Stand By Me. S.D. Robertson

and one thing about her old friend that didn’t seem to have changed at all.

      ‘What’s funny?’ she asked.

      ‘That name,’ he said, still chuckling. ‘El. No one’s ever called me that but you. It’s funny to hear it after so long.’

      Lisa blushed. ‘You don’t like it? You never said.’

      ‘It’s fine. Hearing you say anything is music to my ears after so long apart.’ He rubbed his hands together and shook his head in an exaggerated shiver. ‘So are you going to invite me inside, or what? You might call this summer, but it feels like midwinter out here to me.’

      ‘Of course. Sorry, come on in. Do you have any luggage or—’

      ‘Oh no, don’t worry. I’ve got a room at The Grange.’

      ‘Ooh, very swish,’ Lisa replied.

      Elliot grinned. ‘It also happens to be the only hotel in the neighbourhood.’

      He had a point. Aldham wasn’t exactly a tourist hot spot and The Grange, a grand four-star hotel and golf course, was the sole option for several miles. Located in spacious grounds on the edge of the village, it specialised in business functions and weddings. Hardly a cheap option, and yet it was probably exactly the kind of place Elliot was used to staying nowadays, in light of his financial success.

      Although Lisa protested that he would have been welcome to stay at the house, she was secretly glad to hear this. The spare room was choc-a-bloc with accumulated junk and in no current state for visitors – especially ones she wanted to impress. Plus, there was the ticking time bomb of her husband to think about. His eventual arrival home would be bad enough without having to explain an unexpected male houseguest. Not least one who happened to be her childhood best friend and the kind of good-looking guy who no doubt had women falling at his feet.

      Lisa couldn’t get her head around El’s physical transformation from a plump, self-conscious schoolboy to the hunky man here in her home. No wonder she hadn’t recognised him straight away. The only recent photo she’d seen of him, thanks to her aversion to joining Facebook and so on, had been a headshot accompanying the Sydney Morning Herald article she’d found online last Christmas. That obviously hadn’t been a very recent or flattering photo, because although some weight loss had been evident, the picture really hadn’t done him justice.

      Was this why she felt so self-conscious as she led him into her lounge? Or did that have more to do with the kind of beachside mansion she pictured when she imagined his home in Sydney? He’d gone places – literally and figuratively. Meanwhile here she was, following in her mother’s unexciting footsteps as a primary school teacher and still living in Aldham. The house was actually smaller than the one she’d grown up in. It was nice enough: a simple four-bedroom detached from the late sixties. But through Elliot’s eyes it probably looked poky and cluttered.

      ‘Sorry it’s a mess,’ she said. ‘But at least it matches me in my scruffy dressing gown. Do grab a seat while I nip upstairs to change.’

      ‘Gosh, I’ve made you feel awkward, haven’t I? I knew I shouldn’t have turned up unannounced so late. I ought to have waited until tomorrow and then called ahead. But the truth is that once I got here, I couldn’t wait.’ Elliot scratched his head. ‘The whole trip back to the UK was a last-minute thing.’

      ‘No need to apologise,’ Lisa replied, tidying up some of the various remote controls, pens, magazines and newspaper sections strewn across the lounge furniture. ‘It’s fantastic to see you.’

      ‘Please don’t clear up on my account, Lise. You should check out my study at home if you think this is untidy. Honestly, it would turn your stomach.’

      ‘Oh, it’s nothing that didn’t need doing anyway. Right, make yourself comfortable and I’ll be back in two ticks. Can I get you a drink on my way: tea, coffee, something stronger?’

      ‘I’d love a glass of water when you’re ready, but no rush.’

      ‘Coming up.’

      ‘Where’s the rest of the family?’

      ‘The kids are out for the night, staying with friends; Mike should be back later.’

      Lisa raced up to her bedroom. She scowled at her unruly reflection in the mirror: her messed-up hairstyle and exposed roots; her dumpy figure and pale, blotchy skin. Wishing this hadn’t been Elliot’s first impression of her, she eyed her black dress. It was still lying on the bed where she’d discarded it earlier. She considered putting it back on, only to accept that doing so would look even stranger than running upstairs to change. So instead she pulled on the light-blue linen trousers she’d worn to work, adding a fresh white T-shirt. After completing a brisk repair job on her make-up, she was on her way back downstairs when the doorbell sounded.

      Shit. This time it had to be Mike for real.

      She considered darting to the lounge to give El a heads up before letting Mike in, but then the bell rang again. Dammit. This was going to get messy. Heart in mouth, she swung open the door, only to find herself facing another man who wasn’t her husband. What the hell?

      ‘Can I help you?’

      ‘I bloody hope so,’ the man replied. He looked to be in his early forties, casually dressed, curly grey hair, stocky with a beer gut. ‘Is this where Michael Adams lives?’

      His brusque tone put Lisa on the defensive. ‘Who’s asking?’

      ‘The knackered cabbie who foolishly agreed to bring him home.’

      ‘What? Where is he?’ Lisa asked, looking behind her latest visitor and seeing for the first time a black cab parked in front of the drive.

      ‘He’s sprawled out in the back, pissed up; dead to the world. I can’t shift him. Are you his missus?’

      Lisa nodded.

      ‘Here, take this.’ The taxi driver handed her Mike’s wallet. ‘I had to get it out of his pocket so I could find out where he lived. Luckily, his driving licence is in there. And don’t be thinking I’ve robbed anything. Some folk would. They’d have probably dumped his drunken arse at the side of the road too, but that’s not me.’

      ‘How much is the fare?’ she asked, looking at the two ten pound notes still in the wallet and wondering if that would be enough.

      ‘That’s already sorted, love. I got him to pay upfront, seeing the state he was in. He was at least still conscious then. Are you going to help me get him out? If he spews in there, that’ll cost you.’

      Lisa heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Elliot in the hallway. ‘Everything all right?’ he said. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. Why don’t I give this bloke a hand, instead of you? It sounds like heavy work.’

      Putting her embarrassment aside, Lisa accepted his kind offer. It was at least better than the prospect of injuring her back by hauling Mike’s boozy bulk out of the taxi.

      After wrestling him off the back seat, the two men carried his lifeless form between them, one arm around each of their necks. He didn’t even open his eyes. They were good enough to take him all the way inside and up the stairs to their bedroom, leaving him on the bed in something approximating the recovery position.

      Lisa offered the cabbie an extra ten pounds for his trouble. He declined but she insisted.

      ‘I’m so sorry about this, El,’ she said once they were alone again.

      ‘No worries. These things happen.’ He asked if she’d rather he went back to his hotel, but she told him to stay. They hadn’t had a chance to talk yet.

      ‘Let me check on him and then I promise I really will be back with your drink of water. Unless you want something alcoholic. I could do with a nightcap.’

      ‘Go on then. Whatever you’re having, but I’ll still take the water too, please.’