“So you do think the public aren’t being told enough about the swine flu?” Gina said breathlessly into her cell as she stepped out of the elevator. “But Minister, that’s what you just said…hello…Ms Roxon…bitch!” she jammed the phone into her bag and stormed through the open planned office to her cubicle. “Fucking Health fucking Minister.”

“Dear Gina, when will you learn that all politicians are bastards.” Gina paused mid curse and looked startled at the handsome young man in her chair. “You’d be much better off pulling on your bikini and coming to Fiji with me.”

Gina felt her cheeks redden. The man was Lee Tucker, one of the resident foreign correspondents. His skin was decadently tanned, his body lean and toned. His hair was brown but sun lightened and scruffy and his eyes, oh they were so deep and blue you could lose yourself in them, which Gina realised she had done. “I hardly think interviewing coup leaders is a bikini occasion.”

“I could make it one?” Lee smirked as he uncrossed his feet that were resting on her desk. “Aren’t you pleased I’m back? Surely you missed me?”

Gina blushed more. She liked Lee, liked that he flirted with her when he was back, liked he was young and brimming with energy and liked that he had no idea of her history with Paul at all. “I hardly noticed you were gone.” she lied and fought a smile.

“Oh just crush me,” he pouted and made a show of straightening his khaki shirt. “And to think it was thoughts of you, in a bikini, that kept me warm on those long nights embedded in Taliban country.”

“You’re so brave,” Gina chided as she strode past him to dump her belongings on her desk.

“Minx,” Lee mused just loud enough for her to hear. “ So, lovely Gina, I shall ask you the question I always ask when I’m in town,” he declared, taking a deep breath and getting to his feet. “Will you let me take you out to dinner?”

Gina crossed her arms and bit her lip. Her meeting with Paul earlier in the week was still very fresh in her mind. She didn’t doubt she still had feelings for him but it was far too hard to go back. No, she needed to move on. Maybe a date with Lee was exactly what she needed. “Oh what the hell.”

“Ok maybe next…wait was that a yes?”

“Yes,” Gina giggled and slapped his arm. “Nice to see you were paying attention.”

Lee shook off his surprise. “Excellent, I’ll pick you up at seven,” he winked. “Wear something sexy.”

“Does it have to be sexy?”

“Yeah, I want it to look good on my floor.”

Gina opened her mouth and half laughed and half gasped. “You’re unbelievable.”

Fenny sniffed the gentle aroma from her mug of peppermint tea. She brought the steaming liquid to her mouth and almost got a mouthful when there was a yell of, “FENELLA, YOU MUST COME IMMEDIATELY!” Her arm was grabbed and she was dragged into the corridor and thrust into a nook with a sculpture of something resembling road kill.

“Artie, what the hell dude,” she gasped, licking the spilt tea from her hand and checking for burns.

“Honey, you have got to see this,” Artie gasped as he clung to her.

Arthur Rolfe, or Artie as he was affectionately known, was one of the other teachers at the school. He taught ceramics and was as flamboyantly homosexual as was humanly possible. Fenny glanced at his current look which was a black skivvy, red suede pants, a paisley scarf, dark rimmed glasses and purple streaked hair. “Artie, what do I have to see?”

“Shelagh,” he grinned. “You have got to see today’s ensemble.”

“This from the man in red pants…”

“Shh, she’s coming.”

Fenny fought her giggles as the older woman strode down the corridor in what appeared to be a tutu and army boots. “Oh my lord.”

“Looking forward to the weekend?” Shelagh smiled.

“Can’t wait,” Fenny smiled and willed herself not to look down.

“Only a few hours to go,” Artie perked. “Oh my god, how gorgeous do you look today.”

“Thanks Arthur,” Shelagh beamed as she picked up her pace and walked more purposefully down the corridor.

“You are such an asshole,” Fenny laughed, glad to finally let it out.

“Well she does look gorgeous,” Artie grinned. “For a demented person.”

Brad rolled onto his back and grabbed the television remote. He flicked it on and surfed channels until a cheery children’s show presenter appeared chatting about a drawing of a puppy a viewer had sent in. Brad scratched his stomach and yawned. “God I’d wreck her,” he mused as he rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. He showered and dressed, pulling on his favourite jeans and sweater. He glanced at the presenter again and decided he’d still quite like to bed the lithe young thing and then headed out.

He arrived at the small cafe half an hour later. It was a cold morning and he was glad to be engulfed in the coffee-scented warmth.

“Sherwood, over here mate,” called the familiar Australian voice and Brad beamed.

“McDermott, how nice it is to see you without the presence of a gun.”

Paul cackled and the men hugged before sliding into the booth. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Me neither,” Brad mused as he grabbed a menu. “But I felt drawn, y’know.”

“Drawn, or could you just smell Fen’s pheromones from LA?”

“Yeah well,” Brad sighed and looked briefly up from the menu. “Not sure about that one.”

“At least you’re not divorced,” Paul sighed as a waitress appeared with her pad and pen.

“Are you ready to order?”

“I’ll have the scrambled eggs, toast and tea thanks,” Paul smiled.

“I’ll have the continental breakfast,” Brad grinned. “and coffee, lots of coffee.”

“Lots of coffee?”

“Compensating.”

Paul frowned and then chuckled. “Mate, you need laid.”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“I’ll, um, go and get your orders,” the waitress flustered and hurried away.

“I’ve gotta say I’m surprised about you and Gina,” Brad declared as Paul watched the waitress flee.

“You and me both,” Paul frowned. “We just couldn’t make it work, y’know.”

Brad nodded, “At least you have some sort of closure right? I mean Fen, she just…”

“Fucked off.”

“It was so hard to explain to Lil.”

“Oh hey, how is the little darlin’?”

“Growing up so fast,” Brad smiled. “She’s insulting her classmates already.”

“Bless,” Paul giggled. “I did something really, really fucked up.”

“You shot a guy in the nuts in Amsterdam, how much more fucked up do things get?”

“Well ok,” Paul chided. “In context it’s not that fucked up.”

“Didn’t knock someone up did you?” Brad mused as his coffee was placed on the table along with Paul’s tea.

“No, I faked an interview so I could see Genie.”

“Dude, that’s sad.”

“I just wanted to see her.”

“And?”

“It was awkward.”

“No shit.”

“She wants nothing to do with me, mate.”

“That usually happens after divorces.”

“I know but I…”

“Don’t want to move on.”

“Yeah.”

“Miss her so much it hurts.”

“Yeah.”

“Find yourself doing desperate and irrational things like faking interviews and booking holidays to Australia on the off chance you might see her.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re pathetic, aren’t we.”

“So, so tragic.”

The two men fell quiet as their breakfasts were placed on the table in front of them. Paul picked up his fork and poked his scrambled eggs as Brad reached for a rasher of bacon.

“Do you think the girls are having as much trouble moving on as us?” Brad sighed as he suddenly looked uninterested in his meal.

“I fucking hope so,” Paul frowned and miserably ate a forkful of eggs.

Fenny tripped up the steps as she arrived home. She frowned at the new hole in her tights and then unlocked the door. She could hear Ben Lee warbling from the direction of Gina’s room, so she dumped her belongings in the hall and headed in that direction.

“Hey Fen,” Gina enthused as she pulled a dress out of her closet, cocked her head to the side and then hung it back up.

“If I’m not mistaken I’d say you’re going out,” she mused and sat on the bed.

“Why actually I am.”

“Somewhere exciting?”

Gina tried not to smile but couldn’t help it. “I’ve got a date.”

“Paul?”

“What? No, hell no,” Gina gasped. “Lee.”

“Lee,” Fenny frowned and then smiled. “The cute foreign correspondent.”

“That’s the one.”

“You finally gave in then.”

“I have to start moving on, Fen,” Gina sighed as she sat next to Fenny on the bed. “Its not going to happen with Paul.”

“But you still have feelings for the guy.”

“And as proven in the past, that is not a good thing.”

“So you’re just going to ignore them and date a hot, young guy.”

“Pretty much.”

“That’s my thing,” Fenny chided. “You’re homely and stuff. You forgive Paul and have hours of make up sex.”

“It’s not hours.”

“I know, but I’m sure he likes to think it is.”

Gina fell quiet and looked at her bare feet for a few moments. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

“Probably, but then I also think this makes up for you never giving Danny a go.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Gina groaned and rubbed her face. “I don’t feel guilty at all now.”

“That sounds like someone who still has feelings for Pauly talking.”

“So anyway,” Gina declared ignoring Fenny’s words. “What have you got planed for the evening?”

“Artie and I are going to check out an exhibition, sculptures of the noughties or something its called.”

“Sounds terrible.”

“Well we’re only going to laugh at it.”

Gina shook her head. “Please find a man you can sleep with.”

“At a sculpture exhibition?”

“Anywhere.”

“I’m a married woman I’ll have you know.”

“Oh there’s a thought, shag your husband.”

“Can’t, he’s a million miles away.”

“What would you do if he just, I don’t know, turned up on the doorstep.”

Fenny looked mortified by the suggestion. “Hide and then possibly die.”

“Aww there we go, there’s the Fen I know and love.”

“And what would you do if you ran into Paul while out with your toyboy?”

“Well either your solution or get them drunk and have a ménage à trois.”

“Oh hey, why didn’t you think of that when you had the whole Greg thing going on.”

“Dude, no…just…no…” Gina cringed and then giggled, which made Fenny giggle, and they burst into raucous laughter as they realised just how wrong their lives could be.

The sculpture exhibition was being held in a small unused shop just off the main shopping precinct. There had be no refurbishment of the interior and the sculptures were placed in various locations with what appeared to be little real thought.

“I just saw a hooker outside, I swear,” Artie gasped as he collected a complimentary glass of champagne.

“I’m pleased for you,” Fenny mused and Artie pouted at her. “So who’s the plucky sculptor?”

“See that guy over there, in the purple shirt with the orange scarf?” Artie motioned to the far corner. “His name is Cyril McEntee and he thinks he’s god’s gift to sculpture.”

“Have you slept with him?” Fenny raised an eyebrow. “Be honest with me now.”

“Maybe accidentally,” Artie said quietly. “Oh my we must look at that,” he added and pulled Fenny toward a rather bulbous sculpture on the stairs. “It looks, it looks…”

“Like someone was sculpting his own dick,” Fenny sighed and shook her head.

“What?” Artie giggled.

“Well I do get out the play doh and make replicas of mine,” chimed in another voice and both Fenny and Artie looked beside them to see the newcomer.

“Paul!” Fenny beamed and threw her arms around him so enthusiastically that it left Paul winded.

“Crikey Fen, “ Paul chided. “It’s not like I’m rescuing you from kidnappers.” He paused. “Unless your friend has a semi automatic weapon in his pants.”

“You can find out if you like,” Artie smiled as Paul freed himself from Fenny.

“Erm no, thanks but no,” he flustered.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Fenny asked in a tone that verging on babble. “I mean it’s pretty awful stuff.”

“I had nothing better to do,” Paul shrugged. “How are things with you?”

“Ok I guess, all things considered.”

“How’s Brad?”

“No idea.”

“Who’s Brad?” Artie piped up.

“No one.”

“Her husband.”

“Husband!” Artie gasped and looked stunned at Fenny.

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

“You have a husband?”

Paul grinned cheekily. “I can’t believe you haven’t mentioned it to your friend here.”

“I don’t go shouting it about that I abandoned my husband a few years ago.”

“Obviously.”

“You’re evil.”

“Aw hey, I’m just teasing,” Paul cooed and squeezed her arm.

“Yeah well it’s not as easy as you make it sound,” Fenny huffed. “I suppose you want to know how Gina is after you met the other day.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Gina? What about Gina?” Artie cooed, clearly on the verge of an information aneurysm.

“He’s her ex-husband.”

“Oh my.”

“So he doesn’t know she’s out on a date?”

“Obviously.”

Paul’s mouth fell open. “A date with who? Tell me Fen or I’ll tell Artie about that boat trip to England.”

“Boat trip?”

“We were kidnapped, it’s a long story,” Fenny hissed. “Some guy called Lee, he’s a foreign correspondent.”

Paul blinked and Fenny swore she saw the last of his hope die a painful death, the twinkle in is eye went out, his shoulders slumped and he fought to find words. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Paul, I’m sure it won’t…” Fenny breathed as she watched his back disappear through the small crowd. “last.”

“Fenella,” Artie said softly as he took her arm.

“Yeah,” she sighed looking into the distance.

“What the fuck girl, you have a HUSBAND!”

Gina grabbed another safari prawn and bit into it. To be honest she wasn’t sure why they were called safari prawns because you weren’t going to find a herd of prawn on the plains of Africa.

“Is there a reason you’re frowning at your prawn?” Lee asked amused as he ate another.

“I’m trying to work out how they survive on the African plains,” Gina smiled. “Sorry I’ve never eaten Moroccan before.”

“You’ll love it,” Lee enthused. “I’ll make you.”

“Oh really and how will you do that?”

“I’ll have us skip the main and just have the fig pudding with butterscotch ice cream instead.”

“Yeah that’d probably work.”

Lee chuckled as he kept his eyes firmly locked on hers. “It’s nice to be home. Gets lonely being away all the time.”

“Oh come on,” Gina beamed. “It must be uber exciting getting to go to all these countries and report on real news.”

“Yeah Iraq is just the best place to be right now,” Lee chided. “I’ve seen things I never wanted to see and never want to see again.”

“You and me both.”

“I saw an innocent man gunned down in the middle of the day and then dragged through the streets.” Lee said softly and and stared at his plate. Gina reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

“Hey, I found a corpse in my car once,” she breathed. “Buried him in a field.”

“It’s not a joke,” Lee frowned.

“Am I laughing?”

Lee studied her a moment. “Why was there a corpse in your car?”

“It’s a long, long story.”

“I’m listening.”

Gina squeezed his hand. “You’re not ready to hear it just yet.”

Lee nodded as he toyed with her fingers. “We had to bribe border guards to get out of Cambodia because we had a bunch of rebels after us. It was life and death stuff, baby, if they didn’t accept the bribes that was it. We’d be shot and left for the monkeys.”

“I pistol whipped a mafia strong woman,” Gina said blankly. “Actually two…no well, one was a mafia strong woman and one was the crazed lover of a Scottish drug baron.”

Lee raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me the story because I’m listening.”

“Another time maybe.”

Lee pursed his lips. “God damn I just want to leap across the table and rip your clothes off.”

“Well Mr Tucker if you get me that dessert I may just let you,” Gina smiled, pleased the terracotta walls masked how red her cheeks were.

“Oh my god how pretentious was that exhibition?” Artie groaned as stirred his low fat soy cafe latte.

“Come now Artie, I think you’re being a tad harsh,” Fenny mused as she sipped her hot chocolate. “That orange blob with ears clearly represented the way modern technology has taken over our lives.”

“Bloody Cyril,” Artie cussed. “He always rants against modern technology because he’s so technophobic. Seriously, he can’t even work a cell phone.”

“And yet he seems like a man that would Twitter.”

Artie laughed and glanced around the cafe as he sipped his latte. “Hon, I do believe you have bit of an admirer.”

“What?” Fenny mused as she looked up at Artie to see him staring across the other side of the cafe.

“There’s a very cute guy sitting right across the other side of the room, near the painting of the children on the beach.” Artie said almost conspiratorially. “He keeps staring at you.”

“Yeah right.”

“Really! He is, it’s intense.”

Fenny cocked her head to the side, not entirely believing Artie but curious nonetheless. She took a small breath and followed Artie’s gaze to the other side of the cafe. Her eyes locked on to her mysterious admirer at which point a wave of panic crashed over her. “Oh shit!” she gasped and promptly dived under the table.

“Uh, Fenella…”

“Is he still looking?”

“Yes, but now he probably thinks you’re mental.”

“He knows I’m mental.”

“What?”

“That’s Brad,” Fenny said in a hushed voice. “My husband.”

“Ooh, he’s so cute,” Artie enthused. “Why on earth did you abandon him, girl?”

“So not the time, Artie.”

Artie cleared his throat. “Yes, well it’s going to have to be because he’s coming over.”

“Oh crap, crap, crap.” Fenny muttered and hoped very hard that if she got into a tight enough ball she might disappear. She closed her eyes and then opened them to see a pair of familiar jeans-covered legs and sneakers.

“Come out from under the table, Fen,” Brad sighed.

“I’d rather not.”

“Fine you can just explain to me from down there why you left me for several years and hooked up with this douchebag then.”

“What? No,” Fenny huffed, unfurled herself and climbed out from under the table. “Brad…”

“So how long before you moved on?”

“Brad…”

“Tell me, I want to know,” Brad hissed. “Did you just decide that one day you’d opt for a scrawny, bespectacled pansy or what?”

“Excuse me?” Artie gasped looking a little hurt.

“Brad…”

“You keep it zipped eggplant boy, “ Brad scowled and cracked his knuckles. “I’ll deal with you later.”

“Brad..”

“There’s nothing you can say, Fen, to make this situation any better,” Brad crossed his arms and glared at her.

“He’s gay, I never moved on and you’re a fucking idiot,” Fenny spat and threw the remainder of her hot chocolate over him. She snatched up her bag and headed for the cafe door.

“Suck on that,” Artie sneered, poured his latte over Brad’s head, and followed Fenny out into the street.

“…so then we had to bunk down in the jungle, in Papua New Guinea for Christ’s sake, until it was safe to get back in the SUVs and leave.” Lee finished his story, wrapped his arm around Gina’s shoulders and pulled her closer. “What would you like to do now?”

“What are you offering?” Gina smiled as Lee pulled her completely into his arms.

“We could go dancing, or to a movie, or back to my place and I could ravish you?”

“Ravish me, huh?” Gina purred as she let one hand slide from his chest onto his rear. “And how would you do that?” she gave him a squeeze and then pulled away.

“Would you like a small taste?” Lee teased, grabbing her arm and trying to coax her close again. She twisted away and he grabbed at her again, catching her waist and dragging her into his grasp, her back pressed hard against his toned chest and stomach. “Now you can’t escape my desperate desire to ravish you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” Gina laughed as she felt his lips move to her neck, eager kisses hungrily creeping toward her throat. She felt her eyes closing in response to the sensation but opened them again to see how busy the street was. As she did the moment fell away into a steaming pile of guilt.

“Hey Genie,” Paul said rather quietly. His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders slumped and he looked like his entire catalogue of joy had been snatched from him, doused with kerosene and burnt in front of eyes.

“Paul, hi,” Gina pulled away from Lee and straightened herself. “Fancy meeting you here, huh?”

“So this is the tanned foreign correspondent I always feared you’d end up with?”

“Paul, don’t,” she sighed. “We’re divorced and I can do what I like.”

Paul raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He sighed, shook his head and started to walk past. He stopped and walked back, glaring at Lee. “You fucking hurt her and I’ll shoot you in the balls.”

Lee frowned as Paul walked off and looked at Gina. “And that psycho is?”

“My ex-husband.”

“He’s shot someone in the balls before hasn’t he?”

“Ooh yeah.”