Lisa Heidke by Lucy (mobi) (book club reads TXT) 📗

Westfield asking if you’ll be their official ambassador.’

‘Get out!’

‘True! And get this, Foxtel are launching a nineties month in two weeks and they want you to host the whole shebang, kicking off with - drum roll, please - the very first episode of The Young Residents.’

‘Really?’

‘All true - to coincide with the release of a special edition DVD featuring twelve classic episodes -’

‘The wedding?’

‘Of course - the wedding, the coma, your death scene, it’s all in there. And I had an old woman ring up from Darwin saying she loved you in the broccoli commercial, and another one from Adelaide saying that in her neighbourhood they’ve started a petition to bring back Marvels.’

‘See, I told you a talking detective dog was definitely the way of the future,’ I say.

‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, darl.’

Day 62

I’ve not had time to feel nervous about seeing Dominic today because I’m still recovering from last night’s celebration with Gloria about my possible acceptance back into polite society. Last night, in a moment of excitement, I rang Mum and told her the good news. Not that she believed me. ‘You’re living in a fool’s paradise, Lucy,’ she said.

Thanks Mum.

But nothing can upset me today. Luckily I don’t have too much of a hangover due to drinking white wine spritzers and downing two Beroccas before bed. It was a girlie night full of giggles and stories from our past. And by the end of it, Gloria and I decided that Max is no more than the father of my children. I have to move on from him and that’s what I intend to do.

And Dom? Well, Dom’s still the one I dream about.

And today’s the day it could all come crashing down. I keep telling myself not to have any expectations of this weekend. It’s just a chance for old friends to catch up, and for my children to meet the ‘cute’ guy in my ancient NIDA photos.

But I can’t help feeling happy and excited about seeing him. There are so many knots inside my stomach I feel like a tormented Girl Guide.

The kids and I leave the house in Patch’s capable (!) hands.

‘Luce, you won’t know the place when you get back,’ he assures me, as he and three other men position the bi-fold doors ready for hanging.

‘So you keep telling me. I hope you’ve measured those doors properly this time,’ I say, looking them up and down.

‘Third time’s a charm. Have faith. Have I ever let you down before?’ Patch speaks straight to the camera.

‘Let’s wait and see, shall we? And while you’re doing the paint touch-ups, remember the new downpipes need to be painted to match the brickwork, okay?’

‘Will do.’

‘And the smoke detectors need to be fitted.’

‘Will do.’

There are a hundred and one other things that need doing as well but I can’t think of them.

‘We’ll take care of everything,’ Patch tells the camera.

‘Go and enjoy your weekend.’

‘You have my number -’

‘Forever ingrained in my memory,’ Patch says and smiles. ‘Now shoo. Let me get on with it.’

‘What if we have nothing to talk about?’ I say to Gloria on the drive down.

‘With your life? Please.’

‘Well, what if we get there and he’s short, fat and bald and parades his beautiful Eurasian girlfriend and four kids in front of me?’

‘Then you’ll be your charming self. You’ll smile, shake their hands and say thanks for inviting us.’

‘Do you really think -’

‘Of course not. For a start, the guy’s six foot two on a short day, and last time I saw him he was lean, tanned and had a full head of shiny brown hair.’

‘And the girlfriend?’

‘You should have asked.’

Maybe I should have gone to more trouble than throwing on a comfortable pair of jeans, cream jumper and brown boots. A bikini wax wouldn’t have gone astray either. I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. I can’t think straight. This is a huge mistake.

Following Gloria’s messy instructions, we exit the highway, drive along a dirt road for ten kilometres and veer right at the fork in the road.

‘Next we should cross a cow grid,’ Gloria says, peering ahead. ‘And voila! So over we go . . . bump, bump, bump. And just about now we should arrive at Lot 74, the home of Dominic Delahunty. Bingo!’

The land is green and lush, and there’s a huge pond to the left and several horses in a paddock on the right. At the top of the hill is a large rustic homestead. I turn off the engine and breathe in the fresh eucalypt air. I may just throw up.

‘Gloria, I can’t move.’

‘Well, you’d better find your legs soon, honey, because the man himself’s just walked out onto the verandah. I’d say he’s expecting company, and guess what? There’s no lady friend standing beside him.’

Looking up, I see Dom grinning, wearing a red check flannelette shirt, Levi’s and work boots. As I struggle to open the car door, he walks down to greet us. The kids are already running around on the freshly mown grass.

Okay, he’s still tall, tanned and has a full head of hair. Even from this distance, I can see he’s drop-dead gorgeous in a Hugh Jackman/Wolverine way.

He smiles. ‘Hey! What took you so long?’

‘What? It’s only been a dozen years.’ I am desperate to appear happy, together and casual.

‘Thirteen,’ he corrects and engulfs me in a huge bear hug. ‘Come here.’

I’m overwhelmed, but can’t take my eyes off him. His complexion is a little more lined, his teeth a little less bright, but his hair’s as thick and shiny as it used to be. And as for those gorgeous blue eyes, they’re still gorgeous. All of a sudden I’m back in Newtown all those years ago and we’re in love. Or at least I am.

‘Dom, this is Sam,’ I say, pulling the children towards me and hiding behind introductions. ‘He wants to be an assassin when he grows up. And this is Bella, my beautiful girl.’ I push her in front of me.

‘Hi,