Chapter 6

      ‘Here, close your eyes. Let me do your eyeliner.’ Penny leaned in, the heel of her hand pressed into my cheek. ‘We’ll make you all beautiful so we can go out and forget all about this week.’

      ‘You know, I’m not actually upset about the divorce. That’s not what’s upset me.’

      Penny stood back and looked down at me. ‘She says after draining the hot water because she was too busy in the shower crying.’

      Okay, so that part was true. It had been a long week, and what else was a girl supposed to do? I trudged home smelling of old coffee mixed with the tang of deodorant and late-afternoon body odour, and I know of nobody who’d agree that that was in any way appealing. My shoes had felt two sizes too small, I hadn’t got through my To Do List, and the divorce papers were a metaphorical weight I couldn’t be bothered carrying. So, I did what any overly stressed girl would do – I slipped under the showerhead and had a good old-fashioned cry.

      ‘It felt good,’ I said. ‘Sometimes you just need to release those tears.’

      ‘I know.’ Penny removed her hand and switched to the other eye. ‘But, now, we dust ourselves off, we get ourselves fancy, we drink some cocktails, and chase some tail.’

      ‘It just felt like one thing after the other this week,’ I said. ‘Niggling little things, but I’m sure Bill is what happens when the universe sends someone to laugh at me. She tends to do a lot of that lately.’

      ‘Yeah, well, I wouldn’t mind the universe falling on him, to be honest,’ she mumbled.

      ‘I just feel like a failure.’

      ‘Ellie, the fact that you are upright and have found gainful employment suggests otherwise. You are smart, you are funny, and you’re a wonderful teacher of words.’ Penny stood back and admired her work with the make-up brush. ‘Fuck, you’re so cute. Who are you going home with tonight?’

      I snorted. ‘Nobody I have to see over the coffee urn on Monday morning.’

      ‘How long has it been?’ she asked. ‘Am I allowed to ask that?’

      ‘Let me think.’ While she faffed about my hair and tossed me a lipstick, I tried to do the mental maths. ‘Uh, well, he kind of overshot the mark on his last attempt, so that was over before he even got his pants off.’

      She passed a lipstick over her shoulder. ‘Are you joking?’

      ‘I wish I was.’ I peered into the bathroom mirror. ‘All right. Actually, my birthday before last.’

      Penny snatched her phone up from the counter and opened an app. ‘Sweetie, that’s fourteen months, two weeks, five days.’

      ‘Well, then, so it is.’

      ‘Also, we’re super late. Let’s go.’

      * * *

      Today was always going to happen, whether I lobbed the grenade first, or he did. There was no point at all being naive about it. Perhaps my anger was more that Idiot Features had got in first, and I was just feeling a wee bit competitive about it all. After all, he was the one who’d done the wrong thing but there I was, being served papers at work like it was me who was the bad guy.

      All I wanted to do tonight was have a few cheeky drinks and forget real life for a few hours, make some new friends and maybe catch up with some old ones.

      There was one clear-cut memory of the pub that teased itself out from the others as we trounced up the stairs and in through the double doors. It was the last week of high school, and a group of us thought it would be great fun to see out the year with fake IDs, cheap wine, and hangovers. It felt like only yesterday and, here I was again, ready to throw another night the brew fairies’ way.

      ‘Isn’t this weird?’ My eyes zipped around the room, not sure whether I did or didn’t want to see any familiar faces.

      Penny grabbed at my hand and pulled me up towards the bar. ‘Yes, but we’re much cooler now.’

      A modern foodie flair had replaced the worn yellowing brickwork, Eighties architectural tubular steel, and dart boards. Still, the faces remained generically familiar. The more things change, right?

      In an alcove, parents who were silently praying for no injuries or outbursts from their four children. Not quite outside their earshot, a hen’s party clucked to life with the appearance of the perennial favourite: the penis straws.

       No, don’t do it.

      The local football team had congregated around the bar, insular worshipping mixed with the scratching of heads and arguing about who did or didn’t have the best mark of their recent Grand Final. In the centre of it all, ensconced with back slapping and the odd hoot, was Marcus. Still dressed for work, he sipped from a wine glass and looked my way.

      Our eyes met in a slow-motion moment that could have only been choreographed better had Baz Luhrmann turned up with a fish tank and a fancy-dress party. Taking that for the omen it was, I ignored the cotton candy feeling that filled my limbs and ordered a drink. The less I saw of Marcus and his beautiful, but irritatingly smug face tonight, the better.

      ‘Penis face,’ I grumbled, hoisting myself onto a sticky bar stool.

      ‘What was that, love?’ Mr Bartender, my new best friend, appeared out of nowhere. He looked cool, like he’d seen it all, blue and white check tea towel over his shoulder, and more faded tattoos than a middle-aged interstate truck driver.

      ‘Sorry, a glass of pinot gris, please.’ That’ll fool him. Ha. ‘Actually, make it a lemon meringue martini. I need something to really burn through this week.’

      Glass in hand, I pirouetted through the crowd, and was spat out the other side into a beer garden. After today, it was just the tropical oasis I needed. With its overhanging green fronds, large palm in the corner, and synthetic turf, it was a fresh break from the monotony of desks, lost pens and a heaving inbox.

      We were a small congregation split amongst standing benches and tiny booths made from recycled packing pallets, and mingling became the adult version of musical chairs. At one point, I got stuck with Glenn, Grade Three teacher, who enjoyed Humphrey Bogart films, and was desperate to get some vegan options on the canteen menu. I wasn’t sure our little school was ready for quinoa or tofish, but I wasn’t about to knock his enthusiasm either.

      Grace was desperate for a husband and, after a failed engagement and an AWOL boyfriend, had her sights sets upon Marcus. Lucky for him, he was still busy inside with his football club. Her reasoning was the very solid, ‘He’s great with kids and he’s hot. What more could I want?’

      Patience, a good heart, commitment, amongst other things.

      I considered her words for a few sips of a cocktail as we peered into the bar. There he was, all wrinkly eyes and wide smiles, tie gone, and finally looking relaxed amongst friends. Moving around our group, I landed next to Jack, who had a small audience of his own.

      ‘I’ve been madly waiting for you make your way over here.’ He wriggled about in his seat and made room for me between himself and Jane.

      ‘Me?’ I joked. ‘Never.’

      ‘Yes, you. We were just saying we should