Versace Sisters

by Cate Kendall

  Joan sighed and looked out the window at the crazy paving patio that had been a feature of the backyard since before Tony was born. A huge sadness crept over her as she remembered the summer it was laid.

  Her tea had finished steeping. She dropped the teabag in the sink and wandered back to her room.

  ~ 7 ~

  'Muuum!'

  The wail travelled down the hall to shake Sera from slumber. She tried to focus on the glowing red lines of her clock radio. Six am. Fantastic, a sleep-in.

  She sat up and rummaged quietly in her bedside table for her make-up bag, and expertly applied a layer of powder, blush and lip gloss and ran a brush through her hair. In eight years of marriage Tony had yet to catch her once without make-up on in the morning, and she wasn't going to let it happen anytime soon.

  'Mmmm . . .' Tony stirred and opened one eye. The other side of his face was mashed into the squashed pillows. 'Hello beautiful,' his husky morning voice greeted her. 'Come here and let me look at you,' he pleaded with arms outstretched.

  'Don't be silly,' she snorted, slipping out of the bed. 'I've got a least an hour of work to do before I'll even look human, let alone beautiful.'

  *

  Downstairs Sera's spotlessly neat kitchen was filled with autumn sunshine, which made the ugly space almost bearable. She always left the kitchen perfect before going to bed at night. At least that was one area she could keep in order.

  Bella was just the same, she remembered, though her sister was a major neat freak about all her living areas. Sera was more interested in styling and decorating her home than keeping it immaculate, especially with two small children thwarting her every move, but she knew she'd never let her home fall into the kind of chaos she and Bella had grown up in.

  Just remembering the pigsty that had been their home, and how their mother never seemed to notice the mould in the shower or the stains on the carpet, was enough to spur Sera on to extra cleaning efforts in her own home.

  Marlene's housekeeping indifference had spilled over into her mothering, Sera thought, trying to remember a time when her mother had shown concern or worry over her. And yet Joan flew into a maternal frenzy if Tony broke as much as a toenail. On the rare occasions they spoke, her own mother would never even ask how she was. Not that Sera cared any more. She shook her head defiantly as she stood and enjoyed the early morning sunshine that poured through her kitchen windows. Marlene was just too caught up in her own dramas to think about her daughters. Which reminded her of Joan's message the other night; she still had to call her mother back. Probably some minor drama she needed someone to listen to.

  'Stuff her,' Sera announced to the empty kitchen. It wasn't as if she needed to be mollycoddled anyway. She turned to the tap to fill the kettle and caught sight of a dirty brown used teabag flung thoughtlessly into her stainless steel sink. A tannin stain had spread an ugly and dark shadow across the shiny surface.

  'For God's sake,' she spat angrily. Was the woman trying to melt her brain on purpose?

  She suddenly remembered the brochure that had arrived in yesterday's mail. She sifted through the rubbish in her crystal bowl, sighing at the mess it contained. The punch bowl meant a lot to her; she was humbled to think that she'd been entrusted with the care of such a family heirloom.

  The ceremonial handing over of the bowl on her wedding day was a sign that Joan was on the verge of accepting Sera into the family; a really significant moment. After the wedding she had placed the heirloom in pride of place on the long kitchen bench to show Joan how much she treasured the gift, but try as she might to make it otherwise, every member of the family used the bowl as a dumping ground. Out of desperation she'd filled it with water one day and floated a couple of orchids on the surface. That night Tony, out of habit, tossed his mobile phone and keys into the floating garden.

  And when the kids came along she'd had to push the bowl back to a safer spot at the back of the bench. She didn't want to put it away because it was such a pleasure to look at, especially when the sun hit it at a certain angle, throwing tiny refracted rainbows around the kitchen.

  Right, she was going to clean it out today, she decided. She'd wash it until it sparkled and maybe use it for fruit instead. She'd get on to it after taking the children to daycare, as soon as she'd taken the lawnmower in for a service, but before she made dinner, and maybe after her DJs' shift . . . She sighed in defeat. Maybe tomorrow.

  Sera rifled through the paperwork in the bowl and found the envelope she was after. She felt a twinge of guilt twist as she opened it, looking over her shoulder before slipping out the letter.

  Dear concerned family member, the form letter began. When the people we love reach a certain age and perhaps are no longer able to effectively look after themselves or are perhaps a little too distracting to be minded by family members in their own home, we want to ensure they're cared for in a loving and sympathetic manner.

  Here at Sleepy Hollow Aged Care Facility we genuinely care for our guests, offering a wide range of programs and activities to help keep minds and bodies active. For example, daily lectures include: 'Our Friend Fibre', 'Life Between Meals', and 'No one's Trying to Steal Your Purse'. Our exercise and gaming program is extensive, including such activities as: 'Wheelchair Rambles', 'Constructive Criticism of Others', 'Cane Jousting' and everyone's favourite 'When-I-was-Your-Age Bingo'.

  'Whatcha readin'?' Tony came in and headed straight for the Saeco espresso machine.

  'Nothing, just some junk mail.' Sera shoved the brochure back into its envelope and slipped it to the bottom of the pile. She'd throw it out. What was she thinking? Joan was hard work, but this was her house, after all.

  While her husband fixed himself some toast to eat in the car, she picked up the last envelope in the pile. It contained fabric swatches for the children's room. The current state of the kids' room made her eyes hurt. It was always so ugly. Mismatched furniture, different paint schemes, toys spilling out all over the place. She was thrilled to have discovered a gorgeous Designer's Guild fabric that worked for both genders. By making the whole space uniform she knew it would look beautiful, and the kids would be so happy. How could they not be happy in a beautifully decorated space? It always worked for her. When she surrounded herself with beauty she felt relaxed and at ease.

  The swatches spilled out into her hand and she gave a squeal of excitement. The quality was better than she'd expected. The colour combination of acid green with pale orange contrasted perfectly with a darker pumpkin hue. One fabric was in wild 70s floral shapes, which would look wonderful on Maddy's bed and covering a matching tub chair, while the bold geometric-striped version in the same three colours would look just sensational on Harry's bed. Their Roman blind could be in the pumpkin with the green pelmet and the walls could be in the lemon. It would look incredible. Of course it would cost a small fortune, but it would be worth it for ten years of beautiful wake-ups. She knew the kids would like it . . . they just had to; she'd already paid the non-refundable deposit.

  Tony dropped a kiss on her cheek and rushed off.

  'Hi Mum, bye Mum,' he garbled through Vegemite toast as he rushed past his mother in the corridor.

  'Your wife should feed you a proper breakfast, Tony,' Joan called after him. 'It's not good for the digestion, eating on the run, you know.'

  'Why should Sera make me breakfast, Mum? I'm perfectly capable, and I'm late. See ya.' The door slammed shut.

  'Morning, kids,' said Joan.

  'Nanna!'

  Sera put the kettle on again. Tea would be needed ASAP. She smiled at the kids' greeting of their grandmother. The children adored Nanna, and no wonder – she spoilt them rotten. Sneaky lollies before bedtime, horrible cheap variety store clothes they loved, and Joan ignored Sera's rules and let them watch her mind-numbing soaps about ugly people in ugly houses.

  'Morning, Joan,' she said as she delivered her mother-in-law's morning cuppa.

  'Morning, Sera. Good God, did you just walk past the cup with the teaba
g? It doesn't look very strong.'

  'Three dunks, Joan, just the way you like it. I can make it again if you like.'

  'No, it's okay, I'll suffer in silence.' Joan gave the hot beverage another cursory glance and put it on the side table. Sera quietly moved a coaster under the cup to protect the teak.

  'Look what I've got, kids: presents!' Joan leaned over to the side of the Jason recliner and pulled out two Best and Less bags. Oh great, Sera thought.

  The children swung around from their cross-legged position in front of the television, rushing to investigate their gifts.

  'I know you're sick of your baby blue and pink doonas in your room,' Joan began.

  What? No! Sera thought.

  'So I went out and bought you brand new bed linen.'

  OH FUCKING HELL, NO! Sera's brain shrieked as a smile froze solid on her face and her eyes started to water.

  'YAY! Look, Mum, look! It's Dora the Explorer!' shrieked Maddy. 'I love Dora!'

  Sera looked over, expecting to see Joan smirking. But she was just smiling at the children, enjoying their pleasure. Harry was struggling to get his bag open, but finally the contents spilled onto the carpet.

  'SPIDERMAN! Spiderman, Spiderman, Spiderman!' he chanted his hero's name in delight. Just when Sera thought it couldn't get any worse, Joan brought out more parcels.

  'Now, I know how much your Mum likes everything to match . . .' Was that a sarcastic twinkle Sera could see in the old bat's eye? '. . . so here's the rest of the linen.'

  The kids cheered at their sudden boon. Sera felt lightheaded. Matching Dora and Spidey fitted and flat sheets and – dear God, no, please don't let it be possible – yes, the icing on the cake: matching valances.

  In all her days of being excruciatingly aware of aesthetics, avoiding colour clashes, subtly rearranging cushions in friends' houses and choosing to sit on waiting-room chairs with fabric that complemented her day's outfit, Sera had never seen anything in worse taste. And she was stuck. This stuff was going into her house, into her own children's bedrooms. Her precious children would surely be influenced by this crime against interior design. She tuned back in to the conversation. 'Remember that win at Bingo last week?' Joan was telling her grandchildren. 'Well, I thought who else would I rather spend my winnings on? You can't take it with you, you know.'

  That was it. Sera had to intervene. 'Kids, Joan,' she said sweetly. 'I am so sorry but I've already paid a deposit on a gorgeous bedroom suite ensemble in one hundred per cent cotton.'

  The children and Joan all looked up at her as if she were speaking a foreign language.

  'It's a beautiful colourway, in hues of pumpkin, tangerine and lime.'

  'Good lord, sounds like a salad,' Joan said unhelpfully.

  'I no like pumpkin,' said Harry, his bottom lip firmly stuck out and the Spiderman doona clasped firmly to his little chest.

  Sera wasn't giving up. 'I have the swatches here to show you. It's a very pretty story, to suit both boys and girls.'

  'Story? I like a story.' Harry's ears pricked up.

  Sera ran into the kitchen to get the colour swatches, then dashed back to explain to her little boy. 'No, darling, not that kind of story. Silly mummy! A "story" is what the interior designer calls the range of different fabrics that are the same kind. See?'

  She fanned out the colour swatches for the children's approval.

  'I want story. That's not story, that's sewing. I want story,' Harry whined.

  In desperation, Sera turned to Maddy. Surely her stylish daughter could be relied upon to make the right decision. 'Maddy? What do you think? Daisies, look.' Sera held out the swatch to her little girl.

  Maddy, more diplomatic than the average five-year-old, said, 'I really like your material, Mummy, but I love Dora more than anything in the whole world. More than even fairy bread.'

  Sera caved in. She couldn't take away their doonas, she wasn't that bad a mother. Sure, she forbade them from playing outside before guests were due so they didn't wreck their designer outfits, and yes, she had been known to pop the odd fair streak in her little girl's hair – it was just so dark – and okay, she'd considered cosmetic surgery for her little boy's sticky-outy ears, but she wasn't about to destroy their happiness over interior design. Yet.

  'Sorry about raining on your linen parade,' Joan apologised as Sera slumped in defeat. 'A case of miscommunication. I guess.'

  'Never mind,' said Sera, heading for the kitchen to toss the swatches into the bin. She fished around the bottom of the crystal bowl, took the letter from Sleepy Hollow and rested it on top of the pile.

  ~ 8 ~

  The lift doors parted like theatre curtains on opening night. Bella was the principal actor on centre stage and the LA sunshine streaming through the floor-to-ceiling French windows was her spotlight. She was on. She pasted a smile onto her immaculately made-up face and began the day's performance. As she passed the ornate gilt mirror she snuck a quick peek at herself. Perfect. Her coral shirt was tucked neatly into her taupe pants. Her ponytail was sleek, her skin dewy and her lips glistening with gloss.

  She headed towards the checkout desk and joined the long queue. As she waited her gaze rested on an enormous crystal bowl full of water set on a table in the centre of the foyer. Large water lilies floating on its surface reminded Bella of the time Sera had tried to de-clutter her crystal bowl. Hilarious! Not so funny for Tony's new phone, but a great story.

  She thought about her little sister in Sydney. The crystal bowl had been a wonderful welcome gift from Joan. Sera was so lucky. Bella didn't have feelings of inclusion anymore. Not that she ever did really. When she'd been married to Curtis she was just playing the housewife role. She'd set the scenes so carefully, down to slippers at the door and casserole in the oven. Like every part of her life, really; it had all been an act. She'd so badly wanted to belong to a clan. Like Sera did. She'd tried to be a family with Curtis. What a fool she'd been.

  In her mind the crystal bowl transformed into a cereal-encrusted bowl on the kitchen table back on the farm. 'Staring at it's not going to get it clean,' her mother's voice echoed from a distant time. Marlene was at the kitchen table filling in one of her many competition forms.

  Bella sighed and picked up the bowl, running water in it to soak, then moved over to give the frying pan the same treatment.

  'I've got to get to school, Mum,' she said.

  'Not till you've put those sheets out to dry, my girl, they stunk of mould last week.'

  'But Sera has to be on time today, she has an excursion.'

  'Does she?' her mum muttered. 'How am I expected to pay for that?'

  'I've already paid. It's just to the petting farm up the road. It was only five bucks.'

  'Good girl. Pass my bag, will you?'

  Bella passed her mother's tatty old leatherette handbag to her. She wished her mother had a bag like Carrie's mother. A different one each day to match her outfit. Always neat and tidy.

  She felt a slight warmth at the 'good girl' from her mother. It was nice to be appreciated. She waited for her mother to give her back the five dollars.

  'Ah, here it is.' Marlene pulled out a dog-eared Scratchy. 'Thought I'd lost it.' She began scratching madly with her split, stumpy thumbnail. 'Dishes aren't going to do themselves, my girl. Thought you were in a hurry to get to school or somesuch?'

  Looking back, Bella could see that Marlene had simply given up on mothering. She was over it by the time she'd found herself pregnant with her fifth child and was happy to hand Sera over to the eldest. Bella knew that in a big family everyone had to pull their weight, but sometimes she worried that Sera would think she was her real mother; not Marlene.

  She loved her little sister so much and wanted to be there for her; but she got so tired sometimes and just wanted to read magazines on her bed, instead of bedtime stories to Sera.

  But Marlene's gambling problem had kept the family constantly broke; their grocery money squandered on poker machines, Tatts tickets and horses. Bella ha
d been devastated the Christmas morning that Marlene told three-year-old Sera that Santa had 'got lost' and there would be no presents that year. She was determined it would never happen again. So from then on, Bella saved her supermarket pay for stacking shelves to buy Sera and the boys birthday and Christmas presents.

  But no matter how many gifts she bought her little sister, it never lessened the guilt she felt over Sera's accident. She tried so hard to make amends for that one fateful minute in time – in every area of her life. She strove to be perfect at everything. To be a good friend; the best employee; an immaculate guest.

  As a teenager, Bella's only moments of peace came when she lay looking at her Versace wall. Gianni Versace embodied everything she dreamed of. It was all gold, glitz and glamour.

  Even the iconic Medusa face that was the designer's logo seemed to reflect her own: eyes closed in an attempt to shut the chaos out; sad mouth. She'd drawn a large Medusa, coloured it gold and stuck it on the ceiling above her bed so she could take the shininess of Versace into her dreams.

  The Versace models were tigresses; they were big and strong; in charge of their lives, their ambitions, their outfits. She wanted to stride across a Venetian palazzo in silk palazzo pants; she wanted to lounge on a daybed. She wanted to know what a daybed was. These were her schoolgirl dreams. And her wall, decorated with big torn-out magazine ads, kept them alive.

  When she turned seventeen, Bella had been determined to leave her messy, broken life behind her and hopped a plane to Sydney. She had planned to leave the destruction zone of her teens; her gambling mother, her drunk father, her dishevelled brothers and even her broken little Sera – all that she felt responsible for – and start again. Start from scratch and be the very best, most perfect person she could be. Then she had sat on the plane next to Curtis.