thighs with merriment for the millionth time. ‘You haven’t lost your old Epidurals hairy-leg roots, Meredith. Aaargh!’ She jumped to her feet. ‘The smoke’s in my eyes again!’
Meredith and Nina played another round of musical chairs to dodge the plumes from the open fire being buffeted this way and that by the cool breeze blowing in over the dark surface of the lake. Annie watched their futile manoeuvres in silence. As any bushie could tell you, you just squinted against the smoke. It would soon change direction. And it kept the mozzies away. Not that any flying insect for a five-kilometre radius could have survived the noxious fumes from the repellent they’d doused themselves with.
‘Actually, I thought the blond one was a real cutie.’ Nina poked at the embers with a stick. A flurry of glistening red sparks swirled into the air and dissipated into the black void.
‘Hey, are you cheating on me, girlfriend?’ Meredith accused. And then they were laughing again. Meredith herself couldn’t quite believe how she’d play-acted with Nina that afternoon. But then, selling homewares to women who already owned enough of everything required some level of improvisation and showmanship. She often felt that her domain behind the cash register at Flair was a performance space of sorts. She was astonished at how easily she’d pulled off the afternoon’s charade with Nina and the rush of adrenalin she’d experienced. Her hands had shaken for a good hour afterwards.
Annie tightened her grip on her glass and stared into the flames. ‘So what did this Matty . . . you know, the blond one . . . say again?’
‘We’ve told you—over and over! He was looking for you. Why he was looking for you is what you haven’t adequately explained yet,’ said Meredith.
‘Exactly!’ echoed Nina. ‘Maybe he had a glass slipper in the glovebox of the LandCruiser.’
‘A pair of lacy size-10 knickers more likely,’ Meredith chortled.
‘Hah bloody hah,’ muttered Annie.
‘But honestly, Annie,’ said Nina, ‘what did you say they were? A couple of union blokes? If you keep wasting your time on—well, you’re the one who said they were yobbos—how can you expect to find a decent man?’
Once again Nina had barged through the barrier into well-signposted personal space, but this time Meredith had to agree: ‘Those two scruffy individuals were hardly what you’d call husband material. They were rejects, both of them. Undersize. Throw ’em back in the lake!’
Annie said nothing. She thought that perhaps Meredith and Nina had a point. There had been too many men lately. Too many anonymous fumbles in the dark after too many cocktails. And yet that kiss . . . she couldn’t stop thinking about it. And Matty was trying to find her. What could that mean?
She couldn’t remember if she’d made any promises. She had to stop drinking so much. And she would, right after she finished what was left in the bottle of merlot in her hand.
‘Well, I’d better clear away these dishes.’ Nina stood and snatched up her tea towel. It was almost like a security blanket with her.
‘No. Sit down, relax!’ Meredith pulled at her baggy shorts. ‘Have another glass of wine and just enjoy the fire. Leave the damned dishes,’ she ordered.
Nina did as she was told, took her glass and slumped back into her camp chair. She smoothed the tea towel over her thighs to dry it by the warmth of the fire. ‘That bream was nice, wasn’t it?’ she finally sighed, fishing for compliments.
Meredith took the bait: ‘Sublime, and I’ll bet it’s the first time anyone has cooked pan-fried bream with a white wine and tarragon sauce over this fire.’
Annie drained her glass, relieved that her love life was off the agenda. ‘It was great. Truly,’ she added. ‘I’d like to see old Nigella whip that lot up in the middle of the bush. As my dad would say: “Top tucker!”’
Nina shuffled her feet closer to the glowing logs and purred with pleasure at the compliments. They almost compensated for the incinerated wooden handle on her good Le Creuset frying pan.
‘I think there’s another baked potato in there somewhere, if anyone wants one.’ Nina scraped at the ashes with a stick. There were no takers. ‘Well how about some lemon sorbet and vanilla wafers?’ She didn’t wait for an answer and was up on her feet again, heading for the van.
Annie kicked back in her camp chair and inhaled the comforting smell of seared eucalyptus leaves. ‘I’m starting to see the sense in this whole