‘It’s a work of love. I think it’s the reason the house sold so fast.’
‘You’re not sad to leave it?’ They got out of the car.
‘You don’t know how much I’m looking forward to a new start.’ She took Deirdre’s bag from the back seat and said, ‘I still can’t believe this is the sum of your possessions.’
They walked up the gravel front path. ‘To be honest,’ said Deirdre, ‘it’s not. There’s a large tea chest also coming by sea to Beach Lane. Was it dreadful, looking after your mother all that time?’
‘Not so bad. She mellowed in the last few years. And we did this garden together as long as she could manage. Also, I kept seeing Doctor Karel during that time and that helped a lot. An extension of the Talking Cure that cured me – debriefing with him about my mother kept me sane,’ she said, with a rueful smile. ‘I’m a different person now.’
‘I was very fond of the old person!’
‘Well, you can see who you prefer – the old or the new – I know the me that I prefer!’ said Olivia, as they walked into the house. She closed the heavy door behind them and they walked down the thickly carpeted hallway. ‘Now lie down,’ she said, ‘and I’ll bring you anything you need. Tea? Coffee?’ She settled Deirdre on the big chintz sofa, unstrapped her sandals and piled the matching chintz cushions under her feet.
‘Just water, please.’ Deirdre took a paperback out of her shoulder bag.
When Olivia returned she put the glass on the coffee table and said, ‘Another comedy?’
Deirdre held up the cover. ‘Fear of Flying by Erica Jong. It is amusing, yes.’
‘Are you afraid of flying?’
‘A part of me still thinks it’s not possible, hurtling through the air like that, but mostly I just trust my fate to the experts who seem to manage it.’
‘You’ve always managed to use your ill luck well, Deirdre,’ said Olivia, sitting on the armchair and taking off her own shoes.
‘Are you saying I’m an opportunist?’
‘You?! God, no – whatever made you think that? No, I just mean that you usually fall on your feet and when you don’t, you know how to endure the pain or poverty or whatever with your positive spirit, to somehow turn the negative into something better. I mean, you’re so creative and it goes into your work but also into … life itself.’
‘I’m a modernist.’
‘Precisely.’
35
MAUREEN
August 1973
‘Was that the ride of your life, or what?’ said Jimmy, dark eyes twinkling. The kick-stand in place, he jumped off and held out his arm to help Maureen off.
She jumped off without his help and stepped up on the kerb, making them more of an equal height for a moment. They walked up to the front door. Maureen rang the doorbell and after a few beats the front door opened.
‘Hi,’ said a young woman with soft sandy hair and a snub nose. ‘How can I help you?’ She wore a fluffy yellow jumper and had a tea-towel tucked into the waist of her white jeans.
‘Hello,’ said Maureen, looking incongruous in her son’s too-large leather jacket over her red wool dress. ‘Is Keira here?’
‘No, she isn’t.’
‘I am Keira’s mother. My name is Maureen, and this is Jimmy, her brother. Do you know when she will be back?’
‘Oh, hi! She should be back soon – why don’t you come in and wait for her. I’m Melanie.’ Maureen drew a blank. ‘Steve’s girlfriend. Follow me.’
They went through the doorway, stepping into the warm red light cast by the front door’s stained glass panels. A large grey cat stared up at them, its yellowish eyes wide with alarm, turned and raced down the hallway to disappear into a bedroom.
‘Funny how he always picks Keira’s room to escape into – the only person here who doesn’t like cats!’ said Melanie. She led them through the dining room and into the kitchen.
‘Please, sit down,’ she said, indicating a breakfast nook. ‘Would you like a tea or coffee?’
‘We don’t want to put you to any trouble,’ said Maureen, putting the bike helmet at the end of the bench, ‘but a cup of tea would be lovely.’
‘I’ll just have a water, thanks,’ said Jimmy. ‘What are you making?’
‘A cake,’ said Melanie, switching on the kettle and running some water into a glass. She cracked an egg into a bowl.
‘Steve’s at the football,’ said Melanie. ‘It’s his birthday today.’ She reached up to get a mug from the cupboard and put a teabag into it. ‘Nessie isn’t home from town yet. I’m sure Keira will be back soon.’
Maureen took out a cigarette and Jimmy did too. ‘Okay if we smoke?’ asked Jimmy.
‘Sure.’
‘Don’t let us interrupt you,’ said Maureen. ‘Just ignore us. We can entertain ourselves till Keira gets here.’
‘Oh, that’s fine,’ said Melanie with an accommodating little wave of her hand and began whipping up the eggs with a large fork. She put a saucer on the bench between them. ‘That can do for an ashtray.’
‘Thank you,’ said Maureen. ‘Are you studying, Melanie, like Steve and Keira?’
‘No, I just work.’
‘And what work do you do?’ Maureen exhaled a trail of blue smoke.
‘I’m an apprentice pastry cook.’
‘That’s studying,’ said Jim. ‘I’m an apprentice electrician.’
‘Well, it’s not very hard, not like medicine or something!’
‘Equally important work,’ said Jimmy. ‘That means the cake will be excellent – not that I’m hinting!’
‘It’s a good recipe, should turn out okay, and, sure, there’ll be plenty if you’re around later.’
Maureen picked up a Cleo that was lying on the bench and began flipping through it.
‘Your daughter doesn’t approve of my reading material,’ said Melanie, adding flour to the mixture in the bowl.
‘Why not?’ said Maureen.
‘On feminist grounds. Maybe feminists don’t like nude men! No, seriously, she reckons Cleo’s hypocritical, pretending to be liberating women when really it’s still all about catching a man. She said that in the old days women dropped their hankie to get a man’s attention, and now Cleo tells them how to drop their panties to do the same thing.’ She laughed. ‘I don’t know – I just like the clothes.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Jimmy. ‘I like Playboy – for the interviews.’ He and Melanie laughed.
The front door opened and a moment later they heard the cat yowling, then another minute later in walked Keira.
36
KEIRA
August 1973
Home at last. Keira put her key in the lock and walked in, glancing down the empty hall. The red light that filtered through the stained glass panel at the top of the door felt soothing as an empty church. This was what her scrambled nerves and bruised heart needed. She closed the door, walked a few steps down the hall and was nearly at her room when she heard voices coming from the kitchen. Damn.
Butch was lying on her bed. As soon as he saw her he miaowed repeatedly. Keira put down her bag, picked up the cat to eject him, and was about to close her bedroom door on him and lie quietly on her bed, maybe even climb under the covers, when she recognised the voices.
But they never visited her here. She stepped into the hall. Butch let out an enormous miaow, as if he had been trying to tell her something. ‘I told you so!’ he seemed to say.
Increasingly puzzled, Keira walked down the hall. When she reached the kitchen she stopped at the threshold in shock.
‘Mum!’
Maureen was sitting at the tiny kitchen table. ‘Hello, darling,’ she said.
Keira turned to the stove to see Jimmy cutting pieces from her loaf of rye. Melanie, in her lemon jumper and white jeans, was stirring the cream china mixing bowl with a wooden spoon.
‘Keira,’ she said. ‘Hi. Just as well I was here – your mum and brother knocked on the door and everyone else was out.’
/> Keira stared at Maureen. She had wanted to see her mother, and here she was! Was it mental telepathy? Clearly, she had picked up Keira’s tragic vibes and come straight to where she lived.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Keira, pulling a tissue out of the box on the fridge and blowing her nose as she went forward to kiss Maureen.
‘We were waiting for you. We’re just … visiting.’
‘Did you catch the bus?’
Jimmy said, ‘She rode pillion on my bike.’ He raised his eyebrows and his brown eyes twinkled. ‘You’ll catch some flies if you don’t close your mouth, Keir.’
Maureen lit a Benson and Hedges and began smoking with an extravagant display of equanimity. Keira looked from her to Jimmy. She realised that if anything untoward had happened it was not about to be aired until they were alone. The dirty linen, whatever it was, would have to wait until later. Maureen had always been a very private sort of person, keen on guarding her family from the outside world and presenting a totally respectable front.
‘Darling, are you all right? You’re looking very pale.’ Maureen said, resting her cigarette on the metal ashtray.
Keira nodded, burst into tears and moved blindly towards Maureen’s outstretched arms. The smell of cigarette smoke and Tea Roses perfume was a balm for her sore heart.
‘What is it, darling daughter, what’s the matter?’ Maureen’s voice was warm with alarmed concern.
‘It’s Alan. He’s … he’s seeing someone else.’ Keira burst into a fresh bout of sobs.
‘The cad! Oh, my poor girl!’ Maureen moved into practical mode like a brigadier general. ‘Jimmy, bring that box of tissues over here, and put on the kettle and make your sister some tea.’ She hugged Keira tightly and they rocked back and forth as if Keira were a four-year-old with scraped knees full of gravel fragments.
Eventually Keira stopped crying. Alan’s perfidy (Nessie’s word for the actions of various ex-boyfriends) felt raw, a brand new wound, but she had to wrench her brain away from him and on to other people’s problems. What had happened to bring her mother and Jimmy here? Her brother brought her a cup of milky tea and a cheese sandwich.
‘Is this cake for a particular occasion?’ she asked Melanie, who was easing the mixture into a round cake tin.
‘It’s Steve’s birthday and we’re having dinner tonight for him.’
‘Oh, I completely forgot!’ said Keira.
‘You had other things on your mind,’ said Mel. ‘As soon as the cake’s in the oven I’m going out for candles.’ She bent to open the oven door, slid the cake tin onto the middle shelf and closed the door. She took the tea-towel out of the front of her jeans. ‘Anyone want anything else at the shop?’
They said no. ‘See you soon, Mel,’ Keira said, and waited till the door shut behind her before turning to her family members.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Can’t I pay my favourite sister a visit and take our parent along for the ride without a Spanish inquisition?’
‘Has something happened?’ Keira sipped tea and pushed the sandwich towards Maureen.
‘You should eat that,’ Maureen said, pushing it back. ‘Jimmy came to our home to be safe from some bikie bullies.’
‘Bikie bullies!’ repeated Jimmy, snorting with laughter. ‘She makes them sound like a couple of schoolboys.’
Maureen continued. ‘Your father refused to take him in.’ She paused to inhale, then blew smoke in the direction of the window, which was closed. ‘It has always been our rule never to disagree in front of the children. But something snapped in me. And here I am.’ She crushed her cigarette butt out in the ashtray with a fierce finality.
‘He said he’d had just about enough of my shenanigans,’ said Jimmy, ‘and to go and find protection somewhere else.’
‘Shenanigans,’ repeated Keira, struggling to digest what had happened. ‘So you came here.’
‘See, Clovelly and Bondi Junction are a fair way from Glebe and Newtown. The Mongol Hordes have no idea I have any connection with these places,’ said Jimmy.
‘The Mongol Hordes?’ Keira raised an eyebrow.
He nodded. ‘That’s them.’
‘That’s they,’ said Maureen.
After a moment’s pause Jimmy and Keira burst out laughing. Their parent finally joined in.
‘God help us,’ she said, and stood up. ‘Try and eat this, Keira.’ She again proffered the plate with the cheese sandwich.
‘No, you have it, Mum. Aren’t you hungry after your dramatic morning?’
‘Not hungry, but tired. Could I have a rest on your bed please, Keira?’
‘Of course.’ Keira looked at Jimmy. ‘Are you going to let me in on the details?’
‘Sure. Why don’t we ride to the beach and I’ll tell you the whole gory story?’
‘Excellent plan. Do you have two helmets?’
‘Nah. You wear the helmet. Mum wore it and I took a risk. But no cops saw me.’
‘You’re getting another the minute I can get to the shops,’ said Maureen. ‘It can be an early birthday present.’
‘I’ll get my jacket,’ said Keira. As she walked up the hall it occurred to her Alan might ring. But Mel would be back soon and would take a message. Besides, she didn’t want to give him the impression that she was hanging about just waiting for him to call. She had a busy, full life.
Perhaps a little too full at that moment.
*
Jimmy and Keira walked up the esplanade overlooking Bondi Beach, the wind whipping Keira’s hair about until she felt like Medusa – wild snakes of black hair hissing and lashing out in all directions. She tried to tame her hair with her hands, tucking it into the collar of her new black leather jacket and zipping it up to the top. The sight and sound of the fiercely pounding surf made an apt background to Jimmy’s elaboration on the Mongol Hordes and their grievance against him, which was to do with Jimmy protecting a girl who did not want to go home with Clarrie Shaw, one of the bikies, and a Harley Davidson bike seat belonging to Jimmy’s housemate, which Clarrie Shaw wanted.
Maybe Maureen’s term ‘bikie bullies’ was more accurate than Jimmy thought; they did sound like squabbling schoolboys, thought Keira, staring out at the grey-blue Pacific pounding the sand.
‘Hasn’t it happened to you before?’ Jimmy asked her, clocking her sad expression.
‘No!’ she wailed.
Jimmy looked surprised. ‘It happens to most people.’
‘Not to me!’
‘Well, you’ve been lucky.’
‘’Till now.’ Keira wept, and Jimmy let her without further comment.
A flock of squawking seagulls flew down and pecked at some cold chips on the path as Jimmy and Keira walked towards the bottle shop.
They returned to Woodstock Street with a bottle of Jacob’s Creek sparkling wine. Neither noticed the petite young Asian woman behind the wheel of a dove grey 1956 Citroën DS, staring at them as they entered the house.
‘Steve – happy birthday,’ said Keira, kissing his stubbly cheek and handing him the bubbly. He and Nessie were chopping salad vegetables on the two wooden breadboards. Maureen was icing the cake. Melanie, who had changed into a lemon mini-dress with white crocheted collar and cuffs and white lace tights, looked up from topping and tailing green beans.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘How was the beach?’
‘Wild,’ said Jimmy. ‘What can we do to help?’
‘If you really wanted to, you could wash up.’
Keira took a tea-towel off the back of a chair and tossed it to Jimmy, who caught it with his right hand. As Keira walked to the sink Melanie touched her upper arm, feeling her new jacket and said, ‘Is that leather?’
‘Yeah, but it was made in India.’ Keira plugged the sink, turned on the hot water tap and squirted detergent into the gushing water. She looked up from the resulting foamy bubbles to see them all staring at her.
‘Huh?’ said Jimmy.
‘Of what significance is India?’ asked Nessie.
She turned off the water. Maureen gave her the bright pink rubber gloves and told her to protect her hands.
‘Thanks,’ Keira said, putting them on. ‘In India, they’re not only vegetarians but they worship cows. So this jacket is virtually guaranteed to be made from a cow that died of old age.’
Jimmy chuckled and Steve guffawed. Melanie looked scornful.
‘Virtually guaranteed!’ she repeated. ‘I think that might be a bit of an overstatement.’
Keira turned away from their sceptical stares and continued with the washing up. ‘It’s perfectly logical,’ she said.
Maureen patted Mel’s shoulder. ‘We’d better give Keira’s explanation the benefit of the doubt.’
‘I don’t see why there should be any doubt at all,’ said Keira. ‘Hey, Nessie, could you put on a record?’
‘Sure. Any particular request?’
‘Mmmm, Kind of Blue. Miles Davis.’
The cool, relaxing sounds soon came from the living room. ‘I didn’t know you were a fan of jazz, Keira,’ said Maureen.
‘Yeah.’ Keira paused a beat and then said it: ‘Alan got me into it.’ There. And without crying or even her voice wobbling. ‘What do you think of it?’
Maureen listened for a few moments, her head cocked to the side. ‘It’s … pleasant. But to me, jazz always sounds as if any minute now it will turn into a tune.’
They laughed. Keira flicked a tea-towel at Steve and said, ‘Hey, Birthday Boy, twenty-nine today, you shouldn’t have to cook. Sit down.’
‘Salad’s not cooking.’
‘Doesn’t matter, I’ll do it. Why don’t you open a bottle of wine? Or sit down and entertain my mother.’
‘My name is Maureen, I’m sure you don’t want to be addressing me as “my mother” all night.’
‘Maureen,’ said Steve with a flourish of a tea-towel. ‘A glass of champagne? Or …’ he opened the fridge and peered inside, ‘we have beer, plus … Mateus Rosé – who brought that?’
‘Me,’ said Melanie.
‘Neither red nor white,’ said Steve, ‘but very popular with the ladies.’
‘Do you have any sherry?’ said Maureen.
After She Left Page 21
