some issues, but he’d help out if he knew you needed it.”
“I appreciate that you’re trying to help. You’re very sweet. But I can handle this.”
“I’ll ask him. If it’d make it easier for you to swallow.”
He didn’t know why he was making a federal case out of it. It was her car, her life. She was free to do whatever she liked. Certainly none of it was his responsibility. So why was he offering to be her mouthpiece with his best mate?
Pippa sighed. “It’s incredibly generous of you to offer, but you don’t want to do that.”
“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”
“I know. But it won’t make any difference. Steve won’t want to help me.”
“Look, even if Steve’s pissed with you, he’ll step up.”
“It’s nice you believe that, but since he’s gone to the trouble of falsifying the books for his business to avoid paying child support, you’ll understand if I don’t hold my breath on that one.”
He was ready to jump to his mate’s defense. No way would Steve turn his back on his responsibilities. Alice was his kid, after all. His daughter.
Something stopped him before the denial left his mouth, however.
Maybe it was the world-weary note to Pippa’s voice and the steadiness of her gaze.
Or maybe it was the memory of the utterly blank, disinterested expression on Steve’s face Friday night.
“Like I said, I appreciate the heads up, Harry.”
A phone rang in the next room.
“I need to get that. It’s probably my boss….”
She slipped into the adjacent room. A few seconds later he heard her take the call. Harry glanced around the kitchen again, his gaze landing on a stack of textbooks on the table. He read the title of the top book—Teaching Studies of Society & Environment in the Primary School—before his attention was drawn to the large bowl in the center of the table. Filled with odds and ends, it clearly functioned as a tabletop junk drawer—and right on top was a key ring with two car keys.
In the next room, Pippa told someone she was ready and willing to do any and all extra shifts that were on offer. He could hear the strain in her voice. The fear.
He didn’t stop to consider it, simply pocketed the keys. When Pippa returned, he said goodbye and bowed out. Once he got to his car, he tossed her keys onto the passenger seat then drove to work.
He’d taken them on impulse, because the idea of walking away from her when she was clearly in need stuck in his craw, and because he couldn’t see any other way of convincing her to accept his help. Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe he’d overstepped the mark, big time. After all, he had no vested interest in her or Alice or any of it.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said about Steve, about him having engineered his finances to minimize his child support commitments. Harry couldn’t conceive of a circumstance where the mate he knew would do that. Steve was always first to buy a round of drinks or help out a friend moving furniture or some other favor. No way could all that generosity dry up when it came to his own flesh and blood.
Pippa must be exaggerating. It wasn’t as though things had ended well between her and Steve. She was probably bitter and angry with him. Disappointed, too.
Except she hadn’t exactly volunteered the information. Harry had had to push a few times before she’d spelled it out for him.
Deeply uneasy, he grabbed his phone and dialed his father at the workshop.
“It’s me. I need a favor. There’s an acid-yellow hatchback on the Nepean near the turnoff for the winery. Can you tow it to the workshop and I’ll come by to take care of it after work?”
“You think I’ve got nothing better to do than run around doing favors for your mates?” His father’s words were tough, but there was no rancor behind them.
“No. Can you do it?”
Harry half expected his father to have another go at him, but he didn’t.
“What’s the problem?”
“Head gasket, I think. I’ll do the work if you don’t mind me using the garage tonight.”
“I’ll make sure you’ve got the parts on hand. Who am I doing this for, by the way? Steve? That red-headed idiot?”
“Her name’s Pippa. She’s a single mum. I’m helping her out.”
A profound silence ensued on the other end of the line and Harry could practically hear his father’s brain grinding away.
“She’s Steve’s ex,” Harry added.
Just in case his father started getting crazy ideas.
“Fair enough. I guess I’ll see you tonight, then.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t seen my bill.”
There would be no bill. Mike Porter might look like a hard-ass, but he was the softest touch in town.
As Harry turned in to the parking lot at work, it occurred to him that instead of pulling out all the stops for Pippa himself, he could have simply called Steve and filled him in and let him take care of things. Proving to himself—and Pippa—that she was wrong.
If it hadn’t been for the blank look on Steve’s face the other night, Harry might have, too. But that look … that look combined with Pippa’s comments had sprouted some ugly ideas in his head, and the fact was, he wasn’t ready to have them confirmed.
He and Steve had grown up together. Played footy together. Had their first beers, their first fights, their first girlfriends together. He didn’t want to think that his mate was capable of letting down people he should care about so profoundly.
So Harry would help Pippa. And he would hold off talking to Steve until he’d had a day or two to digest. And he’d hope that someone, somewhere, had got it wrong.
TWO DAYS LATER, Pippa eased back onto the couch and propped her aching feet on a cushion. Alice lay on her play mat, batting at the Fisher Price mobile Pippa had bought from the local charity shop. It was Friday night and she was exhausted.
It wasn’t ordinary, run-of-the-mill exhaustion, either. Having no car meant everything had to be started early and finished late, which meant she was waking earlier, going to bed later. Alice’s day care might be around the corner and the gallery only a little farther than that, but when she threw in grocery shopping and other errands, plus getting to the university and back, Pippa figured she was walking more than ten kilometers a day. Great for her thighs and ass, not so great for her feet or her schedule.
In short, it sucked, hard. And she still had no idea how she would get her car repaired. She’d managed to scrape together nearly five hundred dollars, but the two mechanics
