he might never be able to do again.â
Vanâs face went cold. He stood up. âI thought you had money trouble. Sorry for giving a shit.â
The trembling thing stilled inside her, and became stone. Skip. How much dirty money was this? How much danger could this draw to them? âI donât have money trouble. I just donât have money. Give me this and Iâll have trouble. Cop trouble.â
âI donât care about robbing some multinational. They rob us blind all the time.â
âAh. An eye for an eye.â
âSo when did you get all full of virtue?â
She sighed, thought of Esme and softened. âAre you hungry? I could heat some lentils.â
âAre you going to take my present or what?â
She laughed. âVan. Van, Van, Van. At least youâve come back. I havenât seen you since, hmm, since Grace and Tomâs dinner. Since you left me stranded for a lift home.â
âOh, is that what this is all about? You had to walk home? On your little feety-weety?â
She didnât like him like this. She wanted him gone. âOh, please. Give me some credit. Butnow that you mention it, you did turn out to be a hell of a dinner date. You sort of stole the show when you took off with another guyâs girlfriend and vanished for a month.â
He laughed nastily at the thought of it. âMelbourne people. Easy to shake them up, isnât it? With their bloody dinner parties. Man.â
âIt was mean.â
He stared at her and she shrugged. âHeâs brokenhearted. Eddy. Her boyfriend.â
âOh, puh! Give a fuck! Not my problem. So are you going to take this money? It will keep you living well for another good six months, at least. Very well. Or not so well, for twelve.â
She looked at him, and at the envelope. Six months. Maybe twelve. It was a tempting stretch of time. She thought about the job sheâd just applied for, parceling up letterbox numbers. She thought about the kindy mothers who had not invited her out to coffee.
She thought of Skip.
âNah. Iâll get by.â
His face fell and she did not like the look in his eyes. But she had never been scared of Van, and she wasnât now.
âWhat if I donât give it to you? What if I give it to Skipper?â
She pursed her lips and began to clear away the cups. âAnd why would you do that?â
âWell, you tell me .â
She stared for a long time into the sink, where she ran her finger around the rim of a saucer. Then she turned around and dried her hands on a tea towel. âLook at the time. I have to pick Skip up from kindy.â
âIâm leaving this money for him. I have a right.â
âYou think.â
âI do.â
Why didnât he just ask her outright? Am I Skipâs father? Maybe he didnât want to know, for sure. Oh, one drunken night. What a fool she had been. She took the envelope and pushed it back towards his chest. She raised her eyes and stared at him with all the authority she possessed. She jingled her keys with the other hand and moved towards the door. âYou donât, actually. Have a right. Now I must go.â
âIâll wait.â
âPlease donât.â
Van sighed and walked towards the door, the movement seeming to loosen him once again. âYouâre crazy, Melody. I know youâve got no money.â
âThe universe will provide.â
âYou are such a fucking old space-cadet, you know that?â
âGo and tell your girlfriend to phone home. To do the decent thing and stop everyone worrying about her.â
âThe decent thing ? My, my. Listen to you.â They were outside now, in front of his motorbike. âAnd sheâs not my girlfriend .â
âNo?â
âWhy are you so stubborn? Why do you stay so . . . alone?â
âIâm not alone. I have Skip.â
âMaybe thatâs not enough. For
Jonathan Strahan [Editor]
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