Page 62 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
I told myself that firstly, if anyone found out that I’d leaked confidential information, I’d lose my job. And secondly, Alex had made the decision to sell his company to a giant conglomerate whose only real obligation was to its profit-hungry shareholders. Surely, as Miranda said, he’d been advised that this exact scenario was one of the possibilities. And finally, when the executive team met next week, they might totally ignore our recommendation. In fact, saying anything to Alex about it might aggravate the situation.
I stood up and brushed down my navy linen dress. Doing nothing was the right thing to do.
‘I was sad that we had to cancel our dinner this week,’ Jane said, stretching in a floral tracksuit. We’d had to postpone while Matt had been stuck in Sydney.
I really wished I was wearing something other than a rainbow, eighties-style aerobics one-piece a size too small for me when talking to my future mother-in-law, who thought that mixing navy and black in an outfit was risqué. I pulled at the fabric as if I might be able to stretch it out into leggings, or at least properly cover my bum.
Outfit aside, so far Lily and Stella had organised a really fun hen’s party. It had begun with a relaxed lunch in the private room of a pub. Mum had sat with Jane and the twins, Holly and Ivy, and whenever I snuck a glance at them, they seemed to be having a good time.
After the lunch finished, I’d been sent to get changed into the multicoloured leotard that cut off circulation to most of my limbs. Then we’d all been shepherded to a nearby park where a bunch of bubbles were inflated, waiting for us to begin playing bubble soccer.
‘I know, we were sad to miss dinner too. Matt’s been dealing with a lot at work,’ I said.
‘Oh, there’s a big wine emergency, is there?’ she asked with a wry laugh.
Yes. A shortage of affordable savvy b! The Boomers will start picketing soon. I knew that’s the self-deprecating answer Matt would give.
‘Actually, it is,’ I said. ‘China’s put another trade embargo on Australian wine. Matt’s helping to prepare the disclosures and public response. It’s a pretty big deal.’ I might have slightly invented the details, but I was pretty sure that was the gist of what was happening. Matt had been so busy that we’d barely had time to talk all week. His best man had picked him up from the airport the night before to drive him to his buck’s weekend, at a house they’d rented on the coast. I knew he’d be exhausted after a huge week, but if anyone could rally, it was him.
Jane’s smile flickered. There had been a bit more edge to my voice than I’d intended. We were saved by the bell, or in this case, a whistle.
The twins were stretching out each other’s hamstrings, looking like they were warming up for the Olympics. I scanned the edge of the oval until I found Mum. She wasn’t in gym gear – I don’t think she’d ever owned a pair of sneakers. I guessed she planned to watch us.
I was the first one bundled into an inflatable soccer ball and soon we were all oscillating between hysterically laughing – giddy from cocktails – bumping into each other and panting wildly from the exertion.
I’d never been big on organised sports. But the idea of being encased in what was effectively a giant piece of bubble wrap and blowing off some steam was exactly what I needed. It was nice to live in the moment, to not think, to focus only on staying upright and trying to get a ball into a goal.
Thiswas the point of weddings and all the events around them. To doggedly revel in all the good things in life – the people who loved you and had been there for you, too much food and too many cocktails, to wear outfits you never normally did. To stop the merry-go-round of daily niggling worries and decisions and irritations, and celebrate your people.
Holly, who even through the plastic casing I could see had the focus of a Matilda, kicked the ball to me. There was no one between me and the goal so I clumsily dribbled it and with a dramatic kick it went straight into the net. I hooted with joy.
My celebratory cheer reverberated around the reinforced plastic. I turned around to find Stella and Lily so they could see how much I was enjoying myself. Except everyone was huddled together in the middle of the pitch. My stomach fell.
I wriggled out of the straps around my shoulders and pulled the ball over my head then jogged over to the group.
‘Is everything okay?’ I panted. Stella, who’d kicked into nurse mode, was kneeling on the ground next to someone who was groaning with pain.
‘It’s your mum,’ she said without turning around. ‘She needs some help.’
Chapter 28
‘They need to do some scans to see if anything’s broken,’ Dad said. ‘I’ll make a few calls – get you bumped up to the top of the queue in the morning.’
‘Thanks so much, John. I really appreciate it,’ Mum said sincerely. How strong were the drugs she’d been given? Dad smiled at her.
I’d messaged Dad on the way to the ED and he’d been waiting for us when we arrived. And apparently triage didn’t apply if you were related to a senior doctor because we’d been taken straight to a private room and Mum had been stuffed with painkillers. Though there had still been hours of waiting – even Dad couldn’t magic up a queue jump for an X-ray on a Saturday afternoon. An emergency doctor, after conferring with Dad, had declared that Mum was going to have to be admitted and stay overnight.
I’d internally groaned. Obviously I wanted Mum to have the best care. But I’d successfully managed to avoid hospitals for over a decade and now, for the second time in as many weeks, I was stuck in a place I really didn’t want to be.
‘Is she going to be okay?’ I asked Dad when it was finally just the three of us.
‘Things fracture, they break. We fix them,’ he replied without looking away from Mum.
‘Great,’ I said, biting my bottom lip. Before I knew what was happening, Dad had wrapped one of his big hands around mine and Mum had reached up and grabbed my other one from her bed. I froze.
‘I’ll make sure she gets the best care—’
‘Of course I’ll be fine—’
