Page 83 of Special Delivery
Henry harrumphed and rearranged his arm around Poppy’s shoulders. It had been there for a while now and Poppy was ignoring it. Her need for his body warmth was purely functional.
Around her, people shivered and laughed, the steam from their breath clouding the air. There were too many people in this taxi line. She wanted to get home and out of these shoes and out of this bra and into her bed, now.
‘You’re both gross,’ piped up a man in a flannelette jacket sitting in the gutter in front of them. ‘Who wants a kebab at this hour of the night? Tomorrow you’ll wake up and feel like a rat shat in your mouth. Rat turds, that’s all you’ll be able to taste.’
Henry and Poppy gaped at each other and Henry began to shake with silent laughter. Poppy felt herself wobble into him and gasped trying to stifle a giggle.
‘I’m telling you,’ the man continued. ‘You need pure protein. Not some overpriced fifteen-dollar flat bread filled with possummeat and garlic sauce. Kebabs are just a marketing ploy. In my day, we’d go home and eat a block of cheese and drink a pint of milk and we’d be right as rain. Never had a hangover in the seventies, and I drank a fuck-load, I can tell you.’
A yelp escaped Poppy and Henry had his hands on his knees, trying to steady himself from laughing.
‘You think it’s funny, do you?’ said the man, pulling a block of tasty cheese from the breast pocket of his flannelette. He peeled the plastic down and broke off a chunk. ‘Have a chew on that and thank me later.’
Both of them were in fits of giggles now. ‘Already full, mate,’ gasped Henry, grabbing Poppy’s hand and pulling her towards an approaching taxi. ‘Maybe next time.’
They stumbled into the back of the taxi, heaving with laughter. Poppy’s abs hurt. She tried to think of something to make her stop laughing, but the image of the block of yellow cheese emerging from the man’s pocket was replaying in her mind like a gif.
‘Two Penkivil Place,’ called Poppy loudly, as Henry slumped in the seat beside her. ‘What’s your address, Marshall?’
‘Nope, we’re having kick-ons at yours, Pops. Two Penkivil Place for both of us, mate.’
The taxi driver flicked on his indicator and Poppy shoved Henry away from her. ‘I’m not doing kick-ons, Hen. I’m too old. I’mtired.’
Henry grabbed her hand across the middle seat and threaded his fingers through hers. ‘Come on, Pops. For old time’s sake.’
Poppy snatched her hand away from him. ‘Stop being weird, Henry.’
Henry smiled sleepily and patted her head.
The taxi glided through the dark streets, and by the time they pulled up to the house, Poppy could feel her eyelids closing. The night was a hazy black and everything felt so heavy and dizzy and cold. Apart from Henry. Henry seemed warm. But he was somehow already out of the taxi and opening her door and reaching in to help her out. His hands were so toasty, like warm bread. Mmm, bread. She could go some bread right now.
‘This is the lair, hey?’ Henry said, not letting go of Poppy’s hand. He pulled her towards him into a one-armed side hug. He was so warm and solid, it seemed to help with her dizziness.
‘Henry, I feel weird about you coming to my house.’
‘Pops, don’t make things weird.’
She wasn’t trying to. It just felt important to say it. Itwasweird, right? He had a fiancée. They were ex-lovers. They’d seen each other naked. They hadlikedseeing each other naked. Even with such wobbly ankles and hazy eyes, it felt like a little person in her peripheral vision was stamping their feet saying,THIS IS WEIRD.
Henry suddenly turned to her and grabbed her face. She smelled the rum on his breath and before she knew what was happening, his wet lips were on hers. A part of her flickered with muscle memory—ha-ha, yes! A drunken kiss with Henry. How hilarious!
The other part of her reacted physically. ‘Henry!’ she yelled, pushing him off, causing herself to teeter on her heels. ‘What the hell are you doing?!’
Henry stumbled back and blinked. The confusion on his face would have been comic if it wasn’t for the coiling anguishin her stomach. A few years ago she would have dreamed of another kiss with Henry. But not now. Not like this.
The temperature seemed to plummet further and Poppy wrapped her arms around herself. ‘Fuck, Henry!’
That little person in the periphery was getting bigger and stamping harder.THIS IS FUCKING WEIRD.
Oh no, wait. Shit. The little person really was getting bigger. It was turning into a really big person with really big shoulders.
‘What’s going on? Are you okay, Poppy?’ James was on her verandah, walking towards her from her front door. Poppy’s stomach plummeted. Oh fuckity-fuck, fuck, fuck.
‘What the hell, James? What are you doing here?’
‘I thought I’d … I was waiting … I wanted to say … I wanted to see if …’ He looked from her to Henry and back. ‘Why the fuck ishehere?’ he growled.
‘Mate, fuck off!’ yelled Henry.
