There wasn’t much of a chance for a chat on a Saturday night at the cocktail bar and even less chance on Easter Saturday – it was heaving. But it did mean the shift went fast and there were quite a few tips, which were always appreciated. Cameron and Darla left together and stepped outside into a downpour.
‘Do you want a lift or have you got your bike?’ asked Darla.
‘My bike has a flat tyre but I didn’t have time to sort it and nobody in the house was willing to give me a lift.’
‘Why’s that?’ asked Darla.
‘I had a go at them. They are driving me nuts. The place is a constant tip; however much tidying and loading and unloading of the dishwasher I do it’s never enough. So I walked to work. The short answer would be: “Yes please, can I have a lift?”’
‘Great, this way,’ said Darla, whipping out a brolly and then realising that if she held it she would keep stabbing Cameron in the chin with it. ‘Here, you can be in charge of this.’ She handed it over. ‘This is brilliant. Now you can tell me all about the barbecue because I’ve not had a chance to hear it from Ros.’ Darla also thought it might be interesting to see if the two perspectives differed. ‘Did it go okay?’
Cameron opened the brolly with a flourish and gallantly kept it mainly over Darla. ‘You know, I thought it went really well.’
‘That’s terrific.’
‘Until the drive home and Ros was super quiet and not engaging.’
‘That sounds fairly normal for Ros, especially if she was tired,’ said Darla.
‘Nah, this was something else. I asked her if she was okay and she said fine and—’
‘Oh hell! What happened? I mean either something kicked off or you did something majorly wrong.’
Cameron seemed baffled. ‘How on earth do you work that out from Ros saying she’s fine?’
‘Dear Cameron, you have so much to learn. This isn’t just Ros; this is most of womankind. Let me tell you with absolute certainty that the woman who says she is “fine” is anything but.’
***
Ros was feeling quite conflicted about Cameron defending her at the work barbecue. On one hand she could appreciate that he had been standing up for her but on the other she could, and always had, look after herself. There had been an awkward silence in the car on the way home, which had been broken only by Cameron asking if she was okay and Ros replying ‘fine’.
Ros opened the door to him on Sunday morning at her dad’s to be met by a bunch of flowers. The bouquet lowered and Cameron’s sheepish face appeared over the top. ‘I think I may need to say sorry although I’m not entirely sure what I did wrong,’ he said, offering her the flowers.
As he tried to come in she shooed him back outside and pulled the door to – to stop Gazza escaping. ‘I appreciate that you were coming to my defence, I really do.’
‘Great, because those women were mean and you were quiet in the car so I thought perhaps I’d pissed you off, but if we’re good . . .’
‘I hadn’t quite finished,’ said Ros. ‘I would say I was a little put out, rather than pissed off. Maybe I didn’t need you to come to my rescue like that. Perhaps I could have handled it myself seeing as I’m an adult.’
‘Okay. And how would you have handled it?’ he asked with a tilt of his head.
‘Well, I would . . .’ Ros replayed the situation in her mind. ‘It probably didn’t need any intervention so—’
‘You would have done nothing?’
‘Possibly.’
Cameron raised an eyebrow.
‘Okay fine,’ said Ros. ‘I wouldn’t have said anything. It’s easier that way. They are not my friends so it doesn’t really matter.’
‘Which means they would have got away with it and would continue to be unkind to you and possibly other people. I think I did the right thing because maybe now they’ll think before they speak. But if I upset you then I’m sorry.’
‘Again, I’m not upset. But another time perhaps you could ask me first?’
‘Sure, thing.’ He offered the flowers again. ‘Friends?’
‘What’s going on here?’ asked Barry, pulling the door fully open. ‘Oh I know what this is. That’s a man in trouble right there,’ he said, pointing at Cameron with a chuckle. ‘What did you do? One too many beers? Forgot something?’
‘Dad, it’s fine and it’s all sorted now.’
Barry looked questioningly at Cameron. ‘I stuck up for her at the barbecue and I should have asked first.’
‘Ah, she’s a feminist, lad. You’ll get used to it. Come in.’ Barry ushered him inside. ‘Was there a row?’ he asked, looking keen to get the gossip.
Ros shook her head at both of them and brought the bouquet inside.
Cameron regaled Barry with a blow-by-blow account of the barbecue, making it sound like an enjoyable affair apart from the women’s comments. Ros’s recollections were slightly different but then she had had to endure far more of them than he had. Ros kept the flowers in their cellophane but put them in some water to keep them fresh until she took them home.
When she joined them in the living room Barry was literally sitting on the edge of his seat, enwrapped, and Gazza was lying on his back on Cameron’s lap having his tummy rubbed – they both looked exceptionally happy.
Barry leaned back and patted the arms of his chair. ‘Well, I think you did the right thing, Cameron.’
‘Are we taking sides?’ asked Ros, feeling slightly put out.
‘No. I’m only saying that I think Cameron acted as any caring partner would and he stood up for you. I think that’s to be admired.’ He held up his palms before she could put him straight. ‘But what do I know? I’m not PC, or “woke” is it these days?’
Cameron was grinning but when he saw Ros’s expression he reverted to neutral. ‘Anyway, I think overall it went well.’
