The Bindallarah Hotel had been, as Jackie liked to say, ‘glass-and-chromed’. Claire wondered what the town’s long-time bar flies thought of the makeover. There didn’t seem to be anyone aged over forty among the Friday-night crowd. The joint was jumping.
Somehow, over the hubbub of happy drinkers, Claire heard someone call her name. She peered through the cluster of bodies and spotted Jared sprawled across a cane sofa, a beer in his hand.
Nervously, she threaded through the crush until she was standing in front of him. ‘Hey, Jared,’ she said, hoping he wouldn’t detect the slight tremor in her voice. It was crazy to feel so wobbly – she’d known Jared for years and this was just a friendly catch-up. But she’d never socialised in Bindallarah and she felt like she was on display. She pointed at his pint glass. ‘Can I get you a refill?’
Jared jumped to his feet. ‘Let me,’ he said, pecking her on the cheek. ‘What are you drinking? You look fantastic, by the way.’
Claire looked down at her outfit, an all-in-one shorts-and-top situation she’d borrowed from Gus. Her cousin had called it a ‘playsuit’, which probably explained why Claire felt like an oversized baby in it. But Gus had insisted that it showed off her legs and created the illusion of a waist, so Claire had dutifully left the house in it and tried not to dwell on the fact that she was the same size and shape as a teenager ten years her junior. It was probably time to stop hoping she would ever acquire actual curves.
But she pushed her insecurities down deep and instead smiled at Jared and said, ‘Thanks. I’ll have a glass of rosé, please.’
She took his place on the sofa and watched him make his way to the bar. This was going to be fun, she decided. She was going to have a good time. She deserved to have a good time.
Though she had only friendly feelings for Jared, there was no doubt that he was a good-looking man. It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed a night out with anyone – her shock-filled Sydney catch-up with Scotty didn’t count – let alone someone so easy on the eye. Blue-eyed and tanned, with messy, sun-bleached blond hair, Jared had the broad-shouldered bearing typical of a daily surfer. Gus would have taken one look at his biceps and asked for ‘two tickets to the gun show’. But his impressive physique looked natural rather than chiselled – Jared’s muscles were obviously honed in the ocean, not the gym. Claire made up her mind to appreciate the pleasant scenery.
Had he always been this attractive? She couldn’t remember if she would have thought him ‘cute’ when they were at school. Looking back through the lens of adulthood, she could only picture a teenage Jared as tall, thin and spotty. And, besides, she’d only had eyes for one gangly teenage boy back then.
And he had just walked into the pub.
Scotty saw Claire immediately, and as he made a beeline for her she felt her heart start to beat double time. She glanced at the bar. The queue was three-deep; Jared would be a while.
‘Claire!’ Scotty said, sounding genuinely happy to see her. ‘I didn’t expect to see you out tonight. I just finished work and thought I’d stop in for a quick one. Are you here with Vanessa and Gus?’
‘Uh, no. Actually, I’m —’
‘Wait. You don’t have a drink,’ Scotty cut in, pointing at Claire’s empty hands. ‘What can I get you?’
‘That’s okay,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a glass of wine on the way.’
‘Oh?’ Scotty turned and scanned the punters at the bar. When he didn’t see anybody he could identify as an obvious drinking buddy, he turned back to Claire, his face creased with confusion. ‘Who are you here with?’
Claire felt a twinge of guilt, but silently rebuked herself. Just relax. She had nothing to feel guilty about.
‘Um, Jared. Jared Miller?’ As if Scotty wouldn’t know who she was talking about.
‘Ah! Wedding business. But come on, Claire, you don’t need to spend your Friday night vetting the DJ’s playlist.’ There was a beat of silence, then Scotty frowned. ‘But didn’t you talk to Jared about the wedding music yesterday?’
He was still standing while she sat and Claire felt cowed by his towering presence. ‘I did, yeah. This isn’t about the wedding.’
She watched as comprehension dawned. ‘Are you on a date with Jared Miller?’ Scotty’s tone was disbelieving, and Claire had to admit that it stung. Was the possibility that she was on a date really so preposterous?
The guilty feeling in her stomach was abruptly replaced by a spark of irritation. She stared at him with all the defiance she could muster. ‘I don’t think that’s really any of your business, Scotty,’ she said crisply. ‘Do I need your permission to come to the pub on a Friday night?’
His astonishment was still writ large on his face. Scotty slowly shook his head, as though he was struggling to process what she’d said. ‘I just . . .’ he began. ‘I didn’t realise you were looking to meet somebody.’
As if Scotty had poured petrol on a campfire, the annoyance flickering inside Claire suddenly flared into a full-scale blaze. She stood up and leaned as close to him as she dared.
‘Why wouldn’t I be looking to meet someone, Scotty?’ she hissed. ‘I’m twenty-eight years old. Everyone I know is either married or getting married or having babies or whatever. Am I supposed to help you plan your wedding and then just disappear back to Sydney, alone? Don’t I get to think about my future, too?’
Scotty took a step back, aghast. Claire understood his surprise – she was pretty shocked herself at the words that had just tumbled out of her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say those things. She wasn’t aware
