DAVE

Dave opened the door. Vanessa was standing on his front porch, silhouetted by a flickering streetlight that was on its last legs. He toyed with the idea of telling her to get lost, but he liked to think he wasn’t that petty.

‘Hi.’ She sounded nervous, which Dave found grimly gratifying. ‘Can I come in for a few minutes?’

He stepped aside to let her pass.

‘Thank you.’ She walked inside.

‘Tea?’ Dave asked curtly, and before she could answer he turned and headed to the kitchen. He would have liked to close a door and put some distance between them, but thanks to his townhouse’s ‘open-plan living’, the kitchen was in the same room as the front door.

Vanessa followed. The place was a mess, with dirty dishes stacked in the sink and an ageing lettuce on the bench, but it’s not like Dave was trying to impress her anymore. He took teabags out of the cupboard and filled the kettle without saying a word. He could tell his silence was unnerving her, but he didn’t care.

Eventually she spoke again. ‘I’m so sorry about what happened.’

He turned to meet her remorseful eyes and almost felt sorry for her—but not quite.

‘How’s Nickie?’

He shrugged coolly. ‘She’s okay. She was convinced that no boy would ever like her, so I suppose it’s not all bad.’

After the imbroglio in Mrs Hill’s office, he and Evanthe had taken Nickie out for lunch. She was a good kid with her head screwed on straight, and she’d managed to get things into perspective by the time her fish and chips had arrived. Of course, the fact that she was going to Paris on Saturday helped, and for the first time Dave had felt glad about her trip. He knew that Nickie would bounce back quickly, but he wasn’t so sure about Jackson. The kid shouldn’t have done what he did, but he was good at heart and Dave didn’t blame him. As for Vanessa, that was another matter. He didn’t know if he was more disappointed or angry with her, but then he decided he was both. He flicked on the kettle.

‘I’ve got no idea why Jackson would do that.’ she said.

It was disingenuous, to say the least.

‘No idea?’

‘None. Unless it was, I don’t know, YouTube?’

‘Vanessa. It was your fault.’

He was expecting defensiveness, but to his surprise she nodded ruefully.

‘You’re right. I’ve let him have too much unsupervised screen time. But from now on—’

‘Screen time?’ Dave scoffed harshly.

She looked startled.

‘Screen time’s not the issue here. The kid lives in a house full of romance books where arrogant pricks do whatever they want with women.’ Her face went pale and he rammed the point home. ‘His mother even wrote one.’

Vanessa looked like she was clutching for words. ‘But I never … I … I didn’t … You really think this is my fault?’

‘Not entirely. Let’s not let Stafford off the hook.’

‘Marcus?’

She seemed genuinely confused, and Dave marvelled at how such a smart woman could be so stupid.

‘What’s Marcus got to do with—?’

‘Oh, give me a break. How many times has Jackson seen Mr Master of the Universe manhandle you?’

She reeled back as though he’d punched her. ‘He doesn’t manhandle …’ She trailed off limply. ‘I mean, maybe sometimes … but that’s got nothing to do with—’

‘Wake up!’ Dave shouted. ‘Kids are like sponges.’

She leaned against the benchtop in shock, and Dave felt bad for losing his temper. Was he motivated more by concern for Jackson or bitterness at Vanessa’s rejection? He hoped it was the former, but he couldn’t be sure. Back off, Dave, he told himself. Give the woman a break.

‘Do you want some cake with your tea?’

‘What?’ Vanessa took a second to switch gears. ‘Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks.’

Dave opened the fridge and pulled out Heather’s latest cake.

‘Is that a pineapple upside-down cake?’

‘Yeah, a friend baked it for me.’

‘Oh.’

He didn’t elaborate. Why should he? Vanessa was looking at the cake with an odd expression and Dave wasn’t sure why she found it so fascinating, but at least it had eased the tension a little. The kettle whistled. He poured the water into the mugs and added milk.

‘Strong or weak?’

‘Just normal,’ she said meekly. ‘Thank you.’

Dave handed her a cup of tea and noticed that her hands were shaking, but he could see that she was already steeling herself to get back on message.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I take your point about the romance novels—but I don’t think it’s fair to bring Marcus into—’

‘The guy’s a dickhid, as Kiri would say.’

‘He’s not a dickhid.’

Dave snorted. ‘You have to believe that, don’t you? Otherwise you’d be forced to admit that you’ve wasted your life waiting to be “saved” by some wanker.’

Her body seemed to react before she did. It gave a little jolt. ‘He’s not a wanker.’

‘His hand would have to be surgically removed.’

‘That’s crap! Marcus is not a wanker.’

Dave wondered if she was protesting too much.

‘He’s so bloody transparent,’ he persisted, ‘with his fancy flowers and his shit-hot car and his hollow gestures.’

‘Just because you don’t have a romantic bone in your body.’

‘You know what? You can take an empty box and wrap it in shiny paper and put ribbons and bows on it and make it look like the best present in the world, but inside it’s still empty.’

She looked like she wanted to throw something—Dave just hoped it wouldn’t be her hot tea. But when she spoke again, she was disconcertingly calm. ‘At least I’ve got the guts to follow my dreams, which is more than I can say for you.’

Her words hit him like a body blow.

‘It’s easier to talk about saving the world than to actually do it, isn’t it? Sure, you volunteer on the advice line, but what happened to your human rights career? Too hard—is that it?’

Yeah, that’s it. It was like she’d found all the fear and self-loathing lodged in his heart and dredged it up into his throat.

‘I told you: my clients …’ He could hear how pathetic he sounded.

‘Oh, save it. You use your clients as an excuse not to try because you’re so petrified of failing. Is it fun staying safe in your comfort zone, passing judgement on everyone else?’

‘I’m not doing that.’

But he knew he was. So much for the moral high ground. Dave Rendall, gutless wonder. As he stood there like a goose, his phone started buzzing in his pocket.

Vanessa put her tea down. ‘Goodbye, Dave. I’ll see myself out.’

She marched from the room and Dave fell into a pit of despair. Then he remembered the buzzing phone and pulled it out. He didn’t recognise the number but he answered it anyway. What the hell? It wasn’t as if things could get any worse.

‘Hello?’