Queen of the Road

by Tricia Stringer

  ‘And I can help.’ Janice laid a hand on Angela’s arm. ‘If you do this for your father, I’ll pay off one of your cards.’

  Angela snapped to her senses and pulled her arm free. She’d rather keep her debt than owe Janice anything. ‘I’m not going to drive interstate, Janice. Our life is here. Now please go home. Dad will want his dinner and I’ve got to get organised for tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll give you a little longer to think about my offer.’ Janice leaned in close. ‘If you go, I won’t tell your father about the credit cards … or the new television.’ She pulled back and stepped to the door. There was no mistaking the threat in those words. ‘Oh, and Claudia can stay all weekend.’ The older woman’s face was pulled into a smile, but there was no warmth in it. ‘That way you can have a few drinks and enjoy the wedding without worrying about her.’

  The door closed firmly and Angela stood planted to the spot. Then she slumped back down at the table and pushed away the plate of food. The encounter had transported her back to her teenage years, to Janice’s arrival in her life.

  Her father’s marriage to Janice had coincided with Angela’s late but blossoming interest in boys and drinking. Janice was good fun back then, and living in a house of men, Angela had been taken in by a woman who shared her interest in clothes and makeup. By that time, it was long enough after her mother’s death for Angela to accept that her father needed a companion. But truck driving took him on the road a lot and Angela’s brothers were already leaving home, so it was left to his new wife to deal with Angela’s minor teenage rebellion. Janice tried her best, but she knew nothing about children, let alone how to deal with adolescent delinquency. Besides, she still liked to spend the lonely nights with her friends. Janice quickly tired of playing parent and organised to send Angela to boarding school.

  Angela held her head in her hands, recalling the night she’d first confronted Janice. She knew her father loved her and would never send her away, and she’d told her stepmother as much. The older woman had sat her down and, in a quiet voice inflected with a tone of absolute certainty, she’d told Angela the facts of life. Not the birds-and-bees stuff, but the cold, adult reality. She made it quite clear that Angela’s dad was a husband first and a father second, and that he would support Janice in anything she requested because she was his wife. Angela shuddered as she remembered Janice explaining that a wife could do far more for a man than a daughter could, and if Angela were to make him choose, she would lose.

  From that day forward they’d lived by an uneasy truce: they were civil to each other, but never warm. Angela’s father was a good man. He knew there was something between his wife and his daughter, but after a few initial attempts to get Angela to talk, he’d left it alone. Her life with him since had centred around his trucks. She’d never tried to take the lead female role at home again and had never put Janice’s theory to the test. Up until tonight they’d managed to muddle along with an outward veneer of civility, but Janice’s parting words had been very clear.

  Angela dragged herself up from the table and peeped in on her sleeping daughter. There was no way she would move her across the country. Let Janice spill the beans about the credit cards. Angela was an adult now, with her own child to look after. She rolled her shoulders in a physical show of defiance and then sighed. In her heart she knew how disappointed her father would be if he found out the extent of her debt again. It made her feel like anything but an adult.

  Chapter 5

  Angela lifted Carmela’s dress from the hanger and spread it carefully over the chair. The bride was petite but her wedding dress had so many layers she was going to look like a blimp. Angela wondered how the design had been chosen. Surely Carmela’s mother would have tried to talk her out of it. Perhaps she had. Or maybe she liked it as well. It really didn’t matter. Angela would be glad only when the day was over.

  She and Kate had been tasked with bringing the dress into the bridal dressing room. It was really the sitting room in Carmela’s family home but, just for today, Carmela’s mother had transformed it into a boudoir for the bride.

  Carmela’s every movement had been scripted and was being captured on camera, in both moving images and still photographs. Nobody budged without the wedding planner telling them to do so. Angela and Kate were already over it and had welcomed the little respite to retrieve the dress. Kate had nipped off to the bathroom, leaving Angela blissfully alone for a few minutes.

  She fluffed out the layers of the wedding dress. She and Kate were to carry the dress back to the boudoir, hold it aloft and slide it carefully over Carmela, who was waiting in all her fancy underwear. Angela giggled. Tony would need a blowtorch to get her out of it all tonight.

  As Angela turned, her reflection caught her eye and she paused in front of the mirror. She wasn’t prone to preening but with five bridesmaids getting ready in the one room, there’d been little chance to get close to a mirror. After the endless entourage of beauticians and hairdressers, she now had a moment to take in the final result.

  Her long blonde hair was swept away from her face, woven into soft strands on top of her head, then twisted into full-length curls falling down her neck. Quite a change from the ponytail she typically wore. The makeup was both more than and stylistically different to the scant amount she usually applied, but she had to admit that the eyeliner and mascara did make her eyes look bigger.

  Each bridesmaid’s dress was a different pastel. Kate had a lovely pink outfit, and Angela was glad she didn’t end up with the mauve, lemon or peach numbers that Sarah, Jazz and Bella were respectively wearing. Thank goodness Christie – and thus Angela – had been given the soft green. The colour perfectly matched Angela’s hazel eyes.

  She leaned forward and tugged the strapless dress a little higher. The only thing she didn’t like was the extra cleavage she was showing. Christie had smaller breasts than her, and although the dressmaker had done her best to allow for Angela’s more ample bust, the fabric was still pulled tight. Hopefully the zip was a strong one.

  Angela twisted back and forth in front of her reflection. She liked what she saw. Knowing she looked good boosted her confidence to get through the day ahead. Perhaps Nigel would realise what he’d given up and beg her to take him back.

  She stopped and pressed her fingers to her forehead. Where did that thought come from?

  Angela threw out her arms and did a big spin to rid herself of the thoughts of her ex. The soft folds of the skirt floated out and she felt like a child again, pretending to be a princess. Her feet wobbled on their high heels, however, and the room continued to spin even after she stopped. How many champagnes had they gone through this morning? Angela flung out a hand to grab the dressing table and connected with a glass of water.

  ‘Oh no!’ she yelped and flung out her other hand, but she was just a little too late to stop the water from meeting Carmela’s dress. A huge, dark stain spread across the fabric. ‘No, no, no!’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Kate was suddenly beside her.

  ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ Angela groaned.

  ‘You were fine a minute ago.’

  ‘I’ve ruined Carmela’s dress.’ She stepped away to reveal the mark down the side of the gown.

  ‘What happened?’ Kate bent forward and plucked at the folds of the dress.

  ‘I knocked over the water.’

  Kate sighed and shook her head. ‘Pass me the hair dryer.’

  Angela stared from Kate to the dress.

  ‘Quick, Angela. I can dry it with the hair dryer. You go and make some excuse for the delay or that wedding planner will be in here looking for us.’

  Angela hesitated.

  ‘Look, it’s drying already. Go, quick!’

  ***

  The music slowed to a stop. Angela relaxed a little and stepped back from her partner, Joe. The bridal party dance was the last official moment she’d have to spend with him. Not that he’d given her any of the trouble that Carmela had warned her to expect. W
atch out for him, she remembered her saying. No, Joe had been on his best behaviour: attentive, yes, but shy and not at all flirtatious.

  Once or twice over the day she’d caught glimpses of Nigel amongst the guests. That had been okay, but when he started playing his clarinet during the ceremony she’d had to bite her lip to keep her emotions in check. It had been a tough few minutes but she’d survived it. Being on the arm of the handsome Joe had helped, even if he was married. She’d been cheery but aloof, and he’d still made her feel special. In fact, she’d have to say he’d been a perfect gentleman. He hadn’t drunk that much yet though; maybe he would change after a few more. She’d have to be wary – the night was still young.

  To Angela’s surprise, the reception became quite fun once the official duties were over and they went off for photos. Kate was with her husband, John, and he was always good for a laugh. Carmela and Tony were more relaxed without a clipboard-wielding wedding planner to tell them what to do, and Eddie, who’d flown from Perth with Joe, was the life of the party. He named all the bridesmaids after the colour of their dresses to save remembering their names. Pity he was Sarah’s partner and not Angela’s. He watched her closely during the ceremony, winking at her when Joe wasn’t looking, and he’d made sure her champagne glass was full while they waited for the newlyweds to finish their photos.

  Now all the others were leaving the dance floor ahead of Angela and Joe, except for John who was still waltzing Kate around the room without any music. Joe took Angela’s elbow to guide her back to her seat but she stepped away from him.

  ‘I’m off to the ladies’ room,’ she said.

  ‘Would you like me to go with you?’

  ‘No thanks, Joe, I’ll be fine.’

  She smiled to herself. Was he planning to stand guard outside the toilet or actually come in there with her? Maybe he had a ladies’ bathroom fetish. She giggled at the thought as she made her way to the exit. She needed to tug the dress up again. Then, for the rest of the night she could relax and do what she liked.

  After the near disaster with the water and the dress nothing else had gone wrong. As Kate had predicted, the water dried quickly and Carmela was none the wiser. Angela had to admit now that the whole day had been quite beautiful.

  With her dress back in place and a fresh layer of colour on her lips, she made her way back to the reception. There were a few men out on the balcony as she drew level with the glass doors. The stance of one in particular was unmistakable as he butted out a cigarette. So, Nigel was still smoking. Angela heard he’d given up while he was overseas. Another thing he’d quit, just like he quit her. Or perhaps smoking was like Claudia to him. He could take it or leave it as the mood took him.

  He looked up at her through the glass. She tried to step away but he came through the door quickly.

  ‘Angela.’ The deep, soft tone of his voice sent her legs to mush and she didn’t trust herself to move. ‘Can we talk?’

  She didn’t trust herself to talk either. She didn’t want him to hear the hope in her voice.

  ‘We can’t avoid each other forever.’

  With this the mush solidified and she turned to face him. ‘I’m not avoiding you, Nigel. I had no idea you were back until two days ago.’

  ‘I thought Carmela and Tony would have told you.’

  ‘So that you wouldn’t have to?’

  ‘It was a last minute surprise, to be able to come to the wedding, I mean.’

  ‘Trust me, no one is more surprised than me to know you’re back in Melbourne. And have been for over a week, I believe.’ Angela clenched her teeth as she realised how bitter she sounded.

  He sighed and studied her with his deep brown eyes. ‘There’s been lots to catch up on.’

  ‘I’m sure there has.’ Angela turned to leave. ‘I want to get back to the party.’

  ‘The folks wanted me to spend time at Lorne with them.’

  Angela spun back to face him and her voice rose. ‘And your daughter? When were you intending to visit her? Or is she another part of your life you’d rather forget?’

  ‘Of course she isn’t.’ Nigel stepped closer. She could smell the strong mix of rum and cigarette smoke clinging to his clothes. Funny how she’d liked that smell once.

  ‘Can’t we be adult about this? It’s over between us, I know, but I still want to see Claud.’

  Angela’s head reeled. He’d left her, had made no effort at contact, and now he was standing here in a public place saying he knew it was over? She wanted to slap his soft cheek with its stubbly, three-day growth – the urge was so strong it frightened her. She clamped her hands at her sides and took a deep breath.

  ‘Call me. When you have time, I mean.’

  ‘Don’t get sarcastic with me, Angela. We’re talking now.’

  ‘No, we’re not. I’ve got to get back to the party.’ She spun and wobbled into Joe.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m fine thanks, Joe.’ She glared at him. ‘And I’m sure there’s someone else you need to be more worried about than me.’ She straightened herself and pulled away from his gentle hands. ‘I’m off to find a drink.’

  Angela walked away as quickly as her heels would allow. She wasn’t going to waste any more time on losers. Claudia was staying at her grandpa’s and Angela planned to make the most of her night of freedom.

  ‘There you are, Ms Green.’ Eddie appeared in front of her as she stepped back into the party. ‘You look like a lady who could use a drink.’ He waved a glass of sparkling in front of her.

  She grabbed it and tipped it down in a couple of swallows. ‘Let’s dance,’ she said, and led him away.

  Chapter 6

  Coop walked up to the main bar of the Munirilla Hotel and put his money on the mat. He could sense several sets of eyes on him. The other patrons had given him cursory nods as he came in, but he hadn’t seen anyone he cared to talk to any more than that.

  He’d come in to town to attend the early evening mass at the Catholic church. It was a still night and when he was walking back to his ute the delicious smell of roasting meat wafted up the road from the pub. He’d already finished Alice’s first casserole. Tonight he’d decided a good serve of Saturday pub roast was more enticing than cooking for himself. After Alice, he listed Barb Badenoch as the best cook in the district.

  Barb and her husband Bill ran the Munirilla, one of the two pubs in town. He preferred their hearty meals and décor to the Highway Hotel, which had been recently taken over by a consortium. It had been upgraded with glitz and glass and a chef had been employed to produce fancy meals. Alice and Coop tried it out not long after it reopened, but the prices had gone up and the sizes had gone down and neither of them had been very taken with the menu.

  ‘Hello Coop.’

  Coop lifted his eyes as Barb strode along the bar towards him.

  ‘Haven’t seen you in a while,’ she said.

  ‘Couldn’t resist the smell of your roast.’

  Barb flapped the tea towel that had been draped over her large shoulder, then used it to pat down her neck and the skin of her chest that the vee of her t-shirt didn’t cover. ‘The bloomin’ aircon’s broken down. Too hot for me in that kitchen. I’ve left Billie with it.’ The gravelly tenor of her voice rumbled into a laugh. ‘You might change your mind about dinner by the time he’s finished with it, matey.’

  Coop grinned. ‘I’ll take my chances. I’ll even have a beer to go with it.’

  ‘Sure thing.’ Barb swapped the glass she’d been about to fill with squash – Coop’s usual drink – and poured a schooner of beer. ‘Something to celebrate?’ she asked, placing the glass in front of him.

  ‘Alice is through the operation.’

  Barb reached across the bar and shook his hand in her strong grip. ‘That’s good news, matey.’

  ‘Her cousin said it took longer than expected, but it wasn’t as complicated as they first thought. Anyway, the doctor is happy with the results.’

 
‘A toast to Alice,’ Barb said, and raised her glass of coke to clink the side of his beer.

  Coop took a measured sip then placed his glass firmly back on the bar. ‘She’s still got some follow-up treatment in front of her.’

  ‘But she’s over the first hurdle, Coop. Best to take them one at a time, I find.’

  A customer stepped up to the other end of the bar.

  ‘Be right with you, matey.’

  The guy in the suit frowned at Barb as she turned and strode towards him. She called everyone ‘matey’, male or female, young or old. Either that or she added the ‘ee’ sound to the end of people’s names, including her own.

  Coop grinned to himself. He knew what was coming next.

  ‘I’m Barb Badenoch,’ she said to the newcomer, ‘but you can call me Barbie, after my namesake.’ She jutted a thumb over her shoulder at the Barbie doll on the shelf behind the bar. A truckie had given her the doll a while back and it had sat there ever since. ‘We have a lot in common, don’t you think?’ Barb planted her hands on her broad hips and let out a hearty laugh.

  ‘You’ve heard from Alice?’

  Coop shifted his gaze from the baffled newcomer to face Barry Barnes, who’d stepped up to the bar on his other side. Coop was a little surprised – he hadn’t heard him approach – and a little uncomfortable – people who wanted to know other people’s business were the kind of people Coop didn’t talk with much. But Barry was Alice’s neighbour, his concern was no doubt genuine.

  ‘Had a phone call from her cousin this morning,’ Coop replied.

  ‘The op went well then? Joan’s been worrying about her.’

  Coop pictured the harried face of Barry’s wife. She always looked worried about something. He should have rung her with the update, but hadn’t even thought to.

  ‘She’s doing okay. Tell Joan I’ll let her know when I hear more.’ Coop picked up his beer and his hat. ‘See you later Barry.’

  Barry turned to watch him leave. ‘You got that fence fixed, I see.’