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“He’s not very angelic now,” I grumble.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She smiles as we round the corner, and the view opens up. “He’s not bad.”
In the middle of the large lawn in front of us, Huxley is currently walking on his hands to the cheers of a dozen nine-year-old girls. He’s wearing swim shorts and nothing else. His legs and feet are bare and brown, and his shoulders are all taut and muscular where they’re supporting his body.
We stop walking and laugh, and I feel a tug of something deep inside as he eventually tips back onto his feet and Joanna runs up to give him a hug.
“Nymph!” she says then as the poodle bounds up to her, and the other girls cheer and immediately fuss the dog.
I watch Huxley turn and look for me, and then he heads up the lawn toward the deck as I walk over to it with Helene.
“Hey,” I say to everyone already sitting there, trying to ignore my racing heart.
“Elizabeth!” Peter stands and comes over to hug me. He’s tall like his son, and just as good looking, but there’s a harder edge to him that his son doesn’t seem to possess. I’ve always been a little scared of Peter Huxley, although he’s never been anything but nice to me.
I go around and hug everyone else. First my dad, Neville, lying on a lounger with a beer, and then my mum, Raewyn, who’s sitting in the shade, looking flaky as usual in a floor-length terracotta-colored skirt with an olive-green vest, bangles on her arms, and a scarf holding back her brown hair. She’s very alternative. I have no idea why she and Helene are friends, but they’ve been close ever since they met when Huxley and I first introduced them.
Next is Brandy—Joanna’s mum. She gets up and we have a big hug.
“Thank you so much for coming,” she says. “I really appreciate it.”
“Of course.” I release her and smile. “I wasn’t going to miss Joanna’s birthday.”
Huxley’s had a lot of girlfriends over the years, and they’ve all been a certain type. I joked about him going off with the redhead in the gold lamé top at the club, but the truth is that he likes smart women—those who are going to challenge him and hold their own in a conversation. Brandy is not his type at all. She’s lovely, very girl-next-door, with curly dark-blonde hair, but by her own admission she’s not academic at all. She didn’t go to university—I don’t actually know where they met; at a club, I guess. She’s arty, so she gets on with Helene and my mum, and in her spare time she makes jewelry out of tiny glass beads and wire that’s really quite beautiful. It’s just that I’d never have put the two of them together.
She’s also flat-chested, and he does like a big pair of boobs.
But they both insist it was a one-night stand, and I think maybe alcohol was involved, and when you’re a nineteen-year-old guy who’s desperate for sex, I suppose you don’t always need to discuss the national economy to get it on with a girl.
“You look nice,” she says. “I don’t see you in a dress very often.”
I look down at myself. I’m wearing a knee-length summer dress that’s a light-blue color with small pink flowers, which sounds awful but is actually really pretty. “Well, it’s a party,” I say. “I wanted to dress up a bit, and I’m always in suits, so…” I flush. Huxley likes the dress, and I know that’s why I wore it.
“Hey you,” he says, running up the steps of the deck and coming over. “Thanks for coming.” His gaze skims down me, soft and light. “You look gorgeous.”
Flustered, I say, “I caught the performance. Didn’t know you could do a handstand.”
“I have many talents you don’t know about.” He lifts his eyebrows briefly, telling me that he’s thinking something naughty, gives me an impish smile, then turns to the drinks table. “What can I get you?”
“Just a Coke Zero,” I reply. I mustn’t get flustered. Everyone’s used to us talking like this. If I start looking discombobulated, they’re going to know something’s up.
He pours a can into a glass and hands it to me. “Nympho!” he says as the poodle runs up to him, and he drops to his haunches to fuss her.
“I wish you wouldn’t call her that,” I say as our parents laugh.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I can see you two are on good form,” Helene says wryly. “Leave the girl alone, Oliver. She doesn’t get much time off and she needs a rest.”
“I’m not stopping her.”
“Daddy!” Joanna runs up the steps, her friends hot on her heels. “You promised you’d play Just Dance with us.”
He looks at me and pulls an eek face. “I did. Later, maybe. You should make the most of the sunshine for now. Why don’t you take Nymph in the pool? She loves a swim.”
