of laughs. “Pretty unrealistic.”

“She is, though. We all are.”

He nods. “Yeah well, I know that now.”

A customer comes to the bar, and Claire gets up to serve him. She pours him a whiskey, makes the change, and goes right back to Robbie. She’s insanely grateful for his company tonight, however morose they may mutually be.

He nudges her gently. “She’s a sad, sorry mess, in case it makes you feel any better.”

She pushes out a breath. “Nope, it doesn’t.” She turns and faces him, giving him a helpless look, as though maybe he can explain these feelings that should be anger but are not. Feelings that are less sharp, but more relentless. A quiet brutality. “I don’t want her to be a sad, sorry mess.” She blinks hard. “I don’t want any of this mess to have happened.”

He leans against her.

She swipes at a tear and shakes her head. “I don’t even know where to go from here.”

“I don’t think she does either. But I think she thinks it’s up to you if you want to talk to her. That she has no right to contact you.”

Claire nods. She’d assumed as much.

She tries to imagine how she would even go about talking this out with Mia. She feels so acutely that any contact now, any conversation they might have about this could be their last chance. And this renders her even more terrified to make a decision. So, the only decision she has made so far is not to make one at all.

“It’s Nina’s birthday party on Thursday night,” he reminds her.

Claire nods slowly. She’d forgotten about it. The last thing she wants to do is party the way Nina will want to on her birthday. But she has to.

“I can’t wait to see her get her present.” He rubs his hands together. “She’s going to love it.”

Claire nods. She forgot about Nina’s present, which is sitting on her desk in her bedroom. They all pitched in for it a while back, and it’s awesome.

“I think Mia thinks she probably shouldn’t go to the party.”

Claire swallows hard. She hadn’t even thought of that. The prospect of seeing Mia launches a pang of nerves through her.

Then her nerves spin into suspicion.

She turns on him, eyes narrowed. “Hey, are you just here to find out for her whether she should?” And she’s less angered by the thought of Mia wanting to know than the thought of Robbie coming just to wrest information out of her for Mia.

His eyes widen. “Hey, Claire, I didn’t come here as a messenger.” He grabs her wrist, frowning. “I came because you’re my friend and you’re sad and you have a really fucking good reason to be. And I’m telling you this because maybe you want to know it, that’s all.” He lets go of her wrist. “Can you just fucking trust me for once? I’m not here for Mia right now. I’m here for you, okay?”

She nods, instantly repentant. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He pushes his empty glass away from him. “Not that I’m not there for Mia, too, either. I’m just in this stupidly awkward place where you have both made me fall in friend love with you, and now I’m stuck here.”

He looks kind of sad himself. She reflexively wraps her arms around him and draws him into a brief sideways squeeze. “I’m really sorry.”

He smiles and kisses the side of her head. “It’s okay, I still love you.” He picks up his jacket. “I’ve got to go, though. Stuff to do.”

Claire nods. Robbie and his mysterious “stuff.” He smiles at her and heads for the door.

“Mia should come,” she calls quickly after him before she even realises she’s going to.

He turns back around, one eyebrow raised, questioning.

“She should come to Nina’s party.” Claire tries to give him a casual, whatever look, but she knows she’s failing spectacularly. “I mean, she put in for the present and everything.”

He thrusts his hands in his pocket and smiles a slow smile at her. “I’ll let her know.”

Claire shrugs. “If you want.”

He gives her a mocking little chuckle and makes for the door.

CHAPTER 67

Cam pushes his cup away, leans back in his seat, and checks his watch. “I have to go in a minute.”

Claire nods and stares out the window, watching a girl struggle as she tries to walk three dogs at once. “Me too.”

“What are you doing now?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Visiting Lisa with Mum.”

Cam smirks as he takes out his wallet. “Lucky you.”

“Uh huh.”

He slaps some money on the dish but doesn’t get up yet. “So are we still not talking about it?”

Claire keeps her gaze glued to the view. “We’re still not talking about it.”

He nods and tucks his wallet away. “Okay, but you look kind of miserable, dude.”

“I am kind of miserable,” she retorts, dismissive, as she takes a note from her pocket.

Cam puts his hand up to stop her. “No, it’s my shout. Least I can do for my depressed sibling.” He picks up the dish and gets up. “I’ll see you later. Cheer the hell up, will you?” He pats her shoulder clumsily.

Claire grins. “That was weird.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, grinning right back. “It was. See you.”

“See you.” Claire watches him pay at the counter, wave at her across the room, and push the door open.

She stays put for a minute, even though she has to meet her mother soon. She’s not mentally prepared for Hurricane Christine yet. So instead she leans on her elbows and stares out the window of the crappy little café where they met for coffee and eggs and watches the world go by a little longer.

She stares into the ceaseless flow of Melbourne traffic and wonders when she’ll stop feeling so damn miserable. It’s a quieter misery than it was, but it’s there all the time.

If anyone had asked her what she thought she’d be feeling if Mia had told her something like that, she would have said anger. Rage, even. But it’s not rage. Not at all. It’s become what she hadn’t realised would be the staggeringly harsh simplicity of the accumulated sorrows of the last few weeks.

And it’s this trajectory of her feelings that has been most strange to her. When that numbness lifted and the reality of Mia kissing another girl hit her, they bypassed anger altogether. They alighted on hurt and then moved straight on to misery again.

Even that bitter anger she felt when she thought Mia was losing interest in her is long gone. And it doesn’t seem to want to come back to her, even now that she has a real, tangible thing she could direct her outrage at. Now that Mia has actually committed some crime that is potentially worthy of her ire. It’s so strange.

And it’s because a small, instinctive part of her knows that Moi is right, that despite all her earlier paranoia, that what Mia did with that girl probably had nothing to do with desire or even interest. Maybe it was punishment. The worst kind of unconscious punishment she could deal Claire for expecting the worst of her. What had she said? That maybe she was self-fulfilling the prophecy Claire had created?

A waiter comes over and wipes the section of table where Cam was sitting, pointedly rearranging the sugar and the napkin dispenser. Claire gets the message. Order something or it’s time to go. Obedient, she leaves the café and wanders morosely down the busy street back to her car, still turning things over in her mind.

She understands that, when it comes down to it, what Mia did is probably no worse or better than the mistakes Claire has made of late. And she knows now, in her heart, that Mia would never have done it if they were together. Like Moi said, they have just been two people instinctively reacting by hurting each other. Instead of figuring it out. What Mia did was just another stupidity in a litany of stupidities between them.

But what kind of comfort is knowing this when they’re still here? Which is basically nowhere?

Claire knows she feels much better after that conversation with Moi, as though the possibility of hope exists, but she still doesn’t really know where to go from here. So she pushes it out of her mind, gets in her car, and drives.

CHAPTER 68

Nina’s got her birthday bossy on.

“See? This is what I mean when I say to dress fabulous.” Nina waves a hand in Claire’s direction. “At least someone listened to me.”

Claire shoots Nina a mutinous look and drops into an empty seat between Robbie and a friend of Nina’s, embarrassed by the arrival fanfare.

“Excuse me!” Robbie plucks at his red top. “I put on my favourite T-shirt for you!”

Nina, who is dressed in a short, silver dress and heels, giggles. “I’m sorry. Thanks, Robbie.” She leans over and kisses him on the cheek. “My bad.”

Claire tugs a little at her skirt, self-conscious now. Obedient to her friend’s birthday whims, she did make an effort, putting on a short black skirt and a deep blue silky top. It felt kind of nice to dress up tonight, to feel at least a little bit good. But she sure as hell didn’t need Nina to draw attention to it.

The club Nina has chosen is one they all came to a while back, an old factory or warehouse, with a cavernous glass roof where trailing green plants hang from all the rusted iron fittings on the walls. It’s even more frenetic and full than it was last time she was here. Groups are crushed together, standing and talking, or weaving their way to the dance floor, and checking each other out.

Robbie claps his hands together. “So, birthday girl. What are you drinking?”

Nina throws an arm into the air and grins giddily. “Tequila!”

“Done.” He slaps his hand on his thighs and turns to Claire. “Want one?”

She nods. As soon as he leaves, she takes her first surreptitious glance around the large table Nina has reserved. With a shimmer of something that she can’t quite be sure is relief or disappointment, she notes that Mia is not there. In fact, no one she knows seems to be there aside from Robbie and Dan. She recognises a few faces, friends of Nina’s she has met at the bar or at the countless parties she has been to with her, but no one else. Not even Eli is there.

Robbie returns with four shots of tequila on a small tray. They toast Nina’s birthday and drink them down. Wincing slightly, Claire puts her glass back on the tray, and hopes that the drink will go some way to loosening the sickening clench in her stomach.

But it doesn’t, because that’s the moment when Mia arrives with Pete. And for a second, it’s as if sound momentarily drops out for Claire. She’s flung into this weird, slightly panicked and silent space for a few long seconds. Aflame with anxiety, she has no idea what to do. So, she hides in the distraction of Nina throwing herself on the two them and the flurry of greetings and introductions, and takes the time to mentally pull herself together.

Instead of risking the unknown that would be making eye contact with Mia, Claire watches Nina and wonders if she’d be so welcoming if she knew what has happened. It’s weird that Nina doesn’t even know they’ve broken up. But between Nina’s trip with Dan and the fact they had no shifts together this week, they’ve barely had a conversation, except via text message. And this is no news for text. But given Nina’s instantly protective behaviour in the past, like the day they all went to the river and Mia didn’t ride with Claire, Claire is willing to bet Nina wouldn’t even tolerate Mia’s presence here if she knew. And Claire wonders what it means that she’s glad that Nina doesn’t know.

Despite this, she can’t even look directly at Mia, let alone greet her. She allows herself the briefest of glances when she’s sure Mia isn’t looking. Mia’s wearing jeans and a long, loose tank top of deep red, yet another variation on her dressing theme.

When Nina is done, instead of letting Pete and Mia come to them, Robbie jumps out of his seat and goes over and says his hellos. Claire gives him a small grateful smile, knowing he did that for her sake. When the introductions are all over, Pete and Mia go to the bar. When they return, they sit at a discreet distance down the table together.

And when the girl sitting on Claire’s other side starts to talk to her, she does her best to actually make conversation. She does not know what else to do, how else to deal with the paralysing fact of Mia’s proximity, how to behave as if it’s all okay.

But she’s the one who said Mia should be here, so now she’s going to have to pull off some convincing fakery in order for it to be okay. But the whole time she’s talking, she’s arrested with this hyper-awareness, Mia’s nearness pulsing at her periphery, making her queasy and distracted.

She knew Mia would do exactly what she’s doing, quietly and respectfully keep her distance, and maybe even go home early to attempt minimal impact. But until she got here, Claire had no way of knowing how she was going to configure her own behaviour around Mia’s presence, or where she could socially escape to if it got hard.

When Dan returns from a trip to the bar with another tray of shots, Claire accepts one but decides to have no more after this. Her instinct tells her not to get drunk tonight.

Pete calls down the table to them. “Hey, have you given Nina her present yet?”

“No!” Robbie sits up. He nudges Claire. “Have you got it?”

“Of course.” She digs for the envelope in her purse, blushing at the attention called to her.

Nina claps her hands together as Robbie pulls her onto his lap. Still flushed, Claire produces the envelope and thrusts it at Nina, trying her best to smile. “Happy birthday, Neens.”

Nina doesn’t even look at the front of the envelope. She just tears into it and yanks out the contents like an excited little kid. She opens the card and reads it, giggling at the scrawled messages from all of them. Then she opens the folded piece of paper and stares at it. Her mouth opens slightly and her eyes bug out as she takes in the words. When she’s done, she peers over it and jabs Claire’s arm. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”

Claire just smiles and shrugs, turning pinker. This time with pleasure. “Maybe.”

Nina stares at the pamphlet and envelope “It’s amazing.” She turns back to Claire and grins. “I’m going to hug you now. Don’t be scared, okay?”

She leans over from Robbie’s lap and wraps her skinny little arms around Claire’s neck. And Claire squeezes her back, laughing a little.

Nina gives Robbie a violent squeeze and then jumps up and does the same to Mia and Pete. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, guys!” she yelps as she skips around behind them.

Dan leans forward. “What is it, babe?”

Nina sashays over to him, plonks herself on his lap, and shows him the pamphlet. “It’s a place in a two-day, beginners writing seminar. Next weekend.”

Claire leans in. “We thought it might give you a taste of what it would be like if you did that writing course you were thinking about,” she tells her, deeply pleased that Nina seems to love the present. “And Jordan and I have organised to do the early open shifts on those days so you don’t have to worry about being late for work.”

Nina grins, wriggling excitedly. “Stop saying amazing things or I’ll hug you again.”

Claire holds up her hands. “Okay, calm down.”

“No way.” Nina jumps off Dan’s lap. “Thank you so much guys. Now, I wanna dance. Who’s with me?” She pushes the flat of her hand against Dan’s cheek. “This putz doesn’t do dance floors.”

She skips over, grabs Pete’s arm and drags him out of his seat. “Come on, Pete!” She spins on her heels and makes for the dance floor, her arms in the air. Pete obediently follows her.

Robbie turns to Claire. “I need a water. Want to come to the bar with me?”

Claire nods, grateful to make an escape before she has to make any more conversations with strangers, or continue to avoid Mia. It’s all so exhausting.

They weave through the crowds and find the spot where a stack of plastic glasses and some jugs of water have been left on the bar. Claire leans on her elbow and frowns into the middle distance as Robbie fills two cups.

“Hey, where’s Eli?” she asks

“Not coming.”

“Why not?”

“Long story.”

Claire looks at him. For the first time tonight, she notices Robbie looks as tense as she feels. And he looks tired and subdued, too. She realises then that his exuberance with Nina tonight has been pretence for her sake. And once again she’s overwhelmed by how good a friend Robbie can be.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

He leans on the bar and stares out into the crowd. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t really explain yet. I know that sounds weird, but I can’t.”

She nods and lets him have his privacy. In fact, Robbie can have anything he wants as far as she’s concerned. And even if their mutual misery is residing at a discreet distance from each other’s, it’s kind of nice to know tonight is not easy for someone else, either.

He hands her one of the glasses of water and gives her a weary smile. He holds his own in the air. “To feeling shitty but doing it anyway.”

Claire gives him a sympathetic smile and squeezes his free hand before she lifts her own glass in response. “To feeling shitty.”

He sips his water and smiles at her. “If it makes you feel better, you look seriously hot tonight.”

She blushes and runs her hand teasingly through his hair. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He smiles briefly and then sighs. “But where does looking fabulous get us tonight?”

A wave of misery washes over. Sighing, she grabs his hand and drags him back to the table. “Come on.”

When they return, the table is empty, though, except for Dan, who is staring at his phone.

“Where is everyone?” Claire asks over the music.

“Dancing.” He waves a hand over all the stuff on the table. “And because I do not dance, I get to be bag minder, king of all I survey.”

“Lucky you.”

Dan and Robbie start to talk again. Claire instantly finds herself thinking about where Mia is, though, wondering if she has left or if she’s still on the dance floor. Too scared to ask, though, she simply sits there. She contemplates dancing, for something to occupy her, and to maybe soothe her unease with this night, but she knows it won’t help. Besides, the music booming from the dance floor doesn’t stir her. It’s restless and without pattern, and it just makes her feel more uneasy. So she stares at the crowds moving around her without really seeing them, still unbearably full of Mia’s presence here tonight. And she’s so desirous to know but unwilling to ask if she is still here.

Eventually, she can’t contain her curiousity. She has to know. Because only now that she knows a chance might be lost does she miss it enough to want to make contact.

Ejected from her seat by the fierceness of her need to quell this curiosity, she goes in search of the answer.

Her gaze sweeps over the crowds by the bar as she seeks out the wave of her hair or the dark wine colour of her top. But she can’t see it anywhere. As she threads her way between bodies, ignoring the eyes of leering dudes and suspicious girls, she focuses only on sighting Mia. She edges closer to the dance floor, more and more certain that if she’s here, this is where she will be, and moves slowly along its outskirts. She spots Pete dancing with Nina and some other people and her pulse quickens. But Mia is not with them. Just as she’s about to give up, Claire sights her, a distance from the others, dancing alone under the hot beat of the lights.

At the sight of her, something unfurls in Claire, and she unabashedly stares. And suddenly the decision is out of her hands. Because that’s the moment when she knows exactly what has brought her here. It’s the answer to Moi’s homework question.

It’s the abandon in the way she moves, and it’s the flick of her tanned wrist as she dances. It’s the way her hair is swiped back from her face as she moves, and it’s the sheer physicality of her presence. It’s the way she’s capable of such breathtaking vividity.

And it’s the truth of the fact that Claire knows exactly what she would look like if she were to look up, catch Claire’s eye, and smile. It’s the fact that, even though Claire knows exactly how that smile would look, she wants to see it. It’s the even more inalienable fact that, even after everything that has happened, Claire still craves being the recipient of that smile.

And, propelled by all of this, it turns out Claire is not quite ready to cure herself of her impetuousness just yet.

Because it’s the sum of these things that finds her moving doggedly, reflexively forward through the crowd of strangers to Mia. It’s what makes her move right up to her. It’s what makes her lean in close as Mia dances, still unaware of Claire’s sudden proximity. And it’s what compels her to shout the rush of words into her ear.

“I love you.”

And though Claire says it as earnestly as she has ever said anything in her life, Mia kind of smiles vaguely and twists away, as if she didn’t hear her, and keeps dancing.

And for a brief moment, Claire’s stomach begins to freefall.

But then, in some kind of act of momentarily delayed comprehension, Mia finally does hear her. And Claire knows the precise second that she does because she stops stock still on the floor, her back to Claire, her hands fixed at her sides, every inch of her body suddenly frozen into some sort of high alert.

And then the distance between them, the distance that took Mia four steps to create as she danced away from her, unhearing, takes her only two to recover. She spins right back around and forms herself into some sort of a human projectile, aimed straight for Claire.

Claire staggers from the force that is Mia throwing her arms around her. They stumble backwards until a wall halts their clumsy, fevered journey across the stretch of dance floor.

For a minute, as they stand on the edge of the heaving crowds, there’s just a silent breathless cling. Then there are lips and hands and fevered breath and maybe some tears as they recoup losses, pressing kisses on each other. Then, slightly sated, they stand there paralysed in their entanglement and hide together in a kind of cave created with their hands and arms around each other’s necks and heads. Their foreheads press together as they breathe the same air, senseless to the racket of the music or the mass of moving bodies behind them.

Mia finally lifts her head, her gaze fixed to Claire’s. Claire never thought someone could manage to look so sad and so happy at the same time, but somehow Mia manages this delicate, vulnerable balance. There’s elation but there’s fear there too, perhaps in case this might be some sort of I love you, but.

Claire, not able to think of a single thing to say, simply returns that uncertainty with a small smile of reassurance that Mia did hear what she thinks she heard, and that Claire means it. That regardless of everything, Claire is helpless not to mean it.

Mia drops her arms to her side and leans in, her face still more serious than happy, her voice plaintive. “Ca…could we please go somewhere?”

Claire grabs both her hands in hers and squeezes her fingers. Before she can say anything, Mia leans forward, earnest. “I don’t mean that to sound…I just mean I want to be alone with you, to talk.”

Claire watches Mia’s eyes fill with terrified, sad tears, as if she thinks she’s going to somehow break this moment in two by asking for anything of her.

Claire’s immediate response is to wrap her arms around her, to pull her into her neck, and say into her hair, “Of course I’ll come with you.”

And only when she feels capable of letting her go for a minute does she take her by the hand and lead her from the dance floor.

CHAPTER 69

Claire wakes to the sensation of something moving across her back, followed by a dead weight that pushes her against the mattress. And then there is just the quiet flow of breath against the hair around her ear. She’s about to open her eyes and grumble for the tickling to stop when she hears the same words that seemed to stop time last night.

It comes as a whisper. “I love you, too.”

Claire’s eyes shoot open, but all she can see before her is the shimmer of the curtains and Blue, asleep on his side on the rug. She tries to turn over but finds she’s pinned, imprisoned in her role as the filling in a Mia-mattress sandwich. She grins, reaches up, and takes an awkward reverse grip of Mia’s neck, pulling her right against her. Mia complies and presses several kisses to her temple and cheek before she climbs off and releases her.

Freed, Claire rolls over on the mattress and draws herself up against the pillows. She blinks away sleep and yanks the sheet around her bare skin. Mia is perched at the end of the bed by Claire’s feet, cross-legged, and dressed already. She smiles a sweetly apprehensive smile at her.

“Well, good,” Claire says, officious, as if Mia has just informed her that she finally remembered to pick up some milk from the shop, buying herself time with some sass.

Mia lets out a tiny, nervous shotgun of a laugh before turning pensive again. It’s as if she wants to acknowledge Claire’s shtick, but also as if maybe she’s a touch worried that the morning will have brought some sort of reversal of her fortunes of last night. And chastened by that look on her face, Claire wonders if maybe she shouldn’t have been so flip. Contrite, she shuffles forward and cups Mia’s cheek gently with one hand. She drops a feather-light kiss on her lips and smiles. “Good,” she says again, this time as if she means it.

Mia shrugs and grins bashfully. “I wanted to tell you that last night, but the night kind of got away from us.”

Claire retreats to the pillows and draws the covers to her shoulders, knowing her smile is now equally bashful. “It kind of did.”

And it’s true. Despite Mia’s plea that they go somewhere and talk, it turned out talking was not even close to being an option last night. In fact, immobilised by the rapid, soul-baring change in the game that Claire’s declaration wrought, and clearly mutually terrified to do anything to destroy it, they barely mustered a word to each other.

Not while they hurried along the streets away from the club, as if making an urgent escape, Claire’s heels clacking against the concrete, their hands still locked in that vice grip formed on the edge of the dance floor. Not while they waited on the busy road for a cab to stop for them, competing with all the other tired, drunken revellers looking for a way home. And not while they sat in the backseat of the cab as the driver chattered ceaselessly into his phone, their fingers still entwined, resting on the grubby seat between them. All that Claire could do, still dumbfounded by the reward her recklessness had earned her, was turn and glance every now and then at Mia. And Mia would turn to her, her face reduced to shadow, the lights of the city tracking across her skin, and they would shyly trade smiles.

And there was no room for words once they were finally in Mia’s moonlit room alone together, either. Once upstairs, all good intentions disappeared, undermined by the seductive presence of physical proximity. Instead, they surrendered to touch, not words. It was as though they mutually decided that speaking might break this spell, and that touch could offer more clarity on the nature of their feelings in that moment. There, they could consolidate something that didn’t require words just yet. Words could wait for the lucidity of daylight. They would have to, in fact.

And later, when they were sated and their hands and mouths finally idle, they plummeted together into deep, much needed sleep without saying a word.

Claire woke only once, in the infant stages of the day. And it took her a minute to situate herself in the grey half-light. She hauled herself into consciousness, sleep-slow and bewildered, struggling to find the answers to the questions of why and where.

They were barely even touching when she woke. They often did that, drifted out of each other’s orbit in the deepest sleep, washing up on the edges of the bed, only to return to each other in the waking embraces of the morning. But it was the sensation of her foot pressed against Mia’s shin that pulled her into a waking so sharp it fired beams of awareness through her, and recalled her to last night. Flooded with relief and lulled by the sound of Mia’s calming sleeping breaths, she pressed herself along Mia’s side and allowed herself to drift again, to enjoy the last hours of safety this limbo of silence afforded them.

But now it’s morning, and Claire knows it’s time for words. They are necessary if they’re to do this. Nervous, she takes in a slow breath, her gaze never leaving Mia’s. She wonders what this day will bring them. They have come this far at least, she reminds herself. And that is something. Until yesterday, she wasn’t even sure when they would be alone again in the same room. Now they might actually have both the moment and the desire to find some way back to each other.

A thought strikes Claire. Do they possess the moment? How much time do they actually have? She looks at the window, trying to guess how late it is from the brightness of the sun. “Hey, what time is it? When do you have to be at work?”

Mia draws her legs to her chest and rests her chin on her knees, looking guilty. “I called in sick.”

“What?” Claire raises an eyebrow, genuinely shocked. “Really?”

Mia smiles cringes slightly. “I’ve never, ever done that before.”

“So I should be honoured?”

Mia smiles, but then her expression turns plaintive. “I was hoping we could talk today. Do you have to be at the centre?”

“No. I don’t have to be anywhere.”

Mia lets out a breath. “Good.”

And then they gaze at each other, both suddenly paralysed. Where do they even start?

Holding the covers under her chin, Claire watches Mia’s gaze drop to her lap. She nervously twists the bottom of her T-shirt. Claire presses her lips into a small, private smile. After this sweet morning declaration, a large part of Claire wants to grab Mia and haul her over to her and assuage her anxiousness by pulling her into an embrace so deep they might never come out. But she knows where touching will probably take them. And as tempting as that thought is, Claire knows that this is not what they need right now. She reminds herself of Moi’s instructions, figure out how you feel, and then figure out how you’re going to make it work. Well there is no doubt after last night; she knows how she feels. And how Mia feels, too. But now they have to do the rest. And for this, they need to make those words happen. And she knows that while they sit here in this bed, that they probably won’t.

So, braving up, Claire takes charge. Looking around for her clothes, she catches a glimpse of blue silk and recalls her outfit from last night. She turns to Mia. “Hey, I’m going to need some clothes.”

A small crease cleaves the space between Mia’s eyebrows as she processes this request. “Uh, okay. What do you need?”

“Anything. I don’t care.”

Mia leaps off the bed, opens and closes a few drawers, and takes out some things. She smiles as she passes them. “The jeans might be a little long.”

Claire shrugs and clips on her bra, rescued from the floor beside the bed. She doesn’t really care how she looks right now. She takes the clothes, moves over to the side of the bed, and slowly gets dressed. Standing, she swipes her hair back from her face, plucks an elastic band from the dish on Mia’s desk, and ties it back from her face. She leans toward the mirror and clears the streaks of last night’s eye makeup.

“What’s happening?” Mia asks from her desk chair. She looks apprehensive. “What are you doing?”

Claire steps over to her. Bending over until she’s face level, she smiles at her and then kisses her slowly. She dawdles a moment in the pleasure before she gets on with her self-appointed task of making sure they get this the hell right this time. She doesn’t tell her they’re embarking on the next part of her homework task, she tells her the simple version.

“You. Me.” She presses another kiss on Mia and irons out the crease between her brows with her thumb. “Coffee. Food. Talk.”

Mia nods. “Okay.”

CHAPTER 70

Despite her good intentions to take them away from all physical distraction, it feels hard and cumbersome to be outside in the world, and Claire can’t help but wish they could have stayed in the safety and privacy of Mia’s bedroom.

Together, they silently walk past cafés near the hospital and the uni, and look for somewhere they can eat and drink. But everywhere they go, the cafés teem with morning crowds as people stock up on caffeine and carbs to prepare for their day. In the end, partially seduced by the sunlight as well as their more pragmatic desire for privacy, they decide to buy coffee and food and find somewhere outside to be.

And that’s how they find themselves back on the grounds of the semi-abandoned university campus. They stroll across the wide stretch of grass and park themselves under a tree so capacious with summer growth that its low-slung branches nearly sweep the ground. They sit within the seclusion of its leafy dome and lay their coffee and food on the grass.

Once settled, Claire slowly unscrews the cap of a bottle of water, still feeling a little grainy and tired. She’s glad she didn’t drink last night. A hangover would have made this day, this conversation, far more difficult. She takes a long, cool sip of water and then chases it with a swig of her coffee, instantly relieved. Mia doesn’t eat or drink, though. She clasps her cup between both hands, her long bare legs stretched on the grass in front of her.

Claire watches her as she frowns into her lap. Saddened by Mia’s obvious disquiet, and spurred by her need to assuage this unease, Claire breathes in deep and reminds herself of Moi’s words about learning to speak her feelings aloud. She draws her knees to her chest and begins to talk quietly.

“Mia, I’m so sorry I wouldn’t talk to you after that night of your father’s book launch. I should have talked to you. I freaked out when you told me about that girl kissing you.” She chews her lip. “But I think I was already freaking out, and that just…I don’t know…”

Mia looks at her. “But why?”

Claire folds her arms around her knees and tries her best to explain herself. She describes to Mia those days with Brendan. In detail, not just outlining it as she did that other day, here on these grounds long ago when they were first making friends. She tells her about the doubts that rolled in, the doubts she ignored. And then she describes the shock of him finally admitting he was interested in someone else, and her feeling of blindness, of stupidity that she hadn’t realised this earlier. She bites on her lip and looks at her. “And with us, I think I felt worried because you were meeting all these new people and going out all the time. And we could never find any time. I felt like maybe the same thing might be happening with you. And then when you told me about Trish…” She exhales heavily.

Mia pulls her knees to her chest, too, and stares at her. “I wish you didn’t think that. And I’m so sorry about that night. Telling you the way I did was so incredibly dumb. I should have known. I didn’t realise how insensitive I was being until it was kind of pointed out to me.”

Claire raises an eyebrow. “Robbie?” She wonders how much relationship counselling their friend has been doing of late.

Mia shakes her head, smiling a small smile. “Kristen.”

Claire nods. “Oh.”

Mia puts her coffee on the grass next to her, shaking her head. “I guess I just thought it was no big deal to tell you like that because it wasn’t a big deal to me. But that was stupid, because I wasn’t really thinking about what happened to you before, with Brendan.” Mia lets go of her legs and leans forward, earnest. “So, I’m so sorry about telling you in that way. Well, I’m sorry about a lot of things, but that especially.”

She stares at Claire and says, “You know, Claire, I’ve never done this before. And I’ve never had anyone really hurt me either. And I guess even though I kind of knew about what Brendan had done, it didn’t even occur to me that you’d think that could happen with us, that it would be on your mind. I mean, I realised it later, but it was too late by then. I don’t know, it’s like…” She lifts her gaze, staring at the leaves of the trees. She draws in a deep breath and blinks back tears. “It’s like, this has been so new to me, and so…I don’t know…like nothing I’ve ever felt before, I guess I unconsciously assumed it was the same way for you too?” She looks back at Claire, frowning and swiping at her eyes with the back of her hands. “It didn’t occur to me to connect the two or something. But you’ve been in love before, and I knew how it ended. I feel really stupid about not considering that.”

“Don’t feel stupid.” Claire leans forward, staring at her. “And, you know, not like this.”

Mia looks at her, confused. “Not like what?”

Blushing, Claire sneaks a glance at Mia and then looks straight back at her hands. “It didn’t feel like this.” She looks up again, smiling shyly. “I mean, I thought I loved him, but we didn’t… I don’t know…connect in the same way.” She cringes as she says connect. “I don’t really know how to say it, but you know what I mean, right?”

Mia’s face turns slowly from non-comprehension to a slow, smitten smile of understanding. She nods. “You know, Claire, when I met you, you were this incredible, beautiful, smart, cool girl, and even though you were kind of stand-offish and prickly, I liked you so much. And I kind of couldn’t believe that you liked me too and that we were becoming friends. And then as everything kind of happened with us, and I got to know you more, I realised that you’re this person who just makes sense to me, and who I make sense to. Being with you, I don’t even know how to explain it, but it just feels right, and easy and good, and kind of…” She exhales loudly, tips her head back and swipes a tear from her face. “It feels powerful or something. It feels like nothing I’ve ever felt with anyone else. And I guess when I told you about Trish, I felt like what happened had nothing to with us. It couldn’t touch us.” She sniffs, swiping at her face again. “And I thought you knew that. I thought you felt that, too.”

Claire nods through a tide of regret, wishing she had been able to let herself feel that.

Mia stares at the grass and absently pulls out a tuft of green fronds. “And when you said you thought I was trying to hide you? That I wanted to appear single? Claire, I couldn’t even…” She stares at Claire, clearly speechless.

“That was dumb, I know. I’m so sorry I accused you of that.”

Mia shakes her head. “Claire, you being my girlfriend, that’s not something I want to hide.” She sniffs and lets out a little laugh. “My God, this is so incredibly geeky to say, but it’s something I kind of want to show off about.”

Claire smiles. It is geeky, and she loves every bit of it.

Mia leans forward, still smiling through her tears. “Remember how I told you that Nan had a thing for you when she first met you? And how she kept telling me how hot you were. I don’t think you comprehend how much of a kick I got out of telling her that we were together.”

Claire laughs. She can’t help it. Mia’s face is bright pink even though she’s smiling. “No, I guess I didn’t.”

Mia holds her gaze, and her smile replaces itself with something more earnest. “I was proud of being your girlfriend, and I assumed you knew that. I had no idea that you were already feeling this way when I told you about Trish.” She picks up her abandoned coffee, but doesn’t drink it. Instead she stares at the lid, her voice softening. “And I guess, too, I assumed that maybe if there was something wrong, you’d tell me.”

Claire nods. “I should have.”

“You know, when you wouldn’t talk to me about me maybe having to leave Melbourne, I at least knew there was a thing you weren’t talking to me about. But this? I didn’t even know it existed.” Mia wipes her face with her sleeve. “Maybe I should have. I don’t know.”

“No, I should have said.” Claire shakes her head, vehement, not willing to let Mia take any more blame than she has already tried to. “I am not great at talking about this stuff—”

“I noticed.” Mia smiles at her. It’s a little sarcastic, but mostly it’s warm and teasing. A little like Mia.

Claire smiles right back and takes a sip of her coffee. “You did, huh?”

Mia chuckles sadly.

Doing her best to explain herself, Claire falteringly tells Mia about the conversation she had with Moi, and what Moi told her about her mother, and why she maybe doesn’t know how to talk about her feelings, and that she probably needs to start. Mia nods and smiles gently at her.

“She’s right, you know.”

“I know,” Claire whispers. “I don’t know, I guess I never felt that I could say anything, because I kept feeling insecure but then feeling like I was being dumb for being insecure. So most of the time, I was trying to talk myself down, instead of telling you. But then, with that kiss thing, I just lost it. It was like it confirmed everything I’d been scared of. And that maybe you were bored of me.”

Mia lets out a loud burst of breath. Claire looks up. Mia is frowning at her. She shuffles closer, and her hand closes around Claire’s wrist. “You know, I remember you saying that the night I came into the bar, that you thought I was going to get bored of you.” Mia shakes her head again, giving her a confounded look. “That is so crazy to me, because I could never get bored of you.” She squeezes Claire’s wrist so tight it almost hurts. “How could I be bored? It felt like we were just beginning with each other. And then this happened.”

Claire swallows back tears and places one of her hands on top of Mia’s. “I’m so sorry.”

Mia shuffles even closer and strokes her thumb along Claire’s wrist. “Well I’m sorry, too. For whatever part I played in making you feel like I didn’t want to be with you, or that I would lose interest in you, or to make you feel insecure about us. I’m so sorry.”

At a loss for what to say now and a little teary, too, Claire lets go of her knees, leans forward, and hauls Mia into a fervent little embrace. Pulling back, they smile slowly at each other. Claire is instantly soothed by this respite from trying to explain themselves.

Able to relax a little now some truths have been spoken, Claire takes in a deep breath of sweet, grassy air and eases herself onto the lawn. Mia does the same. They lie on their sides, heads rested in hands, and stare indulgently at each other, the moment turned gentle.

Mia picks up the bag containing her banana bread that lies on the grass between them and moves it out of the way. “I’m not hungry.”

Claire smiles. “Me either.”

Mia slowly runs a finger along Claire’s cheek. “Claire, please don’t ever, ever again think I don’t want to spend time with you. Because I do. I always do.” She runs her hand through the grass, staring at her, grave. “I want us to be this…thing. This certain, real, tangible thing. I want there to be time for just the two of us to hang out, but I also want to be us out in the world. I want to be able to go to parties with you when you ask, like I was supposed to go to Michelle’s. I want you to come and meet these people I’ve been hanging out with, people I know you’ll like.” She stares at her a moment, her brown eyes unblinking. “I feel as if we’d only just got to that point where most people knew, and it was okay and normal, and even though I didn’t want to rush you into it, I was excited about finally being there. Things were about to get easier for us in a lot of ways. We were finally at a point where we could be open about wanting to be together.”

Claire nods. “I know.”

“We were in this place where, if you had to leave for work, I could do something like walk you to your car and it wouldn’t seem weird, or where we could spend as much time alone together as possible and it wouldn’t raise questions, where you even let me hold your hand in public sometimes, despite the rules.” She smiles a warm smile at Claire, as if to defuse that last part to an idle tease.

Claire grins contritely, wondering how much of her awkwardness has played into Mia’s caution.

Mia laughs. “You know, I want to do everything with you.” She leans right in again. “Everything that is mundane and amazing, I want to do it with you. I want you to stay at my house with me when you can, to have dinner with my family, and just hang out. I want to go out together.” She takes hold of the sleeve of Claire’s shirt and shakes her arm slightly. “I want to eat noodles with you. I want to watch bad TV with you. I want to make plans to travel with you. I want to hang out with you at uni when we both have a break. I want to study in bed next to you. I want to set aside a night that is only ever for us and—”

“Wait.” Claire giggles. “You want date night?”

Mia grins and shrugs. “Maybe?”

Claire lets out another giggle. “You want old-married-couple date night?”

Mia shrugs again. “Well if that’s what it takes to make sure we get to see each other, then yes, Claire.” She grins and slaps her hands on the grass, her eyes shining. “I want freaking date night!”

Claire flops over on her back on the grass and bites back her grin. Then she just goes with it. She reaches over and grabs a hold of Mia’s shirt. “Okay, I vote Saturday night. I promise I will never work Saturday night, and you’re not allowed to work Sunday mornings.”

Mia grins and holds out her hand to be shaken. “Deal.”

Instead of shaking it, Claire grabs the hand and tugs it, urging Mia closer. Mia settles on the grass next to her on her back. They lie there next to each other, their heads pressed together. And Claire surrenders to the rush of happiness wrought by this small commitment of a night that will be inviolably theirs. And by its role as a product of a much larger commitment to this moment of repair. She pushes a kiss into the side of Mia’s head, and breathes in the shampoo scent of her hair.

Mia grabs a tight hold of her hand and clasps it on the grass between them. “Claire, you’re never allowed to stop talking to me like that again, or to stop listening to me. Never again.”

Claire nods. She stares at the brilliant green ceiling above them as another wave of regret washes over her.

But Mia clearly isn’t quite satisfied yet because she scrambles over and climbs onto Claire. Sitting on the top of her legs, she takes a hold of her hands and stares at her frowning. “Please. I mean it. If you’re angry with me, be angry with me. But stay and be angry with me. Don’t walk away and don’t stop talking to me.”

Claire nods again. “I won’t.”

Mia leans in closer. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Mia beams at her. “You know, you always play tough and you always try and hide your feelings, and I feel like I saw through that pretty quickly when we were making friends.” She runs a finger along Claire’s collarbone, thoughtful. “But I guess I didn’t realise how deep it went.” She brings her face close. “Claire, if I have to tell you that you’re incredible and that I want to be with you every single day to make you know it, I will.” She nods, resolute. “I will. In fact I will drive you crazy with it if I have to.”

Claire laughs lightly, curls her arm around her neck, and draws her closer. “That won’t be necessary.” Then she draws Mia toward her until she feels her lips close in on her own. She kisses her hard and lets her go, taking in the quiet elation in her face. “I believe you,” she whispers.

“Good.”

They lie there entwined under the curtain of vivid green, silent and sweetly content for now. Claire knows they’re not done. But they’re somewhere. And it feels incredibly good, wherever it is.

CHAPTER 71

A rush of cloud has moved in, stripping the day of its sun and leaving a biting breeze in its place. They traipse along the street together, making their way back to the flat. Claire tucks the bag still containing her croissant under her arm, takes out her phone, and types furiously.

“I realised I better text Nina,” she mumbles. “To say sorry for leaving without saying goodbye last night.”

“Oh, yeah.” Mia nods. “I guess that was kind of crappy of us.”

“She’ll be okay. I’ll see her tomorrow and explain properly. And she was having a really good time when we left. Maybe she didn’t even notice,” she suggests hopefully.

Mia brushes her hand against a leafy hedge as they pass “You know, I don’t really remember much of last night.”

Claire looks at her, curious. “Were you drunk?” She didn’t seem drunk.

Mia laughs. “No, not at all. I think I was so terrified about being there, about seeing you. I was kind of a wreck. It’s all a blur.”

They look at each other and smile, not needing words to express what is clearly mutual relief.

They stop at an intersection and wait for the lights to change. Claire looks back at her phone as it buzzes in her palm.

Mia nudges her arm. “Was she okay about it?”

“Who? Nina? It’s not her. I somehow doubt she’ll be up for a few hours yet.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“It was Jordan. He’s going to do my shift for me tonight.”

“Really?”

Claire nods, sliding her phone back into her pocket. “Yup. I messaged him before, when we were getting breakfast, and asked if he’d swap for one of his.”

“Oh. And so what are you going to do instead?” Mia asks, all innocence. But Claire can see the hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Slightly enchanted by this fact, Claire steps in close to her. “I’m going to hang out with you, I hope.”

Mia skips lightly in place, a radiantly geeky smile of excitement on her face. “Oh yes, please. What do you want to do?”

Claire plucks a leaf from an overhanging tree. “You know what I want to do today?”

“What?”

She drops the leaf on Mia’s head. “Absolutely nothing. Just hang out with you and do nothing at all. When do we ever get to do that?”

Mia sighs. “Never.”

“Exactly.”

* * *

They stand in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil. Claire nudges her face into Mia’s neck, kissing that soft patch of skin under her ear. “Hey?” she says, tremulous.

Mia drapes her arms around her waist and draws her right up against her as she leans against the counter. “Hmm?”

Claire chews on her lip, hesitant, but then just says it. “That night when you came into the bar?”

There is a short silence, filled with a sudden tense air of alertness. “Yeah,” Mia says slowly.

Claire bites her lip and keeps her face pressed close to Mia’s neck, where she doesn’t have to meet her gaze. “I know I already said this, but I’m so sorry for the things I said about you. That stuff I said about your ex-boyfriend and you sleeping with that girl from the roof. That wasn’t fair.” She breathes in slowly, smelling a fleeting note of Mia’s fragrance from last night. “I was awful.”

Mia is silent for a moment. “Maybe. But it is also kind of true.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Kind of is.” She waits for Claire to look at her, and then she frowns at her, raising her shoulders. “Look what I did.”

Claire wraps her arms tighter around her waist, silent, and listens to the kettle gather steam behind them “Yeah, but I was making out as if you were some kind of serial cheater or slut or something, who was bound to play around on me. And you’re not like that.” She jabs a finger gently into her side. “But Mee?”

“Yeah?”

“You do have to stop doing that.”

Mia grips Claire’s arms. “You know I would never have kissed that girl that night if we were together? I ju—”

Claire nods quickly. “I actually do know that. I believe you. But that’s not why I’m saying this.” She pauses and takes a deep breath, feeling so crazily grave and grown up. Most of this day so far has felt like this. She stares at Mia, determined to make her point. “I’m saying this for you, not me. I’m saying it because, well, it kind of seems to be a pattern.” She runs a hand along the back of her neck. “And I know I’m not really one to judge when it comes to avoiding things, but this whole grabbing the person closest to you to escape other feelings, well, it’s kinda self-destructive, don’t you think?”

Mia holds her gaze for a moment and then lets her forehead drop onto Claire’s shoulder. But Claire can feel her slight nod of accord.

“I know.” It comes as a muffled whisper. “I don’t know why I do it. It’s just like a distraction from what’s happening or something. Or, like, a way to force it to change?”

Claire smiles in spite of herself. “Well, maybe you should take up a new hobby, Mee.”

Mia chuckles softly into her neck.

“I mean, not that it should be a problem because you’re going to be hopelessly devoted to me for the next thousand years—”

Mia chuckles again, lifting her head. “Or so?”

“Thousand or so.” Claire drops a kiss on her smiling lips. “But in case I die or something, and you find yourself back out there, just think about it, okay?”

Mia bows her head again and nods into her shoulder. Finally she looks up. “Still, Claire, I’m so sorry about what I did. I didn’t want to—”

Claire covers Mia’s mouth with her hand, shaking her head. “I know you didn’t. Shut up. It’s done. We both did shitty things. But like I said, this one? I’m telling you this for you, not because of me.” She presses Mia’s cheeks between her palms and frowns fiercely at her. “Don’t treat yourself like that.” She drops her hands and stares at her.

Mia stares back at her, nodding slowly. “Okay.” Then she stares a little longer. A smile breaks slowly over her face. She brushes a hand against Claire’s cheek. “You’re amazing, you know. I hope you know that.”

Claire gives her a knowing grin. “I know.”

“No you don’t.” Mia kisses her. “But I’m going to make you know.”

* * *

Mia takes the thick slices from the microwave, cuts them in half, and butters them. The smell of banana and cinnamon sweetens the room. Hungry now, they have already devoured Claire’s croissant, plain and unheated. Mia shoves a piece of the banana bread into her hands. “Eat that too. Croissants are nothing but air and butter.”

“Yes’m.” Claire smiles, breaking off a piece. “Though that’s why I like ’em. Butter.”

Mia smiles and pops a piece into her mouth. She swallows and is just about to say something when the sound of the front door opening stops her in her tracks. Her eyebrows shoot up. “Hello?”

“Hello!” It’s Tasya. “I forgot I wanted to pop over to the studio during lunch period and didn’t bring my key.”

Mia goes over to the fridge and plucks a small bunch of keys from the top. “They’re here.”

“Thanks, hon.” Tasya marches into the room, hand out, ready to grab them. She stops, though, when she sees Claire. A look of surprise tracks across her face before she can suppress it.

Claire instantly flushes and leans against the counter, not sure what Tasya knows about the last few weeks.

Pulling her handbag high on her shoulder, Tasya steps right up to Claire and gives her one of her rich Tasya smiles. “It’s good to see you.” She presses her hand to Claire’s face and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Are you well?”

Claire nods. “I am. It’s…it’s good to see you too,” she adds shyly, gripping the edge of the counter.

Tasya gives her another smile and takes the keys from Mia. “I have to run. I’ll see you later. We’re thinking of bringing something home for dinner, so message me if you’re home.” She throws all this over her shoulder as she hurries out the door.

Mia nods. “Okay.”

Her voice echoes from the hall. “Wonderful to see you, Claire.”

As the door slams behind her, Mia turns to Claire and laughs. “I think she might be happy to see you.”

“You think, Mia?” Claire crosses her arms, the heat of her embarrassment still warming her face.

Mia wipes her hands free of crumbs and comes over to her. “Of course she is.”

Claire tips her head to the side. “Hey, How much does she know? About what happened with us?”

“Not much. Just that we fought, and then we broke up. That’s all they needed to know, really.”

Claire gives her a dubious look. “But I thought you told your parents everything?”

“Yeah, well, I tell them things, sure. But I don’t sit there spilling my guts to them. They’re still my parents. I want some privacy. I talk to my friends about that stuff.”

Claire nods and wraps her arms around her neck. “I know. I’m just teasing you.” And a large part of Claire is relieved, too, glad that this is all they know.

Mia smiles back at her as she loops her arms around her waist and narrows her eyes affectionately. “So, what now?”

CHAPTER 72

Claire leans her head back and blows upward to shift a tendril of hair from her eyes. “Hey, do you know what’s up with Robbie?” she asks.

“No, why?”

“I think something’s wrong with him and Eli.”

Mia stretches her arms along the edge of the bath. Soapy bubbles cling to her skin. “Oh yeah, I asked him where Eli was when I got there last night, but he didn’t really answer. And then I didn’t really get to talk to him all night.” She drops a kiss on top of Claire’s head and chuckles. “He was too busy protecting you.”

Claire smiles. “Well Pete was doing the same for you.”

“True.”

“Did you talk to Pete about us?”

“Not a whole lot. Just, like, the outline.”

“So who did you talk to?”

“Just Kristen. And Robbie, of course.”

Claire smiles, then frowns, remembering the funeral, and the way Kristen looked at her, both curious and protective. She knew everything.

“She must hate me.”

“What?” Mia digs her fingers into Claire’s arm. “Not at all. She was the one who made me think about why everything had happened. Kristen’s like that. She can always argue for both sides. She’s going to be an amazing lawyer one day,” she laughs.

Claire smiles. “I’m sorry I didn’t really get to meet her.”

Mia slips an arm off the edge of the bath and runs it along Claire’s belly. “Me too. Next time.”

Claire sinks a little deeper into the warmth of the water. “Anyway, I asked Robbie why Eli wasn’t there, too, and he said Eli was upset about something and that he couldn’t explain it right now.”

“Really? That’s all he said?”

Claire nods and runs her hand over Mia’s knees, pressed against her side.

“That’s weird.”

“I know, but I could tell he really didn’t want to talk about it, so I left it.”

Mia sighs and tightens her grip on Claire. The sound echoes around the small upstairs bathroom. “I hope they’re okay.”

“Me too.”

“I really like Eli. And I think he kind of keeps Robbie grounded, too.”

Claire nods and tips her head back. “And it would be shitty to see his relationship go bad when all he’s been doing lately is couples counselling.”

Mia laughs and kisses her head again. “Which mostly seemed to involve telling me off for being an idiot.”

Claire laughs too, delighting in the thought of Robbie chiding Mia. “Don’t worry, he was telling me off, too.”

Mia slides both her arms around Claire and squeezes her tight. “Well, just be glad you didn’t have Nan telling you you’re an idiot, too. Because she’s kind of scary when she’s stern.”

Claire freezes. “You told Nan, too?”

“Yeah,” Mia says slowly. “But it wasn’t exactly voluntary.”

Claire smiles knowingly. “Inquisition?”

“Sort of.”

Claire nods and runs her finger along Mia’s forearm.

“I have to say, bossy as she is, Nan is actually surprisingly great with this stuff.”

“She is?”

Mia is silent for a moment, her hand still making small luxurious circles around Claire’s belly button. “See, I only ended up telling her all about it because…” Claire feels the rise and fall as Mia takes a deep breath. “Well, she was there that night.” And before Claire can ask which night, Mia goes on, speaking quietly. “Just after we broke up.”

Claire is suddenly conscious of the slowing of her breath. That night.

“She saw me kiss that girl. And when she did, she dragged me out of there to her house and made me drink tea and sober up. I was a mess, and she was telling me off. See, she didn’t even know we’d broken up.”

Claire nods, trying to picture the scene. She recalls that time, way back at the river, when Nan told Claire how Mia’s relaxed nature was so stunning to her. Mia’s hot mess state that night must have been something of a shock.

Mia rests her chin on top of Claire’s head. “Anyway, even when I told her what had happened with us, she still called me an idiot.”

“Really.” Claire raises an eyebrow. “But I thought Nan was all about chasing the ladies?”

“She is. But she knows I’m not. And that I’m completely stupid for you.”

Claire bites back a smug smile.

“And she knew I was just being dumb and drunk and self-destructive. In fact, she pretty much said what you said today, but I was too drunk and miserable and busy hating myself to take it in.”

Claire smiles, taking Mia’s other arm from the edge of the bath and pulling it around her. “You know, I’m starting to like Nan.” And she actually means it.

“Good, you should. She’s great.”

Claire nods and stretches one of her legs onto the end of the bath. She inspects her wrinkled toes. “We have to get out soon. I’m getting prune-y.”

“Mmm, soon,” Mia says, non-committal as her hands start to roam under the water.

* * *

“Jesus,” Claire breathes. Her chest rises and falls helplessly as Mia runs her tongue slowly over her neck, her hands still busily teasing Claire through the final throes of her orgasm.

Only when Claire’s body completely calms does Mia stop. She kneels over her and trails her fingers slowly over Claire’s skin, stroking her belly and then her rib cage and breasts. Her fingers make slow sweeps and detours as she presses kisses over her neck and nips gently at her ear.

Spent, but feeling airy and weightless, Claire pulls Mia right over her. She needs her gravity to bring her all the way back to earth, to their spot on the rug at the top of the stairs. This is as far as they managed to make it between bath and bed before lust gave way. Mia does as urged and drapes herself over Claire, her long legs tangling with hers.

Claire’s breath slowly relaxes as her hands roam over the stretch of Mia’s back. She sucks in a languorous breath and presses her lips against Mia’s head. “I need to sleep with more women,” she suddenly announces into the air in the tiny landing space.

Mia gently grips her waist.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said I need to sleep with more women.” Claire grins, staring at a light fitting she’s never noticed before, an awful brown sixties fixture. “I really do.”

“And I said I beg your pardon?” Mia lifts her head and rests her chin in her hand, looking perplexed but resigned to going on this trip into Claire’s head.

Claire grins at her. “Research.”

Mia raises an eyebrow and jabs Claire in the side. “And I re-state my question. Huh?”

Claire cackles and grabs at the offending hand. “I mean, how else will I know if you really are this good in bed?”

Mia gives her a smart-ass grin and rolls off her to lie at her side. “We’re not in bed.”

Claire flaps a dismissive hand at her. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, how can I really know?”

Mia leans in, her expression incredulous. She waves a hand in the air over Claire’s body, sprawled on the rug. “What do you mean, how will you know? How about exhibit A—the howling orgasm? I mean the neighbours probably heard you.” She laughs. “And they’re in their eighties. And deaf.”

Claire digs her fingers into her arm. “Shut up, Mia.” She rolls onto her side, drags her abandoned towel over her for warmth, and grins at her. “See, I know you’re better than Brendan. That’s easy. He was good, but—”

Mia suddenly sits up, pulling a grossed out face. “Please don’t talk about sleeping with Brendan right now.” She gets off the carpet and holds her hands out, urging Claire to get up.

Claire laughs, grabs her hands, and does as she’s bidden. She stands and kisses Mia, nipping teasingly at her bottom lip. “Don’t worry, Mee, sleeping with you is way hotter than it was with him.”

“Well good.” Mia grabs her hand again and drags her into the bedroom. She pulls her down onto the bed. “So, what, precisely, is your problem then? One that requires you to sleep around?”

Claire slides into the bed, still unmade from this morning, and pulls the sheet over her. She eases her chilled flesh right against Mia’s bare skin. “But how do I know that it’s just you? That I don’t just like sleeping with girls better than with guys?”

Mia laughs and wriggles luxuriously under Claire’s hands as they ease up and down her side. “I weirdly see your point.”

Claire kisses her again and slowly runs her hand over the curve of her breast, lingering long enough to encircle a nipple teasingly with her finger. Just when she feels Mia instinctively respond, pressing in closer against her touch and breathing in her ear, she pulls back and grins. “I mean, how would I really know? Maybe, compared to other girls, you’re actually just kind of average?”

Mia shakes her head and pushes her finger into Claire’s sternum, glaring at her. “Now I really despise your point.”

Claire grins evilly. “Or maybe even kind of lousy?” She turns on her back and tucks her arm under her head. “I mean, what if there is this whole world of untapped girl-sex wonder I don’t even know about yet?”

“Hmm, what if?” Mia agrees dryly.

“So yeah, I’m going to need to sleep with more girls.”

“For science?”

Claire nods. “For science.”

“Right then.” Mia says casually, as if playing along.

“An experiment.”

“Yeah.”

Mia rolls over onto her side, and rests her head in her hand. “Brendan would be the control group. No, wait.” She looks up, thinking. “You’d have to have two groups, one where I was the control and one where Brendan is. Or maybe it would be better—”

Claire shakes her head and groans. Damn, she’s released the geek monster. She grabs Mia in a stranglehold. “Okay, you’re going to need to shut up now.”

Mia laughs and fights back, freeing herself. She drops a kiss on Claire’s collarbone. “Well, you’re going to need to stop threatening to go and sleep around just to make sure you’re not dating a dud.”

Claire kisses her right back and smiles tauntingly. “Oh, it’s okay, I’m sure you’re not a dud, Mee.”

Mia burrows her face in her neck. “Gee thanks.”

“I’ll stick with you.” Claire grins. “For now.”

Mia laughs, and a flush of warm breath spreads over Claire’s neck. “Oh, well thank God for that.”

CHAPTER 73

“Yes, Claire, but what you’re failing to see here is the immense potential of the humble cabbage.”

Claire leans forward, elbows on table. “And what you’re failing to see, John, is that cabbage is gross. In all forms.”

“I guess I am.” John laughs as he happily piles a large spoonful of sauerkraut onto the side of his plate.

Claire wrinkles her nose at the vinegary smell. Mia grins at her.

“Just ignore him, Claire.” Tasya passes her a container of stuffed vine leaves. “This is a man who likes condiments and sides more than he likes his actual meals.”

Claire frowns at him. “But you’re such a good cook? How can you be such a bad eater?”

He simply grins and spoons some mustard on top of the sauerkraut and forks up a mouthful. Claire shakes her head. This man could match Cam for dinner table grossness.

They sit at the kitchen table, a spread of deli foods and breads in front of them, and eat dinner in the lamplight. Claire puts a piece of cheese on bread. Mia sits at her elbow, happily chasing olives with sun-dried tomatoes.

This is what Tasya decided on for takeaway. “After this day, I couldn’t think for the life of me of what I wanted to eat, so I just went to the deli and got everything,” Tasya said as she unloaded package after package from her shopping basket.

John sighs happily. “My kind of meal.”

Claire smiles. As long as she doesn’t look at his plate, she quite likes it, too. It beats the hell out of the chicken and salad, lamb and salad, quiche and salad on high rotation at her house, bought ready-made from the supermarket. It’s nice to linger over a meal, picking over the containers of random treats Tasya has brought home.

And, much to her relief, Tasya and John behave as if it’s completely normal for her to be here again. John seemed happy to see her, announcing to the world, “Claire’s here!” when she and Mia dragged on clothes and came downstairs. “Lovely to see you!”

Then, like Tasya, he seemed to take Claire’s renewed presence as a given. And Claire refused to let herself play awkward in those first minutes. She simply accepted the invitation to dinner and helped Mia find plates and cutlery and water glasses. They slowly set the table and listened to Tasya’s story about one of her kids at school.

And now as she sits around the table with them, eating this makeshift but delicious meal, she has to stifle her embarrassing smile of pleasure at being here in the company of this tiny, lovely family.

* * *

As the credits roll by on the small screen of Mia’s laptop, Claire stares past the computer to the wall above Mia’s desk, and gnaws at her bottom lip.

Mia shuts the laptop and drops a kiss on Claire’s shoulder. “I don’t really know what to make of that. Especially the ending.”

Claire blinks, still staring at the wall. “I have to tell my mum.”

“Huh?”

She says it again. “I have to tell Mum.”

Mia takes the computer, places it on the bedside stand, and looks at Claire. “About us?”

Claire nods slowly, still chewing her lip. She stares at Mia and waits for her to say something, but she doesn’t. She nods and takes hold of Claire’s hand.

Claire squeezes her hand, shaking it a little. “I do, don’t I?”

Mia stares at the covers for a moment. “I think that’s your decision to make.”

“But I’m asking you. Should I tell her?”

“And I’m saying that this is your decision.” She picks up Claire’s hand and kisses it. “I’m not trying to get out of having an opinion; I just think that, because it’s you who will have to deal with the outcome most, it’s you who needs to decide what you want to do.”

Claire nods, wishing she’d never said it out loud, wishing she’d never thought the thought. But she has. “But can you please have an opinion? Pretty please?”

She blinks at Mia, pleading, and only half-joking about it being a plea.

Mia smiles and burrows under the covers with her. She kisses the side of her face. “Well, I still don’t really know her, and I don’t really know how she’ll react.” She picks up Claire’s hand again and plays with her fingers. “But I think it might make your life a bit easier if your family knows.”

Claire tips her head back against the pillow and sighs. “Or it might make it harder.”

Mia nods. “I guess.”

Claire turns and buries her face into Mia’s shoulder. She slides an arm around her waist, her eyes shut tight.

Mia runs a hand through her hair and presses a kiss onto the top of her head. “Do you really think it will make it harder though? In the long run?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Claire sighs into the gathering dusk. “But I probably have to tell her either way.”

There is a long silence. “Probably.”

Claire nods and pulls Mia into a tighter embrace. She already knows that Mia is right. So, intent on riding the wave of certainty this day has given her, she promises herself that she will tell her mother. And then, of course, she finds herself trying to picture what that moment might look like. But with the mental image comes a swift wave of apprehension. She quickly shakes off that dread. She can’t do anything about it right now, she tells herself, so why bother getting stressed? Especially on this precious night of theirs?

So instead she climbs over Mia and stares at her, letting the waves of contentment back in. Mia stares at her, the lamplight reflecting on her glasses. She presses her palms against Claire’s stomach. As Claire continues to stare, one eyebrow rises slightly, and she tips her head to the side, curious. “What?” she whispers.

Claire shrugs and smiles. “Happy.”

And Mia’s sweet return smile tells her she feels exactly the same.

CHAPTER 74

A week later, they’re flopped on Mia’s bed again.

Claire pulls Mia’s laptop higher onto her stomach and flicks idly between tabs on the page.

“How about linguistics?” Mia asks from behind her.

Claire screws up her nose. “What is that, exactly?”

Mia starts to read aloud from her phone screen. “Linguistics is the study of language, examining every aspect from its function and design to the way it operates within society and across cultures.”

“It doesn’t sound totally boring.”

“It might go well with your French.”

“I guess.” Claire yawns loudly and stretches her legs so they hang over the end of the bed.

“Or what about sociology? That might be good if you’re still thinking about social work later. Or anthropology?”

“I don’t even know the difference between them. So. Many. Ologies.” Claire follows yet another link on the university’s interminably circular website. “See? Apparently they have criminology, too.”

“That sounds cool.” Mia sits up a little, nearly dislodging Claire’s head from where it’s resting against her waist.

Claire grins, pushing her head back against Mia. “I think you’re more excited about choosing my subjects than I am.”

Mia laughs. She runs her fingers through Claire’s hair with her free hand. “Well it’s exciting. You’re lucky. My schedule is pretty much decided for me. You get to choose your own adventure at uni.”

“Yeah, if I actually knew what to choose.”

“Why don’t you just do more lit and French if you can’t decide on anything else?”

“But I want to try something different.” Claire continues to flick through the tabs, but her stare fixes on nothing. She’s over it for now. “Too many options.” She sighs.

Mia laughs, gently twisting Claire’s hair between her fingers. “Not a bad problem to have.”

“True.”

“Have you told your parents you’ve decided to go back to full time?”

“Not yet.” Claire reaches behind her and feels Mia automatically take possession of her hand. “See Mee, you have to learn to hold on to this kind of parent-pleasing information at my house. You never know when you might need it for leverage.”

“Oh, right.” Mia chuckles. “I have so much to learn.”

“You really do.” Claire checks her watch. “Damn.” She sighs and shuts the computer, pushing it off her stomach. “I have to leave in ten minutes.”

Mia lets out a small, disappointed click of her tongue, clasping Claire’s hand a little tighter. “What time do you finish?”

“Probably eleven or twelve.” Claire sits up, puts the computer on the bedside stand, and moves up the bed to curl against Mia’s side. Mia still has her hair tied tightly back from her shift at work, and even though she has changed her top, the smell of ground coffee mingles faintly with her ordinary scent. Claire breathes it in. It smells good. She pokes her in the stomach. “What are you going to do tonight?”

Mia drops her phone onto the mattress next to her. “I think I’m going to go over and hang out with Pete for a while. Help him pack. He’s going to stay at his parents’ before he moves in a couple of weeks.”

“Boo.” Claire wraps her arm around Mia’s waist. “You’re going to miss him.”

“I am.” Mia sighs. “A few friends from my old course are going to be there this year, but no one like Pete. Yeah, I’m going to really miss him.”

“I like Pete,” Claire muses. “I won’t miss those ridiculous shirts he wears, though.”

Mia squeezes her and laughs. “You’re evil.”

Claire grins at the ceiling.

As they lie there, Claire can hear the television downstairs and the grave, measured tone of John’s favourite newsreader, a humourless British woman with an unmoving helmet of silver hair who delivers the news every weeknight at six-thirty. She smiles to herself because she can picture him exactly, sitting at the chair closest to the television, legs crossed, arms folded, ready to argue with the television at any moment.

Mia shuffles in closer to her and presses a kiss to Claire’s forehead. “Can you come back and stay here tonight?”

Claire frowns. “I don’t know. I might not finish until midnight. I can’t turn up here that late on a weeknight.”

“Well you could, but I know you won’t.”

It’s true, she won’t. It’s all right on nights when she comes back here with Mia. But she doesn’t want to annoy Mia’s parents by turning up after they’ve gone to bed. What if she woke them?

“What if I come meet you at work later and wait for you to finish? Then you’ll be coming here with me.”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Sure, if it means I can lure you back here to spoon with me.”

“Then go on.” Claire checks her watch again. “Two more minutes.” She rolls over until she’s lying on top of Mia, and moans loudly. Mia hooks an arm around her neck while the other slides slowly across her lower back, holding her in place.

Idling there in the silence, Claire milks these last few minutes before it’s time to leave. She nudges her head into the space between Mia’s chin and neck, somewhere between listening to and feeling the faint but robust beat of Mia’s pulse doing its work. And she smiles once again; this time because she can suddenly feel them, a lingering strand of such moments strung before her, full of this tranquil, tender banality. Claire never thought she’d be so grateful for something so mundane, but she’s so full of its delicious potential she can barely breathe.

CHAPTER 75

“Nyse, just wow.” Claire shakes her head and winces as she tries to use her too-short fingernails as a pincer to get some sort of grip on the nylon rope “How’d you even do this?”

Denyse shrugs and shuffles impatiently as she watches Claire work. “I needed some reins.”

“What? Oh.” Claire nods wearily as she stares at the knotted jump rope, looking for another strategy. Now she knows what Denyse is yammering about. The latest mania among the nine and ten-year-old girls is to pretend to be horses. They race each other up and down the small strip of grass that runs along the side of the building, carrying the smaller kids on their backs as some sort of crazed baby jockeys. And now they have taken to using the jump ropes as reins. Despite the ridiculousness—and the potential carnage—no one has tried to stop them. These girls veer frighteningly between acting like the children they still ought to be and the much older, world-weary girls they’re forced to be sometimes. So Hani has told everyone she thinks they should all probably make the most of these moments of juvenile insanity and just keep a close eye on them.

And Claire agrees. Except when she has to solve problems like this. Annoying problems she’s bad at solving. She starts a fresh attack on the rope, working an easier-looking knot. “Haven’t you guys found a new hobby yet?” she grumbles.

Denyse shakes her head and grins. “Nope, we’re training for our big final race next week.” She peers toward the door. “And everyone is busy training right now—except for me and Madi.” She looks pointedly at Claire.

She shakes her head and laughs. “Seriously? You’re hurrying me?” These kids. They treat her like the help, sometimes. Which she kind of is, she supposes.

She has finally made some headway, untangling the last stubborn gnarl near one of the handles, when Moi sticks her head out of the office.

“Hey Claire!” she calls urgently. “Get in here when you can.”

Claire nods and passes the rope to Denyse. “Here, the last one’s loose. You should be able to get it yourself now.”

“Thanks Claire!” Denyse makes an instant run for the door, skittering like an overexcited puppy. “I don’t care what the others say about you, you’re all right!” she hollers behind her as she dashes down the steps.

Claire grins and shakes her head yet again. That’s a new favourite, too. The kids think this line is hilarious. They’re saying it to all the staff all the time. These kids still don’t quite have a grasp on the art of subtlety or timing. And Claire is not about to teach them.

She strolls into the office, wondering what is so damn urgent. When she gets in there, Moi sits on top of her desk, her legs swinging, with a grin as wide as her face. Even Hani is smiling. And she never smiles when she’s doing admin work.

“Why all the happiness in here?” Claire asks them. “It’s weird.”

Moi jumps off the desk. “We got it.”

“Got what?” Claire frowns, confused, as Moi wraps her into a fierce hug and rocks her from side to side.

“The grant money, child! For the homework program.”

“Oh,” Claire gasps as Moi lets her go. She didn’t know when they would hear back about the proposal. She claps her hands together, gleeful. “That’s awesome. And was it enough?”

Moi nods. “Enough to run it for one year.”

“Not enough for extra staff, of course. We’ll have to operate on volunteer help,” Hani says, picking up her coffee mug. “But it will be easier to find people during the school year than it is during the summer.”

“I’ll help if I can.” Claire tells her.

“And that, Claire, is why you’re my favourite summer volunteer,” Hani says, grinning as she heads for the door.

Claire can’t help but feel a small welling of pride at knowing Hani, who is so discerning and demanding, actually values her work here. Her esteem means more than Claire would ever be willing to admit.

“You should be proud of yourself, lady,” Moi tells her as Hani leaves them in the office. “You did such a fantastic job this summer. Especially on this application.”

“It feels pretty good,” Claire admits, shy.

“Good.” Moi claps her hands together. “So, I want to take you out this weekend for dinner to celebrate and say thank you. How about Sunday night?”

Claire nods. “Sure.”

“Good.” Moi leans forward a little. “And is there any chance you might bring Mia along? Permit me to meet her?” She grins, sly. “I’m assuming from the general improvement in your mood that you’ve sorted things out?”

Claire blushes instantly. “Sure, I’ll ask her.”

“Great.” Moi grabs her sunglasses from her desk. “Right, back to it. Let’s make sure they haven’t killed each other.” But then she stops on her way to the door and turns. “Oh, actually, I wanted to tell you something.” She comes right back, leaning against the wall near Claire, her arms folded. “Hani and I had a chat to Loc last week.”

Claire immediately starts chewing on her lip. “And?”

Moi shakes her head. “Sorry Claire. Nothing. He wouldn’t say a word.”

“Really?” Claire’s shoulders drop. “And so what now?”

“Nothing, sadly. Like I said when you told us, if the kids won’t tell us, and there is no sign of abuse, we can’t really do anything. We can’t force them to talk.”

“So what? As long as no one is hitting them, it’s okay they live in a house with guns lying around?”

Moi shakes her head. “Of course it isn’t, Claire. But legally, we have no power in this situation. Unfortunately.” She sighs slowly. “I’ve been through this many times before.”

Claire nods, but she can’t help feeling annoyed. How can they not be able to do anything to protect these kids? It seems ridiculous.

“I know, hon. It’s frustrating as hell. I wish there was something we could do. But we’ll keep at him, don’t worry.”

Claire nods, but she can’t stem the feeling of frustration. It’s not fair that they’re powerless to do anything. And it’s not fair that Loc and his sister have to live in a home like that because of their father. She has met his older sister, a tiny, energetic, droll woman—a little like a toned-down, politer version of Vien. She, apparently, does all the mothering as well as working a full-time job in retail, while their grandmother looks after the house. If it weren’t for whatever their father is up to, they’d probably live a peaceful little life.

As they traipse out of the office, Moi places her hand on the base of Claire’s short ponytail. “Try and not let it get you down. At least they’re here where we can keep an eye on them. Some kids don’t even have that,” she says, squeezing it gently. “And spare a little good mood for the grant news, too. Because with the homework club, now Loc and Vien can continue and be here whenever they want.”

Claire nods. That’s true. Moi leaves her then and strides out of the hall to the yard. Claire doesn’t follow. Instead, she does a sweep of the room and locates Loc in his usual corner, head down. Hands in her pockets, she wanders over to him, greeting him as casually as she can.

“Hey Loc”

He looks up, suspicious. But when he sees who it is, he doles Claire a fraction of smile and half-waves his pencil at her before he returns to his work. He has grown a little taller over the summer, and his cheeks are less chipmunk-ish. In a year or two, he’ll be taking on the awkwardness of adolescence. She wonders if his fastidious old man demeanour will seem so odd and funny then, or if it will fade from his personality.

She’d love to see so many of these kids five years from now, just to know how they’re turning out. But especially Loc. Vien will probably be exactly the same all her life, a bombastic but wonderful force of nature. But Loc, he has the potential to morph or harden or veer in some way, she’s sure. The kid she’d meet in five years will be at least once or twice removed from this boy in front of her. But whether that will be a good or a bad thing, she doesn’t know.

She watches him scratch the pencil slowly across the page and asks him, “So, got any words for me?”

He scans the page. “Obsolete?”

She spells it out for him slowly and then waits for him to stop writing. “Another letter to your brother?”

“Yup.” He nods. “I got one last week.”

Claire smiles. “Cool. How is he?”

Loc shrugs. “It didn’t say much. Just that he’s busy with work. Then he told me to be good and to look after my sisters and grandmother. They don’t need me to look after them.” He frowns. “I guess he doesn’t remember how bossy they are.”

Claire grins. “I guess not.” She watches him write for a while. “And how is your dad?” she asks tentatively.

He shrugs again. She has never seen someone shrug as much as this kid. “I don’t really see him.”

“Really? Doesn’t he live with you anymore?” she asks, hopeful.

“He does, but he comes back late. I hear him from my room at night. His friends are loud.”

“Are they?”

He nods. “Yeah, my sister told him he should be quieter, but he got really mad and told her that it’s his apartment and he can do whatever he wants.”

Claire nods, not sure what to say to that. Not anything that wouldn’t be out of line, anyway. “Okay, well we’re having lunch outside soon. So join us, will you? Some sunlight won’t kill you.”

He nods, re-applying his pencil to the paper in preparation for her departure. “Okay, but I’m not playing that stupid horse game.”

“Fair enough.” Claire chuckles and leaves him to his letter.

CHAPTER 76

Claire lies back on her bed, rests her feet against the wall, and stares blankly at the ceiling. She’s weary after the combination of the long day at the centre and working late last night. And maybe she’s a little cranky, too. Despite the great news about the centre getting the grant money for the new program, she can’t help feeling kind of pissed about the situation with Loc and Vien. How can it be that she can hear a kid talking about guns lying around his apartment and they can’t do a single thing to investigate it, or make them safe? It’s ridiculous. She thinks of what Vito said last time she saw him, about how all she’d have to do is give him the name and he could check it out as part of the case thing he’s working on. Maybe she’ll do it, if that’s what will get it done.

Still, she has liked doing this work at the centre so much more than she thought she would. Writing the grant proposal, as arduous and finicky as it was at times, was actually pretty satisfying. And she liked being with the kids much more than she ever thought. Kids are so weird and honest and funny—three of her favourite qualities in a person. And she doesn’t mind admitting to herself she’s grown pretty attached to those adorable shits this summer. And Moi is right, she knows. Some kids don’t even have somewhere like this centre to go at all. At least Loc has that now the grant is through.

She is hauled from these thoughts by a quiet tap on the door.

“What?” she mumbles, hoping it will go away. She throws out a quick prayer that it’s not Christine. She’s too exhausted for her mother’s shrill energy right now.

The door slowly opens, and Mia sticks her head through the gap. “Ah, Claire.” She grins at her. “So warm, so welcoming.”

Claire scrambles to her feet, shocked to find Mia at her bedroom door. “How did you get in?”

Mia steps inside the room. She looks so alive and summery in her shorts and dark red top, sunglasses perched on her waves of hair. “Your Mum was just getting home when I pulled up. She let me in.”

“Oh,” is all Claire can manage as a response, still completely thrown by Mia’s sudden presence. And a little more thrown by the mention of an encounter with Christine.

Mia pushes the door partway closed and passes Claire her phone. “It took me a while to find it. It’d fallen between the mattress and the bedside stand.” She grins. “I was going to read all your stuff, but the battery had run out.”

“It’s got a passcode, dummy.” Claire shoots her a so there look and plugs the phone into the charger by her bed. In her post-centre grumpiness, she forgot Mia was coming over to drop her phone back, left behind in this morning’s rush to get them both where they needed to be. “So sticky noses like you can’t look through my stuff.”

Mia smiles wider and shoves her hands in her pockets. “And it’s some variation of your birth date, because I’d bet cash money that you, Claire Pearson, are too lazy to think of something else.”

“Am not,” Claire retorts, even though Mia is completely right.

“Okay Claire. Whatever you say.” Mia steps in and stops any reply Claire can make with a kiss.

When Claire is finally released, she takes a hold of the hair around Mia’s face, keeping her in close. “Thanks for bringing it over.”

“No problem.” Mia slips her hands into Claire’s back pockets and narrows her eyes affectionately at her. “And it means I get to say congratulations in person.” She drops another light kiss on her lips. “So, congratulations on the grant. Does it feel good to help save the world?”

Claire smiles and leans in. “It does feel good.”

“Will you work there this year?”

“It will depend on my uni timetable, but I really want to.”

Mia nods as her hands slide back over Claire’s back. “Did you have a good day?”

“Hmm, it was…okay. The kids were good, but—” She’s just about to tell Mia about the Loc situation when there is a rap on the door.

Mia rips her hands from where they have idly crept under the hem of Claire’s tank top. Claire steps hurriedly backwards, her heart jumping to her throat as the door opens. She’d forgotten where she was for a minute. Or the fact Mia said her mother was home.

And there she is in the doorframe. She smiles her best Christine-as-hostess smile at them, one hand on her hip.

She turns on Claire. “Hello sweetheart. Are you working tonight?”

Claire shakes her head dumbly; her heart is still beating a thousand deafening thumps a minute. Of all the ways she has tried to think of lately to tell her mother about Mia, this definitely would not have been one of them.

But Christine clearly hasn’t noticed a thing because she simply smiles and nods, businesslike. “Good, I’m putting together dinner. Half an hour.” She turns to Mia. “And Mia, you’ll join us, won’t you?”

Mia’s eyes widen. “Uh, sure, thanks,” she says uneasily.

“Lovely. See you shortly.” She strides away.

When they can no longer hear her footsteps, Mia stares at Claire, looking positively stricken. “Sorry,” she says with a gasp. “I don’t know if I should have said yes, but I didn’t know what else to say. Your mother is…”

Claire can’t help but laugh at her distressed look. She steps over, grabs Mia’s hands, and kisses her. “Well your punishment is now eating dinner with my mother, Mia, so some might say you got exactly what you deserve.”

Mia laughs. “Oh, I’ve done it before. It can’t be that bad.”

* * *

And it isn’t that bad, really.

At first.

Both her father and Cam are there. That helps. And despite her discomfort, Claire somehow produces dining behaviour that approximates something much closer to normal than her efforts the last time they shared a dinner table with Mia. That night back at the lake, she could barely look up from her plate, let alone speak.

The first part of dinner is taken up with the inevitable shoptalk, some case they’re all involved in at some level. This gives Claire time to ease into this potentially highly awkward dinner arrangement. Cam plays it cool, thankfully. He greets Mia normally and shoots Claire the briefest of amused looks. She fires her best shut it look right back and then refuses to look at him for a while.

After Mia has passed her turn at telling Christine about her day with flying colours, it’s Claire’s turn. She manages the impressive feat of mustering both speech and something to talk about, and tells them about the centre being granted the money.

“Moi’s always been terrific at wrangling cash out of the government for these projects,” Christine says, passing Mia the breadbasket. “Good on her.”

“You know Claire wrote, like, half of that proposal, Mum,” Cam reminds her and gives Claire as close to an eye roll as he can get without being caught.

Claire flashes him a grateful look.

Christine smiles airily as she chops into her chicken. “Of course she did. She’s always been quite good at writing essays and such. And I suppose she’ll be quite good at paperwork one day.” She points her knife at Claire. “You can pop this on your résumé, sweetheart, for when you’re ready to do a serious job.”

Claire gives her plate a wooden look so she isn’t caught giving it back to her mother. Because that is as close as her mother will ever get to a compliment. Not that Claire plans on being grateful for it.

“So what exactly is the program, Claire?” her father asks.

Glad that at least her father is interested, Claire explains the idea of the homework club and how it will be for any local kid who wants help with their assignments, or just a warm, supportive place to study after school.

“What a great idea,” he says as he scoops potato salad from the plastic tub. “Give those kids somewhere to go. A lot of those young ones who live around the flats don’t want to go home after school, and that’s when they end up outside getting themselves into trouble.”

“Are you going to keep working there once uni starts?” Cam asks her.

Claire nods.

“What about you, Mia? Going to unleash the science geekery on them?”

“I want to. I’ll have to wait until I get my exact schedule, though. We do a lot of hours in our first year.”

“Oh yeah.” Cam winces. “Med school. I suppose they don’t just hand you that qualification.”

“Well I’m sure Claire will have plenty of time to work there with her minimal school hours,” Christine interjects. “Although maths and science aren’t really her forte.”

“Oh nice double whammy there, Mum.” Claire sighs and puts down her fork. This time she points the dirty look right at her mother. “Really nice. Actually, for your information, I’m going back to full time this semester. In fact, I’m overloading so I can still graduate at the same time. So I’ll be kind of busy between school and the centre and work.”

She glances at Mia and raises an eyebrow. Mia suppresses a grin but nods slightly. Now Mia gets the leverage thing.

Christine sips her wine and stares at Claire over the glass. “Well it’s about time you made up your mind about that. One semester was quite enough of moping over Brendan, don’t you think?”

“Oh for crap’s sakes leave her alone, Mum.” Cam groans. “She’s going back to full time, and Brendan was a giant turd. And does Mia really need to listen to you nag through this whole meal?”

Christine looks slightly miffed, but she actually obeys. She turns to Mia and asks her about her holidays as if it was her decision to change the subject.

Claire stares mutinously at the remnants of her meal and shakes her head. It’s so unfair. If Claire had told her mother to shut it, there is no way she would have responded that way. Claire would have just found herself at the receiving end of a lecture. But Cam can say whatever he likes and get away with it. Not that she isn’t grateful for him jumping to her rescue. But still, it kind of stings.

Feeling grumpier than she was before dinner started, Claire stabs at her meal. Cam tells their father some work story on one side of her, and her mother pursues her friendly interrogation of Mia on the other. Marooned between these two conversations, neither of which she’s a part of, she wonders if this dinner would be any more or less tolerable if they actually knew Mia was her girlfriend.

This last week or so, ever since she and Mia did their mending of everything they had recklessly smashed between them, she spent a lot of time uneasily chewing over how she would go about telling them. Would she sit them down, family-conference style in the big beige living room? Would she target them one by one—probably starting with her father who is more likely to say nothing? Or does she get it over with and tell her mother first? For one brief, terrified moment, she even considered leaving them a note or letter of some kind and then making herself scarce for a while. But that would be stupid; it would just delay the inevitable. And, despite all her thinking, there is not one single scenario she can imagine that would be more painless than any other. So she decided she probably just needs to do it.

And why not right now? This dinner and her mother? Neither is going to get any better. Might as well make it worse.

She watches her mother begin to clear the table around them and, in a flash of dizzy-stupid recklessness, she decides to say the words, to rip the Band-Aid off clean and face whatever hell it might raise.

“Mum, Dad, I have to tell you something,” she says quickly. And even quicker, so she can’t change her mind, she chases it up with more words. “Mia’s not my friend. She’s my girlfriend. We’re going out. You should probably know that.”

Somehow, despite the momentary panic blindness and the blood that begins to instantly beat hard in her ears, she manages to log all the micro reactions around her. She registers the further stilling of her father beside her, sees her brother’s mouth open ever so slightly and Mia’s eye widen. And most of all she notes the split-second freeze of her mother’s movement as she takes in these words. Then she continues to calmly stack the plates.

“Well I don’t think that is something that needs to be discussed at the dinner table, do you?” Christine says as she smiles perfunctorily in Mia’s direction but not at her as she reaches for her empty plate.

Claire blinks. What does that mean?

“It’s not something that needs to be discussed at the dinner table?” Claire repeats slowly.

Her mother simply continues to remove dishes from the table and stack them busily.

“Oh boy,” she hears Cam mutter under his breath.

Claire grips the edges of her chair and glares at her mother. “Seriously?”

“Yes, Claire, that is exactly what I said,” Christine says airily. She brushes crumbs from her hands and picks up the pile of plates.

“That’s all you have to say? To shut me up like I talked about something…unsanitary at dinner?” Claire hears her voice rising in pitch and volume with each word.

“Oh, Claire,” Christine sighs as if she’s behaving like a worrisome child. She trots off to the kitchen with the plates.

“Well I’m sorry I forgot my TABLE MANNERS, Mother!” Claire yells after her, her face burning.

Claire feels her father’s hand close gently over her wrist, but she shakes it off. “This is freaking ridiculous,” she mutters. She looks over at Mia. She stares at Claire as if she has no idea what just happened or what to do now. “Let’s go,” Claire mutters, getting up from her seat.

Mia gives her the slightest nod and obediently stands. “Thanks for dinner,” she says quietly and follows Claire upstairs.

CHAPTER 77

Claire shoves the bedroom door shut behind her and stares at Mia, still as stunned as she is angry. She holds her hands up in the air. “What the hell was that?”

Mia shakes her head at her, clearly helpless to explain anything.

Claire folds her arms over her chest and leans on the door, furious. “I mean, I expected anger or for her to unleash the crazy.” She shakes her head slowly. “But being berated for my lack of table manners? What even is that? Of all the ways I could imagine my mother reacting, Mia—and I’ve imagined a lot of scenarios this last week—that was not one of them.”

Mia gives her a sympathetic smile. “I’ll bet.”

Claire shakes her head. “It’s like I said nothing. Or like I made a fart joke or something.”

Mia snickers slightly. “It was kind of weird.”

“She’s so…” Claire has no idea how to finish that sentence. “I mean, what is she going to do? Is she just going to ignore it now?”

Mia perches on the edge of her desk, clutching the edges. She tips her head to the side. “I think maybe she didn’t know how to react.”

“But she—” Claire is interrupted by a soft tap on the door. Despite her rage, she still feels a lurch of fear at the sound, unsure of what to expect. Glaring, she moves cagily toward it. “Who is it?”

“It’s just me.” Cam’s voice is muffled.

Relieved, Claire opens it.

He doesn’t come in. Instead he leans on the doorframe and gives Mia a sympathetic smile. “You all right, Mia?”

Mia smiles uncertainly. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” He turns back to Claire, and the smile becomes teasing. “Kudos points on the delivery, sis. I didn’t even see that one coming. And I knew.”

“But she just ignored me.” Claire raises her hands again, still stunned. She takes a deep breath and tries to let it out slowly, calming herself. But her pulse is still thick in her ears, and her whole body tingles with anger.

Cam shakes his head. “Oh she’s not ignoring it. The first thing she did when she came back into the dining room was to fire a ‘so did you know about this?’ at me. She just didn’t know what to say.” Cam grins. “Claire, for the first time, you’ve rendered our mother speechless.” He holds up his hand for a high five.

She ignores the hand, crossing her arms over her chest. “What did you tell her?”

He drops his hand and shrugs. “I told her I knew about it, because it’s no big deal. Which is exactly what I told her.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Listen, I gotta go. Night shift. Good luck, you two. I’ll call you tomorrow, Claire.” He looks over at Mia, grinning. “And Mia, I swear we’re not as bad as this, usually.”

Claire shuts the door behind him and looks at Mia. Despite her assurance to Cam, she does look a little unnerved. Mia probably doesn’t see much of that kind of confrontation, she realises. Not around her peaceful little family dynamic. A trickle of guilt courses through her. “I’m sorry about this,” she says quietly, opening and closing her hands by her sides.

Mia gives her small smile. “It’s okay. And you’re okay, too.”

And Claire is about to tell her that she doesn’t feel okay when there is another knock on the door. This time it’s a short, quiet rap. Claire takes a deep breath, moves in and opens it.

It’s Christine.

“Oh what, so now is an appropriate time to talk about it?” Claire says, before her mother can get a word out.

Her mother taps her foot once against the floor and gives her a withering sigh. “Oh don’t be silly.” She glances in Mia’s direction and then turns back to Claire, crossing her arms. “But yes, I do think we need to have a conversation. So perhaps if Mia might like to go home now, we can—”

“What?” Claire gasps. Her eyes widen in horror and humiliation. “You can’t order Mia to leave!” And this is all it takes for the rage to surge back.

Christine flaps a hand at her and gives her an impatient look. “Oh for goodness sake, don’t be such a drama queen, Claire. I’m not ordering Mia from our house never to return again, I’m simply asking for some time alone with my daughter.”

Claire glares at her. “And you’re telling her to leave so you can do that.”

“No, I’m asking her.”

Mia starts to say something, but Claire holds up a hand in her direction and turns back to her mother. She’s so angry now it’s actually hard to push out the words. “Well you can’t do that, Mum,” she says through gritted teeth. “You can’t tell her to go. And besides,” she folds her own arms across her chest, mirroring Christine’s stance, “I really don’t want to talk to you right now.”

And then Claire does something she has never ever done in her life. She closes the door in her mother’s face. She doesn’t slam it, just closes it. She’d never be brave enough to slam it. But still, much to her shock, there is no reaction from outside. She expected her mother to march in or even just to yell at her for rudeness or disrespect. But she hears nothing. And she’s not sure whether that is more or less alarming. When she’s sure her mother has gone, she lets out a shuddering breath and turns to face the room.

Mia gathers her phone and keys from Claire’s desk and thrusts them into her pocket. “I should go, Claire.”

“No you shouldn’t. Don’t leave because she told you to.” She leans against the door, the hot irritation of insurgent tears assaults the back of her eyes. “That’s not her decision, and she has no right.”

Mia gives her a long, gentle stare and shrugs slightly. “I think she just wants to talk to you alone.”

“I know.” Claire crosses her arms. “And I don’t care. I don’t want to talk to her now. God, why does she have to be like this?”

She tips her head back against the door and stares at the ceiling. And it’s not even just this. It’s everything. Why does her mother have to bring out everything in her that is tense and defensive and rampant with anger? It’s exhausting.

“I don’t know,” Mia says quietly, even though Claire didn’t really expect her to have any kind of answer.

“I’m twenty. And she treats me like I’m twelve.”

“I know.” Mia gently smooths her palms along Claire’s upper arms. “Claire, I don’t want to leave you like this, but I feel really uncomfortable. It’s her house, and she’s asking me to go. And you probably do need to talk to her. Alone.”

At the solace of Mia’s touch, Claire’s anger slides closer to tears. But as she drops her gaze to meet Mia’s, Claire refuses to let them win. Her mother doesn’t deserve her tears. Instead she focuses on the steadfast, sanguine warmth of Mia’s gaze.

“I can’t talk to her right now,” Claire whispers, half-pleading, as if Mia is the one who gets to decide such things. “I’m too angry with her.”

“Well don’t then.” Mia gently pulls Claire’s arms from where they’re folded tightly across her chest and draws closer. “Don’t until you’re ready.”

Claire nods and burrows her face into Mia’s neck. For a long moment, she holds them in the suffocating safety of this vice-like embrace. She would rather be anywhere than in this house right now, having a talk with her mother about this. She’d rather be sitting an exam or tending bar for a building full of drunken footy fans. She’d rather be back at the hospital, all alone, looking after Cam. Anything but being in the radius of her mother’s patronising, maternal power. But here she is, trapped, with her mother out there somewhere, probably rallying for the next round. So instead she hides in the crook of Mia’s neck, squeezes her eyes shut and pretends she isn’t here.

They stand there, still, taking shelter on their self-made island of respite. She feels Mia take in a deep, steadying breath against her. Instantly the guilt creeps back.

“I really am sorry,” Claire whispers. “I didn’t even know I was going to say anything until I did. I was thinking about how I couldn’t decide how or when or even what to tell them, and then, I don’t know, I just suddenly decided to do it.”

She feels a small ripple of laughter pass through Mia. “I kind of figured it was as much of a surprise to you as it was to me. Or your mother. The total lack of preamble or context kind of gave it away, Claire.” She pulls Claire in even closer, kisses the side of her head, and snickers a little louder. “That was some meal.”

Claire sighs loudly. “Oh, what have I done?”

“I really don’t know.” Mia steps back. “But it will be okay.”

Claire tugs at the hem of Mia’s T-shirt. “I am sorry, though. I should have waited until you were gone at least.”

“Don’t be sorry. At least she knows now, right?” She smiles gently at Claire. “That’s something.”

Claire returns a reluctant smile. “I guess.”

“I really should go, though.”

“Don’t leave me with her,” Claire pleads, only half-joking. She has absolutely no idea what to do with herself now.

Mia squeezes her hand. “If you really can’t face her now, why don’t you come to my house? You can talk to her tomorrow or whenever you’re ready to.”

Claire nods, relieved. That’s exactly what she needs—an exit strategy. And some time to figure out what to do. There is no way she can continue this conversation with her mother tonight. And there is no way that whatever passes will be a conversation, either. “Yes, please?” she whispers.

“Of course.” Mia strokes her cheek gently. “Grab what you need.”

Claire picks up her bag. As she shoves some cosmetics and clothes in it, she turns to where Mia patiently waits for her by the door. She smiles and wonders how lucky she is that Mia’s even standing there after all they have been through of late. Relief and wonder spill through her like a swift, strident stream. She stares at her, grateful for the gift of this beautiful, unwavering person to run with. To run to.

She hoists her bag onto her shoulders and stares at her. “I love you, you know.”

Mia smiles and holds out a hand. “Well, I love you, too, crazy person. Come on. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 78

As she leans against the counter in the Princes’ lamp-lit kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil, Claire still feels the uneasy aftershock ripples of her unexpected self-outing at the dinner. Mia is upstairs, setting up her laptop so they can watch a film.

They didn’t see her parents as they left the house. Both the cars were there, but they were nowhere to be heard or seen, thank goodness. They got out of there as fast as they could, headed through the quiet weeknight streets to Mia’s apartment.

Claire cringes slightly at the thought of seeing her mother again. Largely because she has no idea how her mother is going to be when she sees her. Especially after tonight. Claire had always expected that Christine’s reaction, whatever it was, would be immediate. But now, with more time to think about it, she realises Christine was doing what she does best under pressure, parrying a little just to buy herself some time to decide what her reaction will be.

Claire is so deep in thought that she nearly jumps when Tasya strides into the kitchen, clutching two mugs. She immediately stands a little straighter.

“It’s Claire again,” Tasya says lightly as she places the mugs on the counter next to Claire and Mia’s and heads for the fridge. Claire automatically drops a tea bag in each of the new cups, rendered even more uneasy by that “again.”

“Tasya,” she starts to say, uncertain, straightening the cups. “I am so sorry I’m staying here so much. I—”

“Oh, hush.” Tasya gives her arm a squeeze as she drops the milk onto the counter next to the neat little row of cups. “You’re welcome here whenever you like.” She smiles, a gleam in her eyes. “Especially when you’re making the tea.”

“Th-thank you,” Claire stutters, suddenly fighting tears all over again. The old tank of an electric kettle bellows steam and switches itself off loudly. Glad of the cover, she pours boiling water into each of the cups and waits for the tea to steep. She stares as the dull brown swirls drift from the bags, and stain the water.

“So, how was your day?” Tasya asks, filling the silence.

“It was okay,” Claire says quietly as she adds sugar to two of the cups. She already knows how the whole family takes their tea, addicted as they all are. “How was yours?”

But Tasya ignores the question and looks at Claire, clearly curious. “Is everything okay? You sound positively miserable.”

At Tasya’s concern, Claire starts to lose her battle with her tears. “Yeah, I’m okay.” She turns away quickly.

“Are you sure about that?”

Claire lets out a breath and passes Tasya two of the cups. She retreats quickly to the bench under Tasya’s persistent stare.

“Yes.” she finally says and takes in a deep breath. “It’s just, I told my mum tonight. About me and Mia,” she adds, feeling horribly awkward but too on the spot from Tasya’s school-teacher-grade scrutiny not to explain. “And it was…well…not great.” She swipes at an errant tear with the back of her sleeve, but another stubbornly follows. She swipes again. God, how embarrassing, she thinks. Why is she always crying at Mia’s house?

Tasya gets up from her chair and folds Claire in a brief hug. Blushing, Claire submits, her head pressed to Tasya’s shoulder. She smells like a comforting combination of gardenia and fresh laundry. “Oh dear.” She stands back and takes a gentle hold of Claire’s shoulders and lets her cry for a minute. “Do you think it was a big shock for your mother?”

Claire shakes her head. “I don’t know. Probably. I doubt she was expecting it.” Claire raises her hands helplessly. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

Tasya nods slowly. “And is it likely to be something she will be understanding about? When she does get used to it?”

“I have no idea.” And Claire realises that has been the scariest part of all of this, that she had—and still has—exactly no idea what her mother’s reaction might be. “I mean, I don’t think she’s like, a bigot or anything, but I still don’t know what she’ll think. Or say.”

Tasya steps over to the table and picks up her tea. She brings it back and leans next to Claire. “Well you know, Claire, even if she’s without prejudice, she’s learning something new about this person she has known all her life. It might not be easy for her.” She sips her tea slowly. “Even if it’s just because it’s not what she imagined or what she thought she knew about you.”

Claire nods slowly and thinks of Tasya’s own initial silence when Mia told her parents. She clearly knows the feeling.

“Probably. And you know,” Claire scrapes at the pattern on her cup with her fingernail, “she’ll probably be mad because she makes it her business to know everything about me, to give me her opinion about everything I do or say. Because she always wants to control everything about me. It’s so annoying. And she didn’t know this.”

Tasya nods slowly. “Then the news might be even harder for her to take, then.”

Claire nods. That probably is what is eating at her mother most. That she hasn’t planned for this one. Maybe Claire has thrown the one thing at her for which Christine has no contingency plan. Claire tells Tasya about what happened at the house tonight, and about her mother’s odd reaction.

“My mother was that way about my life when I was young. It’s difficult. And I remember the night, after Mia told us, I was thinking about what my mother would have been like had it been me telling her.” Tasya wraps an arm around Claire’s shoulder and draws her against her side. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing you came here. Give you both a minute to calm down. And to give her a minute to compute all this.”

Claire smiles wearily. “Well I, for one, was pretty glad to get out of there. So was Mia.”

“Mia will be fine.” Tasya smiles and gives her one more sympathetic squeeze before she lets her go. She adds another dash of hot water from the kettle to her tea and turns back to Claire. “And you should try and talk to your mother again.”

Claire grimaces. That’s still the last thing she wants to do.

“Trust me. You’ll feel better for it. Maybe not straight away, but eventually.” She grabs both cups in one hand and presses a palm to Claire’s cheek. “Goodnight, Claire. And remember, you’re always welcome here, okay?”

Claire blinks back another round of tears. “Thank you. Goodnight, Tasya.”

Alone in the kitchen again, Claire takes in a deep, steadying breath, wipes the counter, takes the cups, and heads upstairs.

Mia waits for her on the bed, her laptop on her legs, frowning. “I was about to come searching for you. Is everything okay?”

Claire passes Mia her tea and wipes at her eyes. “Sorry it’s not that hot.” She sits on the edge of the bed. “Your mother is evil.”

Mia looks at her sideways and lowers her cup. “My mother? Evil?”

“Yes. Someone that nice has to be secretly evil.”

Mia laughs and slaps Claire’s knee gently. “Only you would think something like that.”

“Seriously, she’s like one of those TV mums. The kind who always say nice, supportive things and never get angry.”

Mia grins. “Oh she can get angry, trust me.”

Claire raises an eyebrow. “When? Tell me, when was the last time she got angry with you?”

Mia makes a thinking face and then laughs. “When I failed that maths test in Year Nine.”

“Well you deserved it then, Mia. And you never did tell me about failing that test.” Claire pokes her in the leg. “But do you see what I mean? She’s awesome. I mean, she’s a little scary when you first meet her. All stern schoolteacher style, but then you realise she’s actually lovely. I don’t know; it’s just…freaky how nice your parents are.”

“I think there might be a lot more nice parents out there than you think, Claire. Just because your mother is intense. I mean, your father seems really nice.”

Claire nods.

“Did you tell Mum about what happened tonight?” Mia asks.

“Uh huh.”

“Did it make you feel better?”

“A little.”

“Good.” Mia tucks a strand of Claire’s hair behind her ear, smiling tenderly at her.

They begin to watch the film. But ten minutes in, Mia turns to Claire, her eyes shining. “You know, if I have a bad habit of impetuous, drunken make outs, you have to admit you have a slight problem with reckless public declarations.”

Claire laughs, jabbing her hard in the side. “Shut up.”

But it is kind of true.

CHAPTER 79

The next morning they’re eating cereal in the kitchen when Tasya bustles in. She’s dressed for work, her hair tied into a tight bun. She drops her leather case on the floor, rinses her cup in the sink, and plucks a jar of vitamins from the windowsill.

“Late?” Mia asks.

Tasya shakes her head, washing down the vitamin with water. “But in a few minutes I will be. I’ll see you tonight?”

Mia nods, crunching on her mouthful of cereal.

Tasya turns to Claire. “And Claire, my dear, I will not be seeing you tonight.”

Claire stares at her, unnerved, wondering what this directive means. Mia stares too.

Tasya smiles at her. “Don’t worry; as I told you last night, you know you’re always welcome here. Except for tonight.” She picks up her case and points at Claire. “Tonight you go home and talk to your parents.”

Oh. That’s what she’ll be doing. Claire takes in a deep breath and nods. “Okay.”

“Good. See you later.” Tasya gives them a parting smile and heads off to work. The door slams firmly behind her.

Claire smiles at Mia. “See? TV mum.”

Mia shrugs and grins, crunching on her cereal. “The only mum I know.”

“Lucky.”

* * *

But Claire doesn’t want to go home. She really doesn’t. She wishes she were rostered on at the centre today, but she isn’t. So instead she procrastinates. First, she drives Mia to work, and then she sits in a corner of the café for a while, stalling over two coffees. They’re drunk so slow that the last mouthfuls are stone cold.

She’s tired, too. Even with the comforting press of Mia’s sleeping body lined along her back, Claire blinked into the darkness for hours. Her brain was too full of questions she had no idea how to answer. Will her mother be angry at her today? For shutting the door in her face? For storming out of the house? Will her parents be okay about Mia? Will she have to move out? Where would she live? Where would she be able to afford to live?

So, needless to say, with all these questions bearing down on her, she did not get much sleep. And now that it’s morning and she has the chance to get these questions answered, she’s not so sure she even wants them. So instead she strings out the coffees for as long as she humanly can.

Then, still unwilling to go home, she decides to go see Nina.

Nina is just dragging herself out of bed after her shift last night. But, being typical Nina, she’s cheerful even as she lets out a huge yawn and waves Claire into the apartment. Tangle-haired and sleepy, she makes a pot of coffee, and tells Claire all about a particularly insane customer last night who kept regaling Nina with increasingly more extravagant lies about himself. But he tipped so well she didn’t dare openly doubt him. Claire doesn’t drink any, afraid what a third cup might do to her already-frenzied brain. Instead she flops into the armchair, drinks water, and listens to Nina’s funny little tale.

And because she can’t focus on anything else and because she needs some clue as to what to do next, she wants to tell Nina about last night, to ask her what she would do. But as she’s about to, Dan surfaces from the bedroom, just as mussy-haired and sleepy. He flops onto the couch next to Nina and chats amiably with them. And suddenly Claire can’t say a word. Not in front of someone she barely knows, lovely as he is.

So, instead of joining them for brunch at a café nearby, because she knows she can’t manage regular conversation, she leaves Nina’s. Back on the street, she wonders what to do now. Her mother and father will be at work by now, so she’s safe to go home, but she still doesn’t really want to. It will make her feel like a sitting duck.

And right when she begins to think she has no other choice, her phone rings. It’s Robbie. Claire stares at the screen, awash with relief. What is it about Robbie that he always knows the right time to show up, lately? It’s uncanny.

* * *

Claire folds her arms over her chest and watches Robbie sip his tea. “So what would you do?”

Robbie grins. “Well for starters, I probably wouldn’t have spilled it out of the blue at the dinner table.”

Claire leans back in her seat and glares at him.

“I mean, as much as I love the theatricality of it all.” He shakes his head and grins wider. “Oh, and poor Mee. I can just imagine her sitting there, wondering what the hell to do.” He laughs. “I bet she still said thank you for dinner, too.”

Claire can’t help but smile a little at that. “Yeah she did.”

He lets out another hooting little laugh. “And bonus points for the wild over-reaction to your mum, too. My God, you really know how to send shit sideways, don’t you?”

“Okay, I get it. Not my wisest move.” She kicks her boot impatiently against the leg of his chair. “Now tell me what to do about my mother or shut up.”

He sits back in his seat and stares at her. “Well, tell me, do you care what she thinks of you?”

“No,” Claire mutters, playing with her straw.

Robbie folds his arms across his chest. “Yeah you do. You totally do.”

She gives him a sarcastic look. “Okay then, I do.”

“Well of course you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t care what she makes of this, Claire. Sure, there is the part of it where you live with her, and you’re wondering how hard she’s going to make things for you and Mia. But there’s a bit of you that is simply worried what she thinks of you.”

She stares at her lap and shrugs. “Well it’s kind of hard not to when you’ve spent your life around someone who is always telling you what they think of you. And they usually don’t think much that is good.”

He waits while the waiter drops the bill on the table between them and hurries away before he leans forward. “I know.” His voice is soft. “My parents never said it, but I could still feel it. And that was bad enough. They didn’t like or understand anything I did.”

Claire frowns. “Yeah, well, imagine they had said it all out loud. All your life.”

He nods slowly, but doesn’t say anything at first.

Claire lifts her hands and wraps them around the teapot in the middle of the table, warming her fingers. It’s cold today. The weather is starting to turn already.

Robbie suddenly leans even closer. He grabs her wrist and smiles. “You know what I’d do? Just try going in not giving a fuck.” He shrugs. “I mean, nothing she says is going to change anything, right? You’ll still be you, and you’ll still be with Mia. And you and I know both of those things are kind of awesome.” He winks at her. “So tell her whatever she needs to know and don’t let her be anything but okay with it. Because it’s not about whether she’s okay with it, you know?”

Claire shakes her head. “You don’t know my mother.”

He pulls his jacket closer around him. “True. But you can at least try. I just think that, if you don’t let it be a thing, she can’t make it a thing. And she won’t be expecting you to be like that after last night. Just be totally chilled. It will throw her at least.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Easier said than done.”

“Well, you wanted my advice. That’s my advice.”

Claire takes in a steadying breath and lets it out slowly. “Okay,” she says and nods, determined.

He zips his jacket, takes out a note, and drops it on the saucer holding the bill. “It’ll be fine, Claire. Just get it over with. And if she’s not cool, then she probably will be some day. And in the meantime you’ve got us to look after you.”

She smiles. Beautiful Robbie.

He grins back, cocky, and shrugs at her, as if he knows he’s awesome already and she doesn’t need to say it. “Okay, I’ve got to run. I’ve got an appointment.”

Claire raises an eyebrow. “An appointment? How very adult of you.”

He grins as he stands. “I know, right?” He flings his arms around her, and squeezes her hard. “Remember, give no shits, and take no crap, okay?”

She laughs. But, as soon as he has left her, she pulls out her phone, opens a message to her mother, and types. Lunch?

CHAPTER 80

Claire shrugs as her mother fusses with her napkin. “I’m in love with her.”

And even though it’s exactly what she and Robbie planned, it astonishes her how matter-of-factly she’s able to answer her mother’s question. But Robbie was right. The calmness is working. It’s giving her a sense of power she did not know she possessed.

And for a fleeting, comic moment, as she takes in her mother’s flicker of reaction, she feels like that dog whisperer guy that Nina loves so much, the one who always harps on at people about projecting the same mood you want your dog to behave with. Stay calm and assertive, she hears him say as she stares at her mother, who has somehow become the overly territorial terrier or the uncontrollable pit bull. It’s working too, because her mother has been surprisingly subdued so far.

Deciding to take his advice, Claire, borrowed some of Robbie’s cocky confidence and walked into this lunch as calmly as she could. She was determined to play Claire, not Christine’s daughter. Hell, she’s even ordered pasta while her mother nibbles on the compulsory salad. And she ignored the slight upward arc of her mother’s eyebrow as she did so.

Still, a small part of her is completely astonished that she just announced calmly and out loud to her mother that she’s in love with Mia. But she’s realising quickly that Robbie was right; she has nothing to lose in just saying it, in putting it out there for her mother to decide whether or not she’s going to be okay with it.

Her mother wipes a crumb off the table and then flaps a hand at Claire. “You young people are always so extravagant and histrionic about these things. You can’t have even known her that long.”

Claire takes in a slow breath and calmly watches her mother season her plate of greens. “Actually, no, Mum, I’m not. If you were paying any attention to me, you’d know I’m not like that at all. I was brought up to be anything but extravagant with my feelings.”

Christine shoots her a look but decides not to bite. Instead she focuses on cutting a piece of tomato. Then she spears it with her fork and delivers it to her mouth. Claire doesn’t say a word to fill the silence though. She simply sets her shoulders and waits.

“So how long has this thing been going on then?”

Claire smiles wearily. “You mean this relationship? A couple of months.”

Christine frowns. “So why have you decided to wait until now to tell me about it, then—in the form of last night’s rather melodramatic announcement no less?”

Claire decides to opt for honesty on this one. “Because I didn’t know how you and Dad would take it.”

Her mother sighs loudly and rests her hand, fork aloft, next to her plate. “Claire, I’m not some kind of narrow-minded suburban mother who has never seen anything like this before. I’m not a—”

“I know that.” Claire stabs at her meal and speaks as quietly and calmly as possible. “But also, I don’t know, I didn’t tell you because, well, it’s just…the things you’ll care about in this are not the things I care about with this.” She stares at her mother. “The questions I know you’ll ask me, they’re not important.”

“What do you mean?”

She begins to tick them off with her fingers. “I mean no, I don’t know or really care whether I’m gay or not right now. I mean no, it’s definitely not just about experimenting. I mean, yes I want to be with her for a long time, but no, we have no plans for the future.”

Her mother stares at her, alert but unreadable. Then she returns to her food.

“I mean, they were the things you were going to ask me, right?”

Her mother doesn’t answer. She doesn’t look at her either. “But it’s serious?”

Claire holds up her hands. “Mum, what part of being in love with her suggests it’s not serious?”

Christine nods as if she concedes that logic, taking a sip of her sparkling water. “But you don’t think you’re gay?”

Claire fights the urge to sigh, throw her hands up, and shout see? Instead she forces herself to be patient. Maybe she just needs to answer these questions. It may be the only way to get to the other end of this.

She forces herself to meet her eyes. This might be the most candid conversation they have ever had, and it’s hard to stem the awkward. “No Mum, I don’t know if I’m gay. I don’t care. I’m just…being with Mia.” She blushes.

“But you must have some inclination.”

“Well I don’t. So far in my life, I’ve fallen for a guy, and I’ve fallen for a girl.” She shrugs again. “I guess I’m bisexual. I don’t know. Like I said, it’s not important right now.”

Christine gives her a short, brittle laugh. “And I thought it was frustrating enough having a daughter who can’t make up her mind about what she wants to do with her life.”

She says it as if she’s joking, and Claire knows she wants to be. But she isn’t.

She sits up. “You know, Mum, I actually don’t understand why that bothers you so much—you so desperately need me to know what I want to do with my life. Have a five-year plan. Most of the rest of the time you’re so busy saying that everyone my age doesn’t have a clue about anything. But then I’m expected to have consolidated this life plan? It doesn’t even make sense.”

“Life doesn’t make sense, Claire. And I want you to be ready for it. You have to have a plan.”

“Well I’m getting there. Just slower than you want and not exactly how you want, but I am.” Claire leans back. “And you know, Mum, I know who I want to be. That’s kind of more important.”

Christine doesn’t look at her. She nods at her salad and tucks an invisible strand of hair behind her ear.

“And now I feel as if I’m in some trite family drama,” Claire jokes. She picks up her fork. “So, if you’re not okay with me and Mia, that’s fine. I can move out. Or you can be okay with it.”

“Of course you don’t have to move out,” Christine says brusquely. “What kind of mother do you think I am?”

There is a short silence, not filled with Claire’s response.

Christine sighs loudly. “And of course I’m okay with it. I’m not a homophobe, you know.”

“Good,” Claire says simply, biting into a piece of bread. It’s hard work not to roll her eyes, though. Of course her mother is scared of being seen as homophobic.

“I do wish you could have found it in yourself to tell me earlier. I suppose I’m the last to know.”

This time Claire does roll her eyes. And of course her mother has found something she can be validly outraged about. “Well, I haven’t told the postman.”

* * *

As she’s walking down the street away from the café, the difficult, honest little lunch over, her brother calls.

Lunch definitely didn’t get any easier, and her mother still played her hard-done-by act about Claire keeping it a secret. But it’s done now. And Claire doesn’t mind admitting to herself that she felt about eight feet tall after that meal. After managing her mother in that way.

It’s done. It’s over, she kept telling herself as she walked down the street, quietly elated.

“Have you talked to Mum?” he asks as soon as she picks up.

“Just had lunch with her.”

“And?”

She bites her lip, weaving through a group of people clustered near a shopfront. “Strangely, maybe okay. No fighting.”

“Okay, that’s weird.”

“Uh huh.” She stops and leans against a wall to finish speaking to him. The street is too frenetic, too crowded, and her tiredness can’t cope with negotiating both the conversation and the crowded sidewalks.

“Well I’m glad to hear you’re both still alive. That’s what I called to find out.”

She smiles. “Yup, not even any blood spilled. So what are you doing?”

“You know, playing cop, paying my debt to society. Unlike some I could mention.”

“Shut up,” she says automatically. But his tease reminds her of something she’s been meaning to tell him. “Hey, do you know if Vito is still working on that case at the Greeve Street apartments?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

Claire bites hard on her lip. Is she really going to do this? She takes in a deep breath. “Can you give him a name for me?”

“What’s this?” Cam laughs. “Playing cop now, sis?”

“Shut up. Can you please just take this name?” Before she chickens out and changes her mind.

“Alright, alright.”

CHAPTER 81

When she gets home later in the afternoon, her father’s car is already in the driveway. She goes looking for him. Might as well go for two for two, she figures.

He’s in the kitchen, staring into the backyard through the window and sipping a cup of coffee. He turns when she walks in and gives her a slow smile.

“Claire.”

“Dad.” She leans against the far side of the kitchen island, exhausted.

“Talk to your mother?”

She nods, rubbing her face.

“Good.” He slides his keys from his pocket and jingles them. “Drive?”

She nods and follows him from the kitchen.

The car is where she learned her father. In fact, in her teen years, the car was the only place she really saw him. He loves to drive. And he says it’s the one part he really misses about being a cop. Once he decided on law, he missed the rhythms and the life of patrol, he told her, existing half your days in a moving office, being exhilaratingly out in the world.

So first as passenger and then later as driver, she went all over the city with him. He took her everywhere, until Claire knew it backwards and forward and inside out. She learned the possibilities and problems of her rambling city from the front seat of a car that would go anywhere.

She learned where to find the best burgers and best cheap coffee and dumplings. She learned the underpasses and corners where the poorest and youngest lived and worked. She also knew where the most drugs were sold, and how to recognise prostitution from just a sidewalk stance. She saw the house where the richest man in Melbourne lived. She knew the exact apartment block where a woman had thrown her kid off a second-floor balcony into waiting arms to save her from a fire. She learned about the secret beautiful park built by a community in one of the shittiest neighbourhoods. She learned about the old man who spent an hour, every single afternoon, rain or shine, standing on his front porch doing a series of odd, military-like exercises. He took her to places most of her friends didn’t even know existed. She began to know her city in a way that no one she knew did, except her father.

She learned things about her father, too. Gradually. He was never much for talking about himself, but there were things he couldn’t help but drop in as he told her about this world they were witnessing, about how he had come to know them. She found out about the time he was first forced to do more than wield his firearm, and about the day he watched a teenage boy die from a stab wound before the ambulance came. She learned how he came to be so close with Moi’s husband Gary, a relationship that went from a police partnership to deep friendship. She learned about his first arrest, a little old lady who’d shoplifted a bag of toffees and some batteries.

When they first began to take these drives, she wondered why it wasn’t Cam. Why her, she wondered? When Cam already so desperately wanted to be a cop? And sure, their father taught Cam to drive too, just like he did with her a few years later. But these long, quiet drives, they were Claire and her father’s.

She knows part of it was he was teaching her life lessons, but she didn’t care. They weren’t imposed, threatened like her mother’s, or delivered in lectures or tirades. He just showed her the world from the safety of the car and then let her ask questions about it. And he tried to answer them as best as he could.

They didn’t talk about their own lives, or about his job that much. They didn’t talk about Claire and Christine’s constant fights. They talked about the rest of the word and answered each other’s questions that way, indirectly.

Then later, when Claire got her license and a car, and he moved up the legal ranks, they stopped doing it, neither finding the time. Claire realises she misses these drives, now. It’s been at least three years since they last did this.

Tonight he drives them to the south side, where they can see both edges of the bay reach around to enclose the water and just miss. They don’t say anything on the way there. But it’s not a fraught or tense silence. Just silence. And when he stops the car, he sits back, mirroring her stare out the windshield, and they watch the late afternoon breeze whip the tops of the waves into frothy white frenzies.

She watches him a moment. He’s always so calm, her father. So quiet. How did he, with all his patience, end up with her mother? What attracted him to her? She cannot imagine it.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me about Mum. When you met her.”

He turns and glances at her, his grey eyes intent as he clearly assesses the nature of the question. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

He smiles, looks out the window, and nods.

It takes two hours for him to do that for her, to answer all her questions, first in this spot near the water, then later in a small Chinese restaurant halfway between the bay and home.

“Why do you want to know all this, anyway?” he asks as they near home.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I want to know if I’m like her.”

He laughs. “It was your mother who once told me that it’s every girl’s fear to turn into her mother.”

Claire smiles. “Exactly.”

He pulls into the driveway. The lights are on. “Well, you’re a little like her, but you’re different, too. You’re not in such a big hurry for everything.”

She nods. So often she’s wanted to find the courage to ask her mother why she thinks the only way to operate is to barrel through life on a mission, ticking off accomplishments, without ever just taking a moment to…be? Especially when her mother doesn’t seem any happier than anyone else. Just busier.

“And that’s not such a bad thing.” He smiles at her.

She smiles right back at him and at his way of telling her he trusts she’ll pull it all together. Just in her own way and in her own time.

“But you’re also quite the formidable woman, like her,” he says.

“Good.” That part she likes.

“So make sure you use that power for good instead of evil, okay?”

She smirks. “Yeah Dad.”

He smiles at her. And it is only now that he finally addresses last night’s announcement. “So, are you okay?”

She smiles at him. “Yes, I am.”

“Happy?”

She blushes. “Yes.”

“Good.” He pulls the keys from the ignition and then suddenly pauses, keys aloft. “Oh, by the way, I have a proposition for you.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “What?”

He chuckles. “Don’t look at me like that. Just hear me out.”

And she does.

* * *

She slides her legs down the wall, yawns, and stares through the gap in the curtains to the star-scattered sky outside. It’s been a long, long day.

It is hard to get a grip on this last twenty-four hours, on its revelations, its truths, and the strange simplicity of its outcome.

Everybody knows.

And, as Mia promised, it’s okay. There’s a freedom in this Claire didn’t know she’d feel.

Suddenly, with this one declaration, Claire has somehow become the protagonist of her own story within this family. She has a girlfriend. She’s in love. And out there, somewhere beyond her bedroom door, is the rest of the family all knowing this most private of feelings made public. And it’s okay.

Well, it’s as close to okay as it was ever going to be. Sure, her mother will always be her mother. But at least, she won’t be any more or less annoying about this than she’s been about everything else in Claire’s life. And that, Claire knows, is probably a best-case scenario.

Her phone buzzes on the bed next to her. It’s a message from Mia. Are you okay?

Claire smiles wearily at the screen. She really should call her and tell her what happened. And soon she will. But for now she just wants to lie here and take it all in a little. So for now she writes the quick answer. I’m totally fine.

Mia responds immediately. You always say that.

Claire smiles. This time she really is.

CHAPTER 82

Robbie clutches his coffee mug with both hands and leans on the kitchen counter. “Now I feel bad.”

Claire picks up her own cup and frowns. “Why?”

“Maybe I should have waited and told you both at the same time.”

She drops a hand on his arm and squeezes it. “She won’t mind.”

He nods and slowly pushes himself away from the counter. “No, I guess she won’t. I’ll tell her tonight.”

Claire nods as a small tingle jets through her. She’ll be here soon.

She grabs her coffee and follows Robbie to the deck. They stand on the porch, and ease into the morning together. Even here in the shade, the sun’s warmth is making itself known. Summer hasn’t given up yet. Not by a long shot.

Robbie puts his coffee on the wide railing, stretches his arms above his head, and yawns vigorously.

“So you and Eli? You’re okay? I mean, you’ll be okay?”

He retrieves his cup, takes a slow sip, and nods. “I think so. We’re going to try.” He stares at the view. “I don’t know if it will work, though.”

She nods. She does know. “So when is he getting here, anyway?”

“This afternoon, I think. They’re coming straight from work.”

She nods. By nightfall the house will be full to overflowing.

“What about Mia?” Robbie asks.

“Sometime this morning. Her dad’s dropping her on his way back to the city.”

“How long has she been gone?”

“A week.” Claire tries her best not to sigh, but she does.

Robbie smiles sympathetically at her. “Long.”

Claire nods. Stupidly long. Especially when Mia’s phone was out of range most of the time. Still, it’s nearly over now.

She rests her elbows on the worn wood and half-closes her eyes against the irrepressible sunlight. Through the trees she can just make out a figure—Pete, she thinks—as he leaps from the diving platform into the green water of the lake. She doesn’t hear the splash, though, as his body plunges gracelessly into the water.

“Is that a car now?” Robbie tips his head toward the driveway. She listens. There is definitely the sound of a motor getting louder coming from somewhere beyond the trees. She peers along the driveway. A flash of silvery-green glints among the trees, and a car sweeps around the bend, moving slower now it has hit gravel.

“It’s them.” Robbie puts his cup on the railing and skips down the steps to the driveway.

Another voltaic little thrill passes through Claire as she follows him down the steps to the car parked in the shade of the ash tree. It amazes her that she still responds so instantly to her presence, that Mia continues to happen to her over and over again, even after all this time. She wonders if she will ever stop feeling like that.

Robbie bounces over to the car and pulls open John’s door. “Hi!”

John climbs out slowly, his hand on his back, and grins at Robbie. “Hello to you, too, Robbie. Hi there, Claire.”

“Hi John.” Claire smiles and waves, but she doesn’t stop. She’s currently completely one-eyed and fixed on the contents of the passenger seat.

“You need coffee?” she hears Robbie ask John as she strides across the gravel. “It must have been a long drive.”

“It has been. I’d love a coffee.”

Mia climbs out of her seat. When she spots Claire coming for her, she leans against the car, and gives her a beaming smile, one that seems as if it’s made of equal parts relief and delight.

Claire marches right up to her and folds her into a wordless embrace, not even slightly inhibited by John’s presence, as she usually would be. No, her need to touch Mia after this week’s parting is far greater than her self-consciousness right now. She holds her in a breathless grip, as if trying to absorb her. “Hi,” she eventually whispers into her neck.

Mia breathes out slowly and pulls back to look at her, the smile still lighting up her face. “Hi.”

“Hey, you want coffee, Mee?” Robbie calls.

Still clutching Claire, she turns to him and smiles. “Hi! Yes, please.”

He blows her a kiss as he leads John in the direction of coffee.

Mia collects her bag from the car boot, throws it on her shoulder, and tips her head back to the sunlight. She takes in a deep breath and sighs it out, blissful. “It always smells so good here.”

“Come on.” Claire grabs her hand and pulls her toward the house. “Sniff and walk.”

Mia laughs as Claire leads her up the steps and into the shelter of the sleeping porch. The sun is softer here, filtered by the thin, white curtains waving gently in the light breeze.

Mia kicks off her shoes, pads across the worn wooden boards, and drops her bag on the end of the bed. She turns around slowly, taking it in. “This room,” she says softly, almost reverently. She turns to Claire, her smile full with the memory of last time. “I love this room.”

“Me too.” Claire presses her cheek to the place where Mia’s collarbones meet. She shuts her eyes for a moment and greedily breathes in her scent as Mia runs her hands slowly through her hair. They remain there, shrouded in silence, swaying ever so slightly.

“I missed you,” Claire whispers.

“Me too.” Mia presses a kiss to her head and steps back. “I kept wishing you were there.”

Claire stares at her, and she registers for the first time how weary Mia looks. Her face is drawn, and her eyes are even a little bloodshot. She pulls her against her. “Are you okay?”

Mia nods slowly. “Yeah, I’m really tired. We got up at four-thirty this morning.”

“Whoa.” Claire frowns and steps back. She probably went to bed only a couple of hours before that. “That’s so early it’s late. Why?”

“The trucks came at five to take things.”

Claire nods. “How was it? Everything, I mean?”

Mia takes Claire’s hands in hers. “It was long. And sad. Really sad.”

Claire nods and squeezes Mia’s fingers. She can imagine. A marathon of sadness. It felt long enough from her end, and she didn’t have to go through any of what Mia had to as she packed her grandmother’s house…as she said goodbye.

“It was…” Mia looks at her, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and shrugs as if she’s not sure how to articulate it any further. She drops her chin and presses her forehead against Claire’s. “Sorry, I’m so tired, I don’t—”

“Hey, don’t worry.” Claire drops Mia’s hands and presses a palm to her cheek until she lifts her head and meets her gaze. “Tell me later, tomorrow, whatever. Just relax now.” She kisses her. “What do you need?”

“Just you. And coffee.” Mia pulls her into a fierce hug. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“Me too,” Claire whispers as she rubs a hand back and forth over Mia’s shoulders. She can feel her exhaustion as she holds her.

Mia steps back and stares around the sunny little space again. She smiles. “I can’t wait to sleep in here with you again. It feels like it was forever ago.”

Claire laughs quietly. “Me too.” She pulls her in for another kiss. “Tonight we will. Come on, let’s get coffee.”

CHAPTER 83

They all clean up after dinner, arguing about what they’re going to do tonight. Claire jams things back into the fridge as she listens to the debate, and shakes her head. As if there are really that many choices. Get drunk and watch something. Get drunk and play a game. Get drunk and go for a night hike or swim.

The kitchen is loud and busy. They cheerfully fight it out as they wash dishes, pour drinks, or pick at the leftovers from their haphazard meal. Just like last time they were here together, the mood is loose and light, and Claire is happy to be here with them again. They have become an odd but wonderful combination of people.

Even Nan’s presence among them doesn’t bother Claire as much as it did. She’s still annoyingly opinionated, but arguing with her has become kind of fun now that there is nothing really at stake. It’s as if Claire’s insecurities about everything have abated, so has so much of her uncertainty about Nan. And she also knows how Nan helped to push Mia back to Claire in that awful period of their break-up, and she’s grateful. Claire always thought the best possible outcome would be to learn to put up with her, but now she thinks she might actually genuinely like this mouthy, self-righteous girl.

And it’s not as if Nan doesn’t know that her relationship with Claire has been tenuous. Before dinner, in a brief moment alone in the kitchen, she turned to Claire with a doubtful smile.

“Hey, thanks for letting me come along on this trip,” she said.

“It’s fine, you’re welcome,” Claire told her, offhand. And she realised the minute she said it that she actually meant it. It’s as if Nan has just become a part of things now.

Claire shoves the remains of a loaf of bread in its packet and tunes back in as the others try to decide which board game they want to play. Pete has discovered the giant stack of them at the top of the cupboard in the living room, amassed over the years.

“Nope. No way am I playing Scrabble against you ever again, Nan.” Robbie flicks a tea towel in her direction. “Once was enough for me, thank you.”

“What about Monopoly?” Pete suggests as he hauls his backpack onto a stool.

“Well I’m not playing a stupid game designed to indoctrinate kids to becoming filthy little capitalists before they even open their first bank account,” Nan declares as she passes another plate for Mia to dry.

“Oh shut up, Nan,” Eli and Robbie both cry in unison.

Nan tips her head back and cackles. As usual, she doesn’t care.

Nina pulls herself onto the freshly wiped counter. “Why can’t we play cards like last time? Poker!”

Pete laughs as he pulls a bottle of tequila from his backpack. “What, so Ms. Card Shark can whip our butts all over again? I haven’t forgotten last time.”

Claire thrusts the salad bowl into the fridge and smirks. It’s going to be midnight by the time they decide what game they want to play. Why does it really matter anyway? It’s just a platform for another idiotic drinking game.

She closes the fridge door and watches Pete pour a line of shots.

“Now that everyone is finally here, let’s toast,” he says.

They all stop what they’re doing and take up a glass.

Pete holds his glass high in the air. “To the end of summer.”

“And to Pete, leaving us for the sunshine of Queensland.” Nina pouts at him.

“You should come visit me there, guys,” he says.

“Yes, we should!” Nina raises her glass. “Road trip!”

“Yes!” Robbie says. “I know this place there that—”

“Okay, can we please drink now,” Claire grumbles, tired of holding up her glass.

Robbie laughs. “Yes! Here’s to everything!”

They all throw back their shots and slam the glasses on the counter with a collective wince and sigh.

“Well, I like Pictionary,” Eli suggests. “Because the drunker you get, the more hilarious it gets.”

Nan nods and laughs. “That’s true.”

This kicks off another vigorous debate.

Claire looks around for Mia. She hasn’t said anything in a while. She finds her just in time to see her lean against the counter, take in a weary breath, and stare into the middle distance.

Claire feels a rush of pity. Poor Mee. It’s been an epic day for her already. And an epic, sad week.

Claire follows Robbie as he carries a stack of plates into the pantry. She grabs his arm. “Hey, can you wait and tell her tomorrow?”

He looks at her, his face questioning.

“Just not yet,” she says, letting go of him. “I think she needs a minute to catch her breath.”

He nods. “Of course. She looks kinda knocked out.”

“She is.” They share a smile.

As they step out of the pantry, the others traipse into the living room to inspect the collection of games. Claire watches Mia follow them slowly, caught in the tide, but barely keeping up.

That’s it, she decides.

She ducks into the pantry, grabs a shopping bag, and begins to pack some things into it. She can hear the others move out to the porch with whatever game they’ve decided to play. In the living room, she collects a couple of blankets from the pile and stuffs them in the bag.

She marches onto the deck where they’re crowded near the big old table, laughing and organising themselves into teams. Mia is leaning against the porch post, watching. Claire goes straight to her and tugs at her T-shirt.

Mia turns to her, slightly startled, and then smiles. “Oh, hey. I’m going to be a lousy teammate, I’m warning you.”

Claire shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. Come.” She takes her hand and pulls her gently. Mia gives her a bemused look but follows Claire down the steps. The others don’t even seem to notice. They’re too invested in their game.

* * *

Mia laughs quietly as they stride away from the house. “Are we eloping?”

Claire grins. “Nope, not tonight anyway.”

Clutching hands, they make their way through the trees and along the narrow path to the water. Claire leads them, stepping gingerly over the smooth stones in the darkness. When she finds the right spot, she stops. She pulls a blanket from the bag and spreads it on the perfect flat rock, bathed in moonlight and still warm from the day’s sunshine. She reaches for Mia’s hand and pulls her down next to her.

Claire takes a block of chocolate she found in the pantry from the bag and grins. “Dessert.”

Mia laughs quietly and rests her chin on Claire’s shoulder and watches as she empties the rest of the bag. A torch is next. Claire flicks it on and off. The moonlight is so bright tonight they don’t even really need it. “I would’ve brought a candle,” she says. “But I’m pretty sure it’s still total fire ban.” She pulls out the two beers she swiped from the fridge, opens both and passes one to Mia.

Mia smiles at her, taps her beer gently against Claire’s, and sips from it. She settles back against a rock. “Thank you,” she says quietly as she takes Claire’s hand and laces her fingers through hers.

Claire dips her head and kisses her shoulder. “I thought maybe you needed some quiet.”

She sighs into the darkness. “I think I do.”

“And you’re not going to get it anywhere near the house tonight.”

Mia nods and smiles. “True.” She rests her head on Claire’s shoulder. “And I just need you for a minute.”

Claire lifts their entwined hands and kisses Mia’s thumb, flooded with the happiness of meaning this much to someone, being this needed. “For that I’ll give you two minutes,” she teases.

Mia laughs quietly and leans against her.

They sit and enjoy the peace this night now offers them. From here the sounds of the house are reduced to a hum of voices and the occasional loud hoot of laughter. They have become distant enough that Claire can still make out the smaller, secret noises of their instant surroundings, the small, restless sounds made by the light breeze in the trees, and the tiny splash as something drops into the water.

It’s a gift of a night. The air is warm against her skin and smells sweetened somehow. This is the part of summer Claire likes most, when the weather softens toward autumn and doles out a small handful of these balmy days before the chill sets in.

Mia sips her beer and turns toward Claire in the darkness. “Claire, Rosa left me her house.”

“What?” Claire shakes her head. “Wow.”

Mia nods and rests her head against the rock. “And some money for me to use so I don’t have to work so much in the next few years.” She sighs, deep and sad. Claire lets go of her hand and slips her arm around Mia’s waist. “She left me instructions in her will, too. She said that the place is mine, and I should do whatever I wanted with it. That I could sell it and not to feel bad, and I wasn’t to be stupid and nostalgic and hold onto it for the sake of memories.” She shakes her head and lets out a sorrowful little half-laugh. “They’d still be there, anyway, she said. That’s so Rosa.”

Claire nods and smiles. It certainly sounds like everything Claire has heard about Mia’s grandmother. “What will you do?”

Mia places her beer carefully on the rock and wipes a tear away. “I have no idea. Dad says I don’t have to decide anything yet. That we can rent it or leave it until I know what I want.”

“Then don’t decide,” Claire tells her. The thought of owning a house at their age seems like a crazy-big responsibility. She pulls her in closer. “Not until you’re sure.”

Mia nods and sniffs. “I understand what she was saying, that the house won’t help me remember her any better.” She shakes her head and swipes another tear away. “But I spent so much time there with her, especially when I was a kid. That house was part of my life, too.”

Claire nods and rubs a hand back and forth across the small of Mia’s back. She still feels that way when she passes Moi and Gary’s old place. And it’s always so hard to believe that there is some other family in there, total strangers, going about the business of living in a house that holds so many of her childhood memories. She tells Mia this.

Mia nods. “Exactly. I can’t imagine other people living there, or being in her garden.” She sighs. “God, her garden.” Her voice cracks with sadness as she speaks. She pulls her knees to her chest, drops her chin, and cries in earnest now. Claire puts her beer down, wraps both her arms around Mia, knees and all, and lets her weep for a minute.

Eventually she quiets, sniffing and brushing away the tears. She rests her head against Claire’s. “Anyway, the whole week was weird and sad, packing her things, having to decide what to keep. And Dad kept telling me to take anything I wanted to remind me of her.” She hauls in a deep breath. “But the weird thing was, when I’d think about taking a picture or a trinket, things I remember so vividly from my childhood, I had this feeling like once I took it outside of this house, outside of the context of Rosa, they wouldn’t seem like the same things. I don’t know; it’s as if they’d lose their meaning or something.” She frowns. “Does that make sense?”

Claire squeezes her tighter. “It does,” she whispers. Sad, horrible sense, but sense nonetheless.

“I don’t want an empty house. And I don’t want a book or a picture to remind me of her.” She sniffs. “I just want it to be like it was. I want for her to be alive and for me to be eight years old. I want to sit by the old greenhouse near the lilac tree and turn an old log or a tree root into an adventure for my stick family. I want to eat her terrible cooking. I want to sort seeds for her while she works and teaches me crazy facts like how to use sunflowers to extract uranium from water, or how you make coffee from dandelions.”

Claire smiles at this image and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Geeks.”

Mia laughs and buries her face in Claire’s shoulder. “Anyway,” she whispers, “I’m not going to decide yet.”

Claire nods. “Good.”

Lulled by the peace and quiet, they lie across the flat surface of their rock, using the second blanket as a pillow. Claire tucks her arm under Mia’s neck, pulls her against her shoulder, and wraps an arm around her. She combs her fingers through the long strands of Mia’s hair and stares at the blurry scatter of stars and the picture-book prettiness of tonight’s crescent moon.

Mia wriggles even closer and kisses Claire’s neck. “I’m glad the week is over.”

“Me too.”

“Anyway, tell me about your week.” Her warm breath tickles the fine hairs on Claire’s neck. “I want to hear about you.”

“It was fine. Same old. We had our last day of the holiday program on Thursday.”

“How was it?”

Claire smiles. “Great. We had a little party with snacks and games and the brats made us cards and stuff. It was cute. Most of them say they’re going to come to homework club. Though Katie’s already told me I’m no good to her if I can’t remember fractions.”

Mia snickers. “And what about Loc?”

“He said he’s coming. Even Vien threatened she might.” Claire doesn’t tell Mia about the call she got from Vito the other day, to tell her that after her tip-off, Loc’s father is now under surveillance on this case he’s on. There is now, she hopes, a slight possibility that Loc and his sister’s circumstances might change. Vito told her this in complete confidence, though, so she doesn’t want to break it.

“It’s going to be an awesome program.” Mia takes a hold of Claire’s hand and plays idly with her fingers. “I can’t believe in less than two weeks we’ll be back at school.”

“I know.” Claire sighs. And she can’t believe she will be a full-time student again this semester. “Things are about to get real.”

Mia nods. “Yup. I’m terrified.”

Claire kisses the top of her head. “Don’t be.”

Mia shrugs. “Can’t help it. I’ll get over it once I start.”

Claire nods. Then she remembers something. “Oh, I haven’t told you. I’m not going to work at the bar anymore.”

Mia lifts her head. “Really?”

“Nope, I do my last shift next week.”

“What are you going to do for money?”

“Dad asked me if I wanted to work at his office again, and I said yes this time.”

“I thought you hated the idea of office work?”

“Yeah, I kind of do. But I want to work days, same as you. And it’ll look good on my application if I try for a master’s later.”

Mia rolls over onto her side, facing her, and leans on her elbow. “A master’s? In social work?”

Claire nods.

“So you’ve decided?”

Claire bites her lip and nods. “I think so. Maybe. Well, it’s a strong possibility.” She smiles. “Not enough to tell Mum yet, though. It’s the one thing I can think of that I’d love to do. I really liked working with the kids.”

Mia smiles at her. “I think you’d be awesome at it.”

Claire smiles. “Thanks. Mum’s going to hate it, which will be highly annoying.” She rolls her eyes. “But I think I want to do it.”

“Then you should.” Mia squeezes her hand. “So what days will you work at the office?”

“Friday afternoons and all day Saturday.”

“Saturdays. Same as me.”

Claire grins and presses a finger to Mia’s chin. “That’s why I chose it, dummy.”

Mia grabs at the finger and kisses it. “And don’t forget date night is Saturday night.”

Claire laughs. “Don’t worry, Mia, I haven’t forgotten your little date night,” she teases.

“Hush, you’re going to love date night.”

“I will,” Claire admits as she runs her fingers over her cheek. “I already do a little bit.”

Mia’s smile beams in the moonlight. She sighs loudly. “So we’ll have some time.”

Claire nods. “Yup. Probably just to do homework together, but that’s something, right?”

Mia leans in and kisses her. “As long as I get to see you, it’s everything.” She shuts her eyes for a moment.

Claire shuffles closer on the blanket and smooths her palm over Mia’s waist.

Mia opens her eyes and smiles a slow, lazy smile at her. “Claire,” she sings happily.

“Mia,” Claire says right back as she slips her hand under the hem of her T-shirt to feel the satiny skin beneath.

“Mmm.” Mia shuts her eyes again.

“So,” Claire whispers, “have I waited a polite enough time to feel you up, now?”

Mia snickers. “Since when do you care about being polite?”

Claire shrugs as she scrapes her nails lightly against Mia’s ribs. “I don’t, really.”

Mia laughs. “That’s what I thought.” She leans in close and kisses her. “You can feel me up now.”

“Good.” Claire rolls over, presses Mia against the blanket, and climbs over her. “Good,” she says again as she lifts Mia’s T-shirt and drops a kiss above her belly button.

* * *

It takes Claire a minute to realise that the voices are getting louder. And closer. And it takes her even longer to register feet crunching on gravel not so far away. She has been way too invested in making up for her week’s separation from Mia to notice anything else but the resplendent feast of skin in front of her. And she has taken her sweet time with this task, too, as she slowly divests Mia of her T-shirt and bra and re-acquaints herself with every inch of her torso.

It’s then that she realises she can clearly make out each individual voice, and reality hits her. They’re no longer at the house where they left them. In fact, they’re somewhere nearby, on the lakeshore.

“Shit,” she whispers as Mia clutches the back of her neck and stops breathing for a moment.

They lie dead still, knotted into their tangle of limbs on the blanket, and listen hard. They’re not coming this way, but they’re definitely somewhere close.

As Mia starts to breathe again beneath her, Claire hears one of the guys hoot and the sound of someone laughing hysterically. And then she hears Nina squeal, “It’s cold!” as water splashes.

“They’re going swimming,” she whispers.

She feels Mia nod and then freeze again when there is another loud splash and a yell.

They don’t move straight away, though, still shocked by the sudden rift in their quietly heated little interlude on the rock. And Claire really doesn’t want to let this blissful moment go. Even as she listens warily to the sounds erupting around them, she can’t help but creep her hand slowly back over Mia’s breast and teasingly circle her nipple with the tip of a finger. Mia lets out a quiet giggle and grabs at Claire’s wrist. “Stop it, you.”

Claire grins into the darkness and tries to take her hand back.

Mia holds on to it. “What if they swim this way?”

Claire reluctantly nods. They might. She prays they’re going to the swimming platform instead. But even then, with the way sound carries over water, their peace is completely destroyed.

Still, unable to relinquish this moment fully, she yanks her wrist from Mia’s grip. And as she stubbornly returns it to its task, she kisses her way slowly along the side of Mia’s ribs all the way to her underarm. Mia doesn’t stop her this time. She just holds on hand to the back of Claire’s head and digs her fingers into her neck, making a small sound as Claire continues to stray back and forth over her skin in a tease of wayward kisses.

As she feels Mia’s ribs begin to rise and fall more urgently under her, there are even louder splashes and yells and the sound of bodies cutting quickly through water.

“What’s over that way?” she hears someone ask, far too close for her liking.

Claire sighs and drops her forehead onto Mia’s sternum. That’s it. She gives up. The moment is officially over. She sits up, pulls the blanket around her shoulders, and stares at the water, but she can’t make anything out. It’s darker now as clouds begin to track across the night sky, obscuring the stars and blocking the moonlight. She shakes her head and sighs loudly. “Every single time I wanna get laid,” she grumbles, remembering last time they were here. “We’ve really got to stop inviting those idiots.”

Mia laughs as she sits up next to her and feels around on the rock for her T-shirt. “You love them. Every single one of them.”

Claire shrugs. Maybe. But not right now. Things were about to get hot. And now they’re not.

“But you know what it means, don’t you?” Mia says as she yanks her top over her head and pulls it down.

Claire slowly packs their things into the bag. “What?”

Mia crawls over to her and kisses her, nipping playfully at her bottom lip. Her hand creeps under Claire’s blanket cloak, feeling for skin as she gives her a teasing smile. “If they’re all swimming,” she whispers. “There’s no one at the house.” She kisses her again and stands.

“True.”

Mia takes Claire’s hand and hauls her to her feet.

Claire doesn’t even bother putting her top back on. Instead she stuffs it in her bag and keeps the blanket wrapped around her bare torso. She just wants to take this thing they have started to a bed. Stat. She grabs a handful of Mia’s hair, kisses her, and grins. “Come on, let’s go, then.”

Then she drags her along the dark path to the now-silent house.

CHAPTER 84

Claire surfaces slowly from sleep. She opens her eyes to the diffuse sunlight creeping through the curtains and rolls slowly onto her back. Mia is sprawled next to her, limbs spread against the sheet. Half a leg dangles from the side of the bed. Although she makes no sound but the quietest in and out of breath, Claire can sense how deep Mia is in this slumber. This is good. She needs it.

Claire, though, is instantly awake and alive to this day. She decides to leave Mia here to sleep away this awful week for as long as she needs. Despite her exhaustion, Mia refused to go to sleep last night until they had made up all the lost, lustful ground of their week apart, and it was late by the time they finally gave way.

Determined not to rouse her now, Claire orders herself not to touch. But she can’t help it. It’s too tempting. So she pushes one light kiss into the space between Mia’s shoulder blades and eases herself gingerly from the bed. Mia’s only response is a small grunt, and to push her head under the pillow. Claire smiles as she throws on some clothes and picks up her towel and the little blue book on her dresser.

* * *

Showered and awake and with a coffee within reach, Claire lies across the old hammock and relishes the morning quiet. No one is awake, and the porch is all hers. She opens the little book and begins to read.

In every single summer before I turned twelve, three things would inevitably happen.

The first was that at least one of my sisters would fall in love with one of the lithe, beautiful European boys who would come to work summers at the farm next to ours. Over eight weeks, a parade of fevered teenage girls would wear restless trails with their love-struck feet through the crops, all the way from our fence line to the sheltered stand of trees where the boys camped in ragged tents and drank cider by firelight at the end of their days. My sisters would flock there every night, barefoot and enamoured, as I would too, later on.

The second thing that would happen was that my grandfather would get drunk. Wickedly, gleefully drunk. Only the once and always on solstice, as if the longest day of the year was just a little too long for his sanity. During that short night he would drink half a bottle of whiskey on the porch in his gardening overalls. Then in the throes of some comradely fit, he’d march across the sunburnt plank and sing union songs for a union he’d not been a part of for forty years, not since he left England and the factory on a boat to come here and grow oranges instead. He’d keep us all awake until my mother shouted into the night, and he’d subside into sleep on the old swing chair, his one-man, midsummer picket line over for another year.

And the third thing that would happen was that I would write a story. It would always come on one of those hot, restless days when, besieged by words, I’d hide in the old dairy with the dog or the cat. Using an old combine tire for a desk, I’d sit cross-legged on the cool stone in the dank quiet and write furiously—

Claire is pulled from her story by the sound of soft footfalls on wood. Dropping the book onto her stomach, she looks up. It’s Mia, all barefoot and sleepy-eyed, her hair a tangled mess. She blinks into the sunlight and smiles slowly at Claire.

Claire smiles right back, happy to see her even after this short parting of sleep. “I made coffee if you want some.”

Mia shakes her head and yawns widely. “Not yet. I was just looking for you.” She holds out her phone. “Your mum rang.”

Claire takes the phone and frowns at it. “What did she want?”

Mia shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t answer it.” She grins, her eyes half-closed. “I’m still a bit scared of her after that dinner.”

Claire laughs and pats the canvas next to her. “Come here.”

Mia crawls onto the hammock. She curls against Claire’s side as it swings gently under them, awakened by her presence, and rests her cheek on her arm.

Claire picks up Mia’s hand and kisses it. “Don’t be scared of Mum. She’s being all on board about us now. Complete Christine Pearson turnaround—lest anyone think she’s a total homophobe for not approving.” She grins. “Now she keeps asking when you’re coming over for dinner.”

Mia laughs. “Really? Wow. Well I’ll come for dinner whenever she wants.” She pulls her hand from Claire’s clutch and runs it over her stomach.

“I think now that she knows I’ve spent so much time with your parents, she’s getting competitive.”

Mia snickers. “So I have to make up for it in dinners at yours?”

“Yup.” Claire cranes her neck to kiss her and grins. “Ha, ha.”

Mia makes a face at her. “Well I can do that.” She jabs Claire in the belly. “But only if you promise not to drop any more bombshells in the middle of meals.”

Claire slaps her hand away. “Promise. I’ve got none left, anyway.”

“I’m sure you could come up with something if you wanted.” Mia turns onto her back and yawns widely.

Claire picks up her book again.

Mia nudges her shoulder with her chin “What are you reading?”

“It’s something Nina wrote.”

“Really?” She leans in closer, but Claire moves the book away.

“Sorry, I promised her I wouldn’t show anyone.”

“Oh, sure.” Mia immediately turns away. She shuts her eyes and throws an arm across her face.

Claire smiles, takes a hold of the hand lying on her stomach and goes back to the story.

As she finishes reading, Robbie pushes the screen door open and comes outside clutching a coffee. He grins at them as he walks past. “You two are ridiculously cute.”

“Shut up,” Claire tells him automatically.

“I will not. You make me happy.” He puts his coffee on the railing and pulls himself up on it. He stares at Claire and waves his feet in the air. “So can I tell her now?”

Claire shuts the book, tucks it against her side, and nods. “Tell her.”

Mia lifts her head. “Tell me what?” She looks worried.

Claire squeezes her hand. “It’s okay, it’s not bad.”

“Well…” Robbie grins. “You’ll have to live without me for a few months. That’s never a good thing.”

“What do you mean?” Mia sits up, and the hammock starts to swing. Claire puts her hand against the wall to steady it. “Stop freaking her out and just tell her,” she orders Robbie.

He smiles. “I got accepted to do a photography internship in New York for three months next semester. I leave in a few weeks.”

Mia’s mouth falls open. “New York. Wow. Robbie, that’s fantastic.”

“Well it’s not New York City, only New York state. But it’s not that far, either, so I’ll be able to go there whenever I want. And I’ll definitely spend some time in the city before I come back.”

Mia scrambles off the hammock, setting it off again. Seasick, Claire plants her foot on the ground and smiles as Mia launches herself at Robbie and enfolds him in a violent hug. “That’s so exciting. I’m so happy for you, Robbie.”

He grins and holds her tight. “You guys have to come and visit.”

Mia turns to Claire, her eyes gleaming with the possibility.

Claire nods and grins. “We should. On our semester break.”

Mia claps her hands together and skips a little on the spot. Then her face turns suddenly serious. “Hey, what about Eli?”

Robbie sighs and nods. “He’s okay about it. Just. He wasn’t at first. I mean, he’s excited for me, but he doesn’t want me to leave for so long.”

Mia nods. “That’s really hard for you guys.”

“It is. We talked about breaking up, and just seeing where we are when I get back. But neither of us really wants to split. So we’re going to try long distance. It’s only three months.”

Mia nods and smiles at him. “I’m glad. I love Eli,” she says as she gives him another hug. “Oh I’m going to miss you.”

“Me too.” He smiles at Claire over his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you both. So damn much.”

* * *

After lunch she finds Nina on the porch steps, sitting in the sunshine and dreaming.

Claire sits next to her and passes her the book. Nina cringes and takes it. She hunches her shoulders and gives Claire a look as if she dreads whatever is about to come.

Claire smiles at her and shakes her head. “Neen, it’s awesome. It’s funny and sweet and so you. I could see it all. You’re a really good writer.”

Nina’s face instantly lifts. She squints at Claire, clearly still slightly dubious. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Claire nudges her shoulder. “Send it in. You’ll get in, I know it.”

Nina grins. She draws in a deep, slow breath, sets her shoulders and then nods. “Okay. I will.”

Claire smiles at her. “Good.” And she means it. Nina is going to be a writer; she’s convinced of it now.

They don’t say anything for a moment.

“Thank you,” Nina finally says. “For saying it.”

“Neen, I’m not just saying it.” She nudges her again and smiles. “When am I ever nice for the sake of being nice?”

Nina laughs. “That’s sort of true.”

“So trust me. It’s awesome.”

Nina punches Claire in the arm.

“Ouch,” Claire grumbles, rubbing the spot. “Um, why?”

Nina shrugs and grins. “You don’t like being hugged; you get punched.” She says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Claire nods thoughtfully. Well, that’s reasonable, she guesses. “Okay then. Want to go for a swim?”

Nina nods. “Yup, I’ll get my stuff.”

* * *

Claire climbs out of the water and weaves around the bodies sprawled over the rocks on her way back to her spot.

As she shakes the lake from her hair, she catches Mia looking at her from behind her book. She meets Claire’s look with a coquettish stare and then does a slow up and down sweep of her body with her gaze. Claire gives her a playfully disapproving look in return. Mia grins and returns to her book, unperturbed.

Claire drops onto the rug next to her and pulls her towel around her head and shoulders to shield herself from the sun. She jabs Mia’s leg with her toe. “You’ve seen me naked thousands of times by now.” She says it quietly, so no one else can hear. She looks down at her relatively demure bikini. “How can this be even remotely exciting, Mia?”

Mia snickers and puts her book down on the rock. “Precisely because I’ve seen you naked a thousand times, Claire. I’m a scientist, I lack imagination, but because I have evidence, I know I like what’s under there.”

Claire shakes her head. “You’re an idiot.”

Mia shrugs and rolls onto her back, her long brown frame exposed to the sun.

“And a creep.”

“I know,” says Mia, matter of fact.

Claire grins, pulls her towel over their heads, and steals a quick kiss.

“You know that just makes you even more obvious, right?”

Scowling, Claire extracts her head from under the towel. Eli chomps on an apple and grins at her.

She narrows her eyes at him. “Shut up, Eli.”

He shakes his head and turns to Mia, swallowing his mouthful of apple. “Does she always tell you to shut up?”

Mia sighs and grins, not even looking away from the pages of her book. “She tells everyone to shut up all the time. Well, people she likes, anyway. You just have to learn to consider it an endearment.”

Claire pouts and gives Mia a small slap on the leg.

Mia looks over her book at Eli again. “And if she starts to smack you around, you know she really likes you.”

Eli guffaws and takes another bite of his apple, nodding slowly. “So…kind of like an eight-year-old boy?”

Mia grins. “Yup, there’s even hair pulling.”

And it’s all Claire can do to resist smacking her again.

CHAPTER 85

Robbie passes around the plates of homemade pizzas he and Eli concocted in the kitchen. “Right, my turn. Where do you see yourself five years from now?” He points at Nan. “Go.”

Nan passes one of the bottles of wine across to Claire. “Travelling the world as a foreign correspondent for The Guardian. Or I’m willing to accept Al Jazeera as long as I don’t get thrown in jail.” She points at Pete.

He pulls a long string of cheese from his slice and lets it drops into his mouth. “I’ll be working as a doctor on an island somewhere where I can do general practice all day and surf morning and night.”

Mia laughs. “Your life sounds like a Mathew McConaughey movie. Or at least a plot for a romantic comedy.”

Pete laughs. “And I’m totally okay with that. What about you, Mee?”

Mia smiles and sips her beer. “I’ll probably be in some dark, disinfected little lab putting bodies back together, measuring stab wounds, training and hoping for a job.”

Robbie shakes his head. “For the sanest person I know, you have the weirdest, grossest hobbies.”

Mia laughs and turns to the other end of the table. “Eli?”

“I’ll probably be finishing my thesis and praying to get a job as a history professor somewhere.” He grins. “Or on Broadway. Preferably in Dirty Dancing.”

Robbie laughs. “Of course, obvious fallback. Well I want to be doing exactly what I’m doing now, but maybe actually making some money out of my work.”

“You will,” Nina tells him. “You’re amazing.”

“What about you, Neen?” he asks as he takes another slice of pizza.

“By then I’ll be editing the third book in a series that’s going to make as much, if not more, money than the Hunger Games, Twilight, and Harry Potter put together.”

Mia laughs. “Good idea, start small.”

Nina nudges Claire. “Pearson? What about you?”

Claire stares at her pizza slice. “Well by then I’ll probably be a social worker.” She says it slowly, still not quite believing it.

Nina slaps her leg. “You’ve decided? You’re really going to do it?”

Claire nods. “I think so.”

Robbie frowns. “Does that mean you’re always going to be saving the kids, and be too busy to play with us?”

“Remember, Robbie? You’re Melbourne’s neediest kid. I’ll always find time for you.”

He laughs. “Good!”

* * *

The living room has exploded into a dance floor.

Dan arrived after dinner, and he and Eli are playing the cheesiest songs they can find from the fairly terrible selection of CDs in the living room cabinet. They’ve turned the lights down and the volume up. Nan and Mia and Nina whoop it up on the rug, dancing their hearts out, while Pete pours yet another row of shots on the coffee table.

Claire is pretty drunk. The good kind of drunk.

She leans back in her seat at the table, crosses one leg over another, and elbows Robbie hard in the side.

Robbie leans toward her, frowning. “What?”

“See that girl over there?” She points to where Mia stands at the edge of the makeshift dance floor, holding on to Pete’s arm and laughing. “See that hot, amazing genius girl over there? With all the legs?”

Robbie laughs and swigs his beer. “Yeah, Claire, I see her.”

“That’s my girlfriend,” she tells him, disbelievingly, as she watches Pete grab an empty shot glass out of Mia’s hand and haul her onto the dance floor. “And you know, I don’t know too much about girlfriends, being that I’ve never had one before.” She jabs her finger in Mia’s general direction again. “But I’m pretty sure mine is the best one.”

Robbie chortles loudly and pats her slowly on the back. “Well Claire, I don’t know too much about girlfriends either, but yeah, I think you probably got the best one.”

Claire nods. She already knows she’s right. “I gotta go tell her,” she says decisively as she puts down her beer and lurches out of her seat.

She doesn’t, but she does dance with her. Like there’s no tomorrow.

CHAPTER 86

They take one last swim in the bright mid-morning sun. Hungover but happy, they dawdle, jumping in for just one last swim, climbing out for just one last sunbake. And then they do it all over again. Behind them, across the water, the house is relatively clean and bags are packed.

Just like last time, no one is in a hurry to re-join the real world. In fact, Claire and Mia aren’t even planning to. They’ll spend one more night here alone before they return to Melbourne and the start of school and new courses and jobs. Claire wants to hold real life in abeyance for one more blissful night to fortify them against whatever is coming next.

Nina kicks her feet in the water below the diving platform and moans loudly. “Boys, don’t leave us like this. Two of you are deserting us now.”

Robbie told the others about New York this morning, and Nina is not happy.

Mia laughs on Claire’s other side. “You make it sound as if they’re going off to war and we might never see them again.”

“It feels like that,” Nina says, dramatic as always.

“I’ll be back in three months,” Robbie tells her. “And you guys can come visit in New York!”

“And I’ll be back then too, for the semester break, to see my family and everyone,” Pete adds before he turns a flip in the water.

“And maybe we can come back here?” Robbie suggests, looking over at Claire.

She nods. “For sure. Reunion.”

“Hey.” Nina claps her hands loudly. “Do that synchronised swimming routine for us again,” she tells the boys. “From last time. The others haven’t seen it.”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” Eli says, laughing.

“It is,” Robbie agrees and grins. He turns to Pete. “Do you remember it?”

Pete shakes the water from his hair and laughs. “I think so.”

“Oh this I’ve got to see,” Nan says and sits on the edge of the platform.

“Go on!” Nina screeches.

“Yes, encore please!” Mia calls, letting out a loud whistle.

As the boys remind each other of the routine, Claire turns to Mia. She’s already looking at Claire. Her wet hair hangs messily around her face, and her eyes shine as bright as her smile. Basking in its light, Claire tugs gently at a strand of hair and presses a quick kiss on her lips. Mia smiles even wider and turns back to the scene, her hand resting on Claire’s thigh.

“Okay, are you ready?” Robbie hollers as the boys strike their theatrical starting pose.

“Oh we’re ready,” Claire assures them, laughing. She settles against the sunbaked ladder with the breeze on her face and the sweet, covetous touch of Mia’s hand on her leg. And, determined to hold onto this simple yet radiant moment, she seals it into a tiny capsule in her mind and tenderly stores it away.

This. All of this.

###

About Emily O’Beirne

Thirteen-year-old Emily woke up one morning with a sudden itch to write her first novel. All day, she sat through her classes, feverishly scribbling away (her rare silence probably a cherished respite for her teachers). And by the time the last bell rang, she had penned fifteen handwritten pages of angsty drivel, replete with blood-red sunsets, moody saxophone music playing somewhere far off in the night, and abandoned whiskey bottles rolling across tables. Needless to say, that singular literary accomplishment is buried in a box somewhere, ready for her later amusement.

From Melbourne, Australia, Emily was recently granted her PhD. She works part-time in academia, where she hates marking papers but loves working with her students. She also loves where she lives but travels as much as possible and tends to harbour crushes on cities more than on people.

Connect with Emily online:

Website: www.emilyobeirne.com

Tumblr: http://it-used-to-be-fun.tumblr.com/

Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/goodreads-Emily-O-Beirne

Other Books from Ylva Publishing

www.ylva-publishing.com

A Story of Now

(A Story of Now Series – Book #1)

Emily O’Beirne

ISBN: 978-3-95533-346-1 (mobi), 978-3-95533-347-8 (epub)

Length: 128,000 (words367 pages)

Nineteen-year-old Claire Pearson knows she needs a life. And some new friends.

But brittle, beautiful, and just a little bit too sassy for her own good sometimes, she no longer makes friends easily. And she has no clue where to start on the whole finding a life front, either. Not after a confidence-shattering year dogged by bad break-ups, friends who have become strangers, and her constant failure to meet her parents sky-high expectations.

When Robbie and Mia walk into Claire’s work they seem the least likely people to help her find a life. But despite Claire’s initial attempts to alienate them, an unexpected new friendship develops.

And it’s the warm, brilliant Mia who seems to get Claire like no one has before. Soon, Claire begins to question her feelings for her new friend.

The Light of the World

Ellen Simpson

ISBN: 978-3-95533-508-3 (mobi), 978-3-95533-509-0 (epub)

Length: 107,000 words (357 pages)

At the back of her grandmother’s closet lies a mystery. After her grandmother’s death, Eva finds a series of diaries detailing the life of a girl caught up in the magic of the Roaring Twenties. She cannot reconcile the young woman in these diaries with the miserable old woman she loved so fiercely. What happened to change her grandmother so drastically? Eva is desperate to know more about this period in her grandmother’s life. What is the light of the world, and who is the mysterious girl that her grandmother fell in love with?

Eva starts to investigate the puzzle her grandmother left behind. With the help of a local historian and his enigmatic assistant Olivia, they find a forgotten labyrinth under the city streets. But they are not the only ones down there. Someone else is searching for the light of the world.

Coming from Ylva Publishing

www.ylva-publishing.com

Stowe Away

Blythe Rippon

Samantha Latham is a little socially awkward and a lot brilliant. When she arrives at Yale, thrilled to finally escape her rural Vermont hometown called Stowe, the focused and driven Sam knows exactly what she wants: an illustrious career as a medical researcher and a relationship with her new best friend Natalie, a talented yet capricious girl who keeps Sam guessing.

Everything changes when Sam must suddenly withdraw from school to care for her invalid mother back in Vermont. Moving back to Stowe means no more brilliant career in medicine, and definitely no more Natalie. As she finds herself alone, faced with a life she never wanted, Sam slowly learns to recalibrate what she considers success, discovering the artistic side of Stowe, a community of lesbians she never imagined existed there, and a new woman who inspires Sam to rethink everything she thought she knew—especially about love.

Fragile

Eve Francis

At twenty-four, college graduate Carly Rogers finds herself still living with her cold and distant mother and her teenage half-sister, Cynthia. As Carly moves from one minimum wage job to another, she reads books alone in her room, reconnects with her best friend, Landon, and takes care of her great aunt Dorothy on the weekends. Her life is quiet and nonthreatening – until she meets Ashley at her new job.

Ashley is a fun, energetic, and intelligent woman who has been forced to leave her old life behind due to a medical condition. Through work, and the start of their own book club, each shares her past and her hopes for the future. When change comes, Carly is forced to make a decision. Does she stay where she thought she always belonged, or strive for something better? Is it possible for her and Ashley to build a new life without feeling like the fragile creatures everyone thinks they are?

The Sum of These Things

© by Emily O’Beirne

ISBN (mobi): 978-3-95533-472-7

ISBN (epub): 978-3-95533-473-4

Also available as paperback.

Published by Ylva Publishing, legal entity of Ylva Verlag, e.Kfr.

Ylva Verlag, e.Kfr.

Owner: Astrid Ohletz

Am Kirschgarten 2

65830 Kriftel

Germany

www.ylva-publishing.com

First edition: December 2015

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

Credits

Edited by Sheri Milburn

Cover Design by Streetlight Graphics