‘Sounds like a valid question to me,’ said Logan. He’d never experienced physical violence in a relationship, but he knew how a question could be misinterpreted, how a simple request for information could be flung back in your face.
‘Well, it infuriated him,’ said Savannah. ‘Apparently I was being passive aggressive.’ She shrugged and put her fingertips to the Band-Aid over her eye. ‘So it all sort of spiralled from there, the way it always did, and next thing you know, he’s yelling, I’m crying . . . just pathetic, really. Embarrassing.’ She looked off to the side, her hands on her hips. She smelled of cheap perfume, hairspray and cigarettes, like the girls he used to kiss on summer holidays, behind the amenities block at the Central Coast caravan park. The smell triggered a surge of feeling that Logan hoped was nostalgia for that time, not desire for this girl. It was inappropriate to think about kissing this small fragile abused girl. It made him feel complicit with the arsehole boyfriend.
‘Anyway . . . whatever . . . so that’s what happened.’ Savannah hitched up Amy’s jeans around her waist. ‘He’s history. I left, hailed a cab, and I’m never going back.’
‘Good,’ said Logan, and then a series of thoughts clicked into place.
He said, ‘Does your boyfriend know you’re here?’ He imagined his mother flinging open the front door, in that way she did, always so pleased for company, a smile on her face, to be greeted by some yobbo with a vendetta. He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘How do you know my parents anyway?’
‘I don’t,’ said Savannah. ‘I knocked on their door at random.’
‘You what?’
‘Logan!’ His mother slid back the glass door leading onto the back veranda and put her hands to her cheeks, as if she couldn’t believe it was him, as if she hadn’t seen his car in the driveway and would therefore already have had plenty of warning that he was here. Her voice had that marginally posher accent she reserved for non-family members. Actually, it was worse than usual. She sounded almost drunk with excitement. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’m doing the gutters, Mum,’ said Logan. ‘Like I said.’
‘Oh, you don’t need to do that,’ said his mother. ‘Your father has it under control.’ She came over to them and put her hand on Savannah’s back as she spoke. ‘I see you’ve met Savannah.’ She looked at Savannah and then back at Logan. Her eyes sparkled. ‘She’s staying with us for a while. She’s staying with us for as long as she wants.’ She patted Savannah gently on the back in rhythm with her words.
She stopped patting and said, ‘How’s Indira?’ with a penetrating look, as if she suspected something about the break-up, but how could she possibly know?
Logan said, ‘She’s fine. Oh, she wanted me to give you this.’
He pulled the tiny, now rather ratty-looking gift from his pocket. Indira had asked him to give it to his mother weeks ago and he kept forgetting.
‘Oh, Logan!’ His mother put a hand to her chest. She looked absolutely thrilled.
‘It’s not anything –’
‘She didn’t want to be here?’ said Joy. She looked around her as if expecting Indira to pop out from behind a hedge. ‘To see me open it?’
‘It’s just a little –’
‘Logan’s partner is a very special girl,’ Joy told Savannah. ‘Very special. I wish she was here!’ She patted her hair, once again looked suspiciously around the backyard before she ripped off the paper. ‘Oh!’ Her face fell. ‘It’s a . . . fridge magnet.’
She turned the magnet back and forth, examining it as if for a secret message. It had a yellow flower on it. Logan had no idea why Indira had bought it for his mother or why it had caused that momentary expression of anguish. What had she expected it to be?
‘It’s so pretty,’ she told Logan. Her eyes were bright. ‘Indira knows I love yellow gerberas and that stupid magnet we got in London keeps falling off the fridge! That’s why she got it. She’s so thoughtful. Please thank her. Well, I’ll be seeing her on Sunday, so I can thank her myself!’
You won’t be seeing her on Sunday, thought Logan, but obviously he wasn’t going to tell his mother about the break-up in front of this strange girl. He changed the subject fast. ‘So I was just hearing how . . . Savannah knocked on your door?’ He cleared his throat. ‘At random? That’s . . .’ Did Brooke know about this yet? Brooke was the youngest in the family, but the most sensible and certain.