Page 47 of The Lucky Escape

Freddie beamed. ‘Okay I gotta go to school,’ she said. ‘What time is it there? It’s breakfast time here.’

‘It’s almost suppertime here,’ I said. ‘And as somebody who has already experienced the day I can tell you; it’s a good one!’

‘I just wanted to tell you she was okay,’ Freddie continued. ‘Mum and Dad said she can sleep with me tonight, like she does when I’m at your house. I never want to let her out of my sight again!’

‘All right, Frou. Thank you so much for telling us she’s safe. She looks really happy to see you. Snuggle her from me, okay?’

‘Yeah,’ said Freddie, letting Carol lick her face. ‘Okay.’

After we hung up, Patrick turned to me and asked: ‘Ready, ready, chicken jelly?’

I rolled my eyes at him playfully. ‘Are you still trying to make that happen?’

‘We have a whole new city to explore,’ he exclaimed, reaching out towards me and putting my cheeks between his hands. ‘And now we have an extra reason to celebrate: Carol has been found! We’re in Sydney! Let’s go eat!’

It was impossible not to get swept up in his enthusiasm.

22

Our first full day in Sydney was what Patrick had spent the previous night calling Paddy’s Perfect Surprise Day. After a buffet breakfast in one of the four restaurants in the hotel, I was instructed to pack for the day and be comfortable, but not ‘daggy’.

‘I just remember them using that word on TV,’ Patrick had smiled. ‘It means uncool. I mean, at least I think it does.’

I’d chosen cropped baggy blue trousers with my Birkenstocks and a white top that I thought made me look quite glow-y, now I was matching Patrick in the getting-a-tan department. I left my hair loose and un-straightened, and wore one simple gold chain around my neck. With a sweep of bronzer and my sunglasses I was going for modest but stylish. I grabbed the small leather cross-body bag I’d worn wine tasting and headed downstairs, where Patrick had instructed me to meet him out front.

I spotted him immediately. He stood across the road to the hotel, his khaki knee-length shorts revealing the toned calves of a runner. He had Birks on too, and a white linenshirt so that we accidentally matched, like those old married couples who wear his ’n’ hers fleeces. His grin was huge, and it made me burst into a smile right back, a joy at seeing him that practically bloomed out of me. We stood there looking at each other, a pair of loons, staring and smiling, light traffic passing by between us. I liked how it was to enjoy somebody so much. He made things better. We’d only been apart fifteen minutes, but I’d yearned for him.

‘We’re taking a road trip!’ he yelled across the street. My eyes adjusted and I saw that he was standing beside a sleek black Audi convertible, and that he was twirling keys around in his hand.

‘Wait,’ I said, figuring it out. ‘You’re driving?’

‘I thought it might be fun,’ he shouted, opening the passenger door and gesturing to me that I should cross the road and get in. ‘Wind in our hair, going where the road takes us. Where the sat nav takes us, anyway.’

‘I see. Wow. Okay.’

The fawn leather was soft under my thighs, the smell of new car powerful. Patrick told me to mind my fingers and closed the door behind me before climbing in the other side and starting the automatic engine.

‘What’s the plan, man?’

‘The destination is a little town about two hours away to the south, still near the coast, for the music festival there tonight. Figured we’d stop along the way if we can, goggle at the sights, play spot the kangaroo. Bonus points for a koala.’

I took off my bag and put it by my feet, fastening the seatbelt and declaring that I’d best connect my phone to the speaker.

‘This is going to need a soundtrack,’ I insisted.

‘Don’t let me down, DJ,’ Patrick replied, putting on his sunglasses and starting the engine. ‘I’m gonna need some singalong classics, if you please.’

Ten minutes later we were singing ‘If It Makes You Happy’ by Sheryl Crow at the top of our voices, the trees on one side of the road getting denser and denser, the ocean sprawling out alongside us on the other. Patrick was a good driver, slow and steady: we were in no rush. It was basically one straight road we were on, and I loved how the wind rushed through my hair, the sun bright on my face. When the music stopped and nothing else played, we plunged into the contented silence we’d been practising already.

‘If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad,’ Patrick said, repeating the lyrics of the song to me. He stole a look quickly, but just as fast turned his eyes back to the road. What was that supposed to mean? I didn’t say anything, looking out the passenger window at the landscape whizzing by. It hit me all over again that Carol had been found and I let the relief flood my system. I’d have to get Mum and Dad’s neighbours something to say thank you for finding her. Patrick started to tap out a beat on the steering wheel, and I admired his beautiful hands for the twentieth time.

‘You could play the piano with those hands,’ I observed, and he smiled at me.

‘I do,’ he replied. ‘Grade eight. I’m pretty good, actually.’

For God’s sake. Volunteering. Working out. Sorting out distressed little sisters. And now piano. Was there nothing this man couldn’t do?

It was green and lush in the town the sat nav delivered us to, littered with small white wooden buildings with pointyroofs, cute and idyllic, and much less built up and urban than the city.

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