pants.
Sorry everyone, said Hannah; I’m sure I had a happier one there somewhere but that
was the one that came out. Lauren and Hannah went into the kitchen. Adam? said Leon,
from the couch. Adam was staring at his hands. Marshall’s down there now, said Evan;
he’s trying to talk her in. She’s weird, that kid. Evan sat down. I feel like getting
absolutely shit-faced tonight: no reason, I just do.
Lauren and Hannah returned, each carrying a tray. One had little bowls and spoons
on it, the other the dish of tiramisu with a serving spoon sticking out. They put
them both on the table. Tea? Coffee? said Hannah. More wine! said Evan, and everyone
except Megan laughed.
Marshall came back up the stairs. He stood there, not moving. She said she won’t
sleep in the same room as me, he said. Jesus they grow up fast. She can sleep in
our room, said Lauren; Adam can go on the couch. You can try, said Marshall. She’s
upset, said Megan. Lauren stood up. Maybe I should go down and see? There was a pause.
Sure, said Marshall. Lauren went down. Tiramisu! said Marshall, picking up one of
the little bowls. Everyone, come on, this looks great: tiramisu! They all began helping
themselves to the dessert.
Evan came back from the kitchen with another bottle of wine and a fresh San Pellegrino
for Leon. The uncle’s cottage, he said, I think I know where that is. You sit on
that property another five years, a bit of maintenance, keep the grass down, pay
the rates and you’d get four hundred grand minimum, and that’s on a bad day. The
coast here’s stuffed; that’s pristine property out that way.
Lauren had come back up the stairs. She wants to sleep in the car, she said. I’ve
given her a couple of blankets, she can use the toilet downstairs. I’m going to make
her a toasted-cheese sandwich. She hesitated, waiting for Marshall’s objection. He
had a spoonful of tiramisu. Lauren went into the kitchen. They all listened to her
opening the cupboard, taking out the sandwich press, opening and closing the fridge.
I think I might hit the sack, said Megan. Me too, said Hannah. Me three, said Leon.
I might stay up for a bit, said Adam. I’ll be there soon, said Evan, giving himself
a splash of wine. There’s sheets and blankets downstairs, said Megan, goodnight.
Night all, said Leon. That was good, wasn’t it? said Hannah. They went off to bed.
All right, said Marshall, and he sculled his glass. Lauren came back out of the kitchen
with a toasted sandwich and went downstairs again. Marshall wasn’t sure what to do.
All right, he said, go easy men.
They listened to his footsteps going down. Adam? said Evan, holding out the bottle.
Half, said Adam. Lauren came back up. Close the fire door, she said, and she walked
down the hallway to the bedroom. Adam gave her a late salute.
I think you’re right about having themes, he said, pushing a couple more logs into
the fire and closing the door. I should go too, said Evan. Megan’s going to give
it to me otherwise. Adam took his wine outside.
The balcony was new, architect-designed (Evan was right, the house was a hotchpotch
of old and new). There was a barbecue with a rain cover to one side and an outdoor
dining setting with an umbrella folded down on the other. A hardwood handrail, with
seven tensioned steel cables beneath. Adam walked to where the apex pointed at the
sea. The night was still. There were no stars. A moonglow shimmered on the water.
A white gull, lost-looking, flew low across the patch of light and off again into
the dark. He could see the shape of a suit jacket against the back window of Marshall’s
car and a silver light inside. It took him a while to realise it was the glow from
Tilly’s phone.
When he came back in, Evan was still on the couch. I thought you were going to bed?
Fuck it, said Evan. Is she asleep? Adam shrugged. That balcony, he said, I tell you—twenty,
thirty years of sea air man and, bang, down she comes. It’s built all wrong. Concrete
cancer.
Sorry everyone, said Hannah; I’m sure I had a happier one there somewhere but that
was the one that came out. Lauren and Hannah went into the kitchen. Adam? said Leon,
from the couch. Adam was staring at his hands. Marshall’s down there now, said Evan;
he’s trying to talk her in. She’s weird, that kid. Evan sat down. I feel like getting
absolutely shit-faced tonight: no reason, I just do.
Lauren and Hannah returned, each carrying a tray. One had little bowls and spoons
on it, the other the dish of tiramisu with a serving spoon sticking out. They put
them both on the table. Tea? Coffee? said Hannah. More wine! said Evan, and everyone
except Megan laughed.
Marshall came back up the stairs. He stood there, not moving. She said she won’t
sleep in the same room as me, he said. Jesus they grow up fast. She can sleep in
our room, said Lauren; Adam can go on the couch. You can try, said Marshall. She’s
upset, said Megan. Lauren stood up. Maybe I should go down and see? There was a pause.
Sure, said Marshall. Lauren went down. Tiramisu! said Marshall, picking up one of
the little bowls. Everyone, come on, this looks great: tiramisu! They all began helping
themselves to the dessert.
Evan came back from the kitchen with another bottle of wine and a fresh San Pellegrino
for Leon. The uncle’s cottage, he said, I think I know where that is. You sit on
that property another five years, a bit of maintenance, keep the grass down, pay
the rates and you’d get four hundred grand minimum, and that’s on a bad day. The
coast here’s stuffed; that’s pristine property out that way.
Lauren had come back up the stairs. She wants to sleep in the car, she said. I’ve
given her a couple of blankets, she can use the toilet downstairs. I’m going to make
her a toasted-cheese sandwich. She hesitated, waiting for Marshall’s objection. He
had a spoonful of tiramisu. Lauren went into the kitchen. They all listened to her
opening the cupboard, taking out the sandwich press, opening and closing the fridge.
I think I might hit the sack, said Megan. Me too, said Hannah. Me three, said Leon.
I might stay up for a bit, said Adam. I’ll be there soon, said Evan, giving himself
a splash of wine. There’s sheets and blankets downstairs, said Megan, goodnight.
Night all, said Leon. That was good, wasn’t it? said Hannah. They went off to bed.
All right, said Marshall, and he sculled his glass. Lauren came back out of the kitchen
with a toasted sandwich and went downstairs again. Marshall wasn’t sure what to do.
All right, he said, go easy men.
They listened to his footsteps going down. Adam? said Evan, holding out the bottle.
Half, said Adam. Lauren came back up. Close the fire door, she said, and she walked
down the hallway to the bedroom. Adam gave her a late salute.
I think you’re right about having themes, he said, pushing a couple more logs into
the fire and closing the door. I should go too, said Evan. Megan’s going to give
it to me otherwise. Adam took his wine outside.
The balcony was new, architect-designed (Evan was right, the house was a hotchpotch
of old and new). There was a barbecue with a rain cover to one side and an outdoor
dining setting with an umbrella folded down on the other. A hardwood handrail, with
seven tensioned steel cables beneath. Adam walked to where the apex pointed at the
sea. The night was still. There were no stars. A moonglow shimmered on the water.
A white gull, lost-looking, flew low across the patch of light and off again into
the dark. He could see the shape of a suit jacket against the back window of Marshall’s
car and a silver light inside. It took him a while to realise it was the glow from
Tilly’s phone.
When he came back in, Evan was still on the couch. I thought you were going to bed?
Fuck it, said Evan. Is she asleep? Adam shrugged. That balcony, he said, I tell you—twenty,
thirty years of sea air man and, bang, down she comes. It’s built all wrong. Concrete
cancer.
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