‘I don’t have the money.’ A gnawing feeling plagued Frankie’s stomach at the very mention of dipping into her meagre savings.
‘Come on!’ Adele threw her head back like a teenager protesting at her parents, complete with eye roll. ‘You don’t need money. This is your thirtieth birthday party. We’re buying the champagne.’ She gestured to the people surrounding them, all impossibly pretty and shiny. The Coolangatta pub, with its sun-kissed patrons, provided testimony to the Gold Coast lifestyle.
‘But I don’t know half these people,’ Frankie stage-whispered. She might have met one or two in passing although she couldn’t remember their names. She had the feeling they were using her birthday as a veneer-thin excuse to party.
‘So what? They know you through me.’ Adele cocked her head to one side and grinned. Frankie had a flashback to when her sister was nine years old and up to the kind of mischief that Frankie would have to clean up later. ‘I’ve told them all about you and they adore you already.’
Now it was Frankie’s turn to roll her eyes. She’d never understood Adele’s ability to flow in and out of social situations, taking what she wanted, leaving what she didn’t. Frankie had become wary of letting people close. She liked to be selective about who she allowed into her life. She’d lived in Kalbar for a few years now and was still working on building close friendships. Letting strangers buy her champers for her birthday gave her the awks.
‘Yeah, still doesn’t make it right.’
‘You spend all your time stuck on your farm in little ol’ Kalbar, so it’s no wonder you feel weird being back in civilisation.’
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