Page 74 of Special Delivery
‘I mean, we’re going to keep being friends, aren’t we? Even though we’ve … well, you know. I’m just trying to say …’ She paused, trying to find words that conveyed how reluctantly she was making this decision. ‘I really want to keep being friends,’ she said in a rush, ‘but I can’t escalate anything right now.’
The faintest trace of something flitted across his face and was gone just as quickly. ‘Poppy, I love hanging out with you—’
‘Oh, thank god,’ she interrupted. ‘I love hanging out too, and I didn’t want anything to jeopardise that. Not that the other day wasn’t great—it was amazing. I mean, you know that, you were there, you heard me. Oh sorry, that sounded inappropriate, but yeah, I needed to know that we’re on the same page. The friends page. Obviously.’
James’s brow was slightly creased and his always-about-to-smile lips were definitely not smiling. ‘If you say so,’ he said slowly, his eyes still X-raying hers. ‘But I reserve the right to tease you about your horrible taste in TV.’
Poppy smiled. ‘I’d expect nothing less,’ she said, her anxiety fading. Phew. That had been okay. Thank god he was so nice.
Now, walking into the races, she couldn’t wait to see him, which was completely normal for two friends who’d happened to have great sex one time, right? She was so excited for Dani to meet him and she desperately wanted them to hit it off.
They arrived at the gate and flashed their wristbands to the friendly volunteers then meandered to their tent. Inside, Bunnings trestle tables groaned under the huge quantity of food. Underneath the tables were tubs full of ice and alcohol. There was enough for a small army. Dani let out a happy sigh. ‘All you can eat and drink, hey? I think I’m going to like it here.’
‘Poppy, hey!’ called April, waving to them. She was dressed in a multicoloured jumpsuit. ‘I’m so stoked you’re here.’ She gave Poppy a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘And you must be Dani,’ she said, bringing Dani in for a hug too.
‘A fellow hugger!’ exclaimed Dani, wrapping her arms around April. ‘We’re going to get on swimmingly! I love your jumpsuit.’
‘Very breastfeeding-friendly,’ April boasted. ‘Not that anyone’s getting near my boobs today unless it’s for free drinks. Today it’s MILFs Gone Wild, am I right?’
‘Yes!’ shrieked Dani. ‘I’m so glad you’ve found some good influences here, Pops. I feel much more comfortable about your rural relocation now.’
The three women wandered deeper into the tent to find an open bottle of champagne. Everyone around them—lots of mothers’ group connections—was dressed up, fascinators dusted off, heels sinking into the turf. It was just as cold in the tent as out of it, so Poppy committed to heating herself via champagne—a risky manoeuvre, admittedly, but Dani and April were doing the same.
Together they formed a stronghold around the canapé table and slipped from one hilarious story to the next. In April, Danihad found a soul sister. Poppy watched them, mesmerised. If you overlooked the fact Dani was a five-eleven Filipina and April was a tiny redhead, they were basically the same person.
‘Fashions on the Field,’ said Dani, yanking the cork from their next bottle of champagne. ‘Discuss.’
‘Horrible,’ said April.
‘Tasteless,’ agreed Poppy.
‘Gendered, archaic, possibly single-handedly propping up the fast-fashion industry, butalso,’ said April, ‘if you think about itdeeply, like as a casual observer casually observing dudes in hair gel and chicks with spray tans, Fashions on the Field is unequivocallythe best.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Dani.
‘The white-tie-black-shirt-with-fedora look?’ said April. ‘Genius.’
Dani: ‘And with white-framed sunnies? Chef’s kiss.’
‘Coincidentally,’ said April, ‘my grandma wears white Oakleys.’
Dani: ‘Does she look rad?’
April: ‘No, she looks like a speed dealer.’
Poppy choked on her mini quiche and they all convulsed into giggles. Listening to these women shit-talk was like Christmas. Poppy hadn’t laughed so hard in forever.
The five horse races occurred between 2.20 pm and 4.47 pm apparently. Poppy spied one briefly from a distance, registering the thundering of hooves and a slice of colourful satin as the horses sped past a roaring crowd, and promptly turned back to her conversation. Everyone knew the races weren’t actually for the races.
As dusk fell after the final presentation and Dani and April went to source another bottle, Poppy swiped another mini quiche from the table (possibly her thirtieth of the day—they were buttery bombs of eggy-bacony deliciousness, and thank goodness, because she needed to soak up a lot of champagne). She was mid-chew when she felt a long arm loop around her shoulders.
‘Hey, you,’ said James thickly. His body was warm despite the chill and he smelled of aftershave and beer—not an unpleasant combination.
Wobbly on her heels, Poppy readjusted into his embrace. ‘Hey, yourself.’ She swallowed the last bite of quiche. ‘How’s your testosterone-fuelled afternoon been?’
‘Superb. We got it catered by KFC and one bloke’s dad is a horse whisperer so we’ve been making money on the punts all day. I’m fifty-seven dollars up.’
Poppy raised an eyebrow.
