by Tyler, Anne
Richard smiled. “I’m well, thank you. I didn’t realize you liked to work out here, too.”
“Occasionally. But I’m not in the mood this morning. I think I’ll try the natural-air approach and walk back to the motel instead.”
“Do you mind if I join you? I’ve been hoping to have the chance to talk to you again.”
She stood in front of him, a towel in her hands. Years ago she had decided to get it out into the open when men made approaches to her like this. “Really, Richard, you’re being very forward. Are you trying to pick me up?”
“I don’t know yet,” he said calmly. “You’re certainly very beautiful, and I like that spark in your eye, but I like to be able to have a conversation with my lovers, not just look at them. So it’s probably too early to tell.”
To both their surprise, she burst out laughing. “That is the best answer I have ever heard. What about your workout?”
He grinned. “We could walk the long way back, couldn’t we?”
Out at her house, Carrie was feeling sick. A book lay on the wooden boards beside her. She’d come home from the motel for a quick break after lunch, hoping for a message from Matthew, an e-mail, perhaps even a letter. She’d found nothing. Pacing the house, feeling restless, she’d tried the TV, then the radio, before crouching in front of the bookshelf in the hall. It was filled mostly with magazines and textbooks. Neither of them was a great reader. She’d come across one of Matthew’s few books, a collection of English vet stories. As she flicked through it, his bookmark had fallen out.
It was an old photograph of Matthew and Bett together, arm in arm.
At six o’clock, Bett came running up the path to the motel and practically burst into Lola’s room. “You knew he was working there, didn’t you? That’s why you said all those things about me looking as good as I could. I thought you meant the other stuff, but you meant Daniel Hilder, didn’t you?”
“Hello, darling. Did you have a good day at work?”
“Lola, I mean it. Why didn’t you warn me?”
“What was I going to say? ‘Best of luck at work tomorrow, and by the way that man you had the one-night stand with in Melbourne three years ago is working there now so you might want to make sure you’ve got your lipstick on straight.’ Really, Bett, wasn’t it better to be surprised? Think of how much you would have been worrying last night if you’d known he’d be there this morning.”
“But have you any idea how embarrassing it was? As if it’s not bad enough knowing people are talking about me and Carrie and Matthew. Why don’t we just put me on the back of a truck and drive up and down the main street, letting people laugh at me for all the mistakes I’ve made in my life?”
“That’s a great idea. I wish I’d thought of it. We could get sponsors, perhaps?”
“It’s not funny, Lola.”
“Did Daniel laugh at you?”
“No.”
“Did he call all your colleagues over and tell them what happened between the two of you?”
“No.”
“Perhaps he didn’t remember it himself.”
“Of course he remembered it. You don’t forget a night like that, do you? Or perhaps he has forgotten it? Oh God, that’s even worse.”
“The poor man can’t win,” Lola said, laughing. “You’d be furious with him if he did say something about it and furious with him if he’d forgotten it. He’s very nice, you know. And you told me the sex was quite something, once you stopped all the crying and talking and got on with it.”
“Did I really tell you that?” She realized that, yes, she probably had. The state she had been in at that stage she was practically stopping complete strangers and telling them intimate details about her life.
“I just can’t bear it,” she wailed, as she relived the brief and stilted conversation she’d had with Daniel that morning, with Rebecca standing between them chatting away unawares. “I knew I shouldn’t have come back here, Lola. Anna and Carrie and I are on eggshells with each other. Mum and Dad are still in their own little world. I’d have been better off staying in London.” She was shocked at the feel of a hand across her cheek. “Did you just slap me?”
“It wasn’t a slap, it was a flick of my fingers. Quite a different thing. I was scared you were about to become hysterical, and I didn’t have a bucket of water handy.”
Bett stood open-mouthed.
Lola took Bett’s face between both hands and looked her right in the eyes. “Bett, face him. Face every single thing life throws at you. Daniel was kind to you that night, wasn’t he? And everything you told him was the truth? Perhaps it was a good thing for him, too, a crash course in understanding women. Perhaps he’s been kinder to his own wife or girlfriend because of some of the things you said to him.”
“Wife? Is he married now?”
“No, although there was a serious girlfriend in Melbourne, from what I could drag out of him the other day when I remembered who he was. A live-in girlfriend, that’s the phrase, I believe. Horrible term, makes me think of velvet-covered sofas for some reason.”
“Was he living with her when I slept with him? Oh no, that’s even worse.”
“I don’t think so. He’d been with her for only a year or two, I think.” Lola laughed. “Bett, don’t look so horrified. You didn’t get pregnant, did you? Catch anything from him? He didn’t have lice? Scabies? AIDS? Don’t look so surprised. I watch TV soaps, remember. I know every disease going.” She looked at her watch. “Darling, the auditions will be starting soon. Do you want to stand in front of a gathering of people in a state like this? And no, you can’t get under the bed, so stop looking over there. Go for a walk. Think about things and remember how lucky you are.”
“Lucky? That my most embarrassing moment has come back to haunt me?”
“That’s not your most embarrassing moment. You told me your most embarrassing moment was last year when you walked around the center of London for an afternoon without realizing you had your dress tucked in your knickers.”
Bett howled. “Apart from that.”
“See, you’ve had more embarrassing moments than you realize. There’s no need to carry on as if this is the one that will tip you over the edge.”
“Can’t you be kind to me?”
“I am being kind. Cruel to be kind. Bett, go for a walk. Be glad of your good strong legs and stop worrying about tiny things that don’t matter. Do you know, I’ve just remembered another one. That time you made the speech at school and called the guest of honor by the wrong name the whole way through—”
“No more, Lola, or I swear I’ll—”
“You’ll do what? Elizabeth Quinlan, are you threatening your feeble eighty-year-old grandmother? Get out now or I’ll call the police.”
An hour later, Lola was in a new outfit and full makeup, sitting behind a small table at the function room door, greeting people effusively as they came in. Ellen was sitting beside her, politely handing out registration forms to each person.
“Sandra, marvelous to see you.” Lola beamed. “And which of your daughters is this? And what will you be singing, dear? Celine Dion? Oh, one of my favorites. Here, fill out this form, would you? We’ll get started as soon as we can.”
Anna, Bett, and Carrie stood at the other end of the room, watching the people stream in and sit down on the chairs lining the walls.
“I can’t believe the turnout,” Anna said. “I thought we’d be searching for people to audition.”
Bett had a flicker of nerves. “Do you actually know how to run one of these things?”
“Of course I do. I’ve been to a million of them. We’ll do the warm-up songs, then get everyone to sing a verse and chorus of their chosen song, ask them to stop midway through if we think they’re terrible, or hear them to the end if they’re okay. Then if we want them, we call their agents and make an offer.”
Bett’s lip twitched. She noticed Carrie was trying not to smile, too. “I don’t think Len the butcher or Mrs. Gill from
the primary school are going to have agents.”
“You know what I mean. We need to run it professionally, set the standard from the start. It’s going to be hard enough to pull this off in a few weeks as it is, starting from scratch, without any professional actors or musicians or performers, apart from me.” There was a tiny pause. “And you two, of course.”
“A lot of the people here have got experience,” Carrie said briskly. “I think you’ll be surprised, Anna.”
“I hope I am.”
“Hello, Carrie.”
Carrie turned. It was Kaylene, one of Len’s daughters. She worked in one of the Valley hairdressers, although Carrie didn’t go to her anymore, since she’d learned what a gossip she was. Carrie smiled a welcome nevertheless. The more the merrier tonight. “Hi, Kaylene. You know Anna? And Bett?”
Kaylene nodded at the other two. “God, I didn’t ever think I’d see you Quinlans standing in the same room. I heard you had a ferocious row over Matthew.”
“Did you?” Anna said coolly. The three of them were standing close to one another and without realizing it inched even closer.
“Mmm. Someone said you hadn’t spoken in three years.”
Anna, in the middle, put one arm around Bett and the other around Carrie. “Then it seems that someone was wrong, Kylie.”
“Kaylene.”
“Sorry, Kaylene. We wouldn’t let a silly thing like a row about a man upset us, would we, Bett, Carrie?” Behind their backs, she was pinching them both hard.
“Of course not.”
“No.”
“If anything, it’s brought us even closer together,” Anna added.
There was no need to lay it on too thick, Bett thought. She didn’t dare look at Carrie.
Kaylene seemed disappointed.
“And you’ve come to audition, Kaylene, have you?” Anna asked nicely.
Kaylene colored. “I thought I’d give it a try. I like dancing, and my mother says I’m a good singer.”
Bett took pity on her. “Thanks for coming, Kaylene. Take a seat, won’t you, and we’ll get started as soon as we can.”
As she moved away Anna grinned. “Good thing she left when she did. I was about to tell her I’d slept with Matthew, too.”
“Anna!” Carrie and Bett were genuinely shocked.
Anna’s eyes were full of mischief. “Only joking.”
Turning back to the piano, fighting a smile, Bett didn’t see Daniel Hilder come into the room behind her. Or see Lola greet him with a kiss on the cheek. Or see him take a seat at the back, out of her line of vision.
Twenty minutes later the room was filled to capacity. The plan was for Lola to welcome everyone, briefly sketch the musical, then pass it over to Anna, who would run the auditions. “It’s your baby, now,” Lola had told them that afternoon. “I’ve done my bit. I want to enjoy it all at the end, when all the hard work has been done.”
“You’re not going to sit in on every rehearsal, making comments?” Anna asked.
“Me, make comments? What do you take me for? No, I’m leaving it all to you and spending the time with Ellen instead.”
Lola hadn’t been surprised when Ellen had said she didn’t want to be in the musical. She’d already noticed how self-conscious the little girl was. “Excellent news, Ellen,” she’d said cheerfully. “That means you and I can keep each other company while the others get on with the hard work.”
Lola made her way to the front of the room now. Bett enjoyed some of the group’s reactions as they took in her outfit—the blue silk shirt, so shiny it could have been a Barry White castoff, the flared trousers, the crocheted vest in enough colors to rival Joseph’s technicolored coat. Lola waited dramatically for the chatter to stop, then gave a little bow. “Thank you all for coming. It’s the most wonderful turnout. You may have heard this is my life’s work, something I have been planning for nearly ten years—”
Two months, Bett corrected.
“And I am thrilled that so many of you are here tonight to audition, or to at least be entertained by the others’ auditions while planning on sneaking off yourselves before we call you up. Hello there, Rebecca. Yes, I can see you edging out the back there.” There was a ripple of laughter. “Let me set the scene—Many Happy Returns is based on the true story of the American war hero General Douglas MacArthur, and his historic visit to the tiny town of Terowie in 1942, in the middle of World War II. My story begins …”
Bett gazed around the room as Lola gave a précis of the story line. There were several people she remembered from her newspaper days, but many she didn’t know. A late arrival coming in the door caught her eye. Richard Lawrence. She wasn’t surprised to see him. He’d been curious about the whole musical since Lola’s party. She brought her attention back to Lola’s speech.
“So you’ll see it’s the age-old story of family against family, young love thwarted, a town pulling together against the odds, the tyranny and ferociousness of war, all to a sound track of lots of marvelous old songs from my favorite—sorry, everyone’s favorite—musicals.” There was a burst of applause, then Lola held up her hand again. “So now, over to my granddaughter Anna.”
Anna moved forward, all glamour and poise. “Good evening, everyone, and thanks for coming. We’ll have a warm-up or two, and then we’ll hear you do your individual pieces.”
At the piano, Bett watched as Lola made a poor attempt to slip unnoticed out of the room with Ellen. At Anna’s nod, she played the intro, then moved smoothly into the first song, “Do-Re-Mi” from The Sound of Music. There were only a few voices to begin with, but as she kept playing, more people joined in. By the end of the third verse everyone was singing, even if not all of them were in tune. Bett ignored what looked like Anna wincing, and moved into the second warm-up song, “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy.” Things got a little livelier.
Anna stood up hurriedly at the end of the second verse, stopping them there. “Terrific, we’re off to a good start. Now, then, time for the solo spots.”
“There’s not hidden cameras here or anything, is there?” Bett overheard one man ask another. “This is getting a bit too much like that Popstars program for my liking.”
“Just sing any old way. Think of the free beer afterward.”
Bett grinned. It had been Carrie’s idea to add the offer of free drinks to the advertisements. “Otherwise we won’t get any men at all, and we need them for the villagers, and the soldiers, not to mention General MacArthur.”
At the desk, Anna picked out a registration form at random. “Right, then. We’ll start with Louise singing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’ When you’re ready, Louise.”
In room seven, Lola was sitting on the side of Ellen’s bed, telling stories about the girls’ childhood. “I called it my Collection of Cries, Ellen. I had a whole row of jars and as soon as I’d hear your mother cry, or Bett, or Carrie, I’d sneak up behind them and capture their cries in the jar, then quickly put the lid on. It was marvelous. They’d stop crying immediately.”
Ellen was giggling. “And have you still got all the jars?”
Lola sadly shook her head. “No. Unfortunately three bold little girls opened all the lids one afternoon. You’ve never heard such a racket. Five years’ worth of tears and tantrums released in a moment. It took me some quick talking to convince the police nothing terrible had happened. As for the poor motel guests—they didn’t know what had hit them.”
Ellen moved farther down in her bed. “Can you tell me another story?”
“I will, of course. But not tonight. It’s past all good great-granddaughters’ bedtimes.”
“But wait, Lola. I’ve got another question.”
Lola waited. She was well used to these delaying tactics. Anna had been exactly the same as a child. “One more question, then.”
“Why have you got a funny voice?”
“What do you mean a funny voice?”
“You talk differently to other people. You talk like this: ‘It’s past all good great-gran
ddaughters’ bedtimes.’ ”
Lola laughed out loud. Ellen had just perfectly mimicked her Irish accent. She was definitely Anna’s daughter. “That, my love, is called an Irish accent, not a funny voice.”
“I like it.”
“Good. I’ll keep it, then.” She kissed Ellen’s forehead. “Night night, sweetheart. Sleep well. And I’m three doors down if there’s anything you need, okay? And Mummy will be here soon, too, just as soon as she’s finished the auditions.”
“Night night, Lola.” Ellen’s voice was barely audible. Lola waited at the door for a few minutes until she was sure the little girl was content. After a minute she heard the sound of regular breathing and let herself out. Dear little thing.
Letting herself back into her own room, Lola suddenly felt exhausted. She’d have liked to sit and watch every moment of the auditions. She’d have liked to sit in on every production meeting, too. Painted the sets, helped Bett work out the music, sew the costumes, even. But she didn’t have the energy for it anymore. The spirit was more than willing, but the flesh was getting weaker all the time. Oh, yes, she was in better nick than most eighty-year-olds, there was no doubt about it, but it was all downhill from here, and she didn’t like it one bit.
She opened the bar fridge and mixed herself a gin and tonic. She’d have a little read, a little think, a little drink, and then a good night’s sleep. She was longing for her bed, in fact. They didn’t warn you of that in the growing-old books, did they? That some days all you would ever want to do is sleep, just like a baby. It was true, the older you became, the more your life went backward, your hair thinning, your teeth falling out, your bladder getting a life of its own. What would be next to go? Her marbles?
She sat upright in her chair. No, she was damned if that was how she was going to go. She’d made it this far; she was going to keep at it. As soon as she started lolling about, getting lazy, giving in, it would all collapse around her. She hadn’t let it happen when she was young, and she wouldn’t now.
