tonight,’ he said firmly. ‘But for now I think your colleagues are waiting for you to blow out those twenty-five candles.’
With typical Liam confidence he steered her into the library and proceeded to charm everyone in the place. It annoyed Molly that he gave her openly curious workmates the impression he was a boyfriend of sorts. He even extracted her promise in Joan’s goggle-eyed presence to go out with him later that evening. She initially refused dinner—no way was she going to disappoint her mother—but grudgingly agreed to after-dinner coffee somewhere.
Molly told herself afterwards that she would never have agreed to go out with him at all if she’d been alone with him. She would have sent him on his way with a flea in his ear! She didn’t need his pity, or his guilt.
The moment his new red Mazda roared off up the road back in the direction of Sydney, Joan settled drily knowing eyes on her.
‘Well, you’re a dark horse, Molly, aren’t you?’ she said as they walked together back into the library. ‘I’ve always thought of you as a quiet little thing and all this time you had something like that on the side.’
Molly silently cursed Liam to hell. All he ever caused her was trouble and heartache. ‘Liam’s mother lives next door,’ she explained with more calm than she was feeling. ‘I’ve known Liam for years. We’re just good friends.’
‘Oh, sure. He drove all the way up from Sydney to wish you a happy birthday because you’re just good friends. You know what? I’ll bet you’re one of those girls who go home from the office at night, and perform one of those ten-second transformations. You know the type. Off come the glasses and the straitlaced clothes. Down comes the hair. On goes the sexy gear, make-up and perfume, and—whammo!—instant heat!’
Molly had to laugh. It would take more than ten seconds to transform her!
‘You can laugh,’ Joan scoffed. ‘But I’m no one’s fool. And you’re far prettier than you pretend to be. I always did wonder why you never seemed to be on the lookout for a fella. I was beginning to think all sorts of things till glamour boy arrived on the scene today. He gave me a case of instant heat, I can tell you. And I saw the way you looked at him when you didn’t think anyone was noticing. You’ve got it bad, Molly. I know the signs. So why haven’t I heard of this paragon of perfection before? Why all the mystery and secrecy? Is he married? A womaniser? A bad boy? Look, you can trust me with your deep dark secrets,’ she whispered. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’
Molly laughed a second time. ‘There’s nothing deep or dark to tell. I repeat...we’re just good friends. As I said before, Liam used to live next door. We went to school together, though not in the same class. He was doing his HSC when I was only in my first year.’
‘Well, there’s nothing remotely boy-next-door about him any more,’ came Joan’s dry remark. ‘He has city written all over him. Not to mention success.’
‘I’m well aware of that, believe me. I’m not blind. But there’s never been any romance between us, and there never will be. He has a steady girlfriend. Goes by the name of Roxy.’
‘Roxy,’ Joan repeated, her nose wrinkling. ‘Don’t tell me. She’s a stunning blonde with boobs to die for, hair down to her waist and legs up to her armpits.’
Molly was startled. ‘You know her?’
‘Nope. Just guessed. Men like your Liam always seem to have girls like that on their arm.’
‘He isn’t my Liam,’ Molly said tightly.
‘But you’d like him to be, wouldn’t you?’
Molly opened her mouth to deny it. But her tongue failed her when a thickness claimed it. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes.
Her Liam.
What a concept. What an improbable, impossible, inconceivable, unachievable concept! To keep clinging to it was not only demeaning to her personally, but depressing in the extreme.
‘There was a time when I did,’ she said at last, her tone clipped and cold. ‘But not any more. I have better things to do with my life than pine for the impossible.’
‘Impossible? Why do you say it’s impossible?’
‘For pity’s sake, Joan, you’ve seen him. You yourself said men like Liam go for girls like Roxy, not mousy little things like me.’
‘You’d be far from mousy if you made the best of yourself. To be frank, Molly, a little make-up wouldn’t go astray. And an occasional visit to the hairdresser.’
Molly stiffened, despite the criticism striking home. ‘I wouldn’t want a man who didn’t love me for myself,’ she said sharply.
‘That’s rubbish and you know it! I’m an old married lady and I still have to work hard to keep my man. Now you listen to me, Molly. When Liam comes to take you out tonight, surprise him.’
‘Surprise him?’
‘Yes. Leave your hair down. Slap some make-up, on. Use a sexy perfume. Wear something which shows off that great little figure of yours.’
For a split second, Molly was buoyed up by Joan’s compliment on her figure. But then she thought of Roxy’s tall, voluptuous, sex-bomb body. . .and her momentary high was totally deflated.
‘I don’t have any sexy perfume,’ she muttered dispiritedly. She didn’t own much make-up either. But she wasn’t about to admit that.
Joan gave her an exasperated glare. ‘Then buy some at the chemist during your lunch-hour!’
Their library was in a small regional centre which boasted quite a few shops, a well-stocked chemist shop included.
Molly declined telling Joan that she only had five dollars in her purse. Sexy perfume was expensive, and she’d rather wear nothing than douse herself in a cheap scent.
Molly was actually contemplating asking Joan to lend her some money when reality returned with a rush. She could wear more make-up than a Japanese geisha and drown herself in the most exotic expensive perfume in the world and it would not make Liam fall in love with her. To think otherwise was ludicrous in the extreme, and belittling to his intelligence.
‘Thank you for your advice, Joan,’ she said with a return to common sense, ‘but I’d really rather just be myself. Now I’d better get back to these books.’
Molly resumed checking in the returns, blocking her mind to everything but the thought that at least she would not have to starve to death tonight after her mother’s special birthday meal. Liam could buy her something delicious and creamy to go with her after-dinner coffee.
She gave no more thought to Joan’s advice about make-up and perfume, till she arrived home late that afternoon and opened her carryall to find a paper parcel sitting on top of her house keys.
It contained a small but expensive-looking spray bottle of perfume.
And a note.
‘Happy birthday, darls!’ Joan had written in her usual extravagant hand. ‘This always works for me. Well...sometimes. Still, what have you got to lose? Go for it!’
Molly
