Roadside Sisters (30 page)

The last time Annie had spotted their rig was outside Foxglove Spires at Tilba Tilba. She hadn’t set eyes on Matty himself since that first night at Lakes Entrance. She had been entertaining herself with daydreams about him, but time and distance had made her think that she was probably nurturing an adolescent fantasy. Well, she’d soon find out. She pulled the combs from her hair and shook out her curls, tugged her bikini into place and draped a beach towel over her shoulder.

As she came closer to the ramp, Matty stood up from behind the boat and Annie instantly knew he was no conjured fantasy. She stumbled on the fringe of the towel. In that moment he saw her.

‘Hey, Annie! Annie Bailey?’ he called and waved.

‘Hi!’ She regained her balance and waved back.

He was out from behind the boat in an instant, and coming towards her—a bare-chested, sandy-haired, muscled . . .
dreamboat
. Annie couldn’t believe she’d come up with that word. It was out of some 1950s
Gidget
movie. And then he was standing in front of her smiling, and leaning in to kiss her cheek. Her nose touched his broad, suntanned shoulder. She was reminded of those passionate kisses in the dark, and her face felt hot.

‘I’ve been looking for you. I’ve got your sunglasses,’ he said with a broad smile. So that was it, thought Annie. She was thinking that might be the reason he was seeking her, but hoped it wasn’t the only one.

‘Great! I’ve been looking everywhere for them.’ The words
and for you
popped into her head.

‘Come on over—I’ve got ’em in the glovebox. You remember Zoran?’

Zoran turned to wave and grin, and went back to loading the fishing rods. Matty found the sunnies and pressed them into Annie’s hands. He held her slim fingers for a moment—long enough for Annie to remember that his hands had cupped her bare breasts under her velour top.

‘We’re just about to go out for a session,’ he said, taking back his hands and running them through his mop of sun-bleached hair. Annie guessed that he’d also remembered where they’d been. ‘We’ll trawl over a few reefs, after Spanish mackerel, so . . .’

Annie expected that his next words would be:
good to see you again—bye.

‘. . . you staying here?’

‘With my friends, Nina and Meredith. In this bizarre giant motorhome.’

‘I remember you said that. It’s not the van with Elvis on the side?’

‘Uh-huh,’ Annie replied. ‘Or should that be
uh-huh, uh-huh!
’ She threw in a salutation from The King.

Matty got the joke and grinned at her. She noticed that his teeth were even and white. Perfectly formed, like the rest of him. Annie caught herself thinking that one could tire of such physical perfection. There had to be something wrong with him. In that moment she saw it—his ears were just slightly out of proportion. For some odd reason this made Annie feel better. Perhaps, she thought, because it was proof he was human after all, not just some figment of her almost middle-aged imagination.

‘If it’s the same van, that’s weird.’ Matty wrinkled his tanned nose dashed with freckles. ‘Nina and Meredith, right? I’ve met them. We caught up with them in Mallacoota the day after I met you. They said they didn’t know you.’

And then Annie remembered Meredith’s ridiculous lesbian charade. ‘That’s because they were trying to . . . I know this sounds stupid, but they are pretty protective of me. I was down by the lake when you were there.’

‘They don’t like men, huh?’ Matty nodded. ‘That’s cool—a lot of women like that don’t like—’

Annie had to laugh. ‘They’re not lesbians! They just made that up.’ She could see he was struggling to make sense of it all.

‘So I guess that’s why they turned down the invitation the second time to meet up with us at Pretty Beach.’

‘What? You saw them
again
?’

‘I ran into Nina at the beach showers at Gillard’s. We were all due to have sunset cocktails at Pretty Beach.’

‘Really? We stayed at Pebbly Beach that night.’

‘Well, anyway . . .’ Matty shrugged and grinned again. ‘Here’s an idea. We’re staying at Lot 55, just next to the path over the dunes. So why don’t you bring the ladies over around six, and we’ll have those cocktails and make you dinner? Zoran’s a top cook. And, hopefully, there’ll be Spanish mackerel on the menu.’

‘I’m sure the girls would love that. Although . . .’ and here Annie thought she might entertain herself, ‘do something for me. Don’t let on you know they’re not gay. I’d like to see them squirm for a bit.’

Matty laughed. ‘I’m remembering now that you have a wicked streak in you, Annie Bailey. OK, deal. See you then.’

‘Good luck with your fishing!’

‘I’m not staying long,’ Meredith hissed. The sun was sinking behind clumps of ti-tree as they trailed through the campgrounds to Lot 55. ‘I’m having one drink and then, I have . . .’ she paused, trying to find the right term, ‘an engagement.’

‘Oooh! She’s gonna bonk her mystery man again! You trollop, Meredith!’ Annie nudged Nina. ‘Your woman’s bisexual. Can’t keep her eyes off the blokes. Did you know that, honey? When do we get to meet this stud anyway?’

‘They think we’re lesbians!’ Nina grizzled. ‘How long do we have to keep this up?’

‘Come on now, girls—hold hands, play nice,’ sang Annie as she marched ahead with righteous purpose. ‘Serves you right for lying to them back in Mallacoota. If you hadn’t tried to interfere in my love life this wouldn’t be happening.’

‘Shut up, Annie,’ said Meredith. ‘This is completely embarrassing. We’re having just one drink and then we’re going. As for your “love life”, someone’s got to interfere sometime. You’re not making much of a success of it.’

‘Oh that hurts, Meredith! But I like this guy, so just do it for me. It won’t kill you. He doesn’t need to know my friends are total fake lezzo weirdos.’

‘I met that Matty again,’ Nina blurted.

‘What!?’ Annie turned and glared at her with as much fake indignation as she could muster.

‘At Gillard’s Beach and we were all going to meet up and have a cocktail party on the beach . . . only,’ now Annie and Meredith were both eyeballing her, ‘I got a bit lost.’

‘So did you tell him
then
that you weren’t a lesbian?’ demanded Annie.

‘Not exactly. He just assumed so . . .’

‘You let your filthy lie follow us up half the east coast of Australia. So, serves you both right! You better start acting like a lovely couple.’

Annie trotted along, happily humming to herself. Meredith and Nina straggled behind her, arms folded like two sullen schoolgirls on a dreaded excursion. Up ahead Annie spied Matty and Zoran standing under the striped annexe of a handsome old-fashioned green canvas tent, complete with seven-foot wooden
poles. They were dressed in clean shirts and cargo pants. As she came closer, she could see five chairs arranged around a camp table set with an ice bucket and plates of antipasto—dips, olives and bread sticks.

For a pair of ‘yobbos’, they were surprisingly domestic, thought Nina. They looked far more like a same-sex couple than she and Meredith ever would. Annie couldn’t have chosen a gay man
again
, could she? She looked at Meredith who raised her eyebrows. She seemed to be thinking the very same thing.

After a hearty round of kissed ‘hellos’ and the acceptance of Annie’s bottle of wine, Matty offered drinks. ‘We have vanilla martinis, or would you like to start with your very impressive chardonnay?’

Zoran stepped forward and proudly explained the menu: ‘Grilled eggplant and red pepper antipasto. This one’s ceviche—raw snapper cured with lime juice. I caught the fish this afternoon, so it’s about as fresh as it can get. Then the dips are beetroot and this one’s basil and fetta. All home-made. Please, help yourselves.’

Nina was bug-eyed. They didn’t seem like ‘union thugs’ or ‘idiots’. She searched for confirmation from Meredith, who refused to look at her.

When they were all settled with drinks and plates of food, Matty gave Annie a secret, conspiratorial smile and began: ‘So, you’ve been a little mischievous, hiding Annie from us.’

Nina and Meredith shifted uneasily in their chairs, coughed in unison, sipped at their martinis.

‘Yes, they’ve been impersonating the ugly stepsisters, I’m afraid,’ scolded Annie. ‘Very naughty ladies indeed.’

‘And Matty’s been chasing Cinderella up the coast with a pair of sunglasses. Priceless!’ chuckled Zoran.

‘Still,’ continued Matty, ‘when you’re in such a
close
relationship yourself, you want the best for your friends, don’t you? So we forgive you. That’s a brilliant rig you’ve got. You gals do a lot of travelling?’

Nina stuffed her mouth with bread so she didn’t have to answer. This was torture.

‘We get away whenever we can,’ Meredith mumbled.

‘And you’re obviously both huge Elvis fans. Where’d you meet? At a convention or something?’ asked Zoran. Meredith said nothing. Bugger Nina—it was her turn. Annie was pinching her own thighs, trying not to laugh—this was the best fun she’d had in ages.

Nina almost choked on her half-chewed lump of bread. ‘Um . . . well, we’ve all known each other for about twenty years. We used to sing together in a gospel choir called Sanctified Soul. But Meredith and I only recently . . . got together.’ She looked to Meredith for assistance. And found none. ‘Didn’t we . . . sweetheart?’

This was beyond excruciating. Nina wanted to run away and jump into the sea.

‘That often happens, doesn’t it, Zoran?’ Matty turned to his mate. ‘You’re friends for years and then one day it just turns into . . . something else.’ He reached for Zoran’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. Zoran ostentatiously blew Matty a kiss.

At the sight of Meredith and Nina exchanging looks and then turning back to Annie, their foreheads furrowed with concern and sympathy, Annie couldn’t help herself. Her head pitched forward to her knees and she exploded with laughter. On her cue, Matty and Zoran saw the game was up and both fell about.

‘Very, very amusing.’ Meredith was stony-faced. Nina scowled.

‘You should have seen yourselves!’ snorted Annie. ‘Oh God! That was the funniest thing I have ever . . .’ She collapsed into giggles again.

‘Sorry,’ Matty apologised. ‘Annie made us do it.’

‘And you’re not the ugly sisters at all,’ added Zoran. ‘In fact, if you weren’t gay, I’d ask you to dance.’

He reached behind him for the ghetto-blaster, and soon Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ rocked out through the caravan park.

Three hours later, Zoran and Nina had decided they must be related to each other. Her parents were from the Ukraine, his were from Slovenia. What were the odds of them meeting at the Scotts Head Reserve Trust Caravan Park on a Saturday night in April?

They’d had a true meeting of minds over Zoran’s dry red Spanish mackerel curry and mango salad. Nina pronounced it the best curry she had ever eaten . . . in her entire life. Zoran had flushed with pleasure from the tips of his long skinny toes to the whiskers on his black goatee, and given her the recipe.

After that, they had fallen into a deep discussion about food and Nina’s café plans, about life with immigrant parents, and politics in Eastern Europe. Nina couldn’t recall anyone understanding her as completely as Zoran did. She talked with him for three and a half hours and didn’t feel the need to mention her famous footballer husband once. This was another revelation. That question she had asked at the beginning of the trip—Who was this anonymous woman far from home, listening to the surf pound beyond the dunes?—she now had the answer to: she was Nina Kostiuk. Herself. No-one else.

Annie was some metres away, just beyond the banksias, rolling in the damp sand on the moonlit beach in a passionate embrace with Matty. Sand
did
get into everything, as her mother had once complained. They paddled, splashed, crawled, built a soggy sandcastle and kissed over its collapsing towers. They kissed and kissed again, lying at the water’s edge with their feet in the foam and their heads tangled in seaweed. Annie was water-logged, sand-logged, lust-logged. Her jersey skirt was wet and heavy, her knickers damp, her hair coarse with grit, tiny shells were pressed into the soft flesh between her toes.