Married?”
“ To
my job, Tess. To my job.”
“ Only
because it’s not yet legal for a man to marry his calculator,”
laughed Harley.
Trig sighed. “Harry,
Harry. How many times do I have to tell you we don’t use
calculators? You might as well make that joke about an abacus. It’s
just as funny, trust me.”
And so the evening went
through the three courses that I wolfed down. I asked them
questions, and they answered in between bickering and laughing with
each other. It was a better way to spend an evening than eating
crackers with peanut butter and watching the news by myself. But I
suspected if I had to spend longer with them, I’d run out of
questions and be back to socially inadequate, silent Tess with them
yet again.
After dinner, they
walked me to my car, eyebrows rising when they set eyes on the
battered hulk. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but it still got me from A
to B, so I couldn’t complain, though I wasn’t confident it would
ever make it to C.
“ Thanks for the evening, guys. Nice to meet you,” I said, sure
about the first statement, rather equivocal about the second. “Safe
trip back to the city tomorrow.”
“ Tess,” said Harley, suddenly launching himself on
me.
I arched back
instinctively, pulling out my knife and holding it to his belly.
“Get away from me!”
Both men reared back in
fright.
“ Fuck,” said Trig under his breath, eyes wide.
“ I
only wanted to hug you goodbye,” explained a shaken
Harley.
My breathing ragged
with adrenaline, I resheathed the knife I always carried on my
thigh, hidden under my dress, or worn with my uniform these days.
“Don’t ever do that to me. Just . . . don’t.”
Hugely upset by my
social blunder, I threw myself into my Rover and screeched off on
to the highway without another word. I didn’t dare look in the rear
view mirror at the shocked men I’d left standing in the pub
carpark.
I blinked away tears
all the way home.
Will I ever be
normal? I asked myself.
How could you? I
answered myself, a stray tear finding its way down my cheek. I
swiped it away in anger and slammed my foot down on the accelerator
until the poor vehicle was screeching and shuddering in pain.
Safe home, I pushed my
face into my pillow and screamed, but not loud enough for Dad to
hear.
Abe was right – I was a
mess.
Chapter 5
That night I
dreamed.
I was at a banquet as
the guest of honour, a proud and unexpected privilege in my life. I
didn’t really know the hosts, so was surprised that I’d so
willingly agreed to attend. The invitation had come addressed to me
in florally flowing script on a beautiful stiff lilac card; the
invitees calling themselves Friends of a Friend. I’d been flattered
to receive that invitation in the mail, never expecting a small
town cop such as me, doing nothing more exciting than investigating
missing sheep, to attend such a high society function.
I dressed accordingly
in my best dress and best shoes, my hair and makeup done as well as
I could do them. I drove to the function, not in my elderly Land
Rover, but in a beautiful midnight-blue BMW, a car I’d wanted to
drive forever. I slid into the driver’s seat with a sigh of
happiness. Listening to the purr of the engine, I wanted to purr
along with it.
When I entered the
hall, I was treated like a princess, people gushing over me no
matter where I turned. Then I met my hosts. One was tall and
ginger-haired, the other blond and compact, showing me his wedding
ring. A shadow lurked behind them, but they began to speak before I
could investigate who it was.
“ Do
we have a treat for you tonight,” promised the gingery
one.
“ Look
at my wedding ring. I’m so happy,” smiled the other.
I took a step back
from them. “Who are you people? I don’t know you.”
“ Sure
you do,” said the gingery one. “And we did say we were friends of a
friend. He’s told us a lot about you. And this is our
friend.”
The last man stepped
out from the
“ To
my job, Tess. To my job.”
“ Only
because it’s not yet legal for a man to marry his calculator,”
laughed Harley.
Trig sighed. “Harry,
Harry. How many times do I have to tell you we don’t use
calculators? You might as well make that joke about an abacus. It’s
just as funny, trust me.”
And so the evening went
through the three courses that I wolfed down. I asked them
questions, and they answered in between bickering and laughing with
each other. It was a better way to spend an evening than eating
crackers with peanut butter and watching the news by myself. But I
suspected if I had to spend longer with them, I’d run out of
questions and be back to socially inadequate, silent Tess with them
yet again.
After dinner, they
walked me to my car, eyebrows rising when they set eyes on the
battered hulk. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but it still got me from A
to B, so I couldn’t complain, though I wasn’t confident it would
ever make it to C.
“ Thanks for the evening, guys. Nice to meet you,” I said, sure
about the first statement, rather equivocal about the second. “Safe
trip back to the city tomorrow.”
“ Tess,” said Harley, suddenly launching himself on
me.
I arched back
instinctively, pulling out my knife and holding it to his belly.
“Get away from me!”
Both men reared back in
fright.
“ Fuck,” said Trig under his breath, eyes wide.
“ I
only wanted to hug you goodbye,” explained a shaken
Harley.
My breathing ragged
with adrenaline, I resheathed the knife I always carried on my
thigh, hidden under my dress, or worn with my uniform these days.
“Don’t ever do that to me. Just . . . don’t.”
Hugely upset by my
social blunder, I threw myself into my Rover and screeched off on
to the highway without another word. I didn’t dare look in the rear
view mirror at the shocked men I’d left standing in the pub
carpark.
I blinked away tears
all the way home.
Will I ever be
normal? I asked myself.
How could you? I
answered myself, a stray tear finding its way down my cheek. I
swiped it away in anger and slammed my foot down on the accelerator
until the poor vehicle was screeching and shuddering in pain.
Safe home, I pushed my
face into my pillow and screamed, but not loud enough for Dad to
hear.
Abe was right – I was a
mess.
Chapter 5
That night I
dreamed.
I was at a banquet as
the guest of honour, a proud and unexpected privilege in my life. I
didn’t really know the hosts, so was surprised that I’d so
willingly agreed to attend. The invitation had come addressed to me
in florally flowing script on a beautiful stiff lilac card; the
invitees calling themselves Friends of a Friend. I’d been flattered
to receive that invitation in the mail, never expecting a small
town cop such as me, doing nothing more exciting than investigating
missing sheep, to attend such a high society function.
I dressed accordingly
in my best dress and best shoes, my hair and makeup done as well as
I could do them. I drove to the function, not in my elderly Land
Rover, but in a beautiful midnight-blue BMW, a car I’d wanted to
drive forever. I slid into the driver’s seat with a sigh of
happiness. Listening to the purr of the engine, I wanted to purr
along with it.
When I entered the
hall, I was treated like a princess, people gushing over me no
matter where I turned. Then I met my hosts. One was tall and
ginger-haired, the other blond and compact, showing me his wedding
ring. A shadow lurked behind them, but they began to speak before I
could investigate who it was.
“ Do
we have a treat for you tonight,” promised the gingery
one.
“ Look
at my wedding ring. I’m so happy,” smiled the other.
I took a step back
from them. “Who are you people? I don’t know you.”
“ Sure
you do,” said the gingery one. “And we did say we were friends of a
friend. He’s told us a lot about you. And this is our
friend.”
The last man stepped
out from the
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