Those Pleasant Girls

by Lia Weston

‘Well, good,’ said Evie. ‘More potato gratin, anyone?’

  Phil promptly pushed his plate forward.

  ‘Maybe you should become a priest, too, Mum,’ said Mary. ‘Everyone’s forgiven Father Reid.’

  ‘Most people here think I need to be burned at the stake, not enter the church,’ said Evie. The strange light that she had noticed in Nathan’s eyes when he talked about God had gone. He looked like himself again. She realised she had piled Phil’s plate with enough gratin for three people. Phil did not seem to be bothered at all by this.

  ‘I probably shouldn’t tell you this . . .’ said Nathan, leaning towards Evie.

  Evie leaned in. ‘You can tell me anything.’

  ‘After you left town, Phil came home for a while, and, well,’ Nathan grimaced, ‘we tried to make up for your absence.’

  ‘You stole more speakers?’ said Mary.

  ‘Underwear,’ said Nathan, giggling. ‘We pinched everyone’s washing.’

  Phil took another forkful of potatoes. ‘It didn’t go well.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you got caught,’ said Evie.

  ‘No,’ said Nathan. ‘We felt so guilty that . . .’ He started laughing uncontrollably and put his forehead on the table.

  ‘We put it all back,’ said Phil. ‘The same night. No one knew.’

  ‘Except! Except,’ Nathan sat up and wiped his eyes, ‘we couldn’t remember whose was whose. They all got mixed up.’

  ‘So people woke up with other people’s underpants on their line,’ said Evie.

  ‘Basically,’ said Phil, looking faintly embarrassed.

  ‘I despair of you,’ said Evie to Nathan. ‘Did I teach you nothing? Plan. Plan and plan.’

  ‘I’m so happy you’re back,’ he said, beaming, almost cross-eyed.

  Evie looked down at the tablecloth. It was one of the only things of her mother’s that she owned. Thomasina had embroidered blue roses around the edges with her sure, decisive stitches. ‘I’m different now.’

  ‘I know,’ said Nathan, putting a warm hand over hers. ‘But I’m still happy.’

  ‘What’s for dessert?’ said Mary, so loudly Evie jumped.

  ‘There’s, uh, cake,’ said Evie, flustered. ‘In the fridge. Why don’t you go and get it?’

  ‘Fiiiine,’ said Mary, gracelessly getting up and thumping down the hallway.

  ‘Evie,’ said Nathan. ‘I have to ask you something.’

  Evie waited.

  A wide smile slowly unzipped across Nathan’s beautiful face.

  ‘. . . do you still have your Guns N’ Roses CDs?’

  *

  Mary pulled the mixer bowl out of the dishwasher and ate the last scraps of icing off it. She cut an uneven wodge from the leftover cake on the bench and carried it down the hallway, out to the veranda.

  ‘I almost forgot,’ she heard Nathan say from the dining room as she closed the screen door. ‘I brought tequila.’

  There was the chink of a bottletop and Evie giggled.

  Mary sat on the front steps and ate cake with her fingers. She had never realised how many stars there were until coming to Sweet Meadow, where the veil of pollution lifted. Travis had said the ones that didn’t twinkle were planets. She was sure that was wrong. Heaps of them didn’t twinkle; if they were all planets, Earth would have been definitely invaded by now.

  There was a burst of music from the dining room. The screen door opened.

  Mary held the plate out. ‘Cake?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Phil sat next to her on the steps. ‘Ate too much potato. How’s the study going?’

  ‘Too much noise,’ said Mary. ‘Especially now.’ She leaned over to look at the dining room window. ‘What’s Father Reid doing?’

  ‘Dancing.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ It looked as if he was trying to scratch his back on an invisible tree.

  Phil looked. ‘Yes, unfortunately.’

  ‘It’s still weird that you never met Mum before.’

  ‘Probably did. Can’t really remember.’

  ‘She’s memorable, all right,’ said Mary, examining her icing-splotched fingers. ‘This is a horrible song.’

  ‘“Welcome To The Jungle”. It’s a classic.’

  Mary snorted. ‘Welcome to Sweet Meadow.’ She looked in the window again. Nathan was now doing some weird snake-like dance. ‘I thought priests were supposed to be all holy.’

  ‘Priests are normal people. Just a bit . . .’

  ‘Godlier?’ said Mary.

  ‘Guess so.’

  There was a crash from inside, then laughter and footsteps down the hallway.

  ‘They’re probably going to steal more underpants,’ said Mary. She pointed at the sky. ‘Do you know which ones are planets and which ones are stars?’

  ‘Nope.’

  They both squinted at the blackness.

  There was the sound of scuffling from the back garden. Mary and Phil exchanged glances.

  ‘Maybe we should check on them,’ said Mary.

  The dining room was empty. The kitchen doors were open.

  Out in the garden, Nathan was lying at the foot of the elm tree, quite hysterical with laughter. Far above Nathan was Evie, clinging to the tree trunk, face flushed, skirt rucked up to show a set of filmy pink knickers and a suspender belt. In between laughter, she managed a squeak. ‘I can’t get down.’

  ‘For God’s sake,’ said Mary, hands on hips.

  ‘Ah,’ said Phil. ‘Now I remember your mum.’

  Squashed into the meeting room at Joy Piece Real Estate, the committee had just sat through forty minutes of slides. Cocooned in maroon, in front of a giant screen of her very own, Joy was having her Oscar moment. She had clearly been practising her speech in the mirror. Evie drew a doodle of her with a Hitler moustache and tried to ignore the pounding in her head.

  Nathan, who was as white as a sheet, didn’t look any better than she felt. Mary said that he’d thrown up in the lobelias. God knows how he had gotten through the service that morning, which Evie had been forced to skip due to her colossal hangover.

  The slides – and Joy – were still going. In soporific PowerPoint, they pointed out how a screen would increase congregational retention and attendance, reach out to the community’s youth, and do a bunch of other things that Evie didn’t listen to. The rest of the committee looked hypnotised. Quentin had started to drool.

  ‘How much will it cost?’ said Amy. ‘I missed your answer when I asked the last three times.’

  ‘You’re missing the point, Amy,’ said Joy. ‘Nathan, you’ve seen the one in Fallow Halls, haven’t you?’

  Nathan, who was staring helplessly at the slide of a woman in a white bikini riding horseback on the beach, had to be nudged to attention.

  ‘Fallow Halls,’ repeated Joy. ‘Screen.’

  Nathan looked blank.

  ‘I’ve seen it,’ said David. ‘Impressive, I thought. Certainly kept everyone’s attention.’

  Amy threw her hands up. ‘That’s because it’s a TV. It’s what they do. People stare at them. For heaven’s sake, Nathan, do you want your congregation looking like it’s been lobotomised? Next thing we’ll be having movie nights and handing out Choc Tops.’

  ‘I heard they’re remaking The Ten Commandments,’ said Rosemary Sturn. ‘We could use it as a fundraiser.’

  ‘To raise back the funds we’ve spent on the screen, I suppose,’ said Amy.

  ‘I outlined the monetary flow-on effects of ecclesiastical capital acquisitions not five minutes ago,’ said Joy. ‘Clearly someone wasn’t listening.’

  ‘You’ve got to spend money to make money,’ said David.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, that doesn’t even make sense,’ snapped Amy.

  ‘It’s called “marketing”,’ said Rosemary, leaning forward.

  ‘It’s called “bullshit”.’

  ‘Hallelujah,’ said Evie, still working on her Hitler portrait of Joy. She would have high-fived Amy if the sudden movement wouldn’t have had a di
sastrous effect.

  While Joy and Amy were having yet another argument and Nathan was doing his best to camouflage himself as a chair, Evie caught his eye. ‘Okay?’ she mouthed at him. He nodded, then looked as if he wished he hadn’t.

  ‘Then it’s settled,’ said Joy. ‘All those in favour?’

  Evie and Nathan looked at her, then at each other.

  ‘Sorry, what?’ said Nathan.

  ‘A road trip to Fallow Halls. See their screen, get an idea of what it looks like in action,’ said Joy. ‘We’ll head over after I’m back from my honeymoon in Surfers, can’t wait.’

  Evie had a horrified vision of being stuck in a tiny bus between Joy’s epaulets and David Sturn’s red face.

  ‘I cannot see how this is going to do anything but be a gigantic waste of time,’ said Amy.

  ‘It’s the best idea so far,’ said David. ‘No one else has come up with anything.’

  ‘We could burn the church down,’ said Quentin. ‘The insurance policy’s pretty good.’

  There was an appalled silence, though Joy looked like she considered it for a moment.

  Evie doodled stars in her notepad.

  She’d definitely get the blame for that one.

  Dropping the minutes into Nathan’s office – again, disappointingly free of Nathan; where the hell did he go during the day? – Evie saw that the photocopier was still on. After Quentin had lectured them all at length during the last meeting about wasting church resources, she decided to pay lip-service to environmentalism by switching the copier off.

  There were pages sticking out of the tray. Her eye was caught by a blazing pink logo: Piece Real Estate. Evie removed the papers and shuffled through them. At first she had no idea what they depicted, besides rows of high-density housing, but then she saw faint lettering: How Sweet It Is, S.M. Financial Planning Srvcs, Plowers Ave.

  Evie spread the pages out across Nathan’s desk and beheld Joy’s plans in full. A day spa where the chicken shop was. A cinema where the Rose Apothecary was. Nothing escaped. Even Fancy Lady did not survive the massacre.

  The last straw was the map that featured Cherry Orchard Way, with a red line struck straight through Evie’s house.

  ‘What exactly do you think you’re doing?’

  A folder smacked down on the table in front of Joy, obscuring the Cosmopolitan Bride article she had been reading.

  ‘Trying to enjoy a cappuccino but why I bothered ordering one I’ll never know. Mr Weissmuller is resisting my barista tips, I may as well be drinking a flat white.’ Joy lifted the folder cover with a fuchsia fingernail. ‘I was wondering where I’d left those, so kind of you to bring them back.’

  ‘I assume you have Nathan’s permission to use his facilities.’

  ‘My printer was on the blink. Nathan was the first to offer assistance, he does love to feel useful, you know.’ She put her cup down.

  ‘He might let you use the copier but there’s no way he’ll let you renovate the church like this. I’m amazed you haven’t incorporated a slip and slide to shoot people down the aisle.’

  Joy reached over to retrieve the folder. ‘I’d have thought you’d love a bigger kitchen. Just think of all the gluten-free lamingtons you could make. Besides, the committee authorises any church developments, not just Nathan. Perhaps you should read the charter sometime.’

  ‘You’ll never get planning permission for all of this.’

  ‘All of this, Evie, is my vision for Sweet Meadow. It’s not set in stone. I’m always open to new ideas.’

  ‘Sweet Meadow doesn’t need your vision.’

  ‘I can assure you it does.’ One of the diamante buttons on Joy’s fuchsia jacket channelled a shaft of sunlight right into Evie’s eyeball.

  ‘To what, make it into some horrible housing development? People don’t want that.’

  For once Joy’s face lost some of its superficiality. ‘Evie, look around you. Haven’t you noticed there are no young families here? No people in their twenties? They’re all gone. And to where? Places where there are employment opportunities and activities and excitement. These things don’t exist in Sweet Meadow. The town is dying.’

  Remembering her own failure to find a job – even the supermarket had been a bust – Evie fought the thought that Joy had a point.

  ‘What do you want, everything neatly preserved like a museum?’ continued Joy. ‘The church to stay freezing in winter and like Hades in summer?’

  ‘Bulldozing Sweet Meadow isn’t saving it,’ said Evie. ‘Technically it’s exactly the opposite.’

  ‘I can appreciate you’re passionate about the history of this place – kudos for that lovely quality, by the way, even if your nostalgia is sadly misplaced – but you have to admit that evolution is required.’

  ‘But not this evolution,’ said Evie, stabbing the top of the folder.

  ‘Then what?’ said Joy, tilting her head.

  Evie stared at the papers, unable to come up with any concept that bettered the destruction of the chicken shop.

  ‘I want families here,’ said Joy. ‘I want more businesses. I want modern facilities, and yes, that includes Saint Sebastian’s.’

  ‘Oh God, not the screen again,’ said Evie.

  ‘You clearly don’t believe me, but we’re actually on the same side. We both want this place to prosper, and we both want the church to stay viable. The difference is that I’m prepared to let go of sentimental notions.’ Joy rose from her chair like a pink soufflé. ‘I’m also afraid that as you have apparently decided not to join the Pinkies or to support your local fashion boutique, I must ask you to return the Fancy Lady discount card that was so generously gifted to you.’

  In an uncomfortable silence, Evie dug in her purse and pulled out the card Joy had given her months ago.

  Joy took the battered offering between two fingers. ‘As far as Saint Sebastian’s is concerned, I have said this whole time I’d welcome any ideas to help save the church. If you can come up with something better than my proposal, I’d be happy to support it.’ She tucked Evie’s card in her Swarovski-encrusted purse. ‘Presuming you can get a majority vote from the committee, of course. Following our trip to Fallow Halls, we’ll see how much they appreciate Sebastian’s musty, drafty charms.’

  After leaving an ostentatious tip for Mr Weissmuller, Joy turned at the door. ‘By the way, do let me know if you’re interested in selling. Your block could support at least two more dwellings, I have a developer friend who would jump at it.’

  For a brief moment Evie saw an exit. Sell the house. Take the money. Move somewhere that had a kitchenwares shop. Then she remembered Nathan, and Mary finally having friends, and the exit slammed shut.

  ‘You’re not going to destroy my home.’

  ‘How interesting. A few years ago one would have put a bet on you doing just that.’

  ‘People change.’

  ‘So do places, Evie.’ Joy departed with a clang as the door catcher failed.

  Evie watched Joy sashay down the footpath, folder clamped underneath her arm. She had to come up with a plan before the Fallow Halls trip. Fortunately, it wasn’t for weeks. There was still time to devise some kind of scheme.

  And exchange Joy’s wedding gift for something far, far smaller.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It was hard to see the bride for the gown. Layer upon layer of tulle piled up until Joy’s head appeared on top like the cherry on a cupcake.

  ‘She looks like Miss Piggy,’ Amy muttered. Sitting next to Evie, she was now pursing her lips at the service booklet. Evie was waiting for her to whip out a pen and start correcting it. Amy’s husband was again not in attendance; she said he was working. Evie was still not entirely sure what Mr Wei did, except that it seemed to involve a lot of money and a lot of absent hours.

  There hadn’t been room for both the gown and the father of the bride to make it down the aisle, so Joy had accompanied herself. Evie guessed that the tired-looking man in the front row was Joy’s father, wh
ich was confirmed when he gave a half-hearted wave when Nathan asked who was giving the bride away. Clearly the thrill of seeing one’s daughter joined in holy matrimony wore off after the third or fourth time. Evie wondered if Liz Taylor’s parents had bothered to go to all nine of her weddings.

  Joy’s bridesmaids were draped in pink and silver satin. Therese was a waterfall of bored. Ebony kept trying to hide behind Rosemary Sturn, who resembled a foil-wrapped hotdog.

  Deprived by Joy’s tulle of a good view of Nathan, Evie amused herself by trying to work out how long it would be before the groom, who appeared to have started the celebrations a few days early, fell over. He and the groomsmen, none of whom Evie recognised, were all in a similar state, swaying, their hair in disarray like a row of shop-soiled wigs.

  She realised she didn’t even know the groom’s name, and checked the program. Barnaby Wiggot. No wonder he’d been drinking.

  ‘You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.’

  ‘Sorry, I know, sorry.’ Mary trotted through the tables, holding her bag in her teeth and wrapping the strings of her apron around her waist.

  ‘Mis en place, please, then glassware. Remember to look for fingerprints this time.’ Clayton gave two claps, as if Mary and Mini D were lamps to be turned on or off. He swept into the kitchen and began venting his spleen on the kitchenhand.

  ‘Where were you?’ said Mini D, pulling a tray of glasses out of the bar dishwasher.

  ‘Taking a cutting, then my heel started bleeding so I had to go home and change shoes. Do you think anyone will notice?’

  Mini D glanced at the ratty boots Mary was sporting. ‘I think we’ve got bigger problems. Do you know how to make a Blue Lagoon?’

  ‘No.’ Mary threw her bag behind the bar.

  ‘Okay, do you know how to divide cake for one hundred people into one hundred and forty servings?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then we’re screwed.’

  ‘Why? What’s going on?’ Mary looked around. There were silver and pink balloons anchored to every table by pink heart-shaped weights, and a pink bow on the back of every chair. The pink napkins were folded into swan shapes. The cake was topped by a giant pink shoe.