Magpie's Bend

by Maya Linnell

  Toby laughed. ‘That’s Penny and Diana’s event, not mine. But I think they’ve got a band organised. You can join them on stage with your clarinet if you like?’

  Holly rolled her eyes. ‘Think I’ll stick to waiting tables, thanks, Dad.’

  Belinda reappeared in the background.

  ‘Hey, that reminds me, Tobes. Miss Holly tells me you’ve got a big gig next weekend and nothing to wear.’

  Toby huffed. ‘Ye of little faith. I’ve got plenty of options.’

  Their laughter echoed through the computer speakers.

  ‘You’ve got to see it to believe it, Aunty Bel,’ said Holly. ‘Go on, Dad. Give us a virtual wardrobe tour.’

  Toby left his dishes on the table and carried his laptop to the bedroom. He pulled a tan suede jacket from a dry-cleaning bag.

  ‘There’s this.’

  Belinda mirrored Holly’s aghast expression.

  ‘Give Billy Ray Cyrus his jacket back and get something new. Something with a bit of style, Tobes. If you’re going to be at a singles ball, you may as well stand out, right? Catch the eye of some gorgeous girl and whisk her off her feet?’

  Toby laughed. There was only one woman he wanted to whisk off her feet, and he wasn’t about to put the mockers on it by mentioning Lara to this pair.

  ‘It’s a classic. Pure nineties. I’m there to help, not pick up. I’ll find a funky tie and call it quits, yeah?’

  ‘Maybe a bow tie?’ Holly piped up.

  Belinda shook her head and made him rifle through his wardrobe.

  ‘It’s like Fifty Shades of Grey, but without any of the hot sex. I can guarantee you’ll be celibate for another five years if you wear that number in public,’ she said, pointing to the dull pinstripe suit Toby had pulled out.

  He swung the door shut.

  ‘I’ll wear my chinos and a polo shirt, then, shall I? Or if it worries you that much, maybe I’ll skip it altogether and rest up for the fun run on Sunday.’

  ‘You can’t let the team down, Dad. Not after all your lectures about community involvement. What about your whole “There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’” spiel? It’d be totally hypocritical.’

  Belinda snorted. ‘See, this is the problem with raising smart, independent young women. If only you’d deprived her of books and a proper education, you wouldn’t have this issue.’

  Holly giggled and she slung an arm around her aunt’s shoulders.

  ‘Oh, you’ll get your just deserts when your kid comes along,’ Toby said. Belinda rubbed her pregnant belly like a genie with a lamp.

  ‘Leave the ball outfit with us. We’ll come up with something, won’t we, Holly?’

  Toby carried his laptop back to the lounge room as the pair chortled. Knowing that Holly and Belinda hung out regularly made him feel better about being so far away. If he took Mick’s job, he could have Holly week on, week off, instead of Skype dinner dates, sporadic long weekends and school holidays. It was tempting.

  ‘How’re Granny and Pop? Queenie still hanging in there?’

  Being closer to his parents would be a big bonus of shifting back, too. Alice wouldn’t say it, but he knew the extra help wouldn’t go astray.

  ‘Same old, same old. Pop’s cheerful enough, and Granny just got a letter from Queen Elizabeth, so she’s thrilled.’

  ‘Queen Elizabeth’s lowly assistant, more like it,’ said Toby, though he wouldn’t dare say it to his mother.

  Toby was rewarded with an eye roll and he settled in for Holly’s mid-week update on all things Ballarat. Somewhere between the rowing try-outs and the clarinet teacher’s bodyodour issues, Toby found his attention straying to the window. Is Lara still up? He wondered if he should text her and suggest a nightcap. But by the time Holly had run out of news, and Belinda had given him more detail than he needed about her birthing plan, the lights across the paddock had flickered off. He looked out into the night, rinsed his wine glass and stacked the dishwasher. He’d just have to knock her socks off at the ball.

  As the weekend drew closer, Lara found herself even more excited than she could’ve imagined. The flurry of final permits came in all at once, just in the nick of time, and she was flat out trying to get the right signatures on the right dotted lines.

  There were deliveries of catering supplies to arrange, trailer-loads of marshalling equipment to be collected from the athletics club in Horsham, and trophies to be picked up from the sports shop in Hamilton. Lara bounced out of bed on Friday to find the morning had dawned fresh and clear, with dew-dropped spiderwebs hanging off every twig. She smashed out five fast kilometres, grabbed a quick bowl of Weet-Bix and fed the animals before making her way into Bridgefield to help with the set-up.

  ‘Perfect timing, we need someone nimble to scale that tree and string up a bunch of fairy lights,’ said Diana, leaning a ladder against the old oak in the centre of town.

  It was the type of job Cameron would have loved, but he’d gone with Pete to collect Evie from the bus stop, along with the trophies from the sports shop.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ said Lara.

  ‘Mind you don’t break your neck on the way down,’ called Diana from the ground, her face scrunched up with concern as Lara shimmied up. Lara did a little wiggle, laughing at the way Diana’s eyebrows flew skyward. The fact that she, Penny and Angie were fully grown with children of their own hadn’t made a lick of difference to Diana’s mothering instinct; she was still undoubtedly the mother hen of the McIntyre family.

  Lara took a moment to survey Bridgefield from her elevated vantage point. What the small town lacked in hustle and fast-food outlets, it made up for in charming buildings, dainty silver princess eucalypts along the main drag and the close-knit community. All our hard work with the shop was worth it, she thought, taking in a breath of fresh country air as she descended the ladder.

  A peal of laughter came from across the street and the sisters looked up to see a pair of women walking down the footpath.

  ‘Those girls arrived last night,’ Diana said quietly. ‘Single and ready to mingle, or so they told me.’ The local B&B operators had been booked solid for weeks in advance. As well as raising money to help buy the shop, their fundraising weekend was pushing dollars into the local economy.

  ‘You two were right, the singles ball was a drawcard,’ said Lara.

  ‘Sorry?’ Diana cupped her ear for good measure. ‘Little louder, thanks.’

  ‘You were right, okay. It’s a good money spinner.’

  Angie strode over with a tray of takeaway cups.

  ‘Olive opened the shop early for me,’ Angie said, handing out coffee. ‘She said those girls were knocking on the door before she’d even finished sorting the mail. Apparently—’ Angie looked over her shoulder and leaned in a little closer. ‘Tommo down at the pub said their table-top dancing kept last night’s regulars glued to their bar stools for twice as long as usual. Flaming sambuca shots and everything.’

  Diana groaned. ‘Will his insurance foot the bill if the hotel accidentally burns to the ground? I hope they got it out of their system. We don’t want tonight to be remembered for all the wrong reasons.’

  ‘Or to spend our fundraising money on damage control,’ added Penny. ‘I’ll have a word to Tommo and make sure he locks up the flammable spirits.’

  She headed off, intent on her task.

  A beeping noise rang through the morning air and Lara turned to see her father’s Leyland truck inching backwards across the town green. Tim was in the driver’s seat and the tray was piled high with hired dining equipment.

  Lara held up her hand.

  ‘Yep, Tim. That’ll do it.’

  Lara started untying the ratchet straps holding the load in place.

  Tim climbed down from the truck cab and loosened the straps on the opposite side.

  ‘Did Mac tell you she’s got a waiting list for the ball tonight?’ The pride in her brother-in-law’s voice was almost as cute as his pet name for Penny.

  ‘She’s excelled
herself. The fun run’s almost at capacity too, all thanks to her marketing and Toby’s coverage. Couldn’t have done it without them,’ she said.

  ‘Not to mention a bucketload of work from you, Miss Modesty. I thought you’d be dead on your feet after all the hours you’ve put in, Lara, but you look like you’re loving it. Nanna Pearl said you’ve already surpassed the fundraising target,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve got a good committee behind me,’ she said. ‘Though you’re right, I am loving life now things are going smoothly again. Ask me again Sunday afternoon, and I might be singing from a different song sheet.’

  Angie’s husband Rob wandered across from the general store, Claudia on his shoulders, clutching that morning’s newspaper.

  He flipped it open as he walked. ‘Hot off the press. The famous McIntyre girls. I’ll have to get your autograph before you’re mobbed,’ Rob said, showing her the picture.

  ‘He could have made it a little less prominent,’ Lara said, groaning as she took in the huge front-page photo of her, Angie, Diana and Penny surrounding Mrs Beggs outside the shop, taken two days earlier when they’d officially bettered Mrs Beggs’ asking price. The headline was a little more palatable this time. Toby had gone with “Community spirit saves the day!” and though their grins were cheesy, he’d captured the triumph and joy in their expressions.

  ‘Thought you hated having your photo taken? This is the third time you’ve been in the newspaper this month.’ Tim leaned in for a closer look, then cast a quizzical gaze in her direction.

  ‘I’ve only got a problem if I don’t know it’s being taken,’ Lara said. ‘Obviously, I’d rather the credit went to all the committee, not just us.’

  Angie pulled up outside the hall, antique milk pails and buckets of flowers brimming on the back of Rob’s ute tray.

  ‘Bunch of slackers. I’m out there picking posies for tonight’s ball and you’re having a good old chinwag?’

  Angie laughed and thrust a milk pail full of lavender, proteas and banksias into Rob’s arms. Lara recognised some of the colourful blooms and foliage from Diana’s garden too.

  ‘Perving on these cover girls,’ Tim said, showing her the newspaper.

  ‘Scrub up all right, don’t we?’ Angie said, turning it outwards so Diana could see too. Penny returned with a promise from the publican that he would stick to beer and wine tonight.

  ‘There’s my girls,’ said Angus, joining them a moment later. Lara reached up and plucked the price tag off his new shirt, catching a whiff of something nice as he hurried off to help his sons-in-law.

  ‘Was Dad wearing aftershave?’

  ‘He’s putting his best foot forward, that’s for sure,’ said Penny, waggling her eyebrows.

  ‘Never thought I’d see the day,’ mused Lara, carrying one of the tables into the hall. The idea of her father wanting romance made her head spin. He’d always said he was more than happy on his own, and she’d pulled out that same line more than once to fend off Penny’s matchmaking attempts.

  Inside, the hall decorating was in full swing. A wash of chatter floated towards them and Lara stepped aside to make way for the ladies from the Move It or Lose It exercise classes, who swooped in with blue linen tablecloths and little heart-shaped sequins.

  ‘Almost as good a workout as the classes,’ said Karen, hefting a miniature windmill onto the table. The table-number holders were exact replicas of the windmill overlooking the lake.

  Lara moved across the room, straightening a flower that had slipped from one of Angie’s antique milk pails. She sidestepped to avoid a procession of band members and marvelled at the musicians’ ability to make it on stage without dropping their instruments. In the time she’d been admiring the hall’s transformation, the stage had filled with an assortment of guitars, drums, amplifiers, music stands and microphones.

  Volunteers from the CWA swarmed in and out of the hall kitchen, hefting containers of food and armfuls of cooking equipment. From the smell of things, the meal prep was well underway too. Lara took a deep, delicious breath. The aroma of roast lamb made her mouth water.

  ‘Testing, testing. One, two.’

  Lara covered her ears as the microphone screeched with feedback. She retreated outside, just in time to help Tim unload the final table.

  ‘What’s next on the list?’ she said. ‘I’ve got another half-hour before I’m needed at work.’

  Penny glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve got some banners that need hanging from the “Welcome to Bridgefield” sign, if you fancy a quick drive out to the sixty-k zone?’

  ‘Too easy.’

  ‘Thanks, Lars. See you tonight. Wear your dancing shoes.’ Lara paused at the mischievous note in her sister’s voice. ‘I’m not here to impress anyone.’

  Penny gave a dismissive huff. ‘Heaven forbid you actually enjoy yourself.’

  Lara frowned at the love-heart bunting she’d helped string across the doorway of the town hall and lifted her chin.

  ‘I’m the raffle and fun-run girl. You, Angie and Diana are on the singles ball, remember? I’m happy to help with set-up, registration and pack up, but that’s about it.’

  Lara heard Penny’s heavy sigh as she folded her into a hug. She caught the scent of stale milk lingering in her sister’s hair—a reminder that Penny was juggling an infant as well as a huge fundraising event—and knew she needed to set aside her reservations about the singles ball. Whether she liked the concept or not, Lara needed this weekend to be a success.

  ‘Righto, which banner do you want at the southern end of town?’

  Lara tugged on her nursing cardigan and then her jacket before stepping out into the brisk afternoon. The sun had started its slide to the horizon when Evie jogged up to the car.

  ‘Missed you, Mum!’

  ‘You too, Evie-girl,’ said Lara, hugging her daughter a little tighter than normal.

  ‘Hard day at work?’ said Evie, jumping into the car.

  ‘Probably less frantic than yours,’ Lara said. ‘I heard you and Cameron well and truly earned your pocket money.’

  ‘We barely stopped for lunch. Napkin folding, wine glass polishing, all the little errands the CWA ladies needed running.’ Evie paused for effect. ‘Not sure what you would’ve done without us, really. This event-planning business is harder than it looks.’

  Lara raised an eyebrow and grinned. ‘You don’t say?’

  It wasn’t until they were halfway home that Lara noticed Evie’s clothes. The light-pink jumper and polka-dotted scarf didn’t look familiar.

  Irritation flared at once. Another Edwina Kingsley treat?

  Fashion had never been high on Lara’s radar, and items that required handwashing or ironing rarely made it into her wardrobe. She purchased most of their clothes on sale, always practical, hard-wearing garments that were tough enough for knocking around the farm, but tidy enough to wear into town. Evie had never complained, but …

  Lara looked again at the fine knit. She knew quality when she saw it.

  Merino? Cashmere?

  Lara swallowed the questions, and a hint of jealousy. There was too much riding on this weekend to dwell on the Kingsleys. She filed the conversation away for another time.

  Evie took the first shower as Lara threw a quiche together. They switched places and by the time Lara had scrubbed herself pink and washed her hair, Evie had the meal at one end of the dinner table and a staggering array of make-up spread across the other.

  ‘Where’d you even get all this stuff,’ Lara said, studying a tube of lip gloss between mouthfuls of food.

  As well as the look and texture of glittery superglue, it had a nasty artificial scent.

  ‘Ugh.’

  ‘I’ve been saving my pocket money, and Aunty Angie sent me some for my birthday.’

  Lara shuddered. ‘And tell me why we’re bothering with all this for an hour on the registration desk, Evie?’

  Evie finished her dinner and fixed her mother with a steely look.

  ‘Because you�
�ll be letting the side down if you rock up in your jeans and a work shirt, Mum. Now, sit still and let me get on with it,’ she said, in a voice the sounded very much like Lara’s own.

  She plugged in the hair-dryer and spritzed Lara’s hair with product. The straightener was next.

  ‘Is my hair supposed to sizzle like that?’

  ‘Of course it is. Relax, Mum. I’ll have you looking a million bucks in no time.’

  Lara sipped her tea, wishing it was wine.

  You shouldn’t be nervous, you’re not a guest, you’re just on check-in, she reminded herself.

  ‘I’m glad you came home for the weekend, kiddo,’ she said, trying not to flinch when the straightener came scaldingly close to her scalp. ‘When did you become the queen of girly stuff, anyway?’

  ‘The girls in the boarding house taught me a few tricks. And I couldn’t possibly let you go it alone. Imagine if you’d gone in with that ghastly dress you chose. The mauve wrap dress is totally prettier. I can’t believe Nanna kept all her old clothes, they’re bang on trend now. She must have been pretty cool,’ Evie finished with a wistful sigh.

  Lara reached for her hand, wishing that Annabel had had the chance to meet her grandchildren and laugh over the fashions swinging around in circles until her wardrobe of dresses, boots and floppy hats was back in vogue.

  ‘Holly said they found the coolest outfit for her dad. He’s going retro too.’

  Lara chewed on her lip. She couldn’t picture Toby in anything other than his smart-casual work attire or his exercise gear.

  ‘Well, that’ll be good for a laugh, then. Is he dressing to impress?’

  As soon as the question left her mouth, Lara wished she hadn’t said it.

  ‘Not that I care,’ she added quickly, catching the look on Evie’s face.

  Lame, lame, lame. Put a sock in it.

  Lara stayed silent for the rest of the makeover, opening her eyes wide when Evie applied mascara, pressing her lips together when she was told and sneezing when the light mist of make-up setting spray landed on her face.