Versace Sisters

by Cate Kendall

  'What's for dinner?' Thomas asked suspiciously as he entered the kitchen and saw his wife sitting at table strewn with paperwork.

  'I thought you could pop out and pick up some takeaway please, Thomas. I've been busy with work all day.'

  Thomas started to voice his displeasure at the request, but was drowned out by the boys' high-fiving each other in excitement. Takeaway was a rare treat. Suddenly the career-mother life had perks.

  'I say, Jacqueline,' said Thomas. 'If this little hobby of yours is going to impact the family like this, I can't say I'm at all pleased.'

  Jacqueline looked up and took off her glasses. 'Well, Thomas, considering it's not a "little hobby", but a business, I can assure you it will impact this family occasionally. Maybe you can just make the odd sacrifice for me for a change. Takeaway food once in a blue moon isn't going to kill you, you know.'

  'Well, I don't know if that was the plan . . .' he mumbled under his breath as he wandered back off to the car to fetch the family's evening meal.

  'Daniel, darling,' Jacqueline said as she went back to scouring the cookbooks. 'Can you please pop the washing into the dryer?'

  'Sure, Mum,' her son said, now eager to please his new feisty career mother. 'Muuum!' came his call a minute later. 'Which one's the dryer?'

  ~ 46 ~

  By Wednesday afternoon Tony was starting to feel almost normal. As he got closer to forty, his occasional hangovers took much longer to shift than they had in his twenties, when a couple of Beroccas and a cold shower would see him right. As he unloaded the tools from his truck and locked them in the back shed, he wished he still felt that youthful sense of being bullet-proof.

  Nowadays a really big night out meant he was dogged with energy-sapping lethargy, short-term memory loss and a short temper right into the next week. And this time was even worse; because he had to drag a great bucketful of guilt through his days as well. God, he felt terrible. Poor Sera, she'd been making such an effort at reviving their relationship by dropping everything to come to the pub and he had to run off at the mouth like that. And then not coming home! He'd felt sick with remorse all week.

  He walked into the house through the renovation, picking through the builder's rubble, pleased to note that they'd made some progress. He didn't have to call out to know there was no one home. He could sense the house's emptiness.

  His blue mood sank down a notch from flat to downright miserable. He hated coming home to an empty house. The children's squeals, his mother's grumbles and even Sera's constant activity made him feel good, like being in a secure nest. But empty, the nest was merely a pile of sticks.

  He sat on his mother's Jason recliner without even chasing away the gloomy twilight by flicking on a light. He should make himself a cuppa, he thought, but he couldn't be bothered. It wasn't worth it if he couldn't make a pot for two.

  Sera had been so nice to him since Friday night. She'd been sweet, cuddly and attentive. He couldn't work it out. It had been bliss falling asleep in the wee hours of Saturday morning with her delicate touch stroking his forehead. Then she'd taken Mum and the kids to the museum for the day to give him recovery time. She was a bloody angel sometimes. Why she hadn't put his nuts in a vice for staying out all night was beyond him.

  They hadn't had a chance to talk properly since the weekend: life had been its usual merry-go-round of kids' stuff, visitors and work, so they hadn't been able to manage more than a few moments alone – except in bed, and then they'd both been too exhausted to do anything other than cuddle and fall asleep.

  He needed to talk to her. She needed to know he didn't mean anything at all by his stupid, stupid words. Where was everyone? He knew it was the delayed hangover making him feel like this, but he was so tired and emotional he almost felt like crying.

  Then he noticed the note on the coffee table. His pulse hammered in his throat. Empty house? A note? No! He knew he was in strife, but not a note! He scooped it up and nearly tore the letter in half in his haste to rip it open and read the words.

  It was brief, and in Sera's hand. The tears swimming in his eyes blurred the writing and he angrily brushed them aside.

  Dear darling husband,

  Do you remember how we used to make treasure hunts for each other? Well, surprise! I've made you one. Hope you're up for it and not too tired. Lots of love, Sera.

  PS – You have to start right away because I'm waiting at the end of it! See you soon, don't get lost.

  Clue No. 1

  Roses are red

  Violets are blue

  There's five, but one

  makes me ah-choo!

  Tony stared in amazement at the paper. He flipped it over, still half expecting to see a PPS that said, 'By the way, we've left you.' The back was blank.

  He turned it back over; his smile so wide his ears hurt. He kissed the note, then kissed it again. She loved him! Her daggy, silly treasure hunt proved it. Tony leaped up and punched the air in jubilation. He took the stairs three at a time as he ran to his room. He flung his work gear in a corner, dragged on jeans, a polo shirt and a navy, woollen jumper and was back in his truck within minutes.

  He started the engine, then realised he had no idea where he was going. As he stared at the note, his butterflies distracted him from collecting the logic needed to decipher it.

  Okay, violets and roses, flowers, ah-choo, it was obviously referring to Sera's allergy to gypsophila, the white flower spray that florists use to tart up an arrangement. The first time he'd given her flowers he'd caught her tossing the gypsophila in the bin while arranging the remainder of the flora in a vase. She'd told him she was allergic and it wasn't until years later he discovered that it didn't actually make her sneeze, she just thought it was seriously ugly but hadn't want to hurt his feelings.

  So it was something about a florist, but what about the reference to five? 'Of course!' he said aloud. The florist at Five Ways. He gunned the engine and arrived at Sera's favourite haunt within minutes.

  'Hey Jo!' he called as he entered the shop. 'You seen Sera?'

  'Stop fishing!' Jo laughed from behind the counter. 'I'm not allowed to help you.'

  'You don't have to, I've worked it out,' he said with a smile and pulled open the door to her fridge. Sure enough, stuck to the bucket of gypsophila was another letter.

  This time he experienced flurries of excitement rather than pounding dread.

  'You're clever!' Jo said.

  'I know her too well,' he answered with pride.

  Back in the car, he opened the letter.

  Clue No. 2

  Nowhere near the finish line

  Fast hackers you might be

  In tiny little shorts

  Can you keep up with me?

  What? He read it again. Fast hackers? What in the hell? Okay, 'tiny little shorts' rang a bell. When they were dating, she used to tease him about his running shorts being so small. They used to run together on Sunday mornings down at Rushcutters Bay. Of course, 'fast hackers' – Rushcutters! He laughed as he started the engine.

  At Rushcutters Bay Park, he pulled over and stared at the letter. Where would she put the next clue? 'Nowhere near the finish line'. So that would mean the starting line. They used to meet on Waratah Street. He drove around and at the bus stop where they met was another letter taped to the advertisement. He laughed as he saw it was an ad for City Search. She must have enjoyed that coincidence.

  Clue No. 3

  YY UR

  YY UB

  ICUR YY 4 Me

  This one had him stumped. Some kind of weird code. So he first had to crack the code then work out the clue that was no doubt hidden within.

  He sat in the car frowning. It was dark now and the park was empty of the usual end-of-day joggers and dog-walkers.

  He stared at the characters. 'Why why your?' No. 'You are?' That was it. 'Why why you are?' That made no sense. The end bit was 'I see you are'. But 'Why why?' Tony looked away from the letter, then back again, staring harder. 'I see you are .
. .' what's with the two whys? Hang on, two whys or too wise? At once the message was as clear as day: 'Too wise you are, too wise you be, I see you are too wise for me.'

  Excellent. He sat back and smiled and went to turn on the keys in the ignition. Hang on. Where to? What did it mean? 'Too wise' . . . so, the library? That didn't mean anything in particular to them as a couple. Encyclopedia? University? No. No. Wise, wise, wise. A glimmer of something sparkled in the depths of his memory. Wise.

  Hang on a minute . . . Wyse! Wyse and Son. Two Wyse. The Italian tile importers. They'd spent a wonderful Saturday afternoon there, just after Maddy was born, scouring through piles of imported pottery pieces. They'd felt like archaeologists. It was the most amazing little shop, with a basement filled with mountains of dusty old crates. There was no doubt in Tony's mind and he chuckled as he sped off in the direction of Woollahra.

  Sure enough, as soon as his headlights stroked the peeling façade of the old building, he saw the letter tucked into the locked wrought-iron security door. He leapt out and tore it open with excitement. This was the most fun he and Sera had had together in years. He'd completely forgotten about her crazy little treasure hunts. Even an event as simple as a picnic used to be accompanied by similar notes. She was such a darling to re-kindle a part of their past he'd enjoyed so much.

  Clue No. 4

  Eighteen thirty-five

  Sandman not at the shore

  By any other name

  This clue is four.

  Now she was getting random. He'd never work this out. He looked at the car clock. It was seven already. Should he call her? Tell her he was running late? No, that would wreck the game.

  'Eighteen thirty-five', what in the world did that date mean? 'Sandman, not at the shore'? There's shoreline and sand all over Sydney, but the word not threw him. What sand's not at the shore? 'By any other name'? A rose by any other name still smells as sweet? Sweets? Lollies? Roses. 'This clue is four' – that was weird because it's a waste of a line. He knew this was the fourth clue, so why was she repeating herself?

  Four? 1835? Sand not at shore . . . hang on just one minute. He knew, what she meant. Sand not at the shore – a sand bunker! The rose was Rose Bay, this clue was 'fore' not 'four'.

  He laughed at his own cleverness. Sera had thrown him a surprise thirty-fifth birthday party at the Royal Sydney Golf Club in Rose Bay. He'd just played eighteen holes with his three best friends and when they came in for a cold one at the end she'd been there with fifty of their mates.

  She was really taking him down memory lane with this treasure hunt. The treasures were the memories, re-visiting the past. Forcing him to go back to see the happy moments in the history of their relationship. He couldn't wait to see her, to hold her.

  He sailed down Kent Road in Rose Bay and leapt out at the large Sydney Golf Club Sign. He looked behind it and, sure enough, taped to the back was another letter.

  'Last Clue – No. 5' was written on the front.

  He didn't even have to read it. He knew she would be at Icebergs, the restaurant where he had proposed to her.

  Tony's truck flew down Curlewis Street and he took a punt there'd be a car-spot in the impossible-to-park-in Notts Avenue. He was so eager to get his hands on Sera that he didn't want to waste time hiking up from the beach public carpark.

  His memories danced around his mind. The night he proposed, she'd been ridiculously beautiful in a long, slinky, pale blue halter dress. He was so nervous; sure she was going to turn him down. He remembered the first renovation on their Paddington house, shopping together, oohing and ahhing over each design discovery. He thought back to the surprise party; jogging together; their babies; the holidays.

  They'd had so much fun in the past eight years. It was difficult to keep a marriage going; nearly bloody impossible sometimes. But God, it was so worth fighting for, so worth working on. To have a friend forever, like he had in Sera, was the most precious gift in life.

  He got lucky and slid the car into a welcome space. He leapt out and ran into the restaurant, ignoring the maitre d's approach as his eyes scanned the room. In the corner his search was arrested by the vision of the most familiar and welcome sight in the world. His wife.

  Sera was sitting facing the entrance, grinning inanely that her clever trick had worked and he'd arrived sooner than she'd expected. Tony strode across the restaurant and threw his arms around her. As he intended, her funny little squeak came out with the squeeze.

  'You did it!' she said, when he finally released her. 'Clever thing!'

  'That two whys one threw me,' he said.

  'I knew you'd remember,' she replied as they sat down opposite each other, holding hands across the table.

  'It was like a living photo album – you sent me through real-life snapshots of our time together,' he said. 'You're bloody brilliant, woman!'

  'Ah, you got that, then, did you? I thought it might be a bit subtle,' she said.

  'I got it.' He gazed at her. 'Sera, I am so sorry about the other night.'

  'Oh Tony, please don't, I'm the one who is supposed to be sorry. I drove you to it. I've just been so cold toward you lately.'

  'I understand, believe me, if anybody knows the pressure you've been under, it's me.'

  'But that doesn't mean I have to treat you like shit just because I'm having a bit of stress,' she protested.

  'Sera, I shouldn't put pressure on you like that, I should back off a bit.'

  'Tony, I just feel so ugly and plain and boring at the moment. Maybe it's a mid-life crisis coming early or something, but I just can't bear myself and I cringe every time you look at me, fearing what you must see.'

  Tony looked at her in amazement. 'I don't believe I'm hearing this, Sera. My darling, you are more beautiful today than the day we met. And believe me, when we met I'd never seen such beauty!'

  'Tony, I'm serious. I'm not looking for compliments. I think my scar's actually getting worse with age. I know it sounds shallow, but the sheer hideousness of the thing creeps me out.'

  'What scar?'

  'Tony! I'm serious.'

  'So am I, Sera. For a start, I haven't seen it for years, you keep it so covered up, and secondly I never even noticed it much in the first place. It's just one more part of you.' He looked closely at her. 'There's something else, isn't there? This isn't just about your physical appearance. What is it?'

  He was mortified that his innocent question caused fat tears to roll from her eyes and down her cheeks. 'Sera, what's wrong?'

  'I'm not good enough for you, Tony, don't you see? I just can't keep up anymore. I'm tired of trying to be perfect. I see what happened to Mallory, to Bella, and to half the mums at the kids' crèche and I am so worried that I'll be left too. I look at you and you take my breath away. You're gorgeous, you're clever, accomplished. Look at your business going from strength to strength, you've got private school education, your mates are in the "right" circles. I'm just a tarty little strumpet of a shop-girl who never deserved you in the first place and I'm terrified I'm going to lose you. I think I've been steeling myself against the inevitable, getting ready for the moment you leave me for someone younger, prettier, smarter. I've been detaching myself from you, from us. I mean, I know you're not that kind of bloke, Tony, don't get me wrong, but beautiful women can be very persuasive and you're an absolute goldmine to any predatory prospectors out there.'

  Tony sat and listened in disbelief. 'You can't be serious,' he finally said.

  Her downturned mouth told him she was.

  'Sera, when I got home tonight and saw the house was empty . . . Where are the kids, by the way?'

  'Movie with Nana Joan.'

  'Cool. When I came home and saw that note on the coffee table, do you know what I thought?'

  'No, what?'

  'I thought you'd left me, I thought it was all over red rover, you'd taken the kids and gone.'

  'What? As if I'd do that, and just leave you a note.'

  'It's what I thought. And you know
I nearly chucked with grief. Right there on Mum's Jason recliner.'

  Sera laughed at that vision.

  'And then, when I saw you were playing your funny little game with me, I could have screamed with joy and laughter. I was so relieved and so happy that I hadn't lost you.'

  'So both of us were worried the other was going to leave?'

  'Yeah, it looks like it.' They looked at each other sheepishly when they realised how silly they'd been, and how their miscommunication could have actually threatened their relationship.

  'So best we talk about things in the future, then, before it's too late?' Tony asked his wife.

  'Definitely,' she agreed.

  'So you liked the treasure hunt?' she asked him as she picked up her menu.

  'Yeah, the clues were hard, though,' he said.

  'The last one was pretty easy,' she said.

  'You know, I never even read it. When I saw it was the final one, I guessed you'd be here.'

  'You're kidding. I'm that obvious?' She laughed.

  He reached into his top pocket, took out the scrap of paper and read the last clue she'd left him.

  We fell in love

  You thawed my heart

  You proposed to me here

  Over ricotta tart.

  ~ 47 ~

  'Oh, all right, Bella, I'll ring her, stop bloody hassling me, will you!' Sera's tense tone was more about being stuck in afternoon traffic in Bondi Junction. But also, she didn't need a lecture right now. Since their big blue in the hotel, her relationship with Bella had settled into a completely different, far more solid place, but it didn't stop Bella continuing to nag Sera about their mother, or make Sera want to talk to her parents more than she ever had.

  Bella's tinny voice from the car speaker competed with the roar of the bus that went past Sera's car. 'I'm not hassling you, it's just that she sounds a bit down and needs a friendly ear, that's all.'