Pictures of Lily

his hand to me. I take it and he pulls me to my feet. I follow him up the slope, my face burning.
    ‘Have fun with the dingoes. See you tomorrow,’ he says with an air of finality as he breaks away to head towards the kangaroos. And quite bizarrely, I feel like I’m going to cry.
    That night I find myself in the middle of some surreal game that Josh is playing with Lou. Her Army bloke ex that Shane mentioned to me a few weeks ago is back in town for Christmas, and Lou seems intent on making Josh jealous. He in turn, I suspect, is using me to get back at her. He’s been trying to teach me to play pool, and even though my mind is stuck on Ben, it’s still kind of nice to feel someone’s arms around me as I’m shown how to hold a pool cue and bounce balls off the cushions into pockets.
    By ten o’clock Josh has cornered me in a booth while I try to ignore Lou giving us evils from across the bar. Her attempts to flirt with her ex have backfired because he’s currently chatting up a petite brunette by the toilets.
    ‘It’s weird how our parents hooked up, isn’t it?’ Josh says, his dark-brown eyes gazing intently into mine.
    ‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ I reply offhandedly, and I know that my indifference is driving him mad. He’s so used to being the centre of every girl’s attention. ‘Have you shagged Lou yet?’
    He looks taken aback at my direct question. ‘No,’ he replies, flustered. ‘Why would I do that?’
    ‘I thought you were into each other.’
    ‘What gave you that idea?’
    ‘Something Shane said on that night out in Adelaide.’
    ‘What an arsehole,’ Josh scoffs. ‘She’s been around way too much for me.’
    ‘Oh, really?’ I smirk. ‘I thought you were the one who’d been around?’
    ‘Did Shane tell you that, too?’
    ‘No, it wasn’t him, actually.’
    ‘Who, then?’
    ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s true though, isn’t it?’
    ‘Girls like guys who are experienced.’
    ‘Do they, now?’
    ‘Don’t you?’ he challenges me. ‘Or haven’t you got to third base yet?’
    Now he’s the one who’s smirking and it pisses me off.
    I put on a fake pout. ‘No. Do you want to deflower me?’ His eyes light up and I let out a sharp laugh. ‘In your dreams, you sad git. Budge over, I need the loo.’
    He doesn’t move. He stares at me with defiance and a touch of anger, and I realise that Josh does not like being made a fool out of.
    I don’t give a toss.
    ‘ Move ,’ I hiss, snapping him out of his mood.
    I come out of the toilets a few minutes later to see Josh at the bar, ordering whisky shots. I slip outside unnoticed and call a taxi with the mobile phone Mum lent me. I’ll text him on the way home to let him know where I’ve gone.
    ‘Ho, ho, ho, MERRY CHRISTMAS!’
    This is the sound I wake up to on Saturday morning, Michael booming his way down the corridor and banging on every door he passes. I groan and fall out of bed.
    My next thought is Josh. Did he make it home okay? There’s no way I’m going into his bedroom to check so I pull on my dressing-gown and hurry down the corridor into the living room to look out of the front window. His car is on the driveway. Phew. I wouldn’t want that on my conscience.
    I’ve somehow managed to sleep in until ten, so I only have three and a half hours to get through before I see Ben again. Mum wants to do presents as soon as possible. We have to wait another half an hour though before Josh emerges, hungover and dishevelled. He ignores me and I don’t particularly care.
    Michael gives Mum a watch and she gives him a jumper, which he finds amusing considering it’s the middle of summer. I get a bunch of little things like shower gel and body butter from the Body Shop, glitzy earrings that I’ll probably never wear, and the new album from my favourite band, Fence.
    Mum likes the candle and perfume I got for her, and Michael is excessively delighted with the socks I ended up buying for him. Josh didn’t get me anything so he looks a little shamefaced when I hand over a gift-wrapped box of salted macadamia nuts.
    I spend ages in the bathroom getting ready and take great care over my outfit, eventually deciding to wear my black skirt again, this time with a purple top. I leave my hair down, but go to the trouble of applying lipgloss, plus mascara to lift my light-brown eyes. Then I wait.
    Michael cracks open the bubbly at one o’clock. At one-thirty, Mum tells us to take a seat at the table. I look at her in