Bookmark Days by Scot Gardner Page B

think I lost my phone.’
    ‘That wasn’t all you lost.’
    ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
    ‘Well, you had underwear when we left but you didn’t have any when I found you.’
    She laughed into her hand. ‘Woops!’
    ‘Have you tried calling your phone? Perhaps whoever has your phone also has your underwear.’
    ‘It wasn’t like that, Avvie.’
    ‘How was it then?’
    ‘I had . . . a little accident.’
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘I’d had . . . a bit . . . to drink and I left my run to the toilet a little late. I hadn’t counted on a queue, that’s all. I washed my knickers and put them in my pocket with my phone. Now they’ve both disappeared.’
    ‘And . . . the bruises?’
    ‘Bruises?’
    I pointed to the love bite staring at me from her neck. She fake-coughed and pulled up her collar.
    ‘Golfing accident,’ she said.
    ‘Uh huh.’
    ‘We got sprung before it got serious. We went back to the beer tent and his mates were leaving so he went with them. I remember looking around the carpark for your dad’s car but I couldn’t find it. Next thing I remember is being sick in the shower here.’
    At some level, it was a relief to know I’d been wrong. On another level I felt Katie was just telling me what she wanted me to hear. She was the master of giving her life a new shape with lies. I wanted to say something about what Dad had told me, but now wasn’t the time. We were just too far apart.
    She phoned her mobile but it went straight to message bank. When she eventually told her mum that she’d lost it, a phone search started. My mum phoned the lady she knew on the show committee who phoned the bloke in charge of the clean-up in the morning. Apparently there was a whole box full of wet lost property but no mobile. Katie went into a big sulk, as if her favourite dog had been run over by the tractor. She lay on her bed and listened to her CDs and only came out to eat. Dad teased her and threatened to tickle her but she grumped her way through dinner and complained about being tired at about eight o’clock. Can’t say that I was bitterly disappointed when she went to bed. I was tired too, but I really enjoyed the space from her mess.
    Hoppy and Nan were having a cup of tea when I woke the next morning, though it wasn’t a quiet cuppa. I could hear them grumping at each other from my bedroom, not what they were actually saying but their sharp tone. Nan was all extra-sunny-cheer when I entered the kitchen and Hoppy kissed my head as he left.
    ‘What was all that about?’ I asked Nan.
    ‘All what?’
    ‘You and Hoppy arguing.’
    ‘Arguing?’ She was about to deny it – I could see it in her face – but she sighed and poured me a cup and another for herself. ‘Don’t miss a trick, do you, love?’
    I smiled and thanked her for the tea.
    She leaned in and whispered. ‘I suggested Hoppy offer a hand next door. They’ll be running themselves ragged with only the two able bodies and a harvest due any day. It would be the neighbourly thing to do.’
    I laughed out loud.
    ‘Yes,’ Nan said. ‘That’s what your grandfather thought of the idea, too.’
    She got up from the table and fussed at the sink.
    Then I had a brainwave – we didn’t need to persuade Hoppy to swallow his pride and help out the neighbours; I could do it! My perfect excuse. I could drive a tractor or harvester or whatever they wanted. Not only would it be a noble and good-neighbourly deed, it might give me the chance to see Nathaniel again, and that was what I most wanted in the whole world. In fact, if I didn’t see Nathaniel, didn’t get to brush against him, hear his voice and smell the manliness about him, then I was going to explode. I needed to know that last night wasn’t a dream, and this was the perfect way to make sure. I knew it would have to be done on the sly. If Hoppy knew that I was working for the enemy, he’d disown me. He’d tie my hands and feet with baling twine and toss me in the big dam. He’d . .