About Three Authors

by Patti Roberts

  “Danish bread crumbs,” Elise laughed.

  They sat in silence for a moment, all lost in their own memories.

  “Great memories,” Polly said wistfully, as she watched Becky stand up on the end of the jetty. Becky wrapped herself in the towel, then strolled up towards the house. Was it Polly’s imagination, or was Becky’s step a little lighter? And was that a smile turning up the corners of her lips? The poor girl really was having a hard time coping with Victoria’s death, not to mention Roger and Mandy’s betrayal. Steve had filled Elise in on the situation during one of their recent phone calls, and hoped that Becky’s time at the retreat would help heal her loss and put Roger’s betrayal behind her. Elise had assured him that she would do whatever she could do to help Becky. All three women had nodded and agreed wholeheartedly when Elise had relayed the telephone conversation to them, as soon as she’d hung up the phone. But now, in the last half hour, something had happened to lighten the sadness the girl was trying so hard to conceal. Becky really did look happier as she wandered towards the patio.

  “Some of the best,” Mallory murmured, filling four glasses with ice cubes, cubed watermelon, and water.

  “How was your swim?” Elise asked Becky, as she stepped onto the cool tiles of the patio in her bare feet.

  Plantation shutters shielded one side of the large patio from the sun’s rays. A brick fireplace was built into the opposite side, while the front of the patio opened out over the sloping, green lawn and the lake. The rear of the patio led straight into the spacious dining room of the main house through glass sliding doors. Two wicker sofas and four cosy armchairs were positioned around a large timber coffee table, and to the left sat a long timber dining table which seated twelve comfortably. On the ceiling overhead, four fans whirled like mini cyclones, cooling the patio from the late-afternoon humid heat.

  Becky looked happy, Elise thought. As though some kind of shift in the universe had taken place that only Becky was privy to.

  Becky exhaled. “It was wonderful. So refreshing. I know exactly what I’m going to be doing every day while I’m here.” Becky removed the towel from around her torso and draped it over the back of a chair to dry. She scooped up a sarong which she had purchased from the Closet Hippy, and tied it loosely around her middle. “I should start work on the interview for the magazine. I thought I’d write about how all of you first met. People always like to read about that. Perhaps you have some old pictures that I could use for the article?”

  “Oh, I’m sure we have plenty of those stored away in boxes and in old albums that you can use,” Mallory said, handing Becky a glass of chilled water.

  Becky took the glass of water, and then sank down into one of the wicker lounge chairs, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Thank you.”

  Mallory placed a cupcake onto a plate with lashings of fresh cream and strawberries, and then handed it to Becky. “Have one of these cupcakes. It’s a strawberry shortcake brownie. They’re just gorgeous.”

  Becky took a sip of her water, then set it down on the small table beside her. “Oh, yum. Polly, make sure you wake me up in the morning so I can go running with you.”

  “I will be more than happy to. I look forward to the company,” Polly said. “You think I can get either of these old farts to join me in a morning run? Not a bloody chance. But be warned, I’m not giving up on either of you.” She wagged her finger at Elise and Mallory, who just looked at each other and shrugged.

  “Who do you think she’s talking to?” Mallory asked, looking over her shoulder with a quizzical expression.

  Elise shook her head. “I hate to tell you this, Mal, but I have absolutely no idea. Do you think it’s possible her mind has gone?”

  “Could be,” Mallory agreed. “It was bound to happen eventually. Just rattles your brain around in your noggin, all that running about. It’s just too jarring when you get to our age.”

  Polly shook her head. “Mark my words. This time next year…”

  “Oh give it up, Polly,” Elise said, a broad smile on her face.

  “Never,” retorted Polly, her eyes sparkling with glee. “I’m on a mission.”

  “Mission impossible,” Mallory chortled.

  Becky sucked the cream off her fingers, listening to the three women banter on as only good friends who had known each other for a time could do. The insults ran off their tongues and over their heads like water off a duck’s back.

  “So,” she said finally. “How did you all actually meet? How did you all end up here, living here together, and opening the retreat?”

  The three women looked at each other.

  “Who’s going to start?” Mallory said.

  Polly looked reflective for a moment. “Men come and go. You should never put your life in their hands financially. The best thing you can do is get a job and make sure you can provide for yourself, and possibly a child, because you never know what’s just around the corner. Anything can happen at any time to anyone, no matter how secure you think your life is. Divorce, car crash, cheating - anything.”

  Elise and Mallory sat in silence, gazing down into their laps.

  Polly shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so pessimistic.” She changed tack. “We all met after the U2 Unforgettable Fire Tour at the Brixton Academy, on the third of November 1984.”

  Mallory looked up from her lap. “I’ll never forget it. It was the best concert I’ve ever been to.”

  ““I will follow”. Still one of my all-time favourite songs,” Elise said.

  “Hold on,” Polly said. “I’ll go get the box of old photos. It’s on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, isn’t it?”

  Elise put her spectacles on the tip of her nose and nodded. “I think that’s where I saw it last. Next to that big box of A4 paper.”

  Mallory stood up. “I’ll go put the jug on while you’re doing that.” She picked up the empty cupcake platter and took it into the kitchen with her.

  “Nothing for me, thank you,” Becky said. “I think I’ll stick with the cold water.”

  “Right-o,” Mallory said, ambling off into the kitchen.

  Readying herself for the story, Becky leaned back into the large, comfortable wicker chair, and tucked a leg up beneath her. She picked her small notepad up off the table beside her and scribbled a few notes on the top of the page.

  “When do you think the article will be published?” Elise asked, smiling at Becky as she chewed her bottom lip while she made notes on her notepad.

  Becky looked up. “I’m not really sure. It will be after I finish the piece about the Grand Opening on New Year’s, so probably the first edition due out in January.”

  “Do you enjoy working for Steve at the magazine?” Elise asked, observing Becky’s face as she spoke.

  “Yeah, I do. He’s a great boss. I couldn’t imagine working for anyone else. He’s a great uncle, too. It’s no secret that I think he’s the best. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. He was my rock, too, when my mum died.”

  Elise nodded. “Victoria was a lovely woman. I’m sure she was a great loss to everyone who knew her.”

  Becky stared at Elise. “You knew my mother?”

  “I know your Uncle Steve from a long time ago. We were both on holidays visiting friends in London when we met. Although I grew up in London, I was living in Scotland at the time.”

  Becky sat up a little straighter in her seat.

  “That’s how this interview came about. We’ve kind of kept in touch over the years.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, that is a surprise. Uncle Steve did mention that there was a special lady from his past, but he never said who. I don’t suppose you know who that was?”

  Elise raised her head to look at Becky.

  “I’m not really sure who that could be,” Elise replied.

  “Here we go,” Mallory said, placing a tray down on the coffee table with three cups of coffee.

  Polly walked back onto the patio a moment later. “Phot
os,” she said, holding up a blue box, then setting it down on the table. She sat down and removed the lid, then began to sort through the photographs. “I’ll find the first photo that we had taken together. It was taken at the pub, after the concert.”

  Becky looked at Mallory, who was perched on the edge of her seat looking over Polly’s shoulder. “So Mallory, you came all the way from Canada to London to see U2 in concert?” Becky asked.

  “No. I moved to England from Canada after I got married,” Mallory replied, a faraway look glazing over her eyes as she picked up her coffee mug and retreated back to her chair and sat down.

  Becky turned her attention to Polly. “Did you fly all the way out from Australia just to see the concert, Polly?”

  Polly shook her head, put down the photo she had been studying and picked up another one. “I was on a working holiday at the time and had every intention of going to see U2, but one of the girls at the local pub where I was working called in sick. She wasn’t really sick, she wanted to go to the concert, so I was told I had to cover her shift, or not come back tomorrow. I needed the money, so…” she shrugged.

  “That was mean,” Becky said.

  Polly nodded. “It was, and I was so pissed off with her - Sandra was her name - that I told the guy that she was keen on that she had crabs. Needless to say, she never saw him again after that. Looking back though, if I had gone to the concert, I would never have met Mallory and Elise. So you see, everything turned out for the best in the end. Maybe not so much for Sandra…”

  Becky smiled. “Every cloud has a silver lining. That’s what mum always used to say when things like that happened.” She looked at Elise. “Were you still living in London at the time of the concert, Elise?”

  “No, I was living in Scotland,” Elise replied. “So it was not a really big deal for me.”

  Becky put down her notepad and pen, then retrieved her glass of water, and cradled it in her hands. “So you didn’t all meet at the concert then?” She took a sip of water and rested back into the chair.

  “No,” Polly said, shaking her head. “Remember the other day, when we mentioned the funny tampon story?”

  Becky nodded.

  “Well, that is part of the story about how we first met. On one of my breaks, I went to the loo; that’s when I first met Elise. She had her back to the wall, and she was cursing and bashing the living daylights out of the tampon vending machine.

  “I remember,” Elise said. “The bloody thing, pardon the pun, had swallowed up all my change. My periods were never regular, you see, and they’d just turn up whenever they saw fit. Stupid me, I forgot to make sure I had spare tampons in my bag, and of all the nights… I got my period. And to top it off, I was wearing white jeans. I’ve never, ever, ever worn white jeans since, by the way. I had already stuffed half a toilet roll down my knickers, but I knew that wouldn’t last long. I was so humiliated when I realised what had happened. I had never felt so embarrassed in my whole life, when a girl from the pub came up and told me I had my period. Well, Polly gave that vending machine one good thump with her fist, and the godforsaken thing vomited tampons all over the floor, just as Mallory walked in.”

  Mallory smiled at the memory, and sat forward in her chair. “I thought I’d walked in on a couple of drugged up vandals raiding the vending machine. They looked at me, and I looked at them and said, I just want one, if that’s okay? I’m happy to pay you for it. They both burst out laughing at me, and told me to help myself, to take as many as I wanted. So I did.”

  “I had already paid for most of them anyway,” Elise explained. “I still had my back flat up against the wall to hide the embarrassing stain spreading on the back of my jeans like an oil spill in the Persian Gulf.”

  “I felt so sorry for you,” Mallory said. “Your friend had left you there all alone, hadn’t she? What was her name?”

  Polly scratched her chin and looked up at the ceiling. “I think it started with a B. Yes. B for bitch.”

  Elise huffed. “Bloody Bonny. We’d gone to the pub after the concert with a small group of people I didn’t know, to meet up with some guy she had the hots for. She took off with him about an hour or so later and, as I was staying at her place and didn’t think to ask for the key to the flat, I had no way of getting in, and we didn’t have mobile phones in those days… I didn’t know what I was going to do. Everyone else from the group had disappeared. I couldn’t very well just leave; I had nowhere to go, and with the stain on the back of my jeans growing by the minute…”

  “So what did you do, then?” Becky asked.

  “Polly offered to take me back to her flat for the night, after her shift, and she could take me back to Bonny’s flat the next day, when she’d be home. The only problem then was, what was I going to do until the end of Polly’s shift? I couldn’t very well waltz around the pub like a bloody stabbing victim.”

  “I took off my jacket so she could tie it around her waist,” Mallory said.

  “You did,” Elise said, smiling at Mallory. She looked across at Becky.

  Polly dipped a cracker into a bowl of Guacamole and took a bite. “We all exchanged numbers and addresses, and promised to keep in touch. Plus Elise wanted to be able to return Mallory’s jacket. No such thing as facebook or texting in those days.”

  Polly handed Becky a photograph of three young women in their twenties. “This is a picture of the three of us, when we first met.” She pointed at a girl wearing a colourful, stripy singlet. “That’s Elise.”

  Becky leaned in to look at the photograph. “You had such lovely long hair.”

  “I loved your hair,” Mallory said, leaning in to take a closer look at the old photograph.

  Polly continued. “That’s me in the middle.”

  The young Polly had long, honey-blond hair, sparkling eyes, and wore a sequined boob tube.

  “And this is Mallory in the yellow.” Mallory was wearing a singlet covered in yellow sequins. Her hair was glossy black and long.

  “You’re all wearing sequins,” Becky said, holding the photograph up for closer inspection.

  Elise removed her spectacles and cleaned them on the hem of her t-shirt. “Sequins were big in the eighties. Big hair, sequins, satin, lace, Madonna, Bruce Springsteen, U2.”

  Mallory nodded. “Ghost Busters, Grease, Star Wars, Bon Jovi, “Living On A Prayer”. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Michael Jackson.”

  Polly joined in. “Dirty Dancing. Who didn’t love Patrick Swayze in that movie?”

  “Nobody puts Baby in the corner,” Mallory chimed in.

  “I think I would have liked the eighties,” Becky said.

  “They were the absolute best,” Polly said. “Everything was so ostentatious, so flamboyant. Everything was just one big party, until AIDS, that is.”

  “AIDS did tend to slow everyone down, that’s for sure,” Elise said.

  “So you all stayed in contact after that night?” Becky asked. She put down the photograph, picked up her notebook, and scribbled down some more notes.

  Elise put her spectacles back on, then picked up the photograph to study it. “We did for a while, of course. I posted Mallory’s jacket back to her, and we sent letters back and forth for a while. We even visited Polly here in Cairns for a holiday on the reef a year or so later, which was great fun. But after a while, we just got on with our lives and drifted apart. We lost contact altogether, and it wasn’t until facebook became the rage in social media, that we all eventually caught up again. Love it or hate it, facebook has certainly brought people back in contact with each other.” She looked up from the photograph in her hand, then leaned over to hand it to Mallory.

  “Philip bought me that top for my birthday before he died,” Mallory whispered, her fingertips stroking the photograph in her hand. “He said he always liked yellow on me.” The chorus of “Surfin’ Safari” boomed in her head on repeat. “He said yellow always reminded him of sunshine, so I had fifty yellow long stem roses put on his casket when he died.” She
held her breath, and wiped a tear from her cheek, noting the crêpe texture of her skin beneath her fingertips, then comparing it to the smooth faced girl in the photograph.

  Becky put an arm around Mallory’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry. That must have been a terrible loss, losing your husband.”

  Mallory placed the photograph back down on the coffee table, and shook her head. “Oh, don’t worry about me. It was such a long time ago. I’m just being a silly old lady reminiscing about the past. Seeing all these old photographs just makes one think about all that’s gone, that’s all. It’s just a bitter reminder about how fast the years have flown by.”

  Elise nodded. “In the blink of an eye.”

  Polly picked up another photograph from the pile. It was of a little, fair-haired boy with wide eyes beaming up into the camera lens. “In the blink of an eye,” she agreed. “It only feels like yesterday that Gary was just a little boy playing with plastic dinosaurs in his sandpit, and now he’s a grown man.”

  “He sure is,” Becky agreed enthusiastically, then quickly dropped her head to study her notes, when she realised all three women were staring at her. “I think I’ve got enough for now. I might go up to my room and type all this up on my laptop while it’s still fresh in my mind.” She stood up, her notes clasped in her hand. “Can I take a couple of these photographs? I’ll return them, of course.”

  “Help yourself,” Polly smiled.

  “We’ll call you when dinner is ready,” Mallory added. “I hope you like lamb. I thought we’d have lamb skewers with tzatziki and Greek salad for dinner. As it looks like it might rain, I thought we’d eat here on the patio tonight.”

  “Dinner sounds great, I love lamb, thank you. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help,” Becky said, taking the box of photographs that Polly held out to her.

  Lamb made her think about Roger, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Mandy had ever cooked him roast lamb in sexy, red lingerie. She quickly performed an exorcism on her thoughts by biting down on the inside of her lip. Bugga off, arseholes.