Life Before

by Carmel Reilly

  Not for Cathy, though, it seemed. ‘Pam has forgotten her mat,’ she announced, striding into the room. ‘Is there one she can borrow?’

  ‘Of course,’ said one of the women. She turned away from the two others and moved towards Pam, smiling. ‘I’m Aurora. So glad you could come.’

  Pam had heard a lot about Aurora from Cathy, who had been talking about her yoga classes for months, trying to persuade Pam that yoga sessions with Aurora would be the best thing she could do for herself. Mind, body, spirit, Cathy assured her, all benefited from the weekly regime of stretching and deep breathing. Hippie stuff, Pam had thought, feeling an immediate unease. Thoughts of Ananda Marga, Hare Krishna and Divine Light flooded through her head. Didn’t they trade on yoga? And run by someone called Aurora. What kind of a name was that?

  ‘She’ll be one of those blow-ins,’ Mick had said dismissively when she’d mentioned the idea of going along. She’d pointed out that he was a blow-in himself. ‘Yeah, but I’m a blow-in who’s like everyone else,’ he’d countered. ‘You won’t catch me teaching yoga.’

  ‘Thank the lord for that,’ said Pam, who found it hard to think of Mick in any position that required stillness for longer than five seconds—except on the couch.

  But she took his point nonetheless. It was a hard for locals not to feel suspicious. Some people fitted in better than others. Hippies, or alternative lifestylers or whatever you wanted to call them, seemed harder to like, harder to integrate. Most people didn’t make any waves. But hippies were like aliens, bringing with them a whole new set of values and ideas about how life in the country should be, as opposed to the way people actually lived it. Their very existence seemed to be an inherent criticism, an affront to the natural order.

  But Aurora turned out to be quite ordinary really. She certainly looked like a card-carrying member of the counterculture, with her wild hair tied in a bunch on top of her head with a strip of purple cloth and her multicoloured baggy harem pants, but she came across as rather earnest and genuine. In fact, there was something surprisingly engaging about her, a kind of warmth and directness that Pam had not expected.

  Aurora put her hand out and Pam felt hot, rough skin against her own. ‘Gardening hands,’ she said with a grimace. ‘No amount of cream ever works.’

  A gardener. Pam smiled, liking this woman even more. ‘I know what you mean.’

  ‘Yours feel all right. What’s your secret?’

  ‘Gloves,’ said Pam.

  Aurora laughed and turned to the women behind her, beaming an appreciative smile. ‘This is Reggie and Janice. My wonderful regulars.’

  Reggie and Janice smiled back, puffing themselves up a little at the description before sliding their eyes across to Pam, saying hello. Pam didn’t recognise them, but if they were blow-ins they were definitely of the variety that fitted Mick’s familiarity criteria, although what that truly was Pam would have struggled to say. (You know them when you see them.) One thing she would have betted on, though, was that they were not from her side of town. Northam was small, but not so small that everyone knew everyone else. If they lived on the Hill she might have known them by sight, but the fact that she didn’t and the fact that they were wearing bright-coloured and obviously expensive lycra leotards, one in red and pink, the other in blue, and matching headbands made her think they were from the estate across the river. They looked around her age. Fortyish, give or take. Probably with nearly grown children and a little time on their hands, a sliver of anxiety at their core, worried about staying fit, keeping off the weight. Friendly enough it seemed, but eying her up surreptitiously. Just as she eyed them.

  Aurora retrieved a mat for Pam and handed it to her. Pam realised she must have looked a little tentative as Aurora leaned forward and said, ‘Don’t worry, I don’t do anything too hard. No headstands. We’re all beginners here. I want you to enjoy this. I want you to come back.’

  Pam laid her mat out next to Cathy’s a little behind the other women. She didn’t want what she knew would be an inadequate performance to be centre stage. Cathy had assured her that yoga lessons were not about performance, but she didn’t really believe her. Everything was about performance in a room full of strangers. And as they had been doing it longer, they would undoubtedly be better. Which all in all would be no big surprise for Pam who was used to being no good at anything sporty, the category in which she thought yoga more or less belonged if it wasn’t being used for cult purposes.

  As it turned out, the yoga class was everything that Cathy had promised, and really not at all sporty. Something else altogether. Although the others had been coming to classes for months, Aurora was true to her word and concentrated on simple poses. There wasn’t anything that Pam felt she couldn’t try. Stretching, though, had never been her forte. Her hamstrings protested as she attempted to hold a forward bend, despite the fact that she could barely touch her toes. It was going to be something she’d need to work on, she thought, suddenly realising she was already making a commitment to coming back, and feeling almost excited at the prospect. At the end, in counterpoint to movement and pain, they practised a small meditation, lying on their backs. Deep breathing and no stretching. Heaven. By the time it was over, Pam felt more relaxed and clearer than she had for a long time. She hesitated to call it rejuvenated, but it was something close to that. Was this the road to brainwashing? she pondered. If so, perhaps joining a cult wasn’t such a bad thing after all. The thought of giving up day-to-day responsibilities, handing everything over to someone or something else, was suddenly immensely appealing.

  ‘Hard to get up, isn’t it?’ said Reggie or Janice, whichever one was wearing red. ‘I am totally addicted to these classes now. Always leave feeling super relaxed. Never would have imagined it. Mind you, they can be a bit of a workout too. You might be sore in a few places tomorrow.’ She laughed the throaty laugh of a smoker.

  Pam propped herself up on an elbow, then to full sitting position with a small grunt. ‘Cathy’s been at me for ages to come along.’

  From behind her the woman in the blue leotard said, ‘You want a lift home, Reg?’

  ‘Yeah, that’d be great, darl,’ the now identified Reggie replied, looking across to her friend before returning her gaze to Pam. ‘I know you. You’re very familiar.’

  Pam cocked her head to one side in a gesture of studied concentration, not wanting to offend with a lack of recognition. ‘Maybe at school?’ she said as she got to her feet. ‘My two youngest are still at the high school.’

  Reggie shook her head. ‘I’ve only got Robby still at school. My baby. Afterthought, as they used to say. He’s at Eastside Primary in year six. What’s your last name?’

  ‘Green. I’m married to Mick. He works at Coghlans.’

  Reggie’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, of course. I know now. Your boy’s Scotty.’

  Scotty, thought Pam. ‘You know Scott?’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’m Troy’s aunty. Aunty Regina.’ Pam opened her mouth to say that Troy had just been at her house, but Reggie issued a little self-referencing cackle and continued on. ‘Not that anyone calls me that. Aunty or Regina. Mum and Dad were obviously having some kind of a moment when they named me. My sister’s almost as bad. Max-ine.’ She drew out the last syllable.

  Pam nodded, thinking of her own name. Pamela. Not a name she’d ever really liked either. When she was a kid she’d thought she should have been Anne, or Elizabeth. Something more simple and elegant. (Or royal as Mick had once jokingly suggested.) Perhaps her parents had been having a moment too. Probably half the population was having a moment in the postwar euphoria of 1950, embracing modernity and the new world order for all it was worth.

  Reggie went on. ‘I live next door. To Max and Ray, I mean. I guess you know them.’

  ‘I’ve met them,’ said Pam. ‘But I don’t really—’

  ‘They’re good people, you know,’ Reggie said almost defensively, as if Pam had said something against them. ‘They work super hard for those kids. They want
the best for them, always. They can be a bit full on, a bit strict, but they have high expectations. I think it’s worked.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Pam again, nodding, agreeing to something vaguely implied but oddly undefined. Had there been some threat of the kids turning out badly? She didn’t know much about the family. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  Reggie ploughed on. ‘They’ve done a lot for the kids. Moving here, all that. It’s been good for me too, to have Max close. When I split up with Brian, my ex, that was tough. Really tough. But it’s always family first with those two. I never would have thought it when I was younger, but blood is a powerful thing.’

  ‘Mm,’ said Pam, trying to think what she might do for her brother, or what he might do for her. She guessed he’d probably step up if he had to.

  Reggie seemed to run out of puff. She regarded Pam, as though seeing her for the first time. ‘Scotty’s a wild one, isn’t he?’

  ‘Wild?’ said Pam, somewhat surprised. ‘Well, he’s full of energy, I suppose. He’s always been like that.’

  Reggie leaned forward conspiratorially, eyes narrowed. ‘Compared to Troy. You know, just between you and me, I think Max worries about them sometimes.’

  ‘We all do, especially when they’re out late at night.’

  ‘Yeah. More, well, you know … Troy’s had a sheltered upbringing in some ways. What he gets up to now with—’

  Reggie was interrupted by Janice. ‘I need to get back to pick up Nathan from tennis. I don’t want to be late,’ she said. ‘You ready?’ She leaned around Reggie to look at Pam. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ said Pam, feeling slightly uneasy, not sure if she’d just missed out on something important or been given a reprieve.

  ‘See you next week then,’ said Reggie brightly, to Pam, the room, anyone in earshot.

  Pam nodded goodbye. She watched Reggie go, her attention diverted like a puppy with a new toy and focused now on her friend, words bubbling into the atmosphere around her as they walked off together, a blur of fluoro colour against the dark wood panelling of the room. Soon they had disappeared through the door and into the hallway, but the last vestiges of their conversation echoed until they reached the back entrance. Then merciful silence.

  On the other side of the room Cathy was sitting on one of the chairs lined up around the perimeter, pulling on socks and shoes. She’d already put a t-shirt and jeans over the leotard she’d been wearing. Pam went and sat next to her, grabbed her own bag from under the chair and slid out her sandals. On the other side of the room Aurora was stacking her mats into a large tote.

  ‘Do you want to come to my place? Have a cuppa, Cath?’

  ‘Tea?’

  ‘What? Is there something wrong with my tea? I can probably rustle up a bit of cake to go with it,’ Pam said, dropping a sandal on the floor. She’d known Cathy for ten years. They’d met when she’d gone back to work at the local council offices after Loren started school. Cathy was one of those people who filled up a room, had energy enough for four people. Pam’s boss at the council, Roger Figan, called them the dynamic duo. Not that Pam thought of herself as being as lively as Cathy, but she was, as others often said, a people person. ‘You have the common touch, my dear,’ her mother used to tell her, which sounded more insult than compliment to her. In truth, though, she knew that her mother was really referring to the fact that the rest of the family found it hard to relax around other people. They were all a bit uptight. Pam in contrast seemed to have benefited from some recessive gene that allowed her to meet and greet, make quips to people she hardly knew, elicit confidences. Connect.

  ‘Well,’ Cathy was standing now, ‘I was thinking more about going down to the Royal for a glass of wine.’

  ‘You really want to spoil all that good work?’ asked Pam.

  ‘Not spoil. Consolidate. The icing on the cake of relaxation.’

  Pam raised an eyebrow. As if Cathy needed to be more relaxed. She led the most stress-free life of anyone she knew.

  Aurora appeared beside them, a towel around her neck, the tote hauled over her shoulder.

  ‘All good to go?’ she asked.

  ‘You’re off to Melbourne?’ said Cathy.

  ‘Yeah.’ Aurora sighed. ‘I’m not sure I really feel like it now. Four hours of driving. I might just want to go to bed when I get there. But we have this dinner party happening. Old friends. You know how it is.’

  ‘You and your husband?’ asked Pam.

  ‘Yeah. Noel.’

  ‘How long have you been here now?’ asked Pam as they walked out the door.

  Aurora looked almost apologetic. ‘Eight months. But all of my, our, friends are still down there. I feel like I haven’t properly settled here yet.’

  ‘Eight months really isn’t long,’ said Cathy. ‘You need to give it a while.’

  ‘It feels like quite a while to me,’ said Aurora, turning the key in the lock of the community room.

  ‘What about Noel?’ asked Pam.

  ‘He’s a builder. He’s getting a bit of work here and there. We’re not completely skint at least. And he’s okay enough with that. He probably survives better without friends than I do. He’s happy to potter at home. Make stuff.’

  ‘Like most men,’ said Cathy. ‘Honestly, I think Clem wouldn’t bother to leave the house if he could. Just sit around eating and drinking and watching sport on the goggle box.’

  ‘So did you come from out of town yourself?’

  ‘Me?’ said Cathy. ‘No, I’ve been here all my life. But I’ve seen other people come. And go. I guess it depends on who you are, what you expect. Country life isn’t for everyone.’

  ‘Kids,’ said Pam.

  ‘Kids?’ Aurora looked nonplussed.

  ‘Having kids can make a move easier. I guess it’s having things in common, isn’t it? Kids can do that. School. Sport.’

  ‘No kids.’ Aurora looked apologetic. ‘None planned.’

  ‘I don’t have kids,’ said Cathy, sounding a little huffy. Kids were a bit of a no-go area for her, Pam had found. ‘I know people.’

  ‘Yes, but you’ve always lived here. So has Clem,’ said Pam.

  ‘I suppose that’s true. Well, I guess you’ll get to know people through your classes, Aurora,’ said Cathy as they emerged into the late afternoon light.

  ‘It’s slow,’ said Aurora, a little flatly, turning to lock the second door. ‘I’d really love to see a lot more people than I do. And not just for social reasons. Unfortunately, I do need to make a living as well.’

  ‘I’ll put the word out,’ said Pam. ‘I really enjoyed today.’

  Cathy flashed her a look, a smug smile crossing her lips, and perhaps the thought too that she’d put the word out months ago and had only now finally managed to drag Pam along. Northam was a hard nut to crack.

  The three of them walked across the car park and said their goodbyes. Pam and Cathy stood next to their vehicles as they watched Aurora get into her car and speed off. Behind her a cloud of yellow dust lingered in the late afternoon heat.

  ‘I don’t know how she’s going to go,’ said Pam. ‘I’m not sure this town is ready for a yoga craze.’

  ‘You never know.’

  ‘If she was a vet she’d get lots of work.’

  ‘Well, she’s not. Which really is much better for us, as I don’t plan to get brucellosis or myxomatosis anytime soon,’ Cathy said. ‘But I do get stress headaches from processing too many rates notices.’

  ‘What about bloat?’ said Pam. ‘You can’t rule that out.’

  Cathy gurgled a laugh. ‘Well, I’m glad you liked it anyway. I was worried I was going to lose face.’

  Pam huffed. ‘I didn’t think that would be possible for you.’

  Cathy surveyed the now empty car park then turned to Pam. ‘So, a drink?’

  ‘I’m not sure about the class.’

  ‘What? You just said you liked it.’

  ‘Reggie and Janice. I don’t know …’

  �
��Reggie and Janice? They’re all right. I saw you talking to Reggie after class. You looked like you were having a good old chat. Well, as much as you can with her, she is a bit of a motormouth.’

  ‘That’s an understatement. Do you know who she is?’

  Cathy let out a little shriek. ‘You’re about to tell me she’s connected to the mob, aren’t you?’

  ‘She’s Maxine Druitt’s sister.’

  ‘Maxine Druitt? Who’s that?’

  ‘You know, Scott’s friend Troy? His mum.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ She paused. ‘And that’s a bad thing because?’

  ‘Well, you mentioned the mob.’

  Cathy half smiled. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘There’s something about those people. I don’t know. I think she was about to have a go at me.’

  ‘Have a go?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Accuse me of bad parenting. They’re sort of … self-righteous. I can’t really put my finger on it.’

  ‘Don’t worry about Reggie. She’s a bit of a talker. But I’m sure her heart’s in the right place. And you’re a great parent.’

  ‘And how would you know that?’

  ‘Just because I don’t have kids doesn’t mean I don’t see things. Anyway, this conversation is getting boring. What about that drink?’

  Pam spread her arms wide to indicate her clothes. ‘I’m not going anywhere looking like this.’

  ‘What about I get a bottle of something and come up to yours then?’ said Cathy.

  Pam smiled. ‘It’s getting late. Come up and have dinner. Ring Clem. Will he want to come?’

  ‘A reprieve from my cooking? Course he’ll want to come.’