Epilogue – All Good

LUCAS

Eight months later…

I felt Isobel’s warmth shift against me and then move away and I opened my eyes to see her sitting on the edge of my bed, her hair looking darker than usual against the pale skin of her back.

“What are you doing?” I grumbled as she picked her t-shirt up off the ground and slipped it over her head. It was Sunday morning for Gods sake; it was a universal rule that Sunday mornings should be spent in bed with your girlfriend. “Come back to bed.”

“I’m hungry.” She looked back and smiled at me before leaning forward and giving me a quick kiss. “Aren’t you?”

In answer, I languorously draped an arm around her waist and pulled her back down into the bed with me. Snuggling my head down into the crook of her neck I played with the hem of her t-shirt, inching it up as I said cheekily, “Define hungry.”

There was something insanely beautiful in the way she relaxed instantly, melting against me like butter. She had a gift.

As I pulled her t-shirt back off she twisted in my arms so we were face to face and I ran my hands up and down her back, tickling her lightly so she was laughing when I pressed my mouth against hers. I kissed her slowly, taking my time, savouring each touch and feeling her responses like miniature Premiership wins.

I had just coaxed her mouth open and moved my hands down lower, however, when my stomach let out the loudest, most chest rattling rumble and Isobel broke away and burst out laughing.

“Breakfast.” She said firmly, “We need the energy.”

“Traitor.” I murmured, poking my stomach and getting another laugh out of Isobel for my troubles.

As she reached for her t-shirt again, though, I put out a hand and stopped her.

“What?” She asked, “I need to get dressed.”

“You don’t need to.” I pointed out, grinning cheekily as she got my meaning and suddenly blushed.

“Lucas!” She scolded me, “I’m not making breakfast in the nude.”

“Why not?” I challenged her, propping my head up with my hand and admiring her nakedness frankly, “The whole point of the Maynard Building is that any naked breakfast-making you choose to do stays private.”

I could see she wasn’t convinced, however, and so I sighed and reached over the other side of the bed and pulled up the shirt I’d been wearing the previous night. Instead of putting it on myself, though, I passed it to a bemused Isobel who looked at it and then me with raised eyebrows.

“Your shirt?” she asked.

“It’s hotter, trust me.”

She rolled her eyes, but pushed her arms down the sleeves and did up most of the buttons before getting off the bed and giving me a little twirl. “Better?” She asked.

I watched the way the hem skimmed across her thighs and the collar fell open then smiled widely and gave her two thumbs up.

“So, eggs?” She asked as she, disappointingly from my perspective, slipped her underwear up her legs.

“And lots of ‘em.” I agreed enthusiastically, flopping back down onto the pillows, aware that I should have been jumping up and offering to help, but not as good as Isobel at waking up and then getting up in such quick succession.

This changed almost instantly as she exited my bedroom into the dining room and let out a scream.

“Isobel?” I threw the covers back and shot, naked, after her. My heart was already going a million miles an hour, the adrenaline kicking in at the thought of a threat towards her.

My heroic rescue plans went somewhat astray, however, as I almost barrelled into her as she had stopped just past the doorway. Rocking back on my heels I watched her standing there clutching the neck of my shirt closed and trying to push down the bottom at the same time.

“What-?” I started to ask, but then my eyes fell on exactly what the ‘what’ was. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I swore as I cast angry eyes over Xavier, Bridget and Mark frozen by Isobel’s scream in the entranceway.

“And I finally get to see Lucas Goodspeed naked.” Bridget high-fived Mark and let out a “Ha!” of triumph before turning to Xavier and adding, “You, honey dearest, owe me twenty bucks, I told you it would happen one day.”

Sidestepping neatly behind Isobel and, therefore, covering myself up from her cousin’s unnerving gaze I searched around for something nearby to peg at our friends’ heads. Seeing nothing handy I settled with simply throwing my ferocious scowl instead.

“Piss off!” I snapped, “All of you, you can’t just barge in here whenever you want.”

“We knocked!” Bridget protested.

“You were obviously too busy to hear us.” Mark said, a dirty glint in his eye.

As Isobel’s ears reddened in embarrassment I roared: “Out!”

“Aw, come off it mate.” Mark smiled in the way that had got him out of trouble many times before, suave bastard. “We’ve come round for breakfast. None of us have any food in the house and we realised we haven’t just invited ourselves round to empty your fridge in ages.”

“Maybe you could come round for tea or something?” Isobel suggested, still, weirdly after all this time, polite to my completely undeserving friends.

“But we’re hungry now.” Mark whined and I snapped.

Grabbing the little pink fairy blanket that Ellie had left behind last time she’d visited and which was sitting neatly folded waiting to be returned to her, I covered my privates and stalked forwards. Gripping Mark’s shoulder I pushed him back out into the corridor in as manly a way as possible considering my girly modesty shield. Then I turned to Xavier and held out my hand.

“Give it.” I demanded.

“What?” He asked innocently, fooling nobody.

“The keycard. God, I should have done this ages ago. Give it to me.”

“Lucas-” He tried, but I cut him off.

“It was for emergencies, Greene, emergencies. Not just for whenever you felt like it. Give it.”

Grumbling something about overreactions, Xavier nevertheless dug into his pocket and pulled out the offending card. Snatching it off him I jerked my head towards the door.

“Cheers, see you later.”

“Around six for dinner, then?” Mark called out just as I shut the door in their faces.

“Nutters, the bunch of them.” I complained to Isobel who simply shrugged, her cheeks returning to their natural paleness now no one was looking at her trouser-less self.

“They’re not so bad. Now, go put some pants on and I’ll get cooking.”

Throwing the pink blanket aside I performed an exaggerated naked stretch and then caught her disapproving eye and said: “Prude.”

“Exhibitionist.” She replied with a smile in her voice as she headed towards the kitchen.

A short while later we were both sitting at the dining table tucking into plates of sunny scrambled eggs and thick slabs of bread, shiny with butter. As the slightly spiced eggs and crunchy toast disappeared I had to admit that Isobel had been on to something with the whole ‘eat first’ thing. We both had the whole day off, a pretty rare thing, and I was looking forward to devoting most of it to our activities before my stomach had ruined the mood.

That being said, despite being the one to initiate the eating idea, when I looked across at Isobel I saw that her plate lay untouched after only a few mouthfuls.

“What’s up?” I asked, wiping my mouth with the paper towel she’d put out and looking at her in surprise. “I thought you were starving.”

“Yeah,” she looked down at her plate and then turned her serious gaze, so different from how she’d looked a mere 15 minutes ago, back up to me. “Lucas, can we talk for a second?”

Uh oh.

I froze, the last forkful of egg and toast hovering just below my mouth, then I very carefully put it back down onto my plate. The mouthful I’d just swallowed seemed to stick in my throat and I had to cough a couple of times to clear it before I was able to say: “Okay.”

She opened her mouth, but before she was able to say anything the phone suddenly started to ring, the shrill noise making me jump and bang my knee on the table.

“Ow, damn.” I rubbed the sore spot and then took stock of what a call on a Sunday morning, just after the papers had been delivered, meant. “Three guesses who this’ll be.” I sighed, grabbing up the receiver and barking, “What?”

“There were only three stories about you two in Gloss Goss this week. Three! That’s half the number we had last week. Get up, both of you, and go skinny-dipping or something. That’s an order. People are going to forget you even exist soon. Your naked arse is the only thing that can save you now.”

“Bye Gary.” I hung up the phone and then removed the jack from the wall in one smooth tug. What was coming next was either a serious talk with Isobel, or sex, and I didn’t want Gary interrupting either.

Turning back to Isobel I saw that she’d left the table and wandered into the lounge room where she was standing in front of the window she loved so much. Seriously, she gravitated towards it so often I sometimes wondered if she came round more to see it than to see me.

“I love this view.” She sighed as I came up behind her and I smirked, my point totally proved.

“Yeah, I remember when you first saw it you flipped. It was probably the only reason you agreed to move in with me back then.” I had meant that as an offhand comment, but Isobel stiffened slightly and the feeling of dread I’d gotten when she’d said she wanted to talk, came back tenfold.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” I asked. Things had been good with us for ages so, even though my instinct was to think about all the terrible things she might want to say, I was drawing a blank.

Yeah, so in the beginning I’d had to work hard every single day to not freak out at how mobbed Isobel got going to uni and how unprotected she was out in her flat on her own, but as the weeks and months had passed it had gotten heaps easier. I’d seen her handle herself and the paps as if it was nothing and still come back smiling to me every time.

I mean, the media had made her late for exams, accused her of being fat, pregnant, mentally unstable, a member of a cult, bulimic, depressed, cheating and a million other things and she just took it in her stride. She was so fucking Zen, in fact, that I think the paps were actually being bored out of their brains with her. And, okay, I hadn’t exactly reached her stage of enlightenment yet, but I was working on it too and, as Gary had said, there were actually less stories about us these days.

Basically I thought everything was going great, but something had obviously finally rattled her.

“I love it here.” She finally replied, turning and smiling kind of shyly at me. Unsure what that was supposed to mean I just sort of nodded. “You’re right, I’ve loved your flat since I first saw it. It was a bit cold at the start, but now it just feels right, you know? I love my place too, though. It’s felt great being out on my own and having my own home for once with everything exactly as I like it.”

I hoped I wasn’t supposed to know what she was getting at because I really had absolutely no idea. She liked my place and she liked her place. Great. So what?

“But, even though I know we really work at splitting our time between our places, I feel like we’re stretched too thin.” She continued, her voice subdued, “Some weeks it’s like I hardly get to see you even though I’ve shuffled everything round a hundred times just so I can spend even five minutes with you.”

This I got. Our schedules were just stupid. Even though it was the off-season I was training every day and Isobel was flat out with her uni stuff and working with Tarquin. We’d both also taken up more charity work, Gary’s continued needling about how Mr Badslow could do more good out in the open finally having paid off.

“Well, I could try and cut back some hours at the club.” I suggested doubtfully, but she shook her head.

“No, that’s not what I meant at all. You’re in the leadership group now, you need to be making a presence there more than ever.” She immediately protested and I nodded the truth of it.

“So, what are you suggesting? There’s no way you’re quitting uni or stopping working with Quin, they’re just not options.” I said firmly.

“I know. Oh dear,” she laughed shakily, “I’ve come about this all the wrong way, haven’t I? Right, so, I’m just going to come right out and say it.” She took a deep breath, while I held mine, and then said, very seriously, “Lucas, I’d like to move back into the Maynard Building with you. If that’s okay.” She added hurriedly when I just stood there and stared at her blankly.

“I mean,” she continued, when I still couldn’t fight through the fog in my brain to reply, “If you’d prefer things stay as they are I totally understand. I just thought that it would mean we would see more of each other and-”

I cut her off by grabbing her up in a hug and spinning her round in a circle. Plonking her back down on the ground I cupped her face and kissed her once, twice, three times with as much feeling as I could put into them.

“Are you fucking insane?” I demanded, when I pulled away. “Every time you’ve left to go home I’ve had to just about stuff my whole fist in my mouth to stop myself asking you not to go. I haven’t said anything because I didn’t want you to think I was trying to get in the way of your freedom or anything.”

“So that’s a yes?” She giggled as I kissed her again, burying my fingers into her hair and running my lips across her cheeks, nose, forehead and eyelids.

“That’s a ‘pass me the phone book so I can find you a removalist company’.” I corrected her, disentangling myself and heading off towards the dining room to get the phone book I’d just mentioned. I wanted her back in our flat today, now, yesterday in fact.

I’d only taken a few steps, however, when she caught my hand and pulled me back.

“Hang on a minute” She chided me, moving closer and slipping her arms up and around my neck. “This is a moment we should celebrate. Do you want to celebrate with me or some stocky mover guy called Bill?”

Feeling that thrill I got every time she took the lead, I nevertheless pretended to think about it for a second. “Well, Bill does wear that cologne I like…”

She arched an eyebrow, “Me or Bill.” She said solemnly, “What’s it going to be?”

I looked to the side pausing until I could tell she was about to protest, and then I laughed and kissed her fiercely.

“You,” I whispered, pulling back and pressing my cheek against hers, “Always you.”

“Right answer.” She murmured and then, as she tugged me backwards onto the window seat, there wasn’t a need for any more talking, and certainly no thoughts of a stocky mover guy called Bill.

ISOBEL

Four years after that…

I tensed as, yet again, the distinctive sound of a helicopter swooping overhead, filtered down through the roof tiles and invaded the small bedroom upstairs at The Point.

“I swear to God!” Bridget’s voice was muffled as she knelt down to release my shift where it had got caught as she’d slipped the dress over my head. “At this rate it’s going to be less like a wedding, and more like ‘Nam.”

I smiled thinly and tried to concentrate on my reflection in the old freestanding mirror Mark had found for me out in one of the old sheds. The glass was speckled with age and warped slightly at the edge, but I loved it. It gave my reflection an almost antique edge that went well with the dress I’d chosen for my wedding.

I’d rejected all the blindingly white strapless meringues that Miriam had brought forward for my inspection after she’d heard that I was, horror of horrors, simply intending to go to a normal boutique and pick something that I liked. They at least covered more skin than most of Miriam’s other fashion suggestions, but I’d never seen anything more soulless in my life. When I expressed this opinion to Miriam, however, I’d received a ten-minute lecture on the current style and the importance of a dress made by the ‘right’ person.

I’d, obviously, ignored her. I was 26 and no longer intimidated by Gary’s taloned wife… well, at least not as intimidated. My wedding was the one thing that I was determined to wrest control of.

Time had ticked on, however, and I had not found the perfect dress. I was almost veering towards simply picking one of Miriam’s dresses that I hadn’t hated that much when Meg had swept in like a fairy godmother and hustled me into a little vintage store on the outskirts of the city.

And there it had been. My dress.

It was a soft white with a slight yellowy tinge, like old parchment. A tight bodice covered, but not overpowered by, antique lace reached up into short sleeves, and then an A-line skirt fell in a gentle wave to the floor. It was perfect, fit like a glove and, I was sorry to say, I had burst into tears at the sight of it.

Seeing it now, with my dark hair spilling artfully across my shoulders in loose, natural looking curls, that it had nevertheless taken the hairdresser almost an hour and a half to achieve, I wished the magic from the first time I’d seen it would come back. It wasn’t that the dress didn’t look amazing, it did, but when you could barely hear yourself think over the sound of helicopters that had stalked you from the very first moment you’d opened your eyes in the morning, some of the delight felt tarnished.

“There!” Bridget clambered to her feet and fussed about with the skirt of my dress until it was sitting exactly how she wanted it to. “You look like that old photo of our great grandmother.” Cocking her head to one side she added reassuringly, “In a good way.”

I smiled and gave her a quick hug, glad to have this time alone with her before the ceremony began. She’d been a lifesaver with this whole wedding thing. She took great delight in harassing florists, caterers and even our ancient, kindhearted celebrant where I just didn’t have the time or the energy after working 12 hour days to get my business up and running.

“Do you remember the time I stole that photo off grandma’s mantelpiece because I was mad at her for not letting me stay up?” Bridget asked, lifting my hair to one side as she slipped a simple silver chain around my throat and then centred the tiny diamond encrusted horseshoe pendant hanging from it. “And we were under the bed looking at it and you told me you couldn’t wait to get married? You were so sappy about it even then.”

“And you told me that you never wanted to get married. So nothing’s changed there either.” I pointed out, running a finger fondly across the necklace, a wedding present from Bridget and Xavier.

“Too right!” She scoffed, now opening the box containing my flat shoes embellished with only the simplest bit of beading. “I love Xavier, but marriage is for dags.” She caught sight of herself in the mirror and tweaked her own hair as she added, “No offence. Plus, white totally washes me out.”

I shook my head, but didn’t bother pointing out to her, as I had many times before, that it wasn’t compulsory that she wore white if she got married. I knew, just as surely as she and Xavier did, that colour had nothing to do with Bridget not wanting to get married. Despite being with Xavier for five years Bridget was still flighty when anyone suggested she form any sort of permanent attachment with him, let alone marriage. They still lived separately and she’d firmly resisted any suggestion of moving things to the next level.

For his part, Xavier had been pretty chilled about it all, but I hoped Bridget got over her commitment phobia sometime soon.

Speak of the devil, I had just slipped my shoes on when Xavier’s head, his hair dyed a celebratory gold colour and with his Mohawk ridiculously high, came into view down the stairs.

“Bridge, can I talk to you for a sec?” He called out, his eyes carefully averted in such a way it made me wonder whether anyone had told him that it was only bad luck for Lucas to see me before the wedding, not just anyone in the groom’s party.

“We’re kind of busy, honey.” She called back, trying to sound exasperated, but failing to hide that spark in her eye she always got when her boyfriend was near.

“It’s important.” He called back, “I’m sure Isobel can spare you for a moment.”

“Of course I can.” I agreed, making a little shooing gesture with my hands at Bridget who only wasted a second to pout and then sashayed sultrily down the stairs, her legs incredibly long looking in her short, green dress.

“Far out, brussel sprout.” I heard Xavier whistle as he reached up to take Bridget’s hand and help her down the last couple of steps, “You look hot as.”

“’Hot as’? What are you? Twelve?” Came Bridget’s typically caustic reply, but I could tell she was smiling.

I planned to leave them to it, but at that moment I heard my mobile give its distinctive chirp to let me know I’d received a message. Looking round I realised it was downstairs in my bag and started down to retrieve it. I froze on the sixth step down, however, as I heard Xavier say, quietly, but urgently:

“It’s nuts out there. The paps are throwing their cameras onto their backs and crawling underneath the fences fuckin’ commando style. Lucas has gone bloody nuclear.”

“I could kill them.” I heard Bridget hiss in reply, “I seriously could. So, what do you want me to do?”

“Distract Isobel. We need time to sort out Lucas’s meltdown and figure out what we’re going to do security-wise. I mean we have all those guys out there at the gates, but they can’t cover the whole boundary line, it’s too big.”

“Distract her how?” My cousin demanded, “This is her sodding wedding, babes. I think she’s going to notice if things aren’t running on time and there are bouncers tackling gatecrashers all over the place.”

Having heard enough I shook myself back to life and flew down the remaining stairs, startling the conspiratorial pair as they huddled together across the room.

“Where is he?” I asked and then, as Xavier simply looked guiltily at me I said again, “Lucas, where is he?”

“It might be best to just leave him be at the moment.” He suggested warily, “He’s having some sort of breakdown at the moment.” When Bridget thumped him on the arm he added hastily, “But he’s going to be just fine.”

“Xavier, where is he?” I asked, one last time, my voice measured, but my eyes suggesting that any more foolishness about protecting his best friend would provoke a rather more extreme reaction.

“Out in the reception marquee.” He finally admitted and I nodded my thanks to him curtly.

“Right, I’ll go talk to him.” My headspace had shifted immediately into the one I used setting up my own business. There was a problem and I was the one to solve it. “I need you to work on the security angle, I know you guys had some sort of plan B so maybe now’s the time to put that into action. Bridget,” I turned my attention to the redhead who was looking at me proudly, “Please start rounding up the guests and making sure everything is ready. Dig out the celebrant and put her on standby.”

“Roger!” She saluted me smartly and gave her boyfriend a shove, “You heard her,” She barked, “Move!”

Lifting up the hem of my skirt, I followed them both out of the Goodspeed’s family shack and made a beeline across the scraggly grass surviving on the windswept headland towards the large, white marquee pitched a couple of hundred metres away from the house.

Striding past several bewildered looking catering staff, I pushed back one of the heavy material flaps and then paused to take in the sight before me.

Lucas was lying spreadeagled on his back on the ground as Mark sat on his stomach, Andy had hold of his legs, and Caleb and Tarquin held down an arm each. Mark was leaning forward and speaking very quickly into Lucas’s ear even as his friend glared uncompromisingly at him.

“- not the way to go about this. Isobel’ll freak if she hears you tried to go all Rambo on the paps.” I heard Mark say as I stood in the entrance way and then I shook my head and marched forward.

“Mark, Tarquin, Caleb, Andy get off him, please.” I said in my crispest, sternest voice and I was rewarded as all four of them looked up at me with wide, surprised eyes, and then obediently scrambled off my fiancé.

“We had it under control. We weren’t going to let him chicken out or anything.” Tarquin informed me sulkily, shifting his lanky, thirteen year old body from side to side.

“I know you weren’t.” My icy resolve melted slightly, as I saw him and Caleb looking all grown up in their smart suits. Caleb’s unruly sandy hair fell into his eyes, just like his Uncle Andy’s and he was grinning awkwardly in direct contrast to Tarquin’s short dark hair and mutinous expression.

“I told you,” Lucas got to his feet and glared round at his groomsmen, “I’m not going to chicken out, but I’m not letting them get away with this either.”

“Hold your horses.” I told him firmly, before turning to the line up of neatly pressed boys and asking politely, “Could you give us a minute, please?”

“Yeah, course.” Andy winked merrily at me and then started to shepherd the younger boys out.

“I’m warning you,” Mark leaned past me to point a stern finger at Lucas, “That’s the last time I sit on you to stop you screwing up. You go out of your mind again and you’re on your own.”

He stormed past the others, a man clearly at the end of his tether, and Tarquin nodded his agreement, “Grow up.” He snapped and I quickly swallowed the smile the hypocritical nature of that comment had surprised out of me.

Andy shrugged and shook his head, clearly bewildered by all the dramatics and Callie simply said politely:

“You look very nice, Auntie Isobel.”

The flap swung shut behind them just as Tarquin muttered, “Suck up.” This left Lucas and me alone in the large tent, the only noise the snapping of the material in the wind.

I took a deep breath and looked at Lucas only to see him staring at me slack-jawed then, abruptly, he turned around so his back was to me.

“Lucas, what-?” I started to ask and he replied grimly,

“I’m not supposed to see you, it’s bad luck.”

I laughed, just a tiny little bit bitterly, and moved round to stand in front of him again.

“Swooping helicopters, militant paparazzi and a kamikaze groom? I think we’ve got bad luck covered, sweetheart.”

His face fell at the subtle attack and then he sighed. “I’m sorry, come here.” He reached out for me and I stepped thankfully into his arms.

“What’s gotten into you?” I asked against his shoulder, “I haven’t seen that crazy ‘I hate you all’ look in your eye for years. I thought you’d kind of chilled out about all this paparazzi stuff.”

“Not today,” he growled, “they shouldn’t get today.”

I pulled back and kissed him lightly before saying, “Today is just another day, we’re just wearing fancier clothes, that’s all.”

“You don’t believe that.” He snorted, running a thumb lightly across my cheek, “You’re all ‘this is the most special day of our lives’ I know you are.”

“Not to the point where you’re prepared to lose your mind to protect the sanctity of it.” I protested, “In that case today is just a day; a fantastic day where we get to see all our friends and family, but just a day nonetheless.”

“Isobel,” He groaned in frustration, bending his forehead down to rest against mine, “You don’t have to say all this just to make me feel better.”

“I’m not, I’m honestly not.” I tried to convince him, “I’m here and you’re here, so who cares if they’re here as well? I just want you, nobody else, and I’ve got you, so everything’s perfect.”

We stood like that for a long while, forehead-to-forehead, our eyes closed, breathing steadily. It was almost like meditation, and I could feel the aggression flow away from Lucas in rolling waves. We were still frozen in this position when the flap to the marquee was pulled aside again and Bridget stuck her head round.

“Plan B is in place, are you ready?”

“Are we?” I asked Lucas and he released a long breath and then pulled away and nodded.

“Let’s do this.”

“You should go and get into position then.” I beamed, but he shook his head and entwined his fingers through mine tightly.

“I’m not letting go of you today.” He said sternly, before turning to Bridget and saying, “Go tell Isobel’s dad that he can sit down with everyone else. I’m walking Isobel down the aisle.” Then he looked back at me, his green eyes boring into mine. “We start this as we mean to go on.” The word ‘together’ hung between us, too sappy to be spoken, but still undoubtedly there.

Bridget made a vomiting noise and then ducked back out.

“So,” I swallowed back happy tears and smiled, “what’s plan B?”

“Come see.” He led me over to the marquee wall and then paused. “You look incredible, by the way, I should’ve said that the second I saw you, or dropped to my knees and worshipped you or something, but you honestly do look really beautiful.”

“Thank you, you look pretty incredible yourself.”

“You’re prettier.” Xavier’s voice suddenly piped up from outside, followed immediately by Mark saying,

“No, you’re prettier!”

“Bastards.” Lucas said, but he was grinning good-naturedly and I was finally fully reassured that, paps or not, this really was going to be the best day of my life.

“Now that we’ve ascertained that you both look just adorable, do you think you could hurry up?” Gary’s voice was the next to drift through to us. “Plan B isn’t exactly light you know.”

I looked at Lucas in confusion and he grinned and finally pulled back the doorway to reveal Andy, Mark, Xavier and Gary holding four poles strung between which was a large swathe of fabric. It was like an elaborate sunshade, but draped in brightly coloured ribbons, disco balls and flowers. Looking up, those tears sprung straight back into my eyes as I saw that a colourful, swirling pattern was painted across the fabric with the word love scrawled in between.

“Okay, so it’s a bit over the top, but it means that the photographers in the helicopters and on the top of the cliff won’t be able to see anything. Just to make sure, I got Em to paint on it so they couldn’t see through it either.” Lucas explained, “And I know you wanted to get married out in the open with the sun and everything, but this was the best way I could think of to-”

“I love it.” I hugged my husband-to-be tightly, then, catching sight of Emily, I released him and hugged her too. “Thank you, all of you, this is amazing.”

“Yeah, amazing and heavy.” Gary reiterated pointedly and I apologised and hastened back under the shade, protecting us from prying eyes.

“Let’s go then.” Bridget gestured for Lucas’s sisters to set off and, holding the hand of their respective daughter, Meg and Emily led the way towards the steps that went down to the secluded beach at The Point. My cousin waited for the appropriate time and then tucked her left arm into the crook of Caleb’s right and then her right into the crook of Tarquin’s left and followed.

“All together now boys.” Gary barked as the three disappeared from sight, “Forward!”

And so, surrounded by this guard of men who had seen me through the best and worst of times, I set off to get married; protected, loved and happy.

TARQUIN

Three years later still...

It felt kind of strange knocking on Cal’s front door with a girl in tow. Usually his house was a place for me to relax after a game, or my bolt hole, a hiding place when shit got to be a bit too much at home. But, this time, everything was cool, it was summer, the sun beat down hot on my shoulders and Mel was smiling next to me in her pretty sundress thing.

I cleared my throat awkwardly and smiled back, wishing she didn’t make me so bloody nervous whenever she smiled like that. I still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to rock up to this BBQ with me. Actually, I couldn’t believe I’d even asked her. Still, when she’d told me that she wasn’t going to be doing anything on the Australia Day long weekend because most of her mates had gone away for the holidays and her parents would be working I’d just sort of blurted out that she should come to Cal’s with me.

Now we were here I was wondering whether it would be a disappointment for her; whether I’d be a disappointment to her.

Thank God the door opened then, or else I could have completely lost it and legged it down the street or something. Cal grinned when he saw me, his smile getting that bit wider and more knowing as he caught sight of Mel standing beside me.

I’d mentioned Mel to him a couple of times. How she was in my classes, but not like the snobby other girls, how she’d come to see me play and then helped me out with our English homework, just bits and pieces like that.

When I shot him a look plainly telling him to behave himself, he laughed out loud and, completely ignoring my hint, leaned back into his house to yell:

“Quin’s brought a girlfriend!”

Great.

I glared at him as there was the sound of scuffling, and banging of feet and the door was pushed open wider to reveal Ellie, Juls, Thomas and Dizzy. They all stared up at me with wide eyes, Ellie and Juls smothering their giggles, Thomas and Dizzy, thankfully, too young to know what the fuss was about.

“Mel,” I said, through gritted teeth, “This is my former best mate Caleb, his sister Ellie, his brother Thomas, and his cousins Juliet and Dizzy.” I indicated each kid I meant as I talked. “Guys, this is Mel, my friend.”

“Nice to meet you.” Cal shook her hand, courteously although a smirk still hung about his lips, and then set about pushing back the gaggle of little kids to let us in the house.

“Hi.” Mel smiled politely round at all the kids once we were in the entranceway and none of them showed signs of letting up on the whole staring thing.

“Your dress is pretty.” Ellie and Juls chimed admiringly, and I was relieved when she, seeming genuinely pleased with the compliment, happily replied:

“Thank you, I like your dresses too.”

“Kin, up please?” I looked down at Dizzy, real name Beth, only just two years old and not able to say ‘Quin’ yet. She was holding her little arms up and smiling hopefully so, despite the suspiciously sticky patch on the front of her dress, I scooped her up.

I was punished almost immediately as she cried out, “Kisses!” and began to press her drooly mouth all over my face.

“Ewgh, Diz.” I complained, wiping at my face disgustedly, “You dribbled all over me.”

Pleased with herself she clapped her hands while I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at her.

Hearing another laugh I realised Mel had finished her fashion conversation and was watching us. Quickly pulling my tongue back in, I tried to look normal, painfully aware that I’d gone red at being caught out being so stupid.

It was all Dizzy’s fault. I wasn’t stupid with anyone else like I was with her. When Isobel had first told me she was pregnant when I was 14, I remember feeling angry; almost like her having a kid was going to ruin what we had. But then Dizzy had been born and we’d just worked. Cal often said it was because we had the same mental age.

Feeling a bit like the bloody pied piper with all the kids swarming after us, I led the way through the kitchen to the French doors at the back which led onto the patio and the Strand’s back garden.

“Wow,” Mel breathed, “this is beautiful.”

Cal’s family did have a pretty incredible backyard. Phil loved to garden so it was exploding with flowers and Em had done an amazing mural along the back fence so it seemed even bigger than it was. The patio had large, colourful cushions strewn about and the fenced off pool was to the side, tiled once again by Emily so that vibrant colours glinted and shifted with the movement of the water.

“Thank you.” Meg came over to us, beaming in welcome, “Hi Quin, who’s this?”

“Quin brought his girlfriend!” Ellie and Juliet chorused in unison, nudging each other and going bright red when I shot them a look.

“I’m Mel.” Melanie didn’t correct the girls about our relationship, I noticed, but her cheeks did look pinker than usual. I didn’t know whether it was my imagination, but she seemed to be going pink in my company a lot these days.

“Lovely to meet you, I’m Callie’s mum, Meg. Come through and meet everyone else.” As was her way, Meg took control, tucking Mel under her arm and moving forward before glancing back habitually to check that Thomas was making it down the steps alright.

“Here he is! The man of the hour.” At the sound of Gary’s booming voice I lifted the hand not holding Diz up to shield my eyes against the sun and saw him approaching me across the garden. “You all set for next week, mate?” He clapped a large hand down upon my shoulder and I felt the familiar stir of excitement and dread in my stomach.

Next week was my third and final trial with the Crocs as I pushed to become the first draft selection into their youth team. If all went well, this time next year I’d be deep into training to begin my first season of professional football. Somewhere along the line I’d become big news, what with my connection with Lucas and the attention I’d been receiving from other clubs, and Gary had stepped forward and was now handling the interview requests and PR for me.

“Yeah, I’m going to blitz it.” I said confidently, feeling nothing of the sort.

Dizzy chose that moment to boot me in the stomach with one of her chubby legs, almost as if she knew I was lying, and Gary laughed heartily as I winced.

“I think that was a subtle hint from one of the girls to get us to stop talking shop, don’t you?”

“Quin, you’re here, great.” I turned as Isobel stepped out from the kitchen holding a large bowl of salad that she put onto the huge outdoor table before coming over to give me a hug. “And with a girl in tow?”

“That’s Mel.” I rolled my eyes at her knowing look and added, “I’ve told you about her before, we’re just friends.”

“Friends, right.” She said sarcastically and when I looked at her in surprise she added, “Payback. I seem to remember that’s what you said when you first met me.”

As Lucas also appeared from out of the house and automatically smiled when he saw his wife I said pointedly:

“Yeah, ‘cos I was so wrong about you two.”

“You weren’t talking to him about more interviews were you?” Lucas glared past me at Gary, “Because he doesn’t need all that stuff right now, he’s concentrating on his playing, not any media bull.”

Gary held up his hands in surrender and laughed, “Hey, the pipsqueak isn’t under any pressure.”

“The pipsqueak could break your arm without even trying.” I pointed out crossly, sometimes Gary could be so annoying, and Isobel made a condemning face at me and lifted Dizzy out of my arms.

“There’ll be no talk of breaking arms, thanks very much.” She said firmly, doing that disgusting mum thing of deftly wiping snot away from beneath her daughter’s nose with her fingers.

“Besides,” Gary continued as if I hadn’t said anything, “my hands are pretty full at the moment with your big ‘I’m retiring to pursue full time coaching' news, you haven’t changed your mind on that by the way, have you?”

“You know I haven’t,” Lucas growled, “Anyway, it’s not a choice thing, my knee isn’t going to hold up much longer. It’s walk out or limp out.”

I tried not to look at him too sadly, he hated any sympathy about the blown knee that had restricted his career over the last two seasons. It was the kind of thing I woke up in the middle of the night sweating over; that injury that destroyed your game. Thankfully for Lucas he’d had a pretty injury free run over his career, then again if his knee had gone when he was younger maybe his body would have had a better chance of healing.

As I watched Isobel slip an arm around his waist, however, and Dizzy pat him merrily on the stomach I figured that it wasn’t exactly as if he didn’t have anything else in his life. Not to mention he was going to make an amazing coach.

“You abandoned your girlfriend to my mum, mate, what are you doing?” Cal interrupted the moment, jogging over and scruffing me with a laugh. “Go and rescue her for Gods sake.”

Looking across the garden I saw that Mel was nodding politely, but as repetitively as a bobble-head doll, as she was introduced to the mob of friends and family who had massed in the garden to celebrate the day off.

“Crap.” I muttered, making sure the cuss was too quiet for either Dizzy or Isobel to hear, before hurrying across the garden to Mel’s side.

“Hi everyone. Um, Mel, do you want a drink?” I asked in a messy gabble when I reached her. When she nodded in relief I towed her away from the oldies, ignoring the murmurs of the people we’d left behind which sounded suspiciously like those of the ‘aren’t they a sweet couple?’ variety.

“Sorry about that.” I apologised once we were out of earshot over by the table where a range of soft drink cans had been laid out.

“No worries, they were all really nice.” She reassured me, reaching for a can and cracking it open with a perfect pink nail. “Juls and Ellie are pretty full on though, aren’t they? She laughed, “They’re like twins.”

“Yeah, conjoined, evil twins.” I agreed, “Cal has a lock on his door to keep them out, but I swear they’ve learnt how to pick locks, they always know everything.”

“I’ll keep on their good side then.” She said with a smile. There was a pause that verged on the awkward, but she broke it by looking round and asking, “So, who’s that?”

She pointed across to the French doors where Lucas’s friend, Xavier, was coming out into the garden.

“Xavier Greene, he’s a forward for the Coastal Crocs, the team I’m going for.” I explained, but when I looked back at her I saw that she was suddenly wearing that star-dazed look I’d seen people wear growing up whenever I went out with Isobel and Lucas. Just as I was wondering why it was Xavier’s presence and not the others that had got her all tongue-tied she exclaimed,

“Is that Bridget Saunders with him?”

“Uh, yeah.” I agreed, “You know her?”

“Of course I know her!” She said as if I was nuts, “She’s famous! She wrote that book about being a footballer groupie and she writes a gossip column in Gloss Goss. It’s so funny, I love it.”

I shrugged, kind of surprised to hear that Xavier’s girlfriend was so well known. I mean I knew she wrote for a magazine, but it wasn’t as if I read Gloss Goss or any of those trashy mags so I didn’t know she was that popular.

Uncomfortable as always with any kind of star-struck behaviour, and sure if Bridget caught wind of a fan I wouldn’t get to spend any more time with Mel that day, I nodded towards a bench tucked away in the corner and suggested we go sit down.

Once we were settled I asked her some dumb question about school and we talked about stuff like that until she looked across at Lucas and Isobel, now sitting on the ground together watching Dizzy and Thomas smack wooden blocks together, and asked,

“So how do you know Lucas and Isobel? It’s not like they’re our age or anything.”

“They kind of brought me up.” I explained awkwardly, picking apart a blade of grass, “Lucas taught me everything I know about footy, and Isobel taught me,” I paused for a moment trying to think of how to describe our relationship and then finished, “everything else.”

“My little brother goes to one of her child care centres.” Mel tucked her legs up onto the bench and my eyes flicked down and then back up embarrassedly as her dress crept up her thigh, “He loves it there.”

“Yeah, they’ve done pretty well.” I felt proud saying that. I’d been there from the beginning with Isobel’s child care centres. I’d been the first kid enrolled in the before and after school program, and now I worked there whenever I wasn’t out training.

There was silence for a moment as we both looked out across the garden at all the people milling about and then Mel smiled slightly.

“They look happy, don’t they? Lucas and Isobel? I mean you hear all this stuff...” She trailed off as I shook my head crossly.

“Don’t believe anything you read about them. They’re the most together people I know.” I shrugged, “It’s kind of gross actually. Them and Dizzy, they’re like, you know, a unit.”

“I love that.” Mel said seriously, “That they’re happy, that’s so good.”

I didn’t get a chance to reply to that as Isobel stood up at that moment and called everyone over to eat.

I stood up at the exact same moment Mel did and our hands brushed against each other. We shot each other this weird, quick, surprised look that made my stomach do this sickening flip thing and I had to swallow back a groan at how stupid I was looking.

I really wasn’t any good at this girl stuff. Footy was my thing. That’s what I concentrated on after school, and during school come to that, I wasn’t hanging out with the other kids flirting and all that shit. I was on the oval with a ball in my hands or crashed out in front of the TV with Cal. I was suddenly pissed off at myself for that. If I had a bit more experience I wouldn’t be so freaked out by spending time with Mel.

I felt even more embarrassed as we were one of the last to arrive at the table and, seeing that there weren’t two seats left together, Meg made a big fuss about moving people along so Mel and I could sit together. Not that I was complaining, I could just have done without the giggling of Juls and Ellie, and Cal’s wiggling eyebrows.

Thankfully, Lucas’s brother, Andy, brought the meat over from the BBQ in ceremonious fashion at that moment. As pandemonium broke out with people grabbing stuff, passing bowls and talking over the top of each other, everyone forgot to tease me about the seating arrangements.

Meg and Isobel ruled over the table, making sure the younger kids had enough and pointedly handing the bowls of salad back to Cal and me as we hurriedly passed them on without putting any of the greens on our plates.

“The cheek of you starting without me!” I was halfway through my first steak when the loud voice cut across the table and we all looked up to see Mark coming out of the kitchen and staring at us accusingly.

“You’re late.” Lucas shrugged, “What did you expect?”

“Hi Jasper.” Isobel looked past Mark to where a boy of about eight, with the most amazing, straight, white teeth was hovering in the doorway.

Mark turned and put a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder, coaxing him forward even as the kid nervously pushed his glasses back up his nose and regarded us all with an expression verging on the terrified.

“That’s Mark and his son Jasper.” I whispered to Mel, “Mark only found out he existed about six months ago. He’s all shy and stuff so you have to be really careful with him.”

“Oh, poor thing.” Mel pulled the chair next to her out and gestured for the small boy to come and sit next to her. With the prompting of his dad and Isobel, Jasper scuttled down the table and slid in next to her.

“Hi, sweetie.” She said kindly, “Would you like some food?” As she busiest herself getting him stuff to eat, Cal leant across and muttered,

“Careful, mate, looks like you’ve got competition.”

“Oh piss off.” I hissed back, but I wasn’t actually annoyed. To be honest, sitting there between Cal and Mel and looking round at everyone else around the table I was barely suppressing a grin. This was awesome, this was seriously awesome.

“Thanks for coming today.” I said awkwardly as I walked Mel up the steps to her front door. It was past midnight and, after most of the kids had fallen asleep and Cal’s family had packed up, Lucas and Isobel had given Mel a lift home. Thinking of how they were both sitting out in the car on the street Mel and I moved by unspoken agreement into the darkness of her doorway so they couldn’t see us.

“No, thanks for inviting me, I had a great time.” She smiled and then, when I just stared at her, dumbstruck by how close we were standing to each other, she looked down and shuffled her feet a little bit. It was like she was uncomfortable, but she didn’t turn to head inside.

Right! It was time to make a move.

Looking round for inspiration I saw her hands and, in a fit of confidence, I took them up and clumsily slipped my fingers in-between hers. Moving my gaze up I saw that she was now looking at me as well. The next second she took a step forward so we were chest-to-chest, and stood up on her tiptoes to press her mouth against mine.

Her lips were warm and soft, but I was so surprised by her kiss that I’d only just caught on and started to kiss her back when she pulled away, blushing.

“Thanks again, Quin.” She smiled, before pulling away and putting her key into the lock on her front door.

I was so knocked out of it by her amazing kiss that I almost didn’t hear her as she said, “Good night.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” I blurted out and she grinned and nodded, before closing the door.

Jumping down the steps three at a time, I only just managed to stop myself throwing my head back and whooping like a freak. I already hadn’t exactly come off as some smooth, experienced guy, if Mel heard me howling like an idiot she’d probably regret ever having spoken to me. Being careful to put one foot normally in front of the other, and not do some crap and totally uncool skip or something, in case Mel was watching me leave from a window, I headed back to the car.

Opening the back door I slid across onto the leather seat, making sure to shut the door quietly behind me so I didn’t wake Dizzy in her car seat. Looking into the front bit of the car I saw that Lucas was gently draping his jacket across Isobel, who had fallen asleep as well.

He looked back at me, as I put my seatbelt on, and smiled.

“All good, mate?” He asked quietly.

Uncool or not I couldn’t stop the massive grin that spread across my face as I nodded and replied, “All good.”

Author’s Note

Sigh. Excuse me while I collapse backwards into a giant pile of fluff.

You could make quite a good drinking game out of this epilogue, I reckon, drink whenever you read an Australian cliché! I couldn’t help myself, sorry. Just over 20 pages of sappiness and I’m spent. Apologies to all those who were hoping for an epilogue with a bit more substance, there’s nothing but happiness going on here. Oh, and did you all pick up on who Jasper’s mother is?

For the last time for this story I'd like to send out a massive thank you to all the people who've read this story and been so awesome with the feedback. I've loved it so much and it pushed me through the times I've had a sudden crisis and been all 'what am I doing writing about celebrities? I know nothing about all this'. You're legends every single one of you.

Cheers, Jess/star123