‘So …’ Hugo, says, keeping his eyes on the road but turning down the volume on the radio, ‘what was the problem with Prima?’
The seatbelt is a vice across my chest. I bite my lip as a car overtakes on our right. ‘There wasn’t a problem.’
‘Your committee’s UN delegate said that’s why you were late.’
‘The Ramsar Secretariat is UN sanctioned. He’s not a UN delegate.’ I squeeze my eyes shut. ‘Are you trying to make me throw up?’
‘Not on my watch,’ he says, as he indicates left and pulls into a layby at the side of the road. He winds down our windows and switches off the engine.
I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Deep breaths. If you don’t control the anxiety, it will take control of you. ‘What time is it?’
Hugo peers at the dashboard clock. ‘Almost six-thirty.’
‘That’s why it’s dark.’
‘Have you just noticed? You’ve been staring out of the window since we left.’
‘I’m telling myself there’s nothing out there.’
He puts his hand on my forehead as if checking my temperature. ‘We’re on the outskirts of the city now. Won’t be long.’
‘Just give me a minute. If my breathing is okay, I do better.’
‘Daylight saving starts next weekend. Maybe that’ll help?’ He whistles a tune I can’t identify. ‘Sapph?’
‘Hugo.’
‘Why’d you go to Prima when we wanted to get here before dark?’
I knew Ma would ask why it’d taken so long to get the pins out of my hair. I didn’t want to face Matts again. So after I walked out of the flower room, I left my bags on the steps and ran to the paddock. Freckle nickered and Lollopy rushed to the gate wearing his ‘I’m afraid you forgot to feed me’ expression. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his fuzzy black mane. He smelt of horse and dust and hay, much easier to process than scents of pine and peppermint. ‘I’m going to miss you and Freckle when Jet gets back.’
I didn’t realise that Joel was still at the farmhouse until I saw him in the paddock with Prima. He’d bridled and saddled her and was leading her around on a rope. He looked up proudly.
‘Reckon it won’t be long before you can ride her, Sapphie.’ Prima stood quietly with Joel at her head as I walked around her, keeping close to her body in case she shied and kicked out. I practiced what we’d been doing all week—Joel holding her steady while I put my hands on the saddle and my foot in the stirrup iron. When I pulled myself up as if I was going to mount, she held my weight calmly. Next week, I’ll climb onto her back.
I take another deep breath before I turn back to Hugo. ‘Joel was waiting, and I wanted to say goodbye to the horses.’
He laughs. ‘Bet they were hanging out for that.’
‘You’re the one who talks to frogs.’
He puts the car into gear. ‘Only the males croak back.’
‘Which means girl frogs are much less likely to be eaten.’ We turn onto the road. ‘I know a lot about frogs because of you.’
He looks at me slyly. ‘Matts likes my frogs.’
Within a few minutes, we turn onto the two-lane loop road that leads to the city. There are road signs and traffic lights and roundabouts and pedestrians and rows and rows of houses.
No kangaroos.
I open my fingers, releasing the belt. I link my hands in my lap. ‘Matts also likes swamps.’
Hugo grins. ‘Give, Sapphie. You didn’t want him on the committee. Then you did. When you got back from the horses this afternoon, you couldn’t keep your eyes off each other. In a fortnight, you’ll be away with him for a week.’
‘It’s only five days. Anyway, I was roped into that.’
‘I’m not an idiot. What’s going on?’
‘I don’t deny he’s physically attractive.’
‘That’s big of you!’ Hugo hoots. ‘He’s not only built like a triathlete, he looks like a guy who models Swiss watches.’
‘He’s—yes. But looks aren’t everything.’
‘He’s got a string of degrees and a bloody great job.’ He grins. ‘I don’t know that you’ve been out with anyone lately, but—’
‘I haven’t.’
‘Which isn’t a bad thing, since your relationships never last more than a weekend.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘What’s the longest you’ve been with anyone? You frighten the good blokes away.’
‘I don’t want to hurt their feelings.’
‘You see the futility?’ He shakes his head. ‘You plan how you’ll break up before you’ve gone out.’
‘I … sometimes.’
‘How old were you when you started dating? Eighteen? Nineteen? I’ve never met anyone you’ve dated who I liked.’
‘I had no idea you were keeping tabs.’
‘You don’t drink or do drugs. You’re beautiful and smart, but go out with jerks. It’s not so surprising you dump them.’
‘Let’s change the subject.’
‘You owe me.’ When we stop at lights, he turns in his seat. ‘I’ve had no one to talk to for the past three hours. Which is another thing I’ve been thinking about. There’s more to this road fear of yours than hitting a kangaroo, isn’t there?’
I shake my head. ‘Don’t, Hugo.’
‘You and the roads have never got on. And that’s okay. I know how your mum died. But you got over your reluctance to drive, didn’t you? Remember the day you finally got your licence? How we went to the pub and got smashed?’
‘You got smashed. Jet was tipsy. I drank lemon squash and drove you both home.’
‘Whatever. You hit the roo last year, but you’re no closer to driving than you were. Why?’
The sob that escapes is a mix of a cough and a hiccup and a gulp, and so unexpected it’s impossible to smother. Tears course down my cheeks. I sniff and wipe my nose on my sleeve.
‘Jesus fucking Christ.’ Hugo pulls over and takes off his seatbelt. He forages in the glove box. ‘Tissues.’ He dumps them in my lap. ‘I’m an arsehole, Sapph. Sorry.’
I shake my head. ‘Not you. Me.’
As I scrub at my eyes and blow my nose, he ticks things off on his fingers. ‘Something is going on with Matts. It must be. You’ve had zilch do with your father, and now you’re spending weekends with him. You’re in the car and it’s dark and …’ He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. ‘Don’t get snot on my shirt.’
He smells nice. But he doesn’t smell like Matts. And that makes me cry even harder.