his sudden thirst for rock-climbing. They’ve pushed me off my rightful position on top of the Cone. I desperately need to tell Maxine I’m not going to Antarctica. I’m not looking forward to it, but it has to be done and I’ll feel much better afterwards.
I draw a little picture on my phone with the pointer:
Before meeting with Maxine
After meeting with Maxine
Extreme Project Management had something to say about rapid change – what was it? When chaos and uncertainty reign, a good project manager does not call in sick. Something like that … I may need to revise my life plan to take Adrian’s temporary absence into account, but the extreme project manager isn’t fazed by change, they just re-schedule. Once I’ve mastered XPM, Adrian will return. He won’t be able to resist my sexy project planning.
Adrian is probably rock-climbing right now. Or possibly visiting Cougar in hospital. Somehow I can’t summon the expected emotions. Anger, Hurt and Betrayal must be snoozing in the sun. They’re not the angry lionesses they should be. Here I am, betrayed on the eve of my engagement and yet … Instead of three lionesses, I seem to be saddled with three old tabby cats called Irritation, Annoyance and Pique. No doubt I’m in shock.
As I nibble on my chocolate muffin I recall that my project plan stipulated home-made muesli for breakfast. Too late. My phone rings and I check the number. Mum. I can’t resist thinking of her like that – it’s my little rebellion. I’m never allowed to call her ‘Mum’, only Euphoria. Euphoria’s not the name she was born with, but on the commune changing your name is de rigueur. Our neighbours are Serenity and Rock.
While my full name is Summer Dawn Rain Wright, Summer is more than enough for me. Marley got off easily; he was named after Bob Marley, hero of hippies the world over. His middle name is Lennon, for obvious reasons.
Mum almost never rings me on my mobile – she’s worried about radiation – so this must be urgent.
‘Hi, Euphoria,’ I say.
‘Summer, I’m worried about you.’ Mum speaks quickly; she wants to get off the phone as soon as possible. I picture her standing in the mud-walled lounge room, holding the phone away from her ear to lessen radiation. While it is me, if anyone, who is being irradiated, Mum believes it works both ways. ‘I had a dream about you. You were buried in snow. You’re not going anywhere snowy, are you?’
‘Um.’ The Antarctic trip flashes through my mind, but of course I’m not going. And if I was, it would be top secret. ‘No. I had my apartment painted white. That’s probably it.’
‘Oh, get out of here. Not you, Summer, it’s those bats, they’re running rampant. There’s always one flapping around. Yes, that’s probably it. I’d paint it blue if I were you – much more calming. Well, don’t go anywhere snowy, will you? Not until after the summer solstice.’
‘Why?’ I was born on the summer solstice, hence my name.
‘Really, Summer, you should know – after your birthday is a much safer time for you.’
‘Okay, Mum, that’s fine, I’m not going anywhere.’
Mum’s frozen silence reminds me I’ve called her ‘Mum’.
‘Euphoria, I mean.’
‘You should come home for the New Year’s Eve ritual. That was always one of your favourites. Marley preferred Halloween and …’ Euphoria stops. ‘Those bats, I’ve never seen so many of them.’
‘Mm,’ I murmur in a non-committal way. I have no intention of going home to make corn dollies and harvest altars or to beat drums with Mum and her friends. It might have been fun once, but I’ve moved on.
‘I’d better go before we get too much radiation. Don’t talk on your mobile phone again today, will you?’
‘I won’t.’
Mum hangs up.
I finish my muffin thoughtfully. Summer solstice used to take the place of Christmas on the commune. It was a huge celebration with friends and family. I never missed not celebrating Christmas and we got our presents early so there was no cause for complaint. Although I’ve put that hippie pagan stuff behind me, I used to love celebrating the power of the Sun Lord – the moment he reached his zenith.
As I pay my bill and step out of the air-conditioned cafe into the heat of the morning, it feels like the Sun Lord is doing way too much celebrating for his own good.
Chapter Eight
I discover my inner Alexis
Project: Meet with Maxine
Objective: Get out of going to Antarctica
Critical events: Say ‘can’ not ‘can’t’
Cool air surrounds me as I step inside my apartment block. I press the lift button, mentally rehearsing what I’m going to say to Maxine. If I get there early I can catch her before she rushes off to any meetings.
The lift doors open on my floor and I freeze. An unexpected and unwelcome visitor lurks outside my door.
Cougar Gale is wearing short shorts and a black singlet which shows off her biceps. If it wasn’t for the crutches and the plaster-encased foot, she’d look ready to run a marathon. The folly of impersonating her strikes me anew. It’s like a spaniel trying to pass for a wolf. It’s lucky I’ve ditched that idea. I’m about to press the ‘doors close’ button and retreat, when she spots me. Reluctantly, I step from the lift.
Cougar has never acknowledged my existence before. In meetings she acts like I’m a piece of furniture. She is the star and I am but a humble assistant. But now … we have a lot in common.
As I approach her I wonder, again, what she is doing with Adrian. He doesn’t seem her type. I’ve seen Cougar in the social pages linked to ruggedly handsome and successful men – the Australian surf champion, a B-grade Hollywood actor and the son of a media magnate. Cougar is as beautiful in an off-the-shoulder evening gown as she is in her quick-dry clothes. They never last long, these men. She is clearly a man-eater.
Adrian is handsome and athletic – all that Bikram yoga and running. He is organised and good at his job, whatever it is. He projects an air of focus and dependability. Although, as it turns out, he is not so dependable after all. He has the charisma that comes with being sure of himself. But … he is not in Cougar’s league.
Cougar raises her eyebrows as I approach. I am instantly aware of my sweaty tattered T-shirt and shorts. She’s right in front of my door so I can’t ignore her, though that’s what I’d like to do. Whatever she wants, I’m sure I don’t want to hear it.
‘We need to talk,’ she says.
I’d rather kick her crutches out from under her, but common courtesy is hard to overcome. I open the door and stand back to let her go first.
Cougar swings on her crutches ahead of me into the flat. She gazes around. ‘Into white, are you?’
‘Yes. It’s … calming. Do you want to sit down?’
Cougar perches on a stool at the breakfast bench.
I lower myself onto the couch and immediately feel at a disadvantage. I should have remained standing to look her in the eye, but it’s too late now.
‘I’m not happy,’ says Cougar.
This should have been my line. I’m the wronged partner confronting her fiancée’s seductress, after all. I