Page 29 of Special Delivery
A moment passed, the silence feeling a little less combative than usual. ‘She sounds … important,’ said James quietly.
‘She is,’ Poppy agreed, tears suddenly welling behind her eyes. She blinked them away, embarrassed. She was so lucky to have Dani on speed dial, but it couldn’t replace a cuppa in her kitchen or a walk through Centennial Park. It had been four long months and her best friends in this town were an eighty-nine-year-old widow and a fourteen-week-old baby who routinely shat herself.
‘Shall we do another one?’ she asked, hoping he didn’t hear the wobble in her voice.
James’s eyes met hers briefly. ‘I’m happy with silence.’
To their left, a ride-on lawnmower buzzed over the fairways and a lone golf ball sailed through the cloudless sky. Poppy swallowed her tears and a huge wave of relief.
The next day, James and Eileen were back by the oak tree, which was a blaze of red and gold. The grass around them was still wet from the morning dew.
‘What are you wearing?’ asked Poppy.
‘Hello to you too,’ replied James.
‘You know I don’t waste time on pleasantries with you.’
‘I do know that,’ admitted James, shifting to the left so the pram could have the bulk of the footpath.
‘So enlighten me,’ Poppy said. ‘Do you not own pants?’
James was wearing a pair of rugby shorts over compression tights.
‘This is a look,’ he argued. He pronounced it likeleeeewk.
‘Says who?’
‘The Sydney Swans, the Parramatta Eels, the Wallabies, the Western Sydney Wanderers. It’s a high-performance look. Would you prefer I wore tights without the shorts?’
‘No way,’ Poppy said firmly. She had witnessed too many misguided old men in Centennial Park who favoured the tights-only look for their weekend walks. The memory of their jiggly ball sacks was burned into her retinas.
James shrugged. ‘That’s a bit sexist, if you ask me. You wear tights every day.’
‘Yeah, but when guys wear tights it’s too revealing.’
James’s eyes skimmed across her backside. ‘I hate to break it to you, Poppy, but tights are revealing on anyone.’
Poppy felt an unwelcome heat creep up her neck. She ignored it. ‘Where are your cards?’
James pulled them from his pocket. ‘You sure you don’t want to keep talking about my fashion choices?’
‘I’m picking.’ Poppy reached over and plucked a card from the deck.
‘Tell me about your greatest fear,’ she read.
‘Heavy stuff,’ said James. ‘Wanna pick again?’
‘You’re not game to tell me?’ What was this sadistic part of her that liked seeing him squirm?
‘Okay,’ said James slowly. ‘My greatest fear is … spiders.’
Poppy raised her nose. ‘Cop out.’
‘Okay, okay. I’ll be serious. I just need to think.’ He furrowed his brow and gazed into the distance. ‘Alright, I’ve got it. You ready?’
‘I can barely stand the suspense.’
‘Okay, I don’t really know if this is a good one, but I think it’s kind of—’
