I hadn’t been back in the lake since that night. I hadn’t exactly had the chance to, either, seeing as though I had been frog-marched off to the city after the whole sneaking-out, binge-drinking, almost-drowning debacle.
Yeah, that would do it every time. Even looking out onto Lake Onslow from a distance, a certain chill and apprehension swept over me that I hadn’t been able to shake in all this time.
It had been three years.
I made my way straight across the hall, readjusting my bundle of washing on my hip so that I could open the door. As I flipped the light on, I was instantly calmed.
My room.
One thing had to be said about Dad’s lack of decorating skills – my room had pretty much been left as it was. It was like a giant time capsule of my childhood, and, better yet, it didn’t smell like smoke. A Party of Five poster on the wall, a white dressing table with my rainbow-coloured nail polishes ,and feather boa draped over the mirror. Purple was my favourite colour and a common theme throughout my room. It was only highlighted by the stark white of my wrought iron bed. My room lay directly across from Adam’s and I remembered how in the middle of the night we had often snuck out of our rooms and lain in the hall, framing our faces with torches and trying to outdo each other with ghost stories. It had been so creepy, but so fun. I stepped inside and dumped my linens onto the bed. This was where I would sleep; this to me was home!
***
I peeled one eye open as I was awakened from a deep sleep.
What the hell was that noise?
The sound of distant yells and clanking drove me from my bed. Stumbling for the curtain, I pulled it to one side and was instantly blinded by sunlight.
Ugh, what time was it? I cringed away from the offending beams and let the fabric fall back into place.
I pressed the light on my Baby-G watch: six-forty-five a.m., holding it up to my face as I struggled to wake up.
Oh, hell no!
I grabbed for my bunny slippers and flung the door open. As I stomped down the hall, the noise became louder and my fury spiked.
“Some people are fracking unbelievable!”
Winding my way downstairs into the foyer of the restaurant, I was now wide awake and mad as hell. Who the hell was here at six-forty-five a.m.? Was this Matt’s idea of a joke? Or inconsiderate neighbours? Okay, so I was in a lone hotel on a hill with my closest neighbours being a five-kilometre trek away, but still. It could have been.
I shrugged off the thought; regardless. There was a hell of a racket coming from my doorstep and I was pissed. After yesterday’s nightmarish introduction to the Onslow of today, I had been exhausted and planned to sleep the summer away. Well, if not that, I certainly hadn’t planned on being woken up at six-forty-five a.m. But it seemed someone had other ideas.
I unbolted the front door in the main bar and threw it open. I charged out to give whoever it was a piece of my mind, when I nearly collided with a pole.
A pole?
“Watch it! We haven’t taped it off yet!”
A hand grabbed my elbow, yanking me aside and out of the path of another pole. I stumbled, but the vice-like grip held me upwards and refused to let go.
“Nice slippers!”
It was Sean. He was holding my arm, smiling down at my fire-engine red, fluffy bunny slippers, complete with floppy ears and googly eyes.
I wrenched my arm from his grip.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped.
I needn’t have asked the question; after I had gotten over my confusion I knew exactly what I had run into.
“I’m baking a cake, what does it look like?”
My eyes narrowed. “Scaffolding?” I spun around. “Who said you could put scaffolding up?” My heart spiked in a sudden panic that maybe Sean had rung Dad last night after all.
“Hey, Amy!” Stan skipped up the steps towards Sean. “Was this what you were looking for?”
“Yeah, thanks mate.” Sean took the brackety-looking thing from Stan’s gloved hand and studied it.
Stan stood beside me, folded his arms and admired their handiwork.
“Don’t worry, Amy, this will be fixed in no time. We’ll tape it off and put up hazard signs.” Stan flashed a boyish grin. “Good as new.”
Stan had always been the most jovial of the Onslow Boys, and the one I had seen the most of over the years. He and Chris would often come and stay at our town house on a weekend for the odd footy match or concert. With his floppy, auburn-brown hair, his bright blue eyes and fair skin, he exuded a shy, friendly quality that was always sweet and appealing. The total opposite to Sean Murphy.
“Sean, can I talk to you for a minute?”
I offered Stan a small, apologetic smile as I headed inside. As I dodged the pole they’d erected and opened the door, I didn’t miss the deep sigh from behind me. I could only imagine the eye roll Sean had no doubt thrown Stan as he reluctantly followed me. I waited in the alcove that led into the poolroom. Arms folded, I tried to look lethal; I caught my reflection in a glass pane and gasped. It seemed I’d bypassed lethal and had landed on ridiculous. My bedhead, bird’s-nest hair stood up in a frizzy crest, my deep purple singlet top, and matching purple and mint green striped PJ bottoms accentuating the bunny slippers. I tried to frantically run my fingers through my hair and had to stop as I heard Sean’s heavy work boots thumping towards me. I pushed aside my fringe, and crossed my arms back into place.