Ten to Fifteen

8.42. As I turned my head to look at the clock by my bed, it said 8.42. I looked at David's amyl by my alarm and thought I should really take it back down stairs. He's back in a few days.

Shane should be up, I thought. No, too early. I could still shower first. Nah, I'm not in a hurry any more.

Coffee. Blog. muesli, in that order, I thought, as I sat up in bed. To darkness outside.

"What? Where am I?" I rubbed my eyes, in case it was a dream. "Dark? Night? I should be at dinner! Fuck!"

I stumbled out of bed. "I can't go. I've got to go!" I'd turned down so many dinners lately that Rachel commented on it last time I emailed her. Oh, I'd given up on you. You're never available.

I spun around in a circle. What? To do? I headed down stairs.

"Your mobile's been ringing," said Shane, as I walked into the kitchen. I could see it was Rachel from the display."

"I'm supposed to be at dinner... um... an hour ago. Fuck!"

I called Rachel. She answered "I only went for a lie down at 4 o'clock. Damn."

"I wondered where you were?"

"I could..."

"Be here in ten to fifteen?"

Middle Park? Night time traffic. "Sure."

"We've ordered paella."

"Armstrong Street? ... Spencer Street, City Road, Canterbury Road, I thought, as I slipped the G.T.I. into reverse and revved the engine. Where am I going? Shake head. Yes, that's the way.

Night air, shiny evening, slipping through the dark, Denni Hines sang the blues. I turned left into Gisbourne Street, inexplicably. Oh, what did you do that for? Idiot! I was still berating my half-asleep head, as I flicked on my blinker and accelerated around the corner into Albert Street, at the last minute. It was only a taxi that I cut off, so it made no never mind. Now you have to go through the CBD, you moron! I'm not at all sure if you are allowed to do 70 k's in the city streets. Down Lonsdale, it's practically a back street. No, I'm sure you're not. I hope there are no speed cameras. Get out of my way! Move! I resist using the horn.

As I sat down to Jill and Rachel's smiling faces, the paella was placed on the table.

"Timing," I said. I couldn't help the cheeky grin, I could feel it spread across my face despite myself.

"Wine?" sir.

"Oh, yes, please, something red."

"So, what time do you call this to be getting here?" asked Jill, almost in an accusatory tone. From the woman who will be late to her own funeral, as they say.

"Jill was early," exclaimed Rachel.

"I don't believe it," I said. I was banking on Jill's pathological lateness, to take some of the tarnish off my arrival time.

"I've been early to all of my meetings this week," said Jill. "I'm turning over a new leaf."

"If you keep doing that," I said to Jill. "You'll be greeted with the sound of bodies hitting the floor, every where you fucking go."

"Oh yes, very funny," said Jill snidely. The look was completed with her usual cat's bum mouth twist, as though she had just pulled the skin off mould.