She spun in a circle to show him, faintly aware that she was deliberately being cute and charming.
The plan was to ride up on Charlie’s bike to watch the start of the Sydney to Hobart.
The other plan, Lyn’s plan, was for Gemma to ascertain whether Dan was having an affair with Angela. “Just find out what’s going on,” said Lyn. “But don’t break it off. She’s got no right to ask that.”
Charlie stood back and surveyed her.
“I’m overwhelmed by your jauntiness. I’m also overwhelmed by the fact that you think you’re coming on the bike wearing those shorts.”
Gemma looked down at her bare legs. “Oh.”
“Sorry. Not prepared to risk those very sexy legs.”
She lifted one leg and pointed her sneakered toe like a ballet dancer. “We’re vain about our legs. We got them from Mum.”
“We?” Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Is this like the royal we?”
“My sisters.”
“To be honest I’m only interested in your legs—not your sisters’.”
“Speaking of sisters—”
His tone changed. “Let’s not.”
“Our worlds collide.”
“Yes.”
“This is a bit awkward.” Gemma clutched the straps of her jaunty backpack.
“Oh well. Let’s talk about something less awkward.”
“Cat wants me to break up with you.”
Charlie became very still.
“Cat was the one who stormed off? She’s Dan’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to break up? Because don’t just use this—this thing—as an excuse. If you want to finish it, finish it.”
“No. I don’t want to finish it. It’s nice. I like your eyelashes.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Good.” He smiled. “I like your legs.”
“Is Angela having an affair with Dan?”
Charlie scrunched up his face in comical pain. “I really don’t want to do this conversation. Can’t we just go have a nice picnic and forget about our siblings?”
“We really have to do it.” A pleasing touch of Lyn-type authority.
He sighed. “We didn’t talk about it much because to be honest I didn’t want to hear. Even though it was obvious something very strange was going on in that kitchen. But yes, she did have something going with him. I don’t know how many times they saw each other. But he definitely ended it when his wife, your sister, got pregnant.”
His wife. Cat was someone’s wife who got pregnant. Gemma could see Cat sitting on the bathroom floor, looking up at her, pretending so hard not to care about the results of the pregnancy test—and visibly trembling. She was shaking all over, and she didn’t even seem aware of it. And now Dan had put her in a situation where she was described as the wife who got pregnant.
That slimy scoundrel.
“She swears that it’s definitely over,” continued Charlie. “I believe her. She doesn’t want to break up a marriage.”
Gemma didn’t say anything. She was busy punching Dan in the stomach.
“I thought about giving her a Chinese Burn,” offered Charlie.
“Humph.”
“If it makes you feel better, she’s really upset about the whole thing.”
“She’s upset!”
“Jeez.” Charlie held up his palms in surrender. “I know. Look, the real offender here is Dan the Man. I didn’t like him the moment I saw him.”
“Didn’t you?” asked Gemma, momentarily diverted.
“Nope. Arrogant prick.”
“Are you absolutely positive it’s over?”
“Positive.”
“Absolutely positive?”
“Absolutely. Look. It doesn’t need to come between us, does it?”
“No.”
Jesus, Mary—and Cat—willing.
“Because I think we could be good.” He wound his fingers around the straps of her backpack and jiggled her back and forth.
“Do you?” There was that melting-caramel feeling again.
“Oooh yeah. I think we could really go places…Like North Head, for example. Like right now.”
“Let’s go then.”
“Oh.” Charlie stopped as he went to pick up the two helmets from the hallway. “One thing I wanted to ask you.”
“Yes?”
“Angie said she remembers seeing the three of you outside her flat. You’re not planning on stalking her, are you?”
Gemma felt the tips of her ears become mildly warm. “That was a one-off.”
“Good. Because she’s still my little sister. Even if she does stupid things.”
“Well. Yes.” A spark of embarrassed resentment.
She wore a pair of Charlie’s jeans for the ride up to North Head. At each set of lights he put one hand back and caressed her leg. She squeezed her thighs around his hips and the top of her helmet clunked romantically against his. At North Head they found a space among the crowds for their blanket and cheered as the ocean became a frothy highway of busily zigzagging yachts, their sails blossoming in the breeze.
“Doesn’t get better than this, does it?” said a man sitting next to them.
“Well, it could do,” began Gemma thoughtfully.
“No, mate, it doesn’t,” interrupted Charlie, and he put his hand across her mouth, like an elder brother. She’d always dreamed—somewhat incestuously—of a lovely, protective, bossy older brother.
Once the boats had disappeared off the horizon, they went for a snorkel on Shelley Beach. It was a glimmery, hazy hot day and the water was dappled green. They saw darting shoals of tiny, iridescent fish and sleepy cod slithering mysteriously in and out of rocky hiding places. The rhythmic kick of Charlie’s flippers created clouds of translucent bubbles and Gemma thought, At this particular moment, I am entirely happy. She felt his hand on her shoulder and lifted her head and trod water. He pulled his snorkel from his mouth and pointed downward, his animated face squashed by his mask, like a ten-year-old. “Giant stingray!” Then he shoved his snorkel back into his mouth and dived down deep to see it. Gemma followed him and swallowed a gigantic mouthful of salt water when she saw the size of the alien creature flapping its way along the sandy bottom.