Lucy in the Sky

feel a pang of homesickness when I look up to the second-floor flat and see the small balcony where we occasionally sat out for dinner. I picture Mum at home now in her picturesque English garden and smile. Who would’ve thought she’d go from working as a struggling secretary at an accountancy firm to owning and running a quaint little tea shop in Somerset? I’m genuinely happy for her. Terry was one of the senior managers at the firm and, even though he bored me silly when I first met him, he’s a kind man and he’s good for Mum. God knows how he put up with my tantrums when they made the decision to move back to England–because naturally I blamed him for taking me away from my friends. But now that house in Somerset feels more like home to me than any of these two-bedroom units ever did.
    I suddenly wish James was here. I would have liked to showhim where I used to live. I spoke to him last night to tell him about being Molly’s bridesmaid and the dress–just briefly because he was on his way out of the door for an early morning meeting, and I was feeling pretty exhausted anyway. But it was good to hear his voice, even if I still feel slightly anxious about what he could be getting up to back in London.
    It’s stopped raining now and I look at my watch. I don’t have to pick up Molly for a few hours and I wouldn’t mind having a coffee and seeing where she works, so I drive back into town.
    Molly works in a funky little design store, which sells everything from candles and crockery to jewellery, cushions and clothes. She’s serving a customer as I walk in but she looks delighted to see me, mouthing ‘Hey, you’ as she rings a purchase through the till. We sit chatting for the last couple of quiet hours of her day, planning the hen night on Saturday. As bridesmaid I know it’s really my duty to organise it, but Molly kind of sprung that one on me and she already knew what she wanted to do. We’re planning Circular Quay for drinks at a swanky bar overlooking the harbour, then dinner at an Italian restaurant nearby before going on to a club in King’s Cross. We even manage to book a bright pink limo to take us from the restaurant to the club. Neither of us can wait.
    ‘Do you fancy going for a quick drink on the jetty?’ Molly suggests eventually.
    ‘Sure.’
    She calls out goodbye to her boss, Sandra, who’s busy out at the back stretching fabric over wooden frames to make pretty prints.
    The clouds have started to clear and the wind has settled right down. Blue sky stretches out ahead. ‘You’re so lucky with the weather,’ Molly tells me.
    Manly Wharf has had a revamp since I was last here, and the white art deco wood-panelled wharf front looks fresh and clean. The clock tower reveals it’s 6.15 p.m. We walk around to the Jetty Bar and take a seat at one of the wooden benches. Vast white umbrellas hover overhead to protect us from the now quite warm sunshine.
    ‘That guy is really cute,’ Molly says of the barman as she returns to the table with two glasses of fizzing, berry liqueur-laced champagne.
    ‘Molly,’ I laugh, ‘you’re almost a married woman.’
    Sam and Molly are getting married in the Botanic Gardens, in full view of the Opera House, Harbour Bridge and the city’s crystalline skyline. Normally it would cost a fortune to have a marquee with such a spectacular view, but as Sam is an employee at the gardens he’s getting a great discount.
    ‘Are things all sorted with the venue?’
    ‘I think so. Marquee’s set to go up in, well, little over a week now.’
    ‘What have we still got left to do?’
    ‘Just get you some shoes. And Andie too. I don’t think Mum’s had any luck with hers yet. We can do that on Tuesday when I’m off work.’
    Andie–Andrea–is Molly’s little sister. She’s eight and I haven’t even met her yet. She was born the year after I left Australia. The year Sam’s parents died.
    ‘It still freaks me out that you’ve got a sister.’
    ‘You’re telling me! It freaks me out too. Especially when she’s being a brat and Mum lets her get away with it. She’s spoilt rotten.’
    Andie and I are Molly’s only bridesmaids. I still can’t get over the fact that she asked me.
    ‘Hey, I’ve been wondering,’ I say. ‘Are you changing your name to Wilson?’
    ‘Yes,’ Molly replies, ‘I’ve decided I will. Well, it would mean a lot to Sam and I do really want to be part of his family, especially seeing as there’s not much of it left