‘Sure.’
She returns with two bottles, lime wedges trapped inside the neck. I take the bottle from her as she steps into the pool and examine the trapped fruit.
‘This is what it feels like when I see her and have to pretend not to,’ I say, tilting the bottle towards the light.
‘What do you mean?’ Nessa reaches over the side of the pool, grabs a packet of cigarettes, inhales deeply and exhales with a rush of warm air.
‘Like there is something lodged in my throat.’ I watch my finger push the fruit down the neck and into the body. ‘It’s only when I’m with her that I feel like I can breathe.’ I take a long pull on the bottle.
‘You know what you need? Rock, paper, scissors.’
‘What?’
‘Rock, paper, scissors. When I was a kid, my mum used to play it with me if something was worrying me. Whoever wins says something they love or that makes them happy. Whoever loses says what is worrying them or something that makes them sad.’
‘I don’t feel like playing a game.’
‘It’ll help, I promise. I’ve never played it and ended up feeling worse. Come on, it’ll be fun. Kerry and I used to play it.’ She gets up on her knees and waddles towards me.
‘What did Kerry used to say?’
‘Oh, we used to play strip rock, paper, scissors and she could always predict what I was going to do, so, more often than not, I would end up naked.’
‘Oh.’
Nessa lets out a throaty laugh. ‘Your sister didn’t blush that easily.’
‘Oh, shush. I’ve led a very sheltered life.’
‘Nonsense, you had friction marks on your knees a few months ago.’ She winks and positions her hands into fists. ‘Right.’ We move towards each other. ‘Ready? Rock, paper, scissors!’
Nessa is the paper to my rock.
‘Chocolate!’ she shouts. Then laughs. ‘You’re supposed to shout what makes you sad at the same time!’
‘Oh. Um, sad films?’ I reply.
She rolls her eyes. ‘Let’s try again. You have to say the first thing that comes into your head or it won’t work. But see . . . you watch a sad film but eat chocolate. Problem fixed. Right, fists up. Rock, paper, scissors!’
I snip her paper. ‘A tidy house!’ I say.
‘Losing things!’ We both start laughing. ‘You see how it works!’
‘Let’s go again.’
This time my scissors are blunted by her rock. ‘Kerry!’ we both say. Kerry takes a regal bow and climbs into the pool.
We try again, me shouting the kids, her shouting Erica. At this point we give up and reach for our drinks as ‘Spice Up Your Life’ begins.
‘What were you like when you were a kid? Is Erica like you?’ I ask while the Spice Girls go rou-ow-ownd.
‘God no. I was a little bugger. Mum said I was always running off, I used to scare her to death.’
‘Where were you running off to?’
She shrugs her shoulders. ‘I don’t know, I just remember not wanting to stand still . . . it kind of made me feel, I don’t know how to describe it, itchy? Like unless I ran away I would scratch away my skin. I almost got run over once.’
Red coat, red boots, screeching of brakes.
I blink.
‘What about you?’ she asks, bringing me back.
‘Me? Oh, I was a bit timid, a goody two-shoes. I had to be.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Kerry would get us into trouble all the time . . . one of us had to be responsible. It’s funny, when I was watching Oscar dancing earlier, wiggling his bare little bum without a care in the world . . . I don’t think I’ve ever felt that free . . . even as a kid.’
‘What? You never played in the paddling pool in the buff when you were a kid?’
I shake my head. ‘At least I don’t think I did.’
I look over to Kerry, who is leaning with her arms outstretched along the back of the pool, her sunglasses sitting neatly on her sunburnt nose.
‘Don’t ask me,’ she replies. ‘If you don’t know then neither do I.’
I turn back to Nessa, who is untying her bikini.
Kerry pulls down her sunglasses from her nose and peers over the frames. ‘Baywatch, eat your heart out,’ she says.
‘Um . . . what are you doing?’ I ask.
‘Taking off my clothes.’
‘I see that!’ I cover my eyes with my hand.
‘Oh, stop being such a prude. Get ’em off.’
‘What? No! Absolutely no way.’
‘Absolutely no way.’ She mimics me with a posh voice. ‘My name is Jennifer Jones and I’m far too responsible to have any fun.’
A wet piece of material lands on my face. I pull it off and there in all her glory is Nessa, standing completely naked and downing the rest of her beer.
‘Come on. Look, I promise not to make a pass at you.’
My eyebrows shoot up.
‘Perfect!’ she stretches her arms wide and gestures to the radio which has started playing the ‘Macarena’. ‘Now strip.’ I find that I’m smirking as Ness’s boobs start to jiggle with her arm movements. ‘How do you ever expect to get better if you don’t learn to live a bit?’ she shouts at me over her shoulder, jumping up and down and turning to the side.
I laugh and look over to Kerry, but she is nowhere to be seen. Maybe this is the key? Maybe being happy is what I need. Self-consciously I begin unhooking my bikini top and let it drop into the pool and then, covering my breasts with one hand, I pull off my bottoms. Nessa is crossing her chest with her arms in an ‘x’, then placing her hands onto her hips before ‘Heeeeey . . . Macarena’.
‘Hurry up, Jen!’
Gingerly, I stand, one arm still across my boobs, the other hand fig-leafed across my lower parts.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Nessa takes two steps towards me and pulls my arms apart, dropping them to my sides, then returns to her Macarena, one hand then the other either side of her head, hands crossing onto shoulders.
I reach down, drain the last of my beer and burp loudly before hesitantly joining in. Laughter bubbles up from my stomach as we jump in tandem, splashes of water erupting out of the pool. Nessa winks at me as she swivels her hips. The song finishes and we collapse back into the pool, water sloshing over the edges as we lean back, still laughing. Kerry is still nowhere to be seen. I begin to panic. The laughter gets caught in my throat; the lime in the beer bottle.
Nessa leans forward, laughter sliding into concern. ‘What’s wrong?’
I stand, my inhibitions lost as I try to see her.
‘She’s gone! I can’t find her!’ Panic claws at my insides, scraping and grappling to get out. Oh, God, what have I done? The tablets must be working: I’ve killed her again.
‘Hey! Lady Godiva!’
I turn a full circle at the sound of her voice. Kerry is sitting on the top of Erica’s slide, her plait falling across her naked chest, her bare legs crossed at the ankles. My body sags with relief, my legs buckle and I’m kneeling in the water, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I try to control the feelings inside; choked sobs fall from my lips as Nessa slides over to me, arm around my shoulders. ‘Hey, shush, what’s wrong? What is it?’