“Everything all right, miss?” The maids hurried around, completing their chores.
My visits to the servants’ quarters had been frequent when I was younger. I’d become aware of the inner workings of the household and the hours of labour it took to keep our home functioning. However, in recent years my visits had declined. The steward frowned upon my association with the staff.
“Yes, quite. Please disregard my presence.”
I found what I was looking for, washing down the bitter taste and taking an apple to cleanse my mouth.
I inspected the pale pristine silk I wore. A dress chosen by my mother. Pretty, delicate, feminine. Hardly me at all. And the man she’d chosen to be my husband—a beast by his mother’s account. Neither of Mother’s choices were particularly palatable.
If I had no say regarding to whom I would be tethered for life, I could certainly decide never to wear this dress again. What, then, would it matter if I were to ruin the silk by taking a horse and riding as far as I could go?
_____
Andrea
Rockhampton, Australia
21st of November 2008
The Monday after Johnno’s party, Ben surprised me by waiting outside the school gates to give me and our siblings a lift home. It sure beat walking in the sweltering heat. He’d come back every afternoon for two weeks. I guessed there was one advantage to the early starts the tradies endured. They generally clocked off early, too. It had been two hours since he’d dropped us home, and two weeks since he’d asked me out on a date. He’d be back to pick me up in two minutes.
Pulling the lounge room curtains aside, I surveyed the street for the blue Hilux.
“Looking out the window isn’t gonna make him arrive any sooner.” Bree laughed.
“I know. I’m just checking.”
I walked to the mirror in the entry, searching for lipstick smudges on my teeth and discovered that I had sweat patches under my boobs.
“Oh, my God. I’ve got boob-sweat! Why didn’t you tell me?!” I dashed to my room, ripping off my tank top before snatching a bunch of tissues from the box. Flinging the sweaty bra across the room, I yanked open my lingerie drawer.
Crap, crap, crap. Where are my goddamn bras?
I wedged tissues under my breasts and twisted the fan switch until the conditions in my room became cyclonic. Bloody tropical bullshit. Spotting my washing basket overflowing in the corner of the room, I dug through it until I came across a bra. Hot pink lace. It’ll do. I really needed to fold my washing. And now I had to change my whole outfit. The pink showed through everything but dark colours. Coat hangers scraped along the metal rail in my wardrobe as I sorted through possible candidates. Guys didn’t have to worry about shit like this. They wore T-shirts and shorts. Unless they were wearing white shorts. Then they had to worry. I’d seen a guy in the line at the grocery store once, wearing red undies under white shorts. It wasn’t a good look.
Focus, focus, focus.
“Andy!” Bree gave me a shout.
“I’ll be out in a minute.” Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I found a black tank dress and tossed it over my head before realising that I hadn’t put the bra on yet. After fixing the problem, I sprayed more deodorant and went out to greet him.
Oh, he’s delicious. “Hi,” I breathed, the sight of him stealing my voice.
His T-shirt fit him snug across the chest and biceps, and cargo shorts gave me a glimpse of powerful legs. The shorts were khaki green. What colour undies was he wearing?
“You ready to go?”
Since I met you, yes.
His lips tilted in a crooked smile as he muffled a laugh.
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“Yep,” Bree answered for him.
Jesus.
“I’ll see you later.” I widened my eyes at Bree before calling out to the parents. “Bye, Mum. Bye, Peter.”
Mum poked her head around the corner. “Bye, kids. Have fun.”
“Don’t be late,” Pete yelled from the living room.
“Oh, Peter,” Mum scoffed. “It’s fine. I know Ben will look after you.”
I gave her a hug and skipped out the door.
“Wait up.” Ben jogged ahead, opening the door for me.
Did guys still do that in this day and age? I guessed they did. I kinda liked it.
He closed us in, clipping on his seat belt before leaning towards me. My lungs nearly collapsed at his close proximity. His hooded stare was unnerving in all the right ways. And then he spoke.
“You have a tissue stuck under your armpit.”
Oh, my fucking God. My stomach sank through the floor. I fished the offending item from said pit before blurting, “I had boob sweat.”
Jesus H. Christ.
“Left of centre,” he murmured, a smirk on his face. “Don’t sweat it, Andy.” He bit his lip, obviously fighting a smile. “I guess you already did though, huh?” Bursting into laughter, he started the car.
I had to laugh. It was stupidly hilarious. But I sincerely hoped it wasn’t a story he’d be telling our grandchildren.
“Your mum and Peter seemed okay with me taking you out.”
“Yeah. They’re cool.”
“I’m looking forward to spending time with you without Stewart being around.”
“Oh, God. Me too.”
“Did you tell him we were going out?” He concentrated on the road, appearing relaxed, but I sensed a waver in his tone. Was he having doubts?
“No. Did you?”
“Nope.”
“He’ll find out eventually. Do you find it weird, dating your friend’s younger sister?”
He reached over and interlaced our hands, resting them on my thigh. “No. Stewart no
