Afterward, when they were making banana smoothies in the cool of Charlie’s kitchen, she said, “Have you always lived in Australia?”

“Apart from when I was twenty—I lived in Italy for nearly a year, with my mum’s family.” He scooped ice cream into the blender. “They come from a little village in the mountains on the east coast of Italy. I’ll take you there one day. My aunties will try and feed you up and my cousins will try and feel you up. Ha.”

He was always doing that—talking as if they had a future.

Gemma watched him press the button on his blender. She licked her lips and tasted salt.

“You know what’s funny about you?” she said suddenly. “It’s like you’re always on holiday. You’re like a tourist. A happy one.”

(When Charlie got dressed, he sort of jumped into his jeans or shorts. She didn’t tell him that. She didn’t want him to get self-conscious about it, or stop it.)

“That’s because I’m with you. That’s the effect you have on me.”

“No it’s not. I bet you’re always like that. I bet you were born like that. One of those fat, gurgly little babies. Baby Charlie!”

“I hate to disappoint you, but I wasn’t even called Charlie. My real name is Carluccio. It was my friend Paul who started calling me Charlie. Have I told you about him?”

Something about the expression on his face made Gemma think, Uh-oh, he’s about to share. It was lovely of course, but she had a terrible habit of laughing in the wrong places when boyfriends got profound.

She tried to look meaningful. “No. Tell me.”

Charlie handed her a tall frothy glass.

“He lived across the road from me. I don’t even remember meeting him, he was just always there. We did everything together. You know the sort of adventures kids have together. Going places on our bikes. Finding stuff. Building stuff. Anyway. When we were fifteen, Paul died.”

“Oh!” Gemma just managed to stop herself from dropping her smoothie. “Oh dear!”

“He died of an asthma attack in the middle of the night. His mum found him, with his inhaler still in hand. Teenage boys don’t handle grief very well. The day of his funeral I punched a hole in my bedroom wall. My knuckles bled. My dad plastered it up and gave me a little pat on the shoulder.”

“Poor, poor Charlie.” She could just imagine his shattered, boyish face.

“It’s O.K., no need for violins. Drink your smoothie, please. The thing about Paul was that he was always so enthusiastic about things. I was the laid-back one, the one who was hard to impress. He was always saying, Oh man, that’s so cool! He’d see a blue-tongued lizard and he’d be down on his hands and knees with his eyes bulging just like the Crocodile Hunter and I’d be like Yeah, yeah’, but secretly just as excited. When he was gone, I really missed that. So, one day, I decided, I’d pretend to be like Paul. When I saw a good movie or caught a great wave, I’d say to myself, Oh man, Charlie, that’s so cool! It was like I was wearing one of Paul’s old shirts. At first I was faking it, just to feel better. But then I wasn’t faking it anymore. It was like a habit. So, blame Paul. He gave me my name and my personality.”

“Lovely name. Lovely personality.”

Charlie drained his glass and peered at the bottom as if he was trying to find something.

“What about your fiancé who died?” he asked, without looking at her. “That must have been pretty bad.”

“Yes, it must have been,” said Gemma, imagining how Charlie must be imagining her, young, in love, devastated. “I mean, yes, it was.”

“And nobody else has managed to get a ring on your finger since him. Is that because nobody can live up to his standards?”

“Nobody can live up to my standards.”

“Oh I see. And it’s always you who does the breaking up?”

“Yes. I can’t seem to break that six-month mark.”

“I see.” Charlie nodded his head wisely and pretended to peer at her over invisible glasses, while judicially stroking an invisible beard. “Very interesting. Why don’t we move into my office and discuss this.”

He took her by the hand and led her out to his living room. She lay down flat on the couch, only to find that her psychiatrist was lying on top of her, explaining that he had diagnosed her condition and was ready to administer treatment. Yes, it was considered rather unorthodox in certain circles, but he could assure her it was highly effective.

She just needed to lie very still.

“Say something in Italian to me.”

“Io non vado via.”

“What’s it mean?”

“It means I’m going to break the six-month mark.”

To: Gemma; Cat

From: Lyn

Subject: The Parents

Do you two want to get together some time to discuss the above? Maybe brunch at Bronte? Michael’s mother has got Maddie all day Wed. if you’re free.

I am blown away by this. L.

To: Lyn; Gemma

From: Cat

Subject: The Parents

Fine with me. I’ll come straight from the joys of marriage counseling.

The parents’ little love fest is completely nauseating.

Gemma—have you dumped the locksmith yet?

To: Lyn; Cat

From: Gemma

Subject: The Parents

He’s not the LOCKSMITH—he’s CHARLIE—and I said I would THINK about it and that’s what I’m still doing.

P.S. Wednesday is fine with me for brunch. I think it’s NICE that Mum and Dad are dating. What’s wrong with you two??

Before the day Marcus went flying across Military Road, Gemma had been living with him in his very expensive, very tidy Potts Point flat for close to two years. It never felt like home. She just slept at Marcus’s place every night of the week.

Cat and Lyn came to stay with her the night before the funeral.

Lyn was tanned gold from her interrupted holiday in Europe, with jet-lagged circles under her eyes. She’d been gone for nearly a year and her hair was longer and she was wearing an entire outfit Gemma had never seen before. Even her shoes were different.

“I love those shoes! Are they Italian?” asked Gemma.

“Don’t even think about it,” said Lyn automatically, and then she looked stricken and said, “Or you can borrow them if you want.” Gemma said, “O.K. I will” and clomped around the flat in Lyn’s shoes and waited for her to say, “Walk properly! You’re doing your weird walk, you’re going to ruin them!” but Lyn just smiled in a strained, interested way and Gemma thought, My God, how long are they going to keep this up for?

Tags: Liane Moriarty Suspense
Source: readsnovelonline.net