The Last Days of Us Page 6

  We pick our way over the rubble until we’re in the biggest room. There’s no roof left above, and the only hint there ever was one are the remains of a thick wooden beam and a pile of shattered glass that might have once been an intricate light fitting. I shield my eyes from the glare of the pale summer sky and rest my other hand on the broken stone wall. Warmed by the sun, it feels almost alive, and I can imagine the generations who lived here before it was left to go to ruin. ‘I bet this place was amazing once,’ I murmur.

  ‘It will be again.’ His gaze is far away, as though he’s seeing the house both as it once was and how it will be when its restoration is complete.

  ‘But it won’t be the same.’ I don’t know why, but the realisation brings a lump to my throat. I breathe deeply, inhaling the scent of nearby gum trees.

  ‘Change isn’t the enemy.’ His voice is low, and when I look up, he’s standing right in front of me, so tall and broad it’s hard to focus on anything else.

  ‘But what if everything was perfect before?’ I think of that summer with Finn and my family all together. Back then I could sleep, and I still believed in happily-ever-afters. ‘What if it just ends up ruined?’

  He turns back to the house. ‘Before, as beautiful as it was, it would have been dark inside, and a little dingy. The old design didn’t let anyone see beyond the heavy walls into the brilliant scenery right on its doorstep. It was a waste. Keeping the old and incorporating some new will make for an even better house.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘Because it’s better to learn from the mistakes of the past than to repeat them like a dumbass.’

  Now he’s not looking at the house. His eyes are on me and it’s hard not to look away. If he’s trying to tell me I’m repeating a mistake, he’s wrong. I’ve learned my lesson from the past. I should never have screwed things up with Finn.

  But I don’t want to explain that to him. He already thinks he knows me. Just because I’ve seen him being human for a while doesn’t mean we’re friends.

  ‘We’d better get back,’ I say.

  Despite everything, part of me wants him to argue. Because for just a little while I’ve been able to forget about Finn and the road trip, and the distraction has even dulled the constant ache in my chest.

  ‘We should,’ he agrees.

  Hoping my disappointment doesn’t show, I lead the way back towards the front door. Beneath my feet, the piles of rock shift and move. I balance carefully, managing to keep my feet and hoping I don’t look too uncoordinated.

  But then I stumble. Gravel slips and something below my feet moves, and suddenly I’m falling.

  I put out my hands, bracing for the inevitable landing. I’ve fallen a few times lately, thanks to late nights and rainbow drinks, and consider myself quite experienced on the subject. But this time I’m sober, and the ground is covered in broken rock. This one is going to hurt.

  Hands around my waist stop me, but my heart doesn’t seem to realise, and it lurches forward in my chest.

  ‘Gotcha,’ says Luc.

  I try for a crack about him sounding like he just caught a fish, but the words don’t come. In fact, my voice doesn’t work at all. And my heart, well, it might as well have bounced up off the rocks the way it’s hammering against my ribs.

  From the fright. It has to be.

  But I’m standing upright now and he’s still holding me and I can’t make my legs move to step away. Nor can I remember why I’d want to.

  ‘Are you okay?’ His question holds a hint of the care he shows his sister and that’s what gets me moving at last.

  I don’t want his pity.

  ‘Fine,’ I squeak. ‘Thanks.’

  I don’t look back as his hands leave my waist, but my skin is alight, like he’s left an impression there, just above my hips. My whole focus now is behind me. If I turned around, would I see something different in his usually closed expression? Some indicator that I’m not alone in my belly-flip reaction to his touch?

  I step forward, heading back towards the van and the others. I don’t want to know.

  ‘See,’ he says, so softly I fight the urge to move closer again. ‘There’s no point trying to build anything on crumbling foundations.’

  The walk back doesn’t take long.

  Luc and I get back to the van just as the mechanic pulls up. As the cloud of dust stirred up by the battered white van settles, a girl not much older than us climbs out. She jumps to the ground, pulling her baseball cap low over her eyes to shield her face from the blazing sun. Grease stains her overalls and she’s wearing a tiny white tank underneath.

  ‘You kids got a problem with the van?’ she asks.

  I see the boys share a look, and Luc reverts back to the guy who seems to exist solely to make my teeth grind together.

  ‘I bet she’s a whole lot better with engines than you two,’ I mutter.

  Luc lifts an eyebrow. ‘Now who’s making assumptions?’

  ‘I saw that look.’

  ‘And decided you knew what it meant.’

  Finn’s moved forward to talk to the mechanic. Part of me hears her low, husky voice telling him she’ll take a look, but the rest of me is working on ways to wipe the smug expression from Luc’s face.

  Except now I’m not so sure. I thought their look was saying that she wouldn’t be any good because she wasn’t some old guy with a moustache and fifty years’ experience.

  ‘I thought . . .’

  ‘What? That we figured she’d be no good because she’s female?’

  Hearing him say it aloud makes me feel stupid. But it’s not like my impression came from nowhere. ‘Finn’s said stuff like that before.’ It always used to annoy me. He has pretty old-fashioned ideas about what girls are likely to be good at. He nearly fell over the time I changed my own tyre. Well, technically it was Cass and me. I stifle a smile at the memory of the two of us covered in grease and jubilant, rewarding ourselves with waffles afterwards. I can’t remember the last time Cass and I did anything like that.

  ‘And you decided you could judge me?’ Luc presses.

  ‘I don’t know.’ How can I explain the relief of being able to go back to thinking badly of him? It’s easier than trying to work out how I feel about the Luc I talked to at the house. Ultimately, my reasons don’t matter. I judged him unfairly. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He gives me a long, assessing look. ‘Not every guy is like your ex.’

  ‘I know.’

  I know that fact painfully well. Nobody else is like Finn.

  * * *

  Thanks to the mechanic, we’re back on the road within twenty minutes. It’s my turn to drive, and no-one seems in a hurry to talk at first.

  ‘Really?’ Luc’s question comes out of nowhere, and should make no sense. Except it’s so heavily loaded with amusement, it’s impossible not to look to Finn for his reaction.

  Finn pretends he doesn’t know what his cousin is talking about.

  A glance over my shoulder shows him staring at his phone as though what’s on the screen could save his life. But the truth is reflected in the colour of his cheeks.

  Luc doesn’t seem to be in the mood to let it go. ‘Petrol? Really?’

  Something hits Luc’s head. He pulls the wad of paper from his hair and throws it back at Jolie.

  ‘What was that for?’

  ‘Leave Finn alone,’ she says. ‘He seems to be suffering sunburn. He must have stood out there staring blankly at the engine for too long.’

  Luc snorts.

  I smile at the teasing happening behind me, but keep my eyes on the road and maintain my focus. The consequences of not doing so are far too fresh for me to do anything else.

  But their interaction makes me grin. I force myself not to lecture them about treasuring stupid brilliant moments like this one, because I’m starting to think if I’d noticed these moments with my brother they wouldn’t have had the same magic. Their perfection was in their fragility. ‘I remember you looking at
the engine too,’ Finn says, clearly deciding attack is better than suffering in embarrassed silence.

  ‘I remember that too,’ Jolie is quick to add.

  She laughs and I imagine Luc has reverted to his grumpy expression, but still with a spark in his eye.

  I tap the dashboard. ‘Well, we’re full up now and none of us will forget again.’

  Jolie’s mock whisper carries from the back seat, ‘Don’t worry, Beryl, I’ll look after you.’

  A familiar piano line comes on the radio and I’m already reaching to turn up the volume when Jolie squeals. Gray’s latest release, ‘Home’, begins and Cass and Jolie join in. I think I hear Luc groan. Once I would have sung my loudest, losing and finding myself in Gray’s lyrics all at the same time. Finn always liked my voice, he said it harmonised well with his. It wouldn’t hurt to jog his memory.

  But the words stick if I try for more than a whisper. So I hum and mouth the lyrics in turn.

  Over the next hour or so, every second song on the radio is one of Gray’s. It must be because of his concert. It’s big news that the Melbourne local is headlining a stadium gig in his home city for the first time. It’s hard to believe he’s my age.

  We’re going through a tiny town comprising a pub and a church. I’m sticking to the limit, but am kind of on autopilot. It’s been a long, straight stretch, and while the van rattles if we go above seventy, it’s pretty comfortable at the slower speed.

  We top up the petrol tank and then head back onto the road.

  I see it coming out of the corner of my eye, a black, ute-shaped blur. It’s heading this way, swerving around a pothole along a dusty side road. Coming fast. My hands tighten on the wheel. It should give way. It has to.

  It isn’t slowing.

  I slam my foot down and the van responds, screeching to a halt, as the black ute takes the corner fast, spraying gravel, and speeds out in front.

  That was close. Too close.

  The thud of my racing heart is painful against my ribs as I pull over to the side of the road. The ute is long gone. Some dick in a hurry who probably didn’t even notice the accident he almost caused. I suck in some air, willing the stars at the edge of my vision back into space where they belong. The noise of the radio is unnaturally loud and I have to force a bright tone. ‘Everyone okay back there?’

  I take a quick glance at my passengers but don’t actually meet anyone’s eyes. They confirm they’re fine. Without any excuse to delay, I indicate and pull out onto the road again.

  It’s fine. That was nothing like what happened to Daniel.

  But my hands are sweaty on the wheel and I count down the kilometres to our next rest stop and the end of my shift at the wheel.

  * * *

  Luc drives the last stretch, as he knows where we’re staying the night. Thanks to the time we spent at the Blue Lake, plus the breakdown, it’s late afternoon when we reach Warrnambool, the closest town to the house.

  Luc says we’ll be there in about twenty minutes. ‘So, whose is this place?’ Cass asks.

  He doesn’t look her way, and doesn’t hurry to answer.

  Is he annoyed because she was mean to me earlier, or is he just being his usual charming self?

  ‘Luc?’ Finn says. ‘Did you hear Cass?’

  ‘It belongs to one of Dad’s friends,’ he says eventually. ‘Don’t worry. No-one will have to pay.’

  Cass frowns. ‘Sor-ry for being interested.’

  It’s been a long drive and everyone is tired and getting sick of the cramped confines of the van. I think a house will be good. Hopefully it’s big enough that we can get away from each other for a few hours.

  ‘Can we stop at the supermarket?’ Jolie asks as we’re driving through the town. A sign out the front shows it’s still open. ‘I don’t feel like takeaway again.’

  She and Luc share one of those private looks. I can’t help the wave of envy that washes over me. I used to have a brother who would understand, too.

  Luc stops the van out the front of the supermarket.

  Cass doesn’t move. ‘I’d prefer to eat out.’ Clearly she’s annoyed with Luc and determined to disagree with anything he does.

  Finn seems unsure whether to side with his cousin or his girlfriend. I remember what that was like from when he was my boyfriend. He never wanted to rock the boat. Unlike Luc, who seems to enjoy making waves.

  Ignoring them, I focus on Jolie. She looks tired and pale, and I can’t forget what happened in the showers last night.

  If she wants to stay in . . .

  ‘I’m not much of a cook,’ I say, ‘but I don’t mind helping someone who knows what they’re doing. Or I’m pretty good at defrosting meals. I do a mean frozen pizza.’

  ‘Luc knows what he’s doing.’ Jolie latches onto my words like I’m a lifesaver. I ignore the glare from Cass burning a hole through my brain.

  Jolie turns a pleading gaze to Cass. ‘I promise you’ll love Luc’s carbonara. It’s my total fave. Better than a restaurant. Say you don’t mind, please?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Finn adds his voice to Jolie’s, cajoling. ‘You love pasta.’

  Cass sighs like she’s agreeing to extra dental appointments rather than a cheap meal cooked by someone else. ‘Okay. If that’s what everyone else wants to do.’

  I’m beginning to suspect Jolie always gets her own way, but the grateful smile on her face is sincere.

  Luc and Jolie collect the ingredients for dinner while Finn and Cass whisper over by the pet food. I wonder whether Finn’s apologising for his cousin or if Cass is annoyed that he didn’t side with her. Either way, there are splinters there. I should be happy, but what I really want isn’t heartbreak, it’s for them to never have been together at all.

  Avoiding them puts me in the frozen foods aisle, so I select a range of mini gourmet ice-creams for dessert. Skirting around to the cashiers, I pass a small display of toys and grab a basketball, putting it in my basket before I can change my mind.

  I used to love playing basketball. Thanks to Dan, there isn’t a sport I didn’t mess around with in the backyard. He always teased that I had to make up for not being the brother he wanted.

  There’s supposed to be a court at the house. Not that I can imagine a house fancy enough to have a private court. Not one I’d stay at anyway. I start thinking I should put the ball back, but the tired-looking checkout chick is already asking for my money.

  I head outside and wait for the others at the van, trying to ignore the weight of the ball in the bag. Having a ball doesn’t mean I have to play. Kind of like having a voice doesn’t mean I have to sing.

  It doesn’t mean I can sing.

  With all the food loaded in the esky we hit the road again. It’s not long before we turn off the highway and head towards the sea. At the end of a nothing little dirt road we round a bend and pull up at a stone wall with wide gates. Tall, black and imposing, they look like something out of a movie.

  I share a ‘wow’ look with Cass. She’s looking way more cheerful now.

  Luc presses a number into the keypad and the gates slide back with the softest of squeaks.

  ‘Imagine what the house will be like,’ whispers Jolie. She’s so keen to see ahead, she’s practically over the seat, leaning between me and Cass.

  The house at the end of the curved cement drive doesn’t disappoint. Glass and stone and wood combine in this towering structure that should be monstrous but somehow reflects enough of the sea and the sky to look like part of the landscape.

  I wonder if Luc could tell me how the effect is achieved, but I don’t ask.

  As soon as we’ve stopped, Jolie runs into the house like a little kid.

  Cass and I exit the van more slowly. ‘Who’d let a bunch of teens stay in a place like this?’ I ask.

  ‘Dunno, but it’s awesome,’ she replies.

  ‘Sure beats the local caravan park.’

  ‘If you see me with my eyes shut in English next week, assume I’m back here, reliving
the experience.’

  For a few steps we’re walking side-by-side, sharing the same easy understanding we’ve had since we were little. The one that’s been missing lately.

  Then Finn catches up. ‘Do you want me to bring in your bag?’ he asks Cass. He’s already got it in hand.

  She pauses to thank him and I keep walking. Inside, Jolie is opening doors, calling us to come and see her latest discovery. First it’s the laundry, which she swears is bigger than her house, and then it’s the sauna room.

  ‘Can you be-lieve this place? It’s got an actual sauna room,’ she gushes, eyes shining.

  I can’t help grinning.

  And when I turn, Luc is smiling too. It transforms his face from its usual glower to something more open. It would almost be attractive, if I didn’t know it won’t last.

  It doesn’t.

  He catches my eye and the smile, the show of genuine happiness at his irrepressible sister, fades.

  ‘It’s okay to be happy,’ I say. I don’t mean to. But Jolie has raced ahead up the sweeping staircase and Cass and Finn have headed back out to the van, leaving Luc and me momentarily alone. Like we were at the abandoned house. And now that the words have escaped, I have to press on. ‘Having a good time isn’t a crime.’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You don’t have any idea.’

  I fold my arms. ‘Explain it to me then. Although I doubted it at first, I know there’s a decent guy in there somewhere. I saw the way you were at the ruin, and just then, when you were watching Jolie.’

  He opens his mouth, like he might actually tell me what’s got him so pissed off all the time, but then he shrugs. ‘Maybe that guy only exists in your imagination.’

  Whatever I might have thought we shared at the ruin, that understanding, vanishes. I was a fool. He was probably laughing at me this whole time. ‘Trust me,’ I say, with all the sneer I can muster, ‘I don’t spend time thinking about you.’

  ‘Really?’ One brow lifts. ‘Then why does it matter to you whether I’m Mr Laugh-a-minute or not?’

  ‘It doesn’t.’ I follow Jolie up the stairs, pretending I’m desperate to see what is making her call out in excitement.