Free Falling Away by Allie Little Page B

all of a sudden, something I hadn’t noticed until this very moment. Here with him in the car.
    “So ... um, I’ll see you round. And thanks for the lift,” I say again stupidly.
    In the cumbersome silence I’m desperate to escape. And why is he so relaxed in the face of my unease? I open the door and jump, towing my embarrassment right along with me.

 
     
    CHAPTER TWELVE
     
    Wednesday morning, Boatshed Café. I retrieve a missed call from my phone. Ben’s coming home again for the weekend. And he only left last Monday. I’m late for work, so settle on calling when I’m not in such a rush.
    I grab a takeaway and pace to the wharf. There’s a nip in the air; winter’s warning. I fasten my jacket, pulling at the belt to blockade the cold. Jack’s nowhere in sight, just Bobby. He characteristically checks the time before smoothly sliding the gangplank across.
    He flicks a knowing look my way. “How are you today, Sam?” he asks meaningfully.
    “Pretty good thanks, Bobby.”
    “That’s the way. I heard about your car. Matt’s an A1 panel-beater. And I’ve known him since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. He’ll fix it up for you, nice and straight.”
    “Well, I’ll be pleased to get it back,” I say, feeling foolish and guilty. The accident was my fault.
    “Jack said the same thing.” Pressing the ignition, he absently taps at a few switches. The engine grumbles to life, agitating the water.
    I hide from the wind, wondering if Riley will show up at work today. Just another little hurdle to jump. And I hope like hell he won’t turn up. That I’ll get another reprieve.
    The ferry smacks the surface of the bay, punching through the waves. I steal a glance at Bobby, musing over his loss. He faced the profoundest pain while life carried on. And he lost his child . A crucial and irreplaceable element of his life, yet the world continued to callously spin. And I wonder how that feels . For Bobby and for Jack. And Jack’s mum too. For the world seems ruthlessly unsympathetic.
    I shake myself from my thoughts. Nelson’s quiet when we dock, the waterfront dark and silky under bleak clouds rolling in from the south. The sky lowers over Yacaaba and Tomaree fades swiftly with the light. The wharf seems eerie without the usual chaotic hordes cramming the pillared pier.
    I take the hill to the café, following the line of empty shops stretching both sides of the road. I’d like to keep walking, to call in sick, but Mum’s voice haunts me: Face your day -  no point in running away . Advice she was never quite able to adhere to herself. The irony isn’t lost on me, however the thought of pulling a sickie is exquisitely tempting.
    My worst nightmare is realised when I arrive. Riley’s in the kitchen with his back turned. My heart drops, along with my stomach. Great. Maybe I could just vanish with the ebbing tide. And my instinct’s to flee.
    At the sound of my footsteps he turns and looks right through me, screwing up his face in obvious displeasure. Fortunately the vegetables he chops at peak speed are way more interesting than me. I back from the kitchen, bumping carelessly into George.
    “Whoa, Sam,” he says, jumping swiftly sideways. “You want to watch where you’re going?”
    “Sorry,” I say, my face on high flush. I feel it turning from red to ruby by the second.
    “Is everything okay?” he asks, looking from me to Riley and then back again.
    I nod quickly. “Um, I think so. I hope it will be, anyway.”
    George gives me a perplexed stare, peering imperiously over the rim of his glasses. “Are you sure?”
    I give a nervous laugh. “Yes, of course George. Everything’s fine.”
    “If you say so. I’m in my office if there’s anything you need to talk about. You do a great job, Sam,” he adds. “I don’t like complications.”
    “Thanks George. There won’t be any, I promise.”
    Emily and Gemma sit concealed in a sunless corner. They’re both on a break but only Emily is eating.