Those Pleasant Girls

by Lia Weston

  Mary went to rub her forehead and realised she still had the tinsel headdress on.

  A solid arm settled around her shoulders. She looked up into Phil’s sleepy eyes, now even smaller, bloodshot with exhaustion and smoke.

  ‘Your mum’s tougher than she looks,’ said Phil. ‘Might not be able to climb trees for a bit, though.’

  Instead of laughing, Mary cried.

  *

  ‘I heard the advent candle started the whole thing.’ Amy eyed the ‘No Smoking’ sign and tucked her bag under her chair. Despite ostensibly being used to medical environments, she looked completely out of place.

  Evie pulled the blankets up a bit further. ‘Is there anything left?’ Her voice was still hoarse from the smoke. Mrs Beadles, who had visited earlier bearing a kilo bag of gummy bears and some rose-scented hand cream, had said she sounded like Lauren Bacall. Mrs Beadles had also been wearing a hat shaped like a sailing ship, so who knew.

  ‘The walls, mostly. The office, somehow. Louise thinks it’s a miracle. Typical. We may have to do Christmas services outdoors. However, you’ll be pleased to know the committee’s thrilled.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Saint Sebastian’s is well insured, if nothing else. Don’t you remember Quentin droning on about it? The payout will mean new facilities. I don’t think we’re up to big screen territory, but we’ll have proper heating and cooling for the first time.’ Amy raised an eyebrow. ‘Your presence has also been requested for the Tourism Board.’

  Evie tried to look enthusiastic. ‘I didn’t know we had one.’

  ‘We didn’t. But after the carnival, people started asking about accommodation and attractions, and the Tourism Board for the Betterment of the Township of Sweet Meadow is now in development. Guess who’s the head.’

  ‘Joy.’

  ‘Of course. So the carnival did more than you thought it would.’

  ‘In many ways,’ said Evie softly.

  Her bed was next to the window, but the view of the flat concrete roof lines was less than inspiring. If she sat up and craned her neck like a giraffe, she could almost see the Fallow Halls Centennial Park and the bench where Amy had told her she needed psychiatric help.

  ‘You were very lucky, if you don’t count minor smoke inhalation and first degree burns, of course,’ said Amy. ‘The infection in your hand could have killed you, even before the fire. Technically you escaped death twice.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Evie. ‘Lucky me.’

  She watched a pigeon land on the roof and then stand there staring at the ground. It looked idiotic, even for a pigeon, and reminded her of Quentin.

  Ugh. Quentin.

  Amy reached underneath her chair. ‘I’ve been given the task of sorting out the remains of the office. I found this. Thought you might like it.’ She handed over a faded photo. It was a picture of a young Evie and Nathan, arms around each other’s shoulders. She was wearing muddy jeans and had a missing tooth. Nathan was in his grass-stained cricket gear.

  ‘From everyone’s stories, I was expecting you to have horns,’ said Amy.

  Evie half-smiled, cracked lips protesting.

  ‘Has he come to see you?’ Amy got up and flicked a switch on the plastic kettle.

  ‘Yes. He said he’d pray for me.’ Evie had to clear her throat again. ‘Which was nice.’

  Amy inspected the coffee and tea sachets with a frown and held up a cup to Evie, who gestured no. ‘How’s Mary? Sarah said she and Zach had a “thing”.’ Amy made air quotes with her free hand. ‘It ended badly, I take it.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Evie. ‘We haven’t spoken about it yet. I’m too frightened to ask her.’

  ‘And have you had a visit from your rescuer?’

  ‘Apparently. I was unconscious at the time.’

  ‘Well, Phil’s not really a chatterbox so that was probably fine.’

  They heard the clack of wheels as a stretcher was escorted down the corridor. Through the door Evie caught a glimpse of a prone body and a nurse chatting above it in a determinedly cheerful way.

  Amy sat down with a cup of something black and looked at Evie critically. ‘How are you, really? And you know to what and to whom I’m referring.’

  Evie picked at the blankets. ‘Nathan and I had a pact to get married. We made it when we were kids. So I thought that if I came back as something perfect, you know, the ideal woman, rather than who I had been, then maybe I’d deserve him. Maybe he’d remember.’

  ‘Thank God he wasn’t gay,’ said Amy.

  Evie laughed, but it was short and sounded more like a sob.

  ‘Do you love him?’

  There was a long pause. Evie slowly shook her head. ‘I loved the idea of him. And he would be easy to love. He seemed like such a perfect answer to everything. But, no. And I didn’t realise it until it was too late.’

  In a rare show of physicality, Amy put her hand over Evie’s.

  Evie stared at the blanket. ‘I wanted Mary to have someone to look up to, too. And I’ve blown it. She doesn’t even look up to me now, probably. I completely ignored her during exams. I got the day of her birthday mixed up. I didn’t even know about Zach.’

  ‘You weren’t well. A bacterial infection doesn’t exactly make for rational parenting.’

  ‘I could have tried harder.’ Evie crumpled the corner of the bedsheet and tried not to cry.

  ‘What about Phil?’

  Evie hung her head. ‘I’ve made such an idiot of myself. There’s no chance.’

  ‘He’s a patient man,’ said Amy. ‘You might be surprised.’

  ‘He and Nathan are probably laughing about the whole thing.’

  ‘I have it on pretty good authority that they’re not,’ said Amy. ‘Besides, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure Nathan had no idea of your plans. Or anyone else, for that matter. Everyone’s so wrapped up in their own lives that they wouldn’t have noticed unless you’d straddled him on top of a tray of gluten-free lamingtons.’

  ‘What about Joy?’

  Amy sipped her coffee and grimaced. ‘Joy is the exception. She loves speculation. She’s so used to infidelity that she assumes everyone does it.’

  ‘But . . .’ Evie stopped, unsure whether to continue.

  ‘Joy and David? That’s been going on for years, in between Joy’s other boyfriends. She’ll need to tap Fallow Halls soon – I think she’s slept with every man here who’s looked at her sideways. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rosemary doesn’t know, though. Dumber than a box of hair, that woman. This coffee is truly disgusting.’ She put the cup on the tray at the end of Evie’s bed. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m glad you moved back.’

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ said Evie, ‘but why?’

  ‘I think you’re a kindred spirit. Committee fights, the carnival, the cake, the fire . . . It’s been the most interesting year I’ve ever known here. And that’s not even considering your salted caramel squares. Don’t cry,’ she added as Evie began to tear up. ‘Then I’ll start, and this foundation costs fifty bucks a pop.’

  ‘Yoo-hoo!’

  Even in daylight they could see the corridor outside starting to turn pink.

  ‘Jesus,’ said Evie.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Amy.

  The Rose Apothecary was closed. For good, it seemed. Through a gap in the boards over the filthy windows Mary could just see where the cat statue display had been. Outlines of shelves and stands remained stencilled in the dust.

  ‘Is your mum building a McDonald’s or something here?’ said Mary.

  ‘I wish,’ said Ebony, who was sitting behind a card table on the footpath.

  Mary reluctantly stepped back from the glass and wandered over. Ebony’s table was lined with black cloth and covered with jewellery. There were liquorice allsorts earrings, snow globe rings, candy-striped bracelets and finely beaded neckpieces.

  ‘Did you make these?’ Mary held a ring up to the light, the glittery snow suspended inside the dome. ‘What
are they?’

  ‘Yup. Resin.’

  Mary put the ring down. ‘I didn’t get to thank you, you know, for covering for me at the party. Are you in trouble?’

  ‘Nah. Mum said she blamed herself. She’s let me quit dancing, too. I’ve always hated it. I told her heaps of times before but she finally believes me now. I’m taking up kickboxing instead. Mrs Sturn says I’ve got natural talent.’ Ebony rearranged a couple of earrings, examining them with a critical eye. ‘So you kind of did me a favour. And I’m going to have a jewellery stall at the new farmers’ market.’

  ‘Awesome. Well, I want to buy my mum a present.’ After poring over the table, Mary picked up a spiderweb necklace of tiny bubbled beads. ‘This is amazing.’ The beads were all connected with very thin silken strands, finer than wire.

  Mary peered at the strands. They looked like hair.

  ‘It’s an extremely limited range,’ said Ebony.

  ‘Um,’ said Mary, putting it back down, ‘I think I’ll have that black pendant instead. And the sprinkle doughnut ring.’

  ‘Cash only,’ said Ebony, whipping out a paper bag. ‘No refunds.’

  ‘The guys are coming over.’ Mary popped her head around the side of the bathroom door. ‘Is that okay?’

  ‘Of course, sweetheart.’ Evie could barely see over the mountains of bubbles. Her face was reflected back, miniaturised and distorted in a million iridescent surfaces, but she could still see the reddened patches on her cheek and temple from the fire. Her voice still wasn’t quite back to normal, either. She had wondered if Phil would like her more sounding this way. She should give him a call, see if he knows how to whistle.

  ‘We’ll get pizza so you don’t need to cook anything.’

  Evie pawed at a mountain to make a spy hole. ‘I think I’m up to making garlic bread.’

  ‘You can tell me how to do it. I should probably learn.’ From the doorway Mary leaned to see Evie through the suds. ‘Next time I won’t put so much bubble bath in.’

  Evie laughed. ‘It was very sweet. If I don’t come out in half an hour, send help.’

  ‘Don’t joke about that.’ Mary toed the bathroom mat.

  ‘Sorry, babyduck. I didn’t think.’

  Mary pressed her cheek into the edge of the door.

  ‘Did I tell you what I saw, after the fire?’ said Evie, slipping her fingers over the cool white porcelain. Her daughter shook her head. ‘Come and sit with me.’

  Mary folded herself down onto the bath mat, her long legs criss-crossed with scratches from the garden. Evie stretched a hand out, the bubbles like an iridescent knuckle-duster, and ran a hand over her daughter’s head. Mary had re-dyed her hair raven black, eliminating the skunk stripe of blonde. ‘You had a silver crown like a halo, and wings of fire. I thought I was dead and you were an angel.’

  Mary swallowed and remained looking at the tiled floor.

  ‘But the thing is, honey, you are. You’re my angel.’

  Mary leaned her forehead on the edge of the bathtub. Evie gently stroked her hair the way she used to when Mary was little, curled up in her lap, trying to resist the lull of sleep.

  They stayed that way until Mini D’s hulloo from downstairs broke the spell.

  Mary pushed herself up and wiped her little fingers under her eyes. ‘So, will you be wearing a bathrobe or just bubbles tonight?’

  ‘I haven’t decided,’ said Evie, poking a leg out.

  ‘I’m sure Phil wouldn’t mind either,’ said Mary, and giggled when Evie stuck her tongue out at her. ‘If you’re not down in ten minutes, I’m sending Mini D up to get you.’

  ‘All right, all right.’

  Mary clumped down the hallway. Angel or not, reflected Evie, she still walked like a truck driver.

  ‘You haven’t got a Christmas tree,’ said Mini D, who had taken himself for a full tour of the ground floor to make sure.

  Mary pulled neatly labelled packets out of the freezer and tossed them aside. ‘It kind of got forgotten this year.’

  ‘What with the fire and the burning and the almost-dying,’ said Travis. ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘This.’ Mary finally unearthed a French loaf and examined it. ‘How do I cut this if it’s frozen?’

  ‘Try smashing it with a rolling pin,’ said Mini D, helping himself to two packets of biscuits from the pantry.

  Travis slipped his phone out of his pocket and went outside.

  Mary was trying to break the microwave by ramming the entire loaf inside it when Evie came downstairs and rescued the situation.

  ‘I thought I heard Travis,’ said Evie, turning the oven on.

  ‘I think he’s ordering pizza,’ said Mini D. ‘This is for you, by the way.’ He pulled a massive get well card out of his bag. He had drawn Evie in a fantastical pin-up style. She was wearing a frilly apron and battling droids with a spatula.

  ‘Why do you always make the boobs so huge?’ said Mary, looking at the card over Evie’s shoulder.

  ‘Because I’m seventeen and a dude,’ said Mini D, unruffled.

  Mary insisted on making a cocktail for Evie – ‘It’s our first proper dinner since you came home’ – in a process that took twenty minutes and involved wasting a lot of fruit. She held the champagne bottle up over a second glass. ‘Pleeeease?’

  ‘What do you think?’ said Evie archly. ‘That’s a no, by the way,’ she added, as Mary began to tilt the bottle.

  There was a strange sound at the front door – less of a knock and more of a muffled thud.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Travis, who was hovering by the hallway.

  There was a lot of rustling and an unfamiliar voice before the front door shut again. Following the noise, they found Travis in the front room, wrestling with a pine tree so large it was bending against the ceiling.

  ‘You got us a tree!’ said Mary, and danced on the spot.

  A car door slammed outside.

  ‘Santa?’ said Mini D, running to the window. ‘Holy shit, look at that.’

  Evie and Mary joined him to see a car the size of a small cruise ship glide away from the kerb, its tinted windows black.

  ‘Santa’s joined the mafia,’ said Mary. ‘Quick, block up the chimney.’

  ‘It’s Mr Wei,’ said Travis.

  ‘I was beginning to think he didn’t exist,’ said Evie, pressing her face to the window to watch the ship sail down Cherry Orchard Way.

  ‘Maybe it’s actually Mrs Wei in disguise,’ said Mini D.

  ‘Why would Mrs Wei be dressing up as her husband, exactly?’ said Evie.

  ‘Because she killed him in an industrial accident and this way nobody asks any, shall we say, uncomfortable questions.’ Mini D waggled his eyebrows.

  ‘I honestly don’t think –’ began Evie.

  ‘Um, help,’ said Travis, slowly collapsing under the weight of the pine.

  ‘Where’s Phil when you need him?’ said Mary, leaping to his rescue.

  ‘Rescuing cats out of trees,’ said Mini D.

  ‘Phil’s allergic to cats,’ said Evie. ‘Oh, stop it,’ she added as Mary and Mini D made meaningful faces at each other.

  Mary clomped down the stairs with three boxes of Christmas decorations held together with peeling tape. She had made herself a new tinsel crown.

  ‘Hail, Queen Mary!’ Mini D bowed. ‘Got any of that spray-on snow stuff?’

  ‘We are not American,’ said Mary with a sniff, dumping the decorations on the couch.

  ‘Hey, I forgot to tell you, Marce is coming to visit. And she’s bringing her brother . . .’

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ said Mary. ‘I’m never dating again.’

  ‘Just because your first boyfriend was a soul-destroying experience doesn’t mean the next one will be,’ said Mini D.

  ‘Look at my genetic history,’ said Mary, gesturing towards the kitchen. ‘The odds kind of suck.’

  ‘I think your mother’s odds are looking up,’ said Mini D, raising an eyebrow. ‘Like six-foot-
four kind of up.’

  Travis, untangling Christmas lights with a surgeon’s focus, glanced quickly at Mini D before shaking his hair back over his eyes.

  ‘Anyone want popcorn?’ called Evie from the kitchen. Mini D was down the corridor so quickly he almost left a rip in the space/time continuum.

  ‘Don’t let him eat all of it,’ called Mary. ‘I want to make garlands.’

  ‘Too late, sucker,’ shouted Mini D.

  Above Travis’s head, an embroidered star was already on one of the branches.

  ‘Where’s that from?’ said Mary.

  ‘It’s my contribution,’ said Travis. ‘I’m pretty sure Mum made it out of an old football jersey.’

  Mary stood on tiptoes to examine it. White threads looped in curlicues, tracking fragile snowflakes across the scarlet fabric. Mrs Tueller may have a neck like a linebacker but her handiwork was surprisingly delicate. The top of the star was tied with a green ribbon, shot through with black. Mary had seen that ribbon before.

  Several mysteries suddenly made sense.

  She leaned over to give Travis a hug. ‘Thanks for the tree.’

  For a moment they stood there together, Travis’s hands looped in lights.

  ‘Is Mr Wei really a triad member?’ said Mary, her head on Travis’s shoulder.

  ‘I never ask,’ said Travis.

  They had salvaged enough popcorn to make at least two garlands, Mary shoving kernels onto a needle before Mini D could eat them.

  There was another knock on the door.

  ‘It’s Mr Wei!’ said Mini D, holding the popcorn bowl in front of his face. ‘He’s come back for our thumbs.’

  Mary jumped over the boxes and narrowly missed the coffee table. At first when she opened the door all she saw were flowers. Then she noticed the work boots. ‘Come in, come in.’

  Phil stuck his head over a clump of delphiniums. ‘Only if it’s okay.’

  ‘You pulled my mum out of a burning church. We should probably just give you the key to our house.’

  The scent of pine followed them down the hallway.

  ‘It’s your knight in shining steel toecaps,’ announced Mary, kicking open the kitchen door.

  Evie was pulling plates out of the cupboard, but stopped when she saw Phil.