Versace Sisters

by Cate Kendall

  Tony had been thrilled to discover his real name, Tony Donizetti, and had threatened, in his excitement, to have his name changed by deed poll immediately, until Sera had calmed him down by reminding him about the kind of administration headache involved in changing a name halfway through life.

  After hours on Google and many phone calls, they had finally tracked down the Antonio Donizetti they were after. There were four who lived in the Positano area but only one was a master stone-mason, recently retired. It was late at night in Sydney, mid-afternoon in Italy, when they made the call.

  'Pronto?' came the voice down the line, and although gravelly with age, Joan knew in an instant she'd reached the right number. Even time couldn't affect the rich baritone she'd dreamed about for the last forty years.

  'Antonio?' she whispered, her throat threatening to close over.

  'Joan?' came the reply.

  'Yes,' she said.

  The crackle of the international phoneline was the only sound for several seconds as each was overcome with emotion. They were unable to say anything, charged with longing, with remorse for the years that had passed, for the life that hadn't been.

  Finally, the man in Positano spoke. 'My bella signora,' he said with such need it sent tears flowing down Joan's face. Tony and Sera perched on the edge of the couch on the other side of the room, staring as the moment unfolded.

  'Oh, Tony,' Joan replied. They both burst out laughing in joy and relief that they were finally back in contact. Tony grabbed Sera's hand when he heard his father's deep chuckle for the first time, spilling from the mouthpiece of the telephone and into their living room.

  *

  The call was the first of many. Over the next few days introductions were made, secrets were shared, passionate recriminations were laid to rest, apologised for and forgiven, reunions and greetings took place, and loving endearments were whispered. A cable, two millimetres in diameter, faultlessly ferried this family theatre from one side of the world to the other.

  A family decision was made. Too much time had been wasted. Not another second of this fragile relationship should disappear in the temporal sinkhole. They were going to meet him, this man who had so indelibly tattooed his being onto the little family in Paddington.

  Tony got onto the internet and booked tickets to Naples, while the children ran around in a circle squealing and chanting all the Italian words they knew: spaghetti, cappuccino, Roma, Florentine.

  Sera mustered up all her courage and cornered Joan in her bedroom. 'Joan, darling,' she said and smiled to soften the blow of what she was about to say. 'It's about time you had a makeover.'

  *

  It was like dealing with a giggly debutante, Sera thought, as she had Joan plucked and waxed at Paddington's Benefit Boutique – day spa to the stars. A recent arrival from San Francisco, the chic pink salon sat prettily in Oxford street while Sydney's womenfolk raced though the door desperate to be given the Benefit treatment and, better still, boast about it later.

  Joan's conversation had regressed to teenage level. 'Do you think he'll like me? Did I tell you what he said last time we spoke? Do I look fat in these pants?'

  'Yes, yes and no, Joan,' Sera said, supervising the metamorphosis from the chair in the corner. She was flipping through the David Jones fashion catalogue, dog-earing the pages advertising clothes suitable for a woman of certain years about to embark on a European tryst.

  The hair was next. Joan's Lady Diana brush-back was softened and straightened until it tapered to her ears and against her neck in a more flattering style. The L'Oreal Luscious Red Joan had used for decades was replaced with a honey-brown, highlighted with subtle warm blonde streaks.

  Joan's eyes went from the colour of algae to the colour of emeralds in contrast to the new hair colour and they sparkled in excitement as she admired the new do. 'Gracious me, I look ten years younger,' she said, and Joh Bailey's premier colour technician smiled in pride.

  It was time for Sera's specialty, and she perched Joan on the stool at the Dior counter. She covered her mature skin in Diorskin Sculpt number 010 which completely hid the sun spots and age spots and minimised time's cruel lines.

  She had always known Joan's colouring would far better suit the paler shades in the summer palette instead of her usual maroon and moss, which made her look like death warmed up. Diorblush in Naïve Rose set off her prominent cheekbones and eyeshadow 855 Diorsweet – a duotone of oyster and pink – on her lids with liner and mascara made Joan appear sophisticated yet pretty.

  'Never believe the younger labels are just for the kids,' Sera advised as she rifled through a rack of Lisa Ho she'd dragged into the expansive dressing room. 'Every designer has a piece for your shape. You just have to know what you're looking for – aha!' she pounced and retrieved a taupe canvas jacket fringed with a frilled collar and pinched-in waist. 'And you're not a size sixteen, Joan, you've got a slim figure. You should wear items that hug your shape, not hang off you like a bag. You're a fourteen or even a twelve.'

  When Joan arrived home that night, after her intense grooming overhaul, Tony stood as a glamorous older woman entered the room, and prepared to meet Sera's new friend. It took him a few seconds to realise the stylish woman with the broad smile was his mum.

  ~ 63 ~

  Sera turned this way and that, admiring her new swimsuit. It was a special figure-hugging number she'd bought at a boutique in Rose Bay and it was guaranteed to make her look five kilos lighter.

  As she turned to look at her derriere she decided the swimsuit was worth its exorbitant price. The sheer architecture of the piece certainly lifted and flattened where it was supposed to and she felt positively trim.

  'Ooh, Mummy, you look beautiful,' Maddy cried, running into the room.

  'Thank you, darling,' Sera smiled, her hand instinctively moving to cover her scar.

  Maddy stared at the rarely exposed purple stain and puckered skin on her mother's leg and Sera slowly took away her hand and allowed her daughter to see the full damage. Maddy had never mentioned the scar before, It was as if she instinctively knew it was a taboo subject, but now she asked, 'Mummy, how did your leg get hurt?'

  'Well,' Sera answered, a twist of anxiety knotting in the base of her stomach, 'I was just a little girl, littler even than you, about as young as Harry, and I had a very bad accident.'

  'Oh Mummy, you poor thing.' Maddy looked up, her eyes filled with concern.

  'Luckily Bella was there to help me, though,' Sera said, hugging Maddy.

  'But what was the accident, Mummy?'

  Sera sighed quietly. 'You know how you kids aren't allowed near the kettle, or the stove, or the fireplace?'

  'Yeah,' Maddy replied, her eyes still on her mother's leg.

  'Well, that's because sometimes accidents can happen, like it did with me. I accidentally tipped a saucepan of boiling water on to my leg.'

  'Oh no!' Maddy gasped. 'Does it still hurt?'

  'No, not anymore, though it did then. I had to go to the hospital for a very long time.'

  'Did you?' Maddy looked up at her mother. 'Were you lonely? Did you miss your mum?'

  'Well, yes, a bit,' Sera smiled gently, 'but mostly I missed Bella. Even though she came and visited me every day.'

  'Aunty Bella is so nice, Mummy. She used to come and play with us all the time. Why doesn't she do that anymore?' Maddy asked, the scar forgotten.

  'I know, I miss her too, but you have to understand, Maddy, Aunty Bella's got her own life. She's very busy. Besides, she does visit often, just not constantly.'

  'But she used to help me do cartwheels. And colouring-in. She did great unicorns.'

  'But look at your unicorns now, darling, they're brilliant without Aunty Bella. You can do wonderful unicorns and cartwheels without her.'

  'Yeah, I guess, you're right.'

  'And besides,' Sera smiled, 'I think Aunty Bella's going to be spending heaps more time in Sydney now because she's got a boyfriend.'

  'Really, is he nice?'
<
br />   'Yes, it's Sam – you know, Issy and Alex's dad.'

  'Wow, that's fantastic!' Maddy said, clapping her hands.

  'They're really nice.' Maddy's brow wrinkled as she thought a bit more. 'So now that I don't need Aunty Bella so much anymore, she's coming back?'

  'Yes, that's right,' Sera smiled, shaking her head at the irony of the conversation.

  'Isn't that funny?' Maddy said.

  'It sure is,' Sera said. 'Now why don't you get out in that spa with Daddy and Harry, and I'll be there in a few minutes?'

  'Okay, Mummy, I love you,' Maddy said, skipping out.

  Sera turned to the mirror again and took a close look at her ravaged leg. Somehow the scar seemed to have shrunk – not in size, but simply in importance.

  For so long, all her life, she had allowed it to define who she was. It was as if the slash down her leg was embedded in her psyche. She ran her hand over the puckered flesh. This was hers, this scar; this damaged stretch of skin, but it was no more than that; no deep emblem or representation of anything other than an awful accident, a moment in time that was seared into her flesh.

  Sera didn't want to hide anymore. She wanted to live and laugh and enjoy her husband and children.

  The sounds of splashing and squealing floated up to her. She gave the mirror a smile and grabbed a towel from the bathroom before stopping to wipe up the morning's toothpaste parade from the charcoal tiles.

  They'd added a spa to their new courtyard. Of course they were hideous-looking things, spas, so very Kath and Kim, but it didn't matter. Sera didn't care anymore. Although she still admired beautiful things, they didn't run her life as they used to. And when it came to something fun, like the new spa, she became completely blind to the aesthetic. The kids were crazy for the new toy and she and Tony had enjoyed many a languid hour floating into the night, sipping bubbly and romancing the togs off each other.

  Joan was happy with the spa idea when they phoned her in Italy to suggest it. She didn't know when she'd be back, maybe for Easter, but just to re-new her visa. She and Antonio had travelled from one end of the Amalfi coast to the other and were currently enjoying the beaches and nightlife in Sorrento. They were to return to Positano at the end of the week for another flurry of far-flung family reunions.

  Antonio had never married: his heart was taken by another, he'd explained sadly to the many girls he had known. But his patience had been well rewarded, he'd explained to his cousins and second cousins as his arm refused to leave Joan's waist. His bella signora had come home, and she even spoke their language beautifully.

  Sera hurried through a few last bits of tidying up so she could join Tony and the kids. She popped into the children's room to do a quick straighten up. The room had recently been re-decorated in her much-wished-for hues of tangerine, pumpkin and lime – but with plenty of flexibility for the children's own style.

  She plumped up a regency stripe cushion and popped it on the daisy motif tub chair in Maddy's corner. She tsked at Harry's effort at bedmaking and smoothed the Spiderman doona into place and tossed a stray Dora the Explorer cushion onto Maddy's Dora bed.

  'There,' she said as she pivoted on bare legs at the door for one more look back into the room. 'Perfect.'

  Acknowledgements

  Michelle Hamer would like to thank:

  Her beautiful children Harley, Ruby, Darcy and Oliver for their love, affection and support through the difficult time that accompanied the writing of this book. Thanks to Harley for the wonderful author photo.

  The gorgeous Kelly Cooper and Tracey Caulfield, who constantly offer their unfailing support and belief in me. Where would I be without the girls at the end of the phone? Thank you both for everything, I would be lost without you.

  Cate Kendall would not be possible without the dedication and committment of my co-writer Lisa Blundell. I would like to thank both Lisa and her wonderful husband, Ian, for their support. Love your work!

  Thanks, too, to John Meriton for his patience and feedback during the editing process, as well as his expertise on all things technical! And a huge thanks to the wonderful team of publishing professionals at Random House who make writing these books such a joy. Thanks to our publisher, Larissa Edwards, senior editor Roberta Ivers, editor Jessica Dettmann and the enthusiastic Random House marketing team.

  As always, my agent Selwa Anthony continues to be a pillar of support, inspiration and good advice at the end of the phone. Thanks Selwa!

  Lisa Blundell would like to thank:

  Selwa Anthony, a patient, skilled and outstandingly diplomatic woman; the lovely Larissa Edwards, our publisher, who seems to have limitless time to hash over issues as they pop up; Roberta Ivers, our talented structural editor; and Jessica Dettman, our proficient copy editor, who made a molehill out of a mountain.

  Thanks must also go to the people of the Cambodian community who shared their stories and helped with our translations; the rangers of Waverley Council for their intimate knowledge of the Bondi Coastal Walk; and Gabriel McMahon from Qantas, and flight attendants from Virgin. Thanks, too, for the guidance of Melbourne artist Robby Delves, and Sydney artist Jo Neville, Paper Couture, Darlinghurst. To Lucy, Phil and Sam for listening to me go on ad nauseum about this book during the writing process: I am so grateful for your friendship. Thanks, too, to Steve Weller for my author photo.

  And thanks, of course, to my co-writer Michelle.

  I would also like to thank australiasbiggestbookgroup. com for choosing Cate Kendall as their author in their valiant attempt to raise muchneeded funds for Muscular Dystrophy. Thank you to all who participated in this important fundraiser.

  And as always, enormous thanks to Darling Husband, without whom our four children would probably never get fed!

  For more information about Cate Kendall's work please go to www.catekendall.com.