Her dad had offered Brian Ryan Junior a lift home after that fateful Blue Light Disco, and just before arriving at this beautiful farmhouse, Fran had vomited in the back seat. Her zipper had burst at some point during the evening and blackberry nip bile was dripping all the way down her stomach. Her feet were bleeding, she had lost her dead mother’s shoes, and she did not want to be in a car with Brian Ryan Junior, nor look him in the eye ever again.
The week after the disco, Brian Ryan Junior ran away from home to be a vegetarian, reappearing twenty-eight years later as a sad vegan with four children and a new name: The Captain.
Seriously.
Weirdo.
She felt like vomiting now too. She should stop thinking about acid-wash jeans and just knock on the door. Thankfully, Vonny did it for her.
Twin girls, around nine, answered, both wearing nothing but a large T-shirt.
‘Have you got any cheese?’ asked one.
‘Amy!’ said the other, before correcting: ‘You got any cheese, please?’
A thirteen-year-old-ish girl, dressed in jeans and a short T-shirt, intervened, slapping the one who wasn’t Amy on the back very hard: ‘Scat! Sorry about them. Oi! Get off that! 37AMY!’ The girl disappeared to get Amy off something, and was immediately replaced by a sixteen-year-old girl. Fran wondered if girls might continue to appear this way all the way to ninety, and was beginning to understand their father’s new nickname. She wouldn’t be surprised if she soon heard a whistle.
‘Can I help you?’ This teenager had the apron, hair and joylessness of a Victorian farmer’s wife.
‘I’m Fran Collins, from next door, and this is my daughter, Veronica – Vonny.’
Vonny said ‘hi’ as politely as she could, which was rudely. It was a relief that this girl –
‘Rosie,’ she said, no smile.
– was even ruder.
‘Dad asked me to drop this off, so I’ll just pop it here, shall I?’ Fran was about to put the chainsaw on the ground and get the hell out of there when:
‘Fran! Fran Collins!’
Guttural shards had turned out to be hereditary.
‘It is you!’
A middle-aged man was standing in front of her. If she looked hard, she could see that his teeth were the same, but nothing else. He had been stretched and redrawn and it had turned out well.
‘Congratulations on keeping your hair,’ she found herself saying. Brian Ryan Junior had turned out to be a silver fox. He hugged her as if they were old friends, and she forgot the Blue Light Disco for a moment.
‘I’ve made fudge,’ he said. ‘Come.’
They had no choice, so followed him into his vegan tree-changer’s kitchen. The fudge smelt good. The twins had been put in charge of icing it. 38
‘Rosie, take Vonny and get a handful of mint, yeah?’ said Brian Ryan Junior.
Both girls looked horrified, which somehow spurred both adults to make this happen, no matter what.
‘Can I have your phone before you go, V, need to check something.’ Fran extended her hand, and Vonny met it slowly and with hatred. There was a slight tug of war, which Fran won, and the girls headed off to bond over herbs.
‘I wanted to talk to you about something,’ said Brian Ryan Junior, shooing away his icing-covered twins and cutting a piece of fudge for Fran.
That fudge! Perhaps Brian Ryan Junior would be The Captain to her from now on … The Captain.
‘I took a wedding booking for next Monday, from Emily Nelson.’ He was showing her a photo of a woman on his laptop. Blonde extensions and Botox, a Real Housewife of Melbourne type.
Fran didn’t understand what he was talking about, and needed another piece of fudge. ‘Your little girls really seem to want some cheese,’ she said, keen to stick to food-related conversations.
He sighed. ‘I know.’
‘I can get them some, if you like, it’d have nothing to do with you.’
He thought for a moment then shook his head. ‘I’d never agree to that.’
Fran shook her head and helped herself to another piece of fudge. ‘No, well of course you wouldn’t.’
They smiled, the deal was done.
He was showing her something, the woman on his laptop, that’s right. ‘I don’t get eyebrows these days,’ she said. This Emily woman’s were jet black and over-arched. ‘So she’s getting hitched in your shearing shed?’ 39
‘Next Monday.’
‘And you’re telling me because…?’
‘Because she’s marrying this man.’ The Captain zoomed out to include the man on Emily’s arm.
Fran was now looking at The Boarder. Thirty years on and he was exactly the same, but this was not a good thing. His hair should have greyed. His shoulders should have rounded. His smile should have altered. Blackberry nip – she could taste it, and it was rising. She put her hand over her mouth.
The girls were back with the mint and it was clear neither were happy.
‘You going to the dance?’ The Captain said to Vonny, who was wanting her phone back, and to shoot Fran in the head.
‘The Blue Light Disco, in two hours, Rosie’s going. You could go together.’
‘So sorry,’ said Vonny, ‘I’ve got nothing to wear.’ She now looked like she wanted to shoot everyone in the head, with a machine gun.
‘Rosie has so many clothes!’ said The Captain. ‘Stay. You girls should get ready together. What do they call it? “Prees”? Pre-drinks. Non-alcoholic, obvs.’ He stared out his daughter, who was still wearing the apron and a very unhappy expression.
Rosie had blinked before her dad, and was therefore required to play host to Vonny. ‘You wanna?’
‘Okay, cool,’ Vonny said, putting her hand out to retrieve the phone from her mother, then following her new friend to the bedroom.
‘Blue Light Disco?’ Fran said to The Captain.
And this is what The Captain said to Fran: ‘They’re much safer these days.’