Versace Sisters

by Cate Kendall

  And for a long time she'd fooled everyone. Bella always looked immaculate. She seemed on top all the time. Her friends were amazed at how ordered her life appeared. Perfect Bella. But it was all fake.

  She took another glimpse at herself in the mirror across the lobby and inwardly screeched. What she saw was a messy, completely fucked-up unit. She left the queue and rushed to the ladies'. She had serious maintenance to do.

  ~ 9 ~

  'Watch where you're going, you stupid bitch!' the truck driver yelled above the blaring of his horn, gunning his engine to speed past.

  Sera swore in shock at the verbal attack, a surge of adrenalin and embarrassment coursing through her as she realised she had pulled in front of the semi-trailer without even looking in her rear view mirror.

  'Christ, I've got to concentrate,' she berated herself aloud as dots of perspiration pricked through the mask of her foundation.

  'Mummy, was that man a road-rager? He looked like a road-rager, he was mad at you.' Maddy's voice trembled.

  'It's all right, darling,' Sera answered, flicking Maddy a glance in the mirror. 'He's just having a bad day.'

  The morning was not going well. They had left the house fifteen minutes late due to an unscheduled, but essential handbag rethink. Sera had suddenly remembered her lunch date with Jacqueline in Rose Bay and knew she had to have her oversized Coach handbag or she'd just as likely not get served.

  And changing bags was no small task. It wasn't simply a matter of relocating her phone and wallet; there was her make-up bag, document holder, refresher towels, keys, hand mirror, diary, notebook, pens, moisturiser, latest scar cream, mail, childcare centre payment . . . and the list went on. With the kids wanting to tell her stories, asking for food, arguing among themselves and Joan's dour insights and cup-of-tea requests, it was miraculous she got out of the house at all.

  And now Oxford's Street's peak-hour traffic seemed to be conspiring against her even more than usual: she'd almost hit a pedestrian and been verballed by a truckie. The perfect morning.

  She zipped in front of the traffic to avoid being stuck behind an illegally parked car and got another blast for her efforts.

  At last she pulled into the crèche's circular drive and took her place in the line of DVD-playing four wheel drives waiting to dispatch designer offspring. The parents rushed in laden with children and backpacks and scurried out peering anxiously at their Omegas and iPhones.

  Sera swung into the first available spot. 'Come on, come on.' She shepherded her charges towards the door while Maddy shrugged on her backpack and managed to drop her entire herd of My Little Pony toys, hat and jumper onto the wet ground one by one.

  'Maddy, for heaven's sake,' Sera said, exasperated. 'That's what a bag is for, to carry things in. Harry, stop!' she yelled, pulling the energetic toddler out of the path of an impatient Mercedes, while simultaneously plucking a pink pony from a puddle.

  She delivered Harry to the three-year-old room and finally arrived at Maddy's kindergarten room, where she helped her hang up her backpack and stow the ponies in her locker. Planting a kiss on her daughter's head, she was just about to escape when Miss Susan bailed her up. 'Oh, Sera, we never see you. You must be thrilled with Maddy's developmental progress of late.'

  'Oh, Miss Susan, yes absolutely, we're both dead chuffed,' Sera assured her. What was the woman beaming about?

  'To have learnt how to tie shoelaces so quickly, well, it's quite an achievement.' Oh, bugger, the teacher was on to her. Miss Susan obviously knew jolly well Sera had no idea what she had been referring to. 'She even earned an elephant stamp from the school director, which isn't a daily event, let me tell you.'

  Sera remembered how difficult that stamp had been to scrub off the back of Maddy's hand the week before and how Maddy had cried about losing it. Guilt pounded in her temple. She hadn't realised it had been an award. What's wrong with a bloody certificate, she wondered.

  Miss Susan continued, as if reading Sera's thoughts. 'We don't give out certificates because we prefer to give our kinder group an opportunity to explain their success to their parents over the evening family meal – it's a chance for them to shine.'

  Good Lord, evening family meal? Sera couldn't remember quite when that had last taken place. The in-flight service on the last Jetstar trip to Melbourne probably didn't count.

  'The stamp on the hand acts as a reminder for the child to tell his or her parents about their goal achieved.'

  Sera's headache intensified. Maddy had been wailing that evening that she had something important to talk about, and Sera distinctly remembered telling her to stop being a baby and promised to listen to the story just as soon as she got Harry off to bed. But then Harry had done a poo on the bathroom floor and she'd never got around to hearing the story. Now she was in trouble. Maddy was standing proudly waiting for the overdue recognition from her mum. But Sera had to save face in front of Miss bloody Susan.

  'Yes, of course,' she began, 'Maddy's been tying her own shoes all week and it's just the kind of thing we expect of her. Naturally we're proud.'

  Sera's heart sank at her own words. She knew her little girl was staring at her in amazement. Sera always packed their bags, tied their shoes, even pulled on their clothes for them because it was just plain quicker. Sometimes she meant to help them help themselves, but they were always in such a hurry.

  After Miss Susan turned away, Sera leant down to give Maddy a hug. She whispered, 'You're amazing, I'm so impressed. Promise to show me tonight?' But Maddy took the slight with her as she turned to her friend to discuss pony games.

  Defeated, Sera sadly said goodbye and got as far as the classroom door before Maddy called out 'Wait' and ran into her arms, the offence forgiven. 'Bye, Mummy, I'll tell you all about what My Little Pony does today after kinder if you want.'

  Sera smiled and smoothed the baby hair back into her daughter's plaits.

  'That'd be great. I love you, Madeline,' she said.

  'I love you too, Miss Susan – oh!' Maddy laughed. 'I mean Mummy.' She skipped away leaving Sera stinging with sadness.

  She trudged back to the car, all urgency to make her 9 am shift momentarily forgotten as her thoughts swirled. Harry's first steps were at this place. Maddy had read her first word here. Sera had missed last year's Christmas concert by accidentally mixing up her roster.

  As she waited at the traffic lights, she thought of her own childhood. Her mother had never been at any of her school events and it was Bella who helped her learn to tie her shoes.

  ~ 10 ~

  Sera arrived at work rattled from her crazy morning. Luckily there weren't any early customers so she had time for some therapeutic make-up application.

  Sera loved that her job required her to wear 'full face' at all times. For a woman who wore lipstick, foundation and blush to do the weeding, getting made up for work was a serious business that required applying as much cosmetic product to her skin as humanly possible. Her eye make-up was a glowing testament to Dior's entire new range of metallics and her lipgloss was so thick her morning cappuccino often slipped off her mouth.

  Three hours into her shift, she checked her reflection again to ensure her hair – piled elaborately on her head and supplemented with several hairpieces – was still firmly in place and then retrieved her handbag from behind the counter, glancing at her watch to make sure her break time had officially started. The girls at the Chanel counter got very catty about break times.

  She headed for the mall, smoothing her uniform and smiling brightly at the customers. As she rounded the corner behind Girls' Wear she spotted Sam and his daughters obviously in some sort of bother, as the little one was holding herself and jiggling while the older one remonstrated with her dad, who looked stressed and tired.

  'Hi, Sam,' Sera said.

  Sam and his little girls looked up blankly at the lady with the big blonde hair and the huge eyes.

  'Sam, is everything okay?

  'Er, I'm sorry, do I know you?'

/>   'Sam, you were at my house last week. It's me, Sera.'

  'Ohhh! Sera, of course, sorry. I didn't recognise you. You look, um, well . . . different.'

  'Oh, yes, of course, I'm in my work look. Can I give you a hand here?' Sam's little girl was now doing a Riverdance-style jig.

  'Alexandra needs to go to the toilet but I can't convince Isabelle to take her in,' he admitted.

  Isabelle, mature beyond her years, turned her enormous brown eyes onto Sera. 'Stranger danger,' she said simply.

  'How about me, darling?' Sera asked with a big smile, holding out her hand. 'Would you like me to help you?'

  To Alexandra's three-year-old eyes Sera looked like a princess, with her cascading blonde curls, rainbow eyelids and bright pink shimmering smile. She agreed immediately and eagerly took Sera's hand.

  When they emerged from the toilets Sam offered to buy Sera a coffee in thanks.

  'You don't need to do that, Sam,' she told him. 'But I am on my lunch break so I'd love to join you.'

  They wandered to the food court and the girls raced to the mall's nearby jungle gym.

  'Jacqueline's right, it is harder for guys sometimes,' he lamented. 'The whole parenting thing seems to have been biased toward women – starting from day one with the breastfeeding stuff. Don't get me wrong, I know there's plenty I can do as a father but sometimes I just feel completely overwhelmed and under-equipped. Like piggie-plaits for example – no matter how many different versions I try I have no idea what she means and I just get yelled at.'

  Sera laughed. 'Oh don't worry about that, it doesn't matter which gender parent you are: if you have a daughter you'll never get the hairstyle right.'

  She dropped her smile and touched his hand. 'So how is it really, Sam? I can't begin to imagine how hard it must be for you.'

  'Yes, I won't try to be brave; the last couple of years have been tough,' he sighed. 'It's really hard to explain but no matter how sad I feel about her dying or how much I miss her or how much I need her, the worst bit is that it's nothing compared to how much those little girls need their mum.'

  His voice cracked on the last word. 'Oh bugger.' He bit his bottom lip, throwing his head back. 'It's so embarrassing, sorry, I still can't . . .' Sam held a wad of napkins over his eyes. 'I still get so damn mad at her sometimes. I'm really going to have a stern word with her when I see her again,' he said, smiling wryly.

  Sera smiled at him. 'It's okay, Sam, take your time,' she encouraged.

  'What I've found most challenging is establishing the same kind of unbreakable bond the girls had with their mum – it had always mystified me.' He took a bite of his sandwich and continued. 'Like, how she used to say, "What's wrong?" even though they hadn't told her there was a problem. And how she'd know to suggest exactly the right activity. I suggest tickle-chasey and everyone bursts into tears.'

  'Well, you're obviously doing something right,' Sera said as Alex came over to drop off her jumper and give her dad a big smooch. 'How did you do it? Cast a magic spell?'

  'Don't laugh, I considered it!' Sam chortled. 'No, one night it occurred to me that I can't be a woman, I can't be their mother, but I can be a pretty good dad. I just have to do that the best way I can. For instance, Grace had a green thumb, but very formal taste. Our courtyard was sculptured and meticulously maintained. It was her passion.'

  He finished his sandwich and kicked back, his hands folded behind his head as he got more involved in telling his story.

  'I'm not proud of it, but soon after she died I went a bit crazy. After the initial shock all I could feel was intense anger.'

  'Really?' Sera asked in surprise. 'How unusual.'

  'Well, not really,' Sam explained, 'according to my grief counsellor, it's perfectly normal. Anyway, I was in a rage for weeks. I could barely breathe. Luckily the girls were staying with their grandparents in Noosa. It hit me in waves when I least expected it. I wanted to kill, maim, scream, destroy anything that would release this . . . this, unmitigated fury that she could leave me.

  'One day, when I had a savage hangover after a night of drinking, I felt horrendous and suddenly the rage took hold. I wanted to take vengeance, to punish her for doing this to her beautiful innocent little girls – and to me. I just went mad. I went out to her precious, pristine garden with an axe. I hacked up bushes, ripped up pavers, chopped down trees. I even smashed the mosaic table setting she'd made herself. I really regret that one. But I couldn't see straight. It went on for hours. I didn't rest until every retaining wall, water feature, box hedge and succulent was annihilated.' He stopped and drained the last of his coffee, looking over with a peaceful smile at his girls as they practised a dance routine.

  'Oh my God,' Sera breathed. 'So what did you do next?'

  'I fell into a slump of utter exhaustion. I was filthy, my hands were bleeding and my clothes were torn. The sun was setting and everything was glowing a kind of orange colour. And her garden was gone. All of it, and nothing I could ever do would bring it back.'

  Sam stopped and looked Sera in the eye. 'I know I sound like a monster, Sera, and I don't really go around telling people this story. You're just so easy to talk to.'

  She took his hand in a maternal squeeze. 'Sam,' she said, 'I don't know how I would react or what I would do in your position. I'm not judging you, just listening, okay?'

  He nodded silently and continued. 'So, anyway, as I said it was all gone. In the same way that Grace was gone.' He paused for a second. 'And the only option left to me was to accept it.'

  Sera nodded. 'What did the girls say when they came home and saw what had happened?' she asked.

  'Well, that was the blessing in disguise. Rather than try to be like Grace and create a design masterpiece, I prepared several sections of the back yard so when the girls came home we could create the world's best veggie garden.'

  'Oh, how wonderful,' Sera sighed in relief.

  'Yeah, it's really great,' Sam said, his enthusiasm reflected in his smile. 'The girls just love it. One section is for our root veg, one section is herbs, one is for all our leafy veggies – the girls are even eating spinach now, can you believe it? And one section is just full of any random flower seed that tickles the girls' fancy at the nursery. It's like a rainbow in there: poppies, lilies, sunflowers. There's no rhyme or reason, and it's the girls' favourite part, of course.'

  'How brilliant. You must show me sometime.' Sera said.

  'Yeah, it's been just great and I've learnt the most valuable lesson from it.'

  'What?' Sera asked, leaning forward with interest.

  'Well, by just pottering, with no telly, or other distractions of life – you know, ballet, homework, swimming – just by working side-by-side, that's when all the little conversation streams start to flow. That's when Isabelle tells me about the girl at school who said she was fat, or how she feels about being the only girl at school whose mum died.'

  'Sam, you're really something else, you know.'

  'Nah, just a dad doing his job.'

  'Can we go home now, Daddy? My tummy hurts.' Isabelle suddenly appeared at his side.

  Sam leaned over to Sera and whispered with a conspiratorial wink, 'Tummy hurting means she's bored.'

  'Ah, you even speak the code,' Sera replied in admiration.

  'Sure, Issy, let's go. Say bye to Sera.'

  'Bye, Sera,' said Isabelle as she pulled on her cardigan.

  'You're pretty,' Alex whispered.

  'You're pretty too,' Sera whispered back and tapped her on the nose.

  'See you at next month's Stitch 'n' Bitch, Sam.' She waved at the family as they departed.

  'Yeah, see you then. Oh, and Sera,' he called as he hitched two Barbie backpacks over one shoulder and a purple poncho over the other, 'if you teach me how to purl I'll bring you a tussie-mussie of herbs.'

  ~ 11 ~

  The weeks had flown by, and much to Jacqueline's joy tonight it was her turn to host Stitch 'n' Bitch.

  'Ooh, how delicious, I really must have those
for tonight's "Sweets for the Sweet" theme,' Jacqueline whispered as she stroked the pastel 1950s-esque ceramic dessert tumblers in Bed, Bath and Table. In scrumptious tones of baby blue and pink, mint and lemon, they were just the thing to serve her trademark parfait in tonight.

  She sighed happily and hummed to herself as she continued her plotting and planning. The organisation of the event had filled her mind for days and provided a lovely break from her usual routine of meal preparation, household maintenance and school duties.

  She had already analysed and discarded a range of recipe options, carefully scrutinised her platters for chips or blemishes and polished all her cutlery. The other Stitch 'n' Bitch members might scoff at her, and she knew they did, but that didn't stop them gobbling all her delicious offerings with gusto, did it?

  Jacqueline Bouvier's scones were the pride of the Mothers' Committee cake stall, her teacake declared by the principal as 'sterling', her home-made ice-cream had legendary status in the street and no one had ever had meringue melt in their mouth quite like hers. She had a culinary reputation to maintain, so the others could scoff all they wanted.

  Of course she was extremely well-qualified for the job of hostess; far more qualified than any of the others, who just simply tossed any old thing on the table with little care or thought, for Jacqueline was a proud graduate of Institut Villa Pierrefeu, Switzerland's finest finishing school.

  She'd excelled in Mobilier and could spot a fake Louis XIV at fifty paces; Etiquette and Deportment were a shoo-in thanks to her natural grace and posture; Ménage had been hard work, but she knew she'd need the invaluable skills of toilet cleaning and razor-sharp hospital corners in her planned future career as a wife.

  It was thanks to the school that she'd met her husband, Thomas. He'd been in Switzerland completing his orthodontic training at a highly respected medical institution and was invited to one of the many soirées the college hosted for the young ladies to practise their burgeoning skills.