She could try to explain, but what the heck, she’d leave it to Hugh. “Thank you.”
She hoped that would be the end of it but Gabriella said, “I only want to know how long it’s been going on?”
Foley made a noise of annoyance. “There’s nothing going on.” She stepped to the side and Gabriella blocked her.
“You don’t think I’m going to buy that, do you? Hugh is protective of you, now at least I know why.”
“Wait a minute. Hugh and I are friends, we go way back. That was me congratulating him on a private matter. You should’ve knocked.”
“Does Roger know?”
All it would take for Roger to know a whole lot more than he already did was Y. “Know what?”
“That you and Hugh are such good friends, in inverted commas.”
Foley smirked. “You just said inverted commas.” She made finger quotes the air either side of her head. Who did that?
Gabriella fumed. “Does he?”
“He knows we’ve worked together for a long time. He knows we’re friends outside work. All Roger cares about is everyone doing the best job they can.”
“Excellent, well, you won’t mind doing your best working with Walter Lam on the dog park proposal. And perhaps you could do your best to stop the Beeton house disintegrating.”
Foley flinched. Rats had taken up residence in the house. She’d authorised exterminators to fix the problem because neighbours complained.
Gabriella did an about face and
headed back to the department and Foley smacked her hands together prayer style. It was the only way to stop from racing up behind Gabriella and throttling her, then stabbing the Y repeatedly on her phone. There was no valid dog park proposal, there was just Walter to placate, and she’d do anything to see Sereno restored to glory.
The rest of the workday was wonderfully uneventful and, except for an itchy index finger, Foley managed to keep her head in the game. She didn’t think about Drum once and that had to be a personal best. Every time she felt the inclination, she thought about sitting behind Hugh’s desk with her feet up instead.
The rest of the evening was another matter. It started with an event Foley would never be able to unsee. Nat and Nathan going at it on the sofa of love. She’d never sit on that sofa again without recalling what their tangle of limbs looked like. It forced a stilted shriek from her before she could back out of the room calling, “Sorry, sorry.”
The answering two-tone swearing, the sounds of two people scrambling about, followed her to her bedroom where she shut the door and leaned on it.
It should’ve made her laugh, so unexpected and so comic. Nathan wore snakeskin underwear around his thighs and Nat was bent so far over the sofa arm her face was almost in the carpet. It was the most unsexy thing she’d ever had the misfortune to glimpse, but it had the opposite effect, it pricked an internal bubble of sadness she’d been storing. It burst and wretchedness overflowed, making her heart bob around in the kiddie pool of her ribcage.
She should’ve been feeling triumphant after Hugh’s vote of confidence, but seeing that unrestrained semi-naked tussle made her feel so God-awful lonely she felt like crying.
She hid in her room until Nat smacked on her door. “If you think you can keep a straight face, it’s safe to come out.”
She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t bawl. She arranged her lips into the semblance of a smile and opened her door. Fortunately Nat looked so badly slapped together, her top on inside out and back to front, it was easy to grin at her. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“No,” Nathan shouted from the other room. “I’m deeply traumatised.”
Foley followed Nat to the lounge room to find Nathan fastening his belt. He otherwise looked immaculate, although now she knew about the underwear, she couldn’t quite think about him the same way. She gave an involuntary shudder.
“Oh stop it,” Nathan said, looking miserable. “That will never happen again, I promise.” He pointed a finger at Nat. “You’re moving in with me as soon as possible.”
“Oh really,” Nat said, sounding annoyed, but Foley saw the flush of pleasure on her face. Who’d have thought these two would make it. They’d seemed so unlikely, such a flash-fire infatuation, a clash of opposites destined to burn fast and turn to ash. But here they were talking about living together.
“This is your fault,” Nat said. “You should’ve answered the text.”
Foley looked from Nat to Nathan. “No fair. You’re ganging up on me.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Nathan sat on the love sofa. Foley chose a dining chair. Maybe Nat could take the sofa with her when she moved out.
“Is Walter Lam a creation of council?” Nat said, still standing.