‘I don’t really know what the fuss is about,’ I admit. ‘It seems a bizarre thing to do, if you think about it. How did people even discover it?’
Wally rests his head against the headrest and frowns. ‘It’s a good question. I guess Adam and Eve must have got bored in the Garden of Eden from time to time. Maybe it was a dare? Or maybe Eve tripped and fell and . . . I don’t know, landed . . . on . . . Adam?’
Wally’s cheeks are extraordinarily red, I notice. It makes me laugh a little. And after a second, Wally does too. It’s magic. People rarely laugh at the same things that I do. Usually when I laugh, other people are silent. And when others laugh, I’m still trying to understand the joke. Before long, we are both laughing so hard that tears appear in the corners of my eyes and I have to wipe them away. Wally wipes tears away too. He steals a sideways glance at me, and we lock in a rare moment of direct eye contact. It’s funny what happens then. It’s as though there’s a change in the atmosphere or something. I have to concentrate on taking a breath, which makes me aware how loud I am breathing.
‘Would you like to have sex with me?’ I ask.
Wally freezes. It is, admittedly, a sizable deviation from my plan. For one thing, there are at least two days until I ovulate. For another, at least according to the romance novels I’ve read, when it comes to seducing men, there tends to be very little in the way of ascertaining of the other party’s interest. If the novels are anything to go by, sex is supposed to kick off with the hero crushing his lips against mine after doing something to upset me. So I watch Wally’s reaction with interest.
His eyes widen slightly and his lips part, but he doesn’t speak for some time. I am pleased with this reaction. I suspect I would have felt a little startled by the crushing lips. As he contemplates my request, I settle back into the cosy pod of the van with the darkness surrounding us. I am feeling something approaching relaxed . . . until a sudden pounding on Wally’s window sends us both flying off our seats.
‘Do you have permission to have your van parked here? This is private property you know.’
I recognise the voice as that belonging to my neighbour, Mrs Hazelbury. Through Wally’s window, I see that she’s dressed in her peach candlewick robe, holding it together with both hands at the throat. I can’t see from where I’m sitting but I’d hazard a guess she’s also wearing her matching slippers.
Wally unwinds his window and she peers into the van.
‘Fern!’ Mrs Hazelbury says. ‘There you are! I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all night.’
This is a surprise. Mrs Hazelbury never tries to ‘get in touch’ with me. She prefers to wait at her window and call out as I walk by on my way to work. ‘Have you seen my newspaper? It has gone missing two days in a row!’ ‘Do you know what is happening to the block of land down the road that has been purchased by developers?’ ‘Do you think the new people in flat number five have got guests staying?’
‘Your sister called twice,’ Mrs Hazelbury says, craning her neck to see further into the van. ‘Apparently she’s been calling your mobile phone all night and there’s been no answer.’
I feel a shiver down my spine; a sluice of ice water. Rose had called? Again?
What have I done now?
‘She wanted me to peek in your window and make sure you weren’t lying dead on the floor,’ Mrs Hazelbury says. ‘I have to say, I did notice a small dog in there while I was looking, which I’m certain is against the rules of the body corporate.’
‘I left my phone at home,’ I say to no-one.
‘There was a man hanging around earlier too,’ Mrs Hazelbury continues, taking a closer look at Wally. ‘It wasn’t you, was it? No. He was bigger and his hair was lighter.’
In the back of my mind, I think of the mystery man who visited me at the library. The same guy? Perhaps I’ve forgotten to pay a bill and they are sending someone door to door? But I put that thought aside for the moment. ‘What did Rose want?’
Mrs Hazelbury throws up her hands. ‘How should I know? Perhaps you should go and call her back instead of idling in this car all evening, keeping everyone awake!’
After finishing her inspection of Wally’s van, she gives us a nod and wanders off. I reach for the door handle. ‘I’d better go,’ I say. ‘Sounds like Rose is worried.’
Wally frowns, gazing just over my shoulder again. ‘Just because she’s called doesn’t mean you’ve done something wrong, Fern.’
I feel the tingle again, low-level dread, this time in the pit of my stomach. ‘Unfortunately, in my case, it does.’
‘She’s very . . . involved in your life, isn’t she? It feels like she calls every time we’re together.’
‘Rose is protective. She’s looked after me all my life, so she knows the . . . situations I find myself in. If it wasn’t for her . . . who know where I’d be? Last time, she called she saved Alfie’s life, remember?’
Wally doesn’t respond.
‘Anyway,’ I say. ‘I’d better go call her.’
I slide out of the car and slam the door. Wally waits until I’ve made it up the stairs and am safely inside. It’s funny to think that only a moment ago, I was asking Wally to have sex with me. Goes to show it really does just take a moment for everything to change.
I have seventeen missed calls, all of them from Rose. There is also a text message: CALL me ASAP. I run through a mental list in my head. What could I have done?
