AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But as per usual in her life, things didn’t go to plan …
And the following morning came around way too fast.
Stirring from a dream where she was running through a field of sunflowers, her fingertips brushing the soft yellow petals, her hair wild and her spirit free, Samantha rose to the surface of reality. Light-headed, she momentarily panicked as she tried to work out where in the heck she was. Blinking her heavy eyelids fully open was a task, but when she finally did, sunlight burned through a window, and she threw a hand up to shade her eyes. A soggy Twistie was stuck to the back of her hand. Eww. Flicking it off, she watched it make an arc through the air, then land on Shea’s coffee table, among myriad empty chip packets, beer cans and chocolate wrappers. Wow, talk about going all out; she’d have to run ten miles to work all the junk food off. Scanning her surroundings to try and piece together what was now a hazy memory of the return home, she laid eyes on an empty bottle of bubbly laying on the floor, alongside her heels and a tub of Connoisseur cookies and cream ice-cream, spoon still inside but contents well and truly gone.
Good grief, it was no wonder she felt bloated.
Propping herself up a little further, she felt as if a freight train was racing through her head and a planation of cotton had grown in her mouth. She needed water, and Panadol, desperately. Thank goodness Connor had made a speedy getaway as soon as he’d dropped her off – she hated to think what might have happened if he’d stayed, with her self-control clearly having left the building. After he left, Shea had caught her tiptoeing down the hallway, en route to her bedroom, and had roped her into staying up. Flashes of dancing around the lounge room with the bottle of prosecco to her lips, the pair of them singing their hearts out to Frank Sinatra classics, had her groaning. She had to admit it’d been fun at the time, but today was going to be a slowly-does-it kind of day.
Easing back again to stop the room from revolving, she beheld a collection of bras spinning from the overhead fan. A quick peek down her top offered her relief – her bra was still where it ought to be. She couldn’t help but chuckle. It looked like some feminist party had occurred while she’d been crashed out. Or had she been involved in the bra escapade? Goodness, she couldn’t remember for the life of her if she had. Even though she had a hangover from hell and couldn’t recall what had happened in the wee hours of the morning, she’d honestly had the time of her life. It made her realise just how much she missed the girl from the country, and to be completely candid with herself, she wanted more of her. The businesswoman she’d become in London could take a back seat, because she wanted to get her fill of her childlike self before heading back to the grindstone. This new, old her was going shotgun for the rest of her holiday if she could help it along.
Look out Gum Tree Gully, she thought, laughing at herself, then wincing when her head start hammering. It was hard to believe how quickly she could shed her skin when surrounded by her real friends, the ones who loved her, for her. One minute she was a meticulous risk analyst spiralling down the black hole of divorce, and the next, well, she could only imagine the malarky she and Shea had gotten up to and were yet to get up to.
A mumbled sentence of expletives caught her attention.
‘Shea?’ Rolling onto her side, she spotted her friend buried in a pile of pillows and a doona. ‘Are you awake?’
‘Hmmm,’ Shea groaned sleepily. ‘I think I am, but the banging in my head makes me think I don’t want to be yet.’
‘Ha ha, hangovers are the worst.’
‘Oh yeah they are.’ Shea sat up, unaware of the hilarious state of her face, her make-up smeared from one side to the other. ‘What time is it?’
‘A hair past a freckle going on to a mole,’ Samantha replied cheerily.
‘Oh, hardy ha ha, Miss Evans.’ Shea rolled her eyes. ‘There’s always one in the group, hey.’
‘Yes, and for once, that’d be me.’ Samantha stabbed her chest and pointed at Shea. ‘And, FYI, by the looks of you, I reckon you better find another make-up artist because the one that done all of that …’ She made a circle in the air with her finger. ‘… should find another profession.’
‘What the heck are you on about, Sammie?’
‘You’ve got lipstick where blush should be, eyebrows drawn to your hairline, and…’ She tipped her head to the side. ‘I don’t know what is in your hair, but I’m guessing it’s food.’ She grimaced. ‘Or possibly regurgitated food?’
‘Ew, I didn’t throw up.’ Shea pulled a similar grimacing face. ‘Or did I?’
Samantha shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine, my darling mate.’
‘Oh, deary me.’ Shea rubbed her face, spreading the lipstick on her cheeks even further. ‘I think we should both have some painkillers, then showers to make ourselves somewhat respectable before Amaya and my aunty get here, and then after cleaning this mess up,’ she said, glancing around the shambolic room, ‘devour some greasy bacon and eggs washed down with some extra-strong knock-your-socks-off caffeine.’ She looked to the bra-ladened fan, her head moving in circles as she watched it. ‘Good lord, how in the heck did my entire bra cabinet get up there?’
Samantha shrugged. ‘Again, your guess is as good as mine?’ She burst out laughing.
And so did Shea.
Several hours later, after basically inhaling her greasy brunch, then feeling like a frump, Samantha somehow found the energy for a bit of a gym session. Having gathered what items she could find in the machinery shed – a couple of old tyres, a few paint tins and a bag of chicken feed pellets, along with a rainbow-coloured skipping rope borrowed from the toy box – she turned on the industrial fan and got to it. After forty-five minutes of rolling the tyres around the concrete floor, lifting the paint tins like weights, squatting with the feed bag on her shoulders, and skipping in between sets, she was dripping in sweat and puffing as if she’d just run a half marathon. Thinking about doing one more round of lunges, begrudgingly, she jumped with fright when footsteps came up behind her.
‘Oh my god, there you are.’ As Shea looked at the makeshift gym, confusion creased between her brows. ‘What in the heck are you doing, you crazy woman?’
‘What’s it look like?’ Samantha grinned as she raised the paint cans to chest height, then repeated the movement. ‘Working out.’
‘There’s easier ways than doing this.’ Shea waved a hand around. ‘Why don’t you go for a walk through the countryside, or even better, ride a horse through it.’ She winked. ‘Or possibly ride a cowboy instead.’
‘Oi, you, stop it.’ Chuckling, Samantha placed the paint tins back on the ground. ‘I’d love to go for a good gallop, but I haven’t ridden a horse in years.’
‘All good, Sammie, because you never forget how to.’
She tipped her head to the side. ‘Hmm, I don’t know about that.’
‘Trust me.’ Shea’s glossy lips spread into the widest of smiles. ‘Actually, seeing as Jack has taken Amaya for a drive into town to buy some ice-cream, after we ate it all, how about we go and test the theory out now?’
