After a moment Nessie whispered, ‘Well, I guess Mel can see now that Steve’s really not ready to settle down with her.’
‘Oh, yeah, that much is clear, since he’s willing to have an affair with a married woman twice his age!’
‘Shhhhh. And don’t exaggerate. Hardly twice his age – Maureen’s forty-something and looks ten years younger. And anyway, it’s sexist to object to an older woman going for a younger man.’
‘Well, it’s hardly my only objection!’
‘Shush, she’ll hear you! Don’t be such a prude.’ Keira was left to drop her jaw again while Nessie put the honey and teaspoons on the tray with the mugs.
The night ended with the three of them drinking chamomile tea and Maureen repeatedly apologising for her irresponsible bohemian behaviour. Jimmy came back, but neither Steve nor Mel did. Keira filled Jimmy in on what had happened.
‘You’re fucking kidding me,’ was his response.
‘Nessie thinks I’m a prude,’ Keira said to Jimmy just before bed. She turned to Nessie. ‘It was a shock – you know what it was? A defining moment. The way the Bloomsbury group had their defining moment.’
Jimmy said, ‘Huh?’
Nessie raised her eyebrows inquiringly and said, ‘Do tell.’
‘Virginia Woolf and someone else who lived there, some guy, came into the drawing room where their group of friends were – in nineteen hundred or something – and there was this white stain on Virginia’s long dress. Lytton Strachey pointed to it and said one word: “Semen?” And they all burst out laughing with the shock of it. Such a word was never uttered in polite society before that moment. It was a defining moment: the course of western civilisation was altered from then on.’
*
In the morning, Keira woke to the noisy miners sounding even noisier than usual. Her mother looked white as milk. She still looked remarkably young, wearing Keira’s large T-shirt and with her black hair in unruly strands every which way.
‘God, Mum – your eyes look wasted!’ said Keira.
‘My head hurts,’ said Maureen, the fingertips of both hands to her forehead. ‘My tongue feels like a piece of carpet.’ She looked up at Keira. ‘I –’
‘Don’t apologise again.’
‘I won’t if you’ll help me to the toilet.’
‘Deal.’
Keira waited outside until she heard it flush, then helped Maureen back towards the bedroom. While making their laborious way past the kitchen, with Maureen hopping on one leg, they saw Nessie in there tearing up lettuce leaves for her lunchbox.
Jimmy, who had just come in, stuck bread in the toaster and said, ‘She eats like a caterpillar.’
Keira laughed.
‘Just like your grandmother,’ said Maureen grimly. ‘Laughing before breakfast.’
That set Keira off again, Jimmy and Nessie joining in.
When Keira was helping her get dressed, Maureen said, ‘I don’t know if my hangover or my remorse is the worse pain. Poor Melanie! What a selfish cow I’ve been.’ She was sitting on the bed looking slim and wan in pale blue bra and panties, her eyes red from alcohol, marijuana and remorseful tears from the night before.
Keira handed her a singlet. ‘You could go to confession.’
Taking the singlet, Maureen pulled a face at her.
Keira had a shower and dressed in a magenta skirt, pale blue wool jumper and brown leather boots. Jimmy lifted his mother onto the living room couch, and she reclined there with two of Keira’s photography books and a Cleo magazine, dressed in her wool skirt and Keira’s blue cardigan. Jimmy offered to give Nessie a lift to William Street on the back of his motorbike and they left for work. After a short while the doorbell rang. Keira ran up the hall.
The first thing she noticed when Deirdre hugged her was that she smelt different. ‘That’s not …?’ she asked, sniffing.
‘Pachtouli oil. Olivia gave it to me. It reminds me of India.’
Keira thought, My grandmother the hippy. But she said, ‘It suits you.’ It was an improvement on the cheap perfume from before, and who knew? Maybe next time Olivia would give her Chanel No. 5.
Today Deirdre was wearing a green wool dress with dark blue tights and long black boots. A blue scarf of fine wool was wound around her long neck. Her dark hair was looped back gracefully like Virginia Woolf’s in the famous Julia Margaret Cameron photograph.
Seeing Keira taking in these efforts, Seamus said, ‘Scrubs up nicely, doesn’t she?’
‘She’s the cat’s mother,’ said Keira and Deirdre simultaneously.
‘You look lovely yourself, Keira. That jumper matches your eyes beautifully,’ said Deirdre.
‘Thanks.’ Keira guided them down the hall to the lounge room. ‘Mum sprained her ankle,’ she said as she walked towards the end of the hall. ‘She can’t get up.’ This would be a cover for any hurtful coldness on Maureen’s part, thought Keira. But Deirdre was already kneeling beside Maureen with her arms around her, repeatedly kissing her cheek.
‘Hullo, Deirdre,’ said Maureen, gently disengaging herself. She held out her hand to Seamus, who bent and kissed it.
‘Maureen, a pleasure to meet you again,’ he said.
Keira sat her guests down and went into the kitchen to make tea.
‘You look about forty,’ she heard Maureen say to Deirdre, ‘what’s your secret?’
Deirdre said, ‘Tibetan yoga. You look not so bad, yourself.’
Seamus came in and suggested to Keira that he drive her to art school. Keira led Seamus out with his tea to look at the back garden, only daffodils and jonquils blooming, while she went in and got her gear.
A little later Keira returned with her bag to kiss them goodbye. She called out to Seamus from the back. Deirdre and Maureen would have the house to themselves all day to talk – or shout at each other – if they wanted.
40
DEIRDRE
August 1973
‘So how did you sprain your ankle?’ asked Deirdre when the others had gone.
‘I tripped over the cat. He’s made himself scarce since then. He knows he did a very bad thing.’
‘And now you’re trapped here,’ said Deirdre, ‘unable to move. Have you had breakfast? Is there something I can get for you?’
‘Thanks, Keira got me some breakfast – what about you?’
‘I never want much till later in the day. I could do with some tea though – I’ll make a pot, shall I?’
‘Lovely.’
A little later Deirdre returned with a tray filled with tea things and put it on the coffee table near Maureen’s sofa.
‘Gosh, Keira’s right about this magazine,’ said Maureen, holding a copy of Cleo up so that its centerfold featuring a large coloured photograph of a blond-haired, blue-eyed and completely nude man, coyly hiding his genitals behind a hand, could be seen. He was lying on a sofa.
‘Oh, my.’
The two women stared at the photograph.
‘What did Keira say about it?’ said Deirdre, handing Maureen a cup of tea. ‘Still black tea?’
‘Yes. Keira thinks that while pretending to be for women’s liberation it is really just the same old conservative women’s magazine theme of catching and keeping a man, dressed up in something modern.’
‘Yes,’ said Deirdre, sipping her milky tea, ‘and just reversing the sexes in pin-ups isn’t going to liberate anyone. What are the articles about?’
Maureen leafed through some pages. ‘Here’s one on “How much does he love you?” There’s fashion, fashion, more fashion, an ad for Badedas bath gel – that’s lovely stuff. Another article: “Michael Caine on love, sex and marriage.” Here’s another: “Men and the female orgasm.” Hmmmm, are we spotting a theme here? And here’s the cookery column – Mel told me the cookery column is always written by a man. That’s a nice touch. Maybe that will catch on …’
‘That would be good, except that it’s an example of a man getting the fame and credit and money for doing what millions of women do beh
ind the scenes every day.’
Maureen raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’ They drank their tea in silence.
‘Did you hear I’ve left Jim?’ said Maureen after a few minutes.
‘I did, an’ I could be knocked over with a feather. So how are you feeling now? Why did you leave? If I’m not being intrusive at all.’
‘Oh, you have changed – quite the diplomat now, eh?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Deirdre. Then she admitted, ‘Well, life might have mellowed me a little bit.’
‘Nothing would mellow you, Deirdre, but no, you’re not being intrusive. We had a fight – highly unusual. Jimmy has got into some trouble and wanted to stay with us till it died down. Jim refused. I couldn’t believe it. Our son’s safety was at stake. Something in me snapped and I left, on the back of Jimmy’s motorbike!’ She laughed incredulously, still shocked at the memory. Deirdre joined in. Maureen shrugged.
‘And here I am.’ She sipped her tea. ‘It wasn’t as impulsive as that sounds.’
Deirdre nodded. ‘I can well believe that. You think things through quietly and carefully before acting.’
‘Jim and I have drifted apart over the years, I suppose. You know Rowan was in jail for conscientious objection to the Vietnam War?’
‘Keira mentioned that – how awful – but how brave of him. He did the right thing.’
‘I think he did. Jim didn’t and he voted against Whitlam in the election and I voted for him. Straight away he got Rowan and the others out of jail!’
‘Whitlam is a wonderful man.’
‘For once, you and I are in complete accord. It’s a pity our state government isn’t as enlightened as the federal – to put it mildly.’
‘Still corrupt?’
‘Worse than ever.’
‘You and Jim might patch things up. But no matter what happens you will always have the Beach Lane house to live in.’
‘I’m really grateful, Deirdre. I often think of that. A good feeling.’
Deirdre shook her head. ‘The least I could do.’
‘And Keira said you’re staying at Olivia’s. Come and stay with me when you want to, won’t you? I mean, when my ankle’s better.’
‘Thank you, but I’ll stay at Olivia’s for a while. She’s moving from her mother’s house to one at Gordon’s Bay. Did you know that her mother finally died?’
‘At last! I always thought most of Olivia’s problems were caused by her horrible mother. I mean, God rest her soul and all, but she was a piece of work.’
‘She was indeed. Have you read that book by R. D. Laing: Sanity, Madness and the Family?’
‘No.’
‘Olivia has a copy and I read it. It’s illuminating. He says that often a person’s so-called insanity is in fact a sane response to an insane situation.’
‘Sounds interesting,’ Maureen said. ‘Could you get me a glass of water, please?’
‘Of course.’ Deirdre took the empty mugs out on the tray and returned with a glass of water. She sat down again and said, ‘Maureen, I’m sorry I didn’t come back and visit more than that one time. I didn’t have much money and …’
‘That’s all right,’ said Maureen.
‘No, but when I visited I felt I couldn’t fit in here. Not in Australia as it was then but also not with you. I saw disapproval in your eyes and I know I act with bravado but it made me feel … cast out … beyond the pale.’
‘Deirdre, don’t be dramatic. You just never learnt to compromise and wouldn’t even go to Mass. What sort of example was that to our kids?’
‘I know. ’Tis different I’d do it now. I’ve changed. One should never be beyond the pale to one’s own family and you’re the only family I have.’
‘Your brothers and sisters are alive, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, but scattered. You know I went back to Ireland a few times?’
‘You wrote to me about it but it was a long time ago.’
‘It was grand to see them all again, and even my dad was sweet to me. Me mam looked so much older – ’tis that tough life that they have. An’ Padraigh had gone over to America and then our Billy went over too, but they came back.’
‘Back to the Blaskets?’
Deirdre nodded. ‘They said the work was just as hard but without the sea and family, plus the food disagreed with them.’
‘But now there’s no one on the island,’ said Maureen. ‘So where did they go after that? You probably told me in a letter but I forget.’
‘Well, ’tis twenty years ago. My God, how fast that time has gone! The government shifted them to the mainland, it being impossible to eke out a living any more from that barren place, plus the English and Americans taking over the fishing with their big ships and industrial equipment. They live in Dingle now, some with a view still to their old homes.’
‘That must have been so sad.’
‘Sad it was but had to be done. You know, I went over to the island with Padraigh, Billy and Mara. We had to wait four days because no boats were going anywhere in eighty-mile-an-hour winds and torrential rain. By the time the weather cleared Judy had come over from Tralee, so she came with us too.’
‘My God, that must have stirred some memories,’ said Maureen. ‘You mentioned going back to Ireland a few times in your letters but no details.’
‘It did stir memories,’ said Deirdre, nodding. ‘And even with a modern diesel-powered boat it was hard to cross the Sound. There was just us and a few Japanese tourists and we could hear the engine straining. Even though the wind had died down considerably, the waves were still very high. When I looked up at the cliff when we got there it was startling to see just how inaccessible the island appeared. Easy to imagine how those Spanish Armada galleons came to grief in that narrow rocky channel.
‘We scrambled into a dinghy and then there was the steep climb. I was sweating from the effort an’ I’m always pretty fit.’
‘What was it like to see your old house?’
‘It seemed too small to have sheltered so many of us. The windows were all blown out by the fierce winds, the roof slates cracked and shattered. O’ course our parents and the others had taken from their old houses what might be useful in the new. So there wasn’t a lot left for us to see.
‘The Japanese people went exploring the other houses and we were left an’ then suddenly the wind dropped. It was eerie and quiet. But extraordinarily peaceful.
‘We just stood in our old house, an’ we had no words, only memories and ghosts.’
‘It must have been amazing, after all those years and after all you’d done since.’
‘It was, an’ I felt almost tired when I looked back – to have travelled so far and done so much …’
‘You could have stayed on the island a bit and painted there!’
‘It would have been amazing to do that, but then you could be trapped there for days, even weeks, if the weather turned. Plus I am always wanting to live in the present, not the past.’
‘It’s funny you say that. Keira has been focused completely on the past – your past – this entire year – to an exasperating degree.’
‘Well, everyone’s fascinated by the Blaskets and if she’s successful it will be a springboard into a good future for her – I mean, for working in the art history field, which is what she wants.’ Deirdre sat up straighter and said, ‘I might be after some lunch now, or brunch, whatever the time is. How about you?’
‘Yes, a sandwich or something would be good. If you can’t find what you want, just yell out.’
‘I can find my way around a kitchen now.’
‘Really? What brought that about?’
‘European food. Remember when I visited you lot and I did cook a meal and Jim called it “wog food”? He didn’t like the garlic.’
‘Your wog food has finally caught on here – it’s trendy now.’
‘Good to hear.’
Maureen flipped through the photography magazine while Deir
dre busied herself in the kitchen. At one stage she called out, ‘It smells delicious.’
‘That would be the garlic frying in butter,’ came the reply.
Ten minutes later, Deirdre came in with a tray. She put a clean green tea-towel on the coffee table and unloaded two plates from the tray. ‘Cheese and artichoke frittata,’ she said, and put cutlery out. She disappeared again and returned with two wine glasses and a small tossed salad glistening with dressing.
‘That’s not … peach juice?’ asked Maureen.’
‘’Tis not. I found some rosé in the fridge. I’ll replace it later.’
‘It’s the wine from Steve’s birthday dinner. The night before I sprained my ankle. Steve’s a med student and he took care of it – and we actually had a … flirtation. Actually, a bit more than that.’
‘Well, my darlin’ girl, I’m happy for you. A bit of an age gap? Nothing wrong with that. You can stop blushing, Maureen.’ She clinked her glass against Maureen’s. ‘To adventure!’
‘No, but … yes, I’m fifteen years older, and he already has a girlfriend. And she and Keira caught us kissing. I feel awful.’
‘Don’t feel awful – these things happen an’ he’s his own free person doing what he wanted.’ They ate in silence for a while and then Deirdre said, ‘Did Keira tell you that Owen left me?’
‘No! God, when? What happened?’
‘Last winter – you know, the northern hemisphere winter. He has gone away with our yoga and meditation teacher.’
‘Gosh, I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been traumatic after such a long time.’
‘It was, so. But I got through it – thanks to the help of my wonderful friends – and I am in love again.’
‘Really? After that, I thought you would have given up on men.’
‘It’s not a man.’
‘What? Oh, now it’s me who’s knocked over with a feather! What are you talking about?’
‘Olivia and I have taken up with each other again.’
Maureen stared at her. Then she said, ‘Again?’
‘Oh, good – I’m glad you didn’t notice. We must have behaved with enough discretion.’
‘Discretion, my arse – it was probably when I was away at boarding school!’
After She Left Page 25
