Mango Kisses Read Online Free PDF Page B

confusion.
    She lifted her head and remembered, vague pictures coming to her as if through a fog. How late had she gone to bed? Can’t have been more than midnight. Fleur!
    The memories crashed back. Helping Fleur with her make-up, drinking Hunter Valley shiraz, assessing Fleur’s wardrobe of gaudy satin and brocade and sequinned frocks, drinking Clare Valley burgundy, trying on Fleur’s stilettos and wigs — had she really done that? Drinking Long Flat red. Dancing to Barry White records. Fleur had some nifty moves! Did they attempt a tango?
    Birrigai. Kissing college. Saturday morning. Blue-green light filtered through the drawn curtains. She knew it was hot outside by the stuffy warmth of the room and the stale smell of her own body in the wreckage of bedding.
    Tiffany sat up slowly. Her head objected. She slid her legs out of the bed, waited for a minute or two as her body parts regrouped then launched herself towards the bathroom. where she swallowed two tumblers full of water straight down without stopping. She gripped the basin; she couldn’t be starting a migraine, not this weekend. More likely she was dehydrated from too much fat and salt in last night’s dinner. Not enough water, an airless, stifling room — she should have left a window open.
    A pale face peered back at her from the mirror, hair resembling a haystack, eyes half closed with dark pouches hanging down, lips, rubbery and unkissable. The skin was like uncooked bread dough with a faint red criss-cross pattern on one cheek from the crumpled sheet. She tottered to the shower. Her brain hurt; the dull and persistent pain hovered like thunder clouds on the horizon.
    Tiffany fled her stuffy room half an hour later in search of tea, lots of hot tea. On with the dark glasses. Two pairs would be better, to shield her eyes from the sudden onslaught of searing sunlight.
    She trod carefully onto the road. Each step jarred those gathering clouds in her head.
    There was no sign of anyone else in the motel this morning. The other car had gone, Reception was empty. Just as well. Facing Kevin and how to address him was something she needed to think about with a clearer brain. She’d have to take her cue from him. He may prefer to keep his two personas completely separate, which suited her. On the other hand, he might be so embarrassed that as Kevin he would treat her even more rudely than before.
    Today was much hotter. The sun beat her over the head. By the time she reached the shade of the tall gums lining the way to town her burst of energy had faded and the headache crashed in with the full force of a summer storm. She had to buy a hat with a wide brim, her ears were singeing already. Tea and aspirin first, though, then a lie down in the shade. Would it look bad to collapse under one of those pines on the beachfront for the whole day?
    Xanthi served tea and coffee. The hippies had fruit. That’s all she could subject her stomach to at the moment. Xanthi had two small tables out on the footpath, both unused. Tiffany pushed through the fly screen, ordered her tea and a glass of water then went outside to wait in the cool of the overhanging shopfront.
    People were swimming and sunbaking on the beach. That’s what she’d planned to do but it was too hot, and the way she felt right now she’d dehydrate so quickly she’d look like a raisin by evening. And no-one would want to kiss her tomorrow. She needed to be in top form.
    An uncomfortable fluttering started in her belly. Hunger? Nerves? She leaned back against the seat and breathed deeply. The headache throbbed deep and hard behind her eyes. Would she get her money back if she cancelled on the day before the course? Doubtful. The distant horizon undulated gently with the swell of the sea. What was she thinking? She’d be fine by tomorrow. She’d be fine in a couple of hours. Less probably. Was this a case of cold feet or rather, cold lips?
    Xanthi bustled out with the drinks, interrupting her thoughts