I felt sick. Utterly deflated. Exhausted by the reality that churned around and around in my head. How could they sell? Would they ever really know how good our lives could be now that the hotel was better than ever? Now that Mum and Dad had rekindled their commitment to one another? I was here to help, to do what I could to make things easier. Dad wouldn’t have to do it on his own.
Maybe that was the case I needed to plead – I needed to calmly and maturely talk through the positives of why we should keep it, instead of losing my shit and flying off the handle like always. I needed to rationalise and negotiate with them. I dreamed up all these winning scenarios. So why was it I didn’t feel the least bit lifted or confident?
I breathed out a shallow, shuddery breath. At the end of the day, I knew Dad would not stand up to Mum, and more than that, I knew once Mum saw the dollar signs, there would be no changing her mind. I felt a deep burning anger against Mum, Dad, but mostly myself. How could I have been so stupid? I should have let the hotel fall down around us all – the stress and pressure I had put on myself and others and oh, God, the working bee, the fundraiser. How was that going to look? We would have to refund all the donations and try to get out of it in some way to save face.
I wrapped my arms around my legs and pressed my forehead against my knees. How was I ever going to face anyone? I almost wanted to be banished all over again. I felt my stomach clench as tears welled in my eyes, my throat, my heart, when I heard a voice pierce through the darkness.
“All dressed up and no place to go?”
My head snapped up, stunned by the unexpectedness of the sound, the familiar sound that made my heart thunder against my chest. I wiped at my eyes, trying to focus my blurry vision through the darkness.
A silhouette stood in the shadows of the beer garden entrance. I slowly unfolded my legs, standing, while bracing myself on the bannister with the fear that my legs would give way.
I hoped I wasn’t seeing or hearing things, because right now I needed it to be true more than anything. In that moment I needed to be rescued, to be caught, to be saved from the sorrow that constricted me with every breath. I stepped forward, afraid that if I did the breeze would stir and my shadow would fold into the night. Instead, the darkened figure stepped from the viney shadows into the moonlight, his handsome face lit with an eerie glow that shone on his perfect smile.
It was all I needed. I crossed the distance, relief flooding me as Sean caught me in a flying run. I threw my arms around him, almost knocking the wind out of him, burrowing my face into the warmth of his chest. I held on, never wanting to let go, and within the safety of Sean’s arms once again the tears came.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He cupped my face, his eyes serious, worried, as they searched mine.
I shook my head, I didn’t want him to see me like this; I couldn’t tell him, I couldn’t bring myself to reveal how selfish my parents were. It was one thing for me to think it but I couldn’t bear Sean to.
“Can you take me away from this place?” I whispered.
Sean swept his hand lightly along my dampened cheek. “Of course I can.” And without another word, his hand slid down the line of my arm and laced his fingers into mine, a small, sad smile spreading over his lips.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
And just like Sean, without even knowing the reasons why, he just did. Without a word or a worry, he saved me.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“GET OUT!”
We stood, paused in the doorway of Sean’s bedroom, taking in the scene before us. Ringer was lying passed out and face down on Sean’s mattress.
“Ringer!” Sean growled, kicking the corpse-like leg that spilled over onto the floor. “Get up!”
I cupped my hand over my mouth and tried to contain my laughter. It didn’t help when Ringer stirred from his slumber, slowly lifting his head, sporting a cockatoo-crested hair-do.
“Come on, mate, give us a go,” Ringer croaked, half asleep.
“I’ll give you a bloody go if you don’t get off my bed!”
Ringer groaned, slowly lifting himself onto his elbows and smacking his lips together as if he had an unsavoury taste in his mouth. He squinted up at Sean before comically doing a double-take in my direction. I offered a little wave as I peered from behind Sean’s brooding frame.
A wicked smile spread right across Ringer’s face as he looked from me to Sean and back again.
“Oh, I see,” Ringer said, beaming from ear to ear.
“Ringer,” Sean warned.
Ringer held up his hands. “All right, all right. Cool it, Romeo, I’m going.”
Ringer dragged himself into a sitting position, still disorientated from sleep. He fumbled a ciggie from his pocket, flicking it into his mouth like a pro. He patted his other pockets, locating a lighter.