Roadside Sisters (33 page)

‘Who cares what Brad bloody well says?’ she snapped, and then sucked her index finger where the sharp edge of a blue plastic groundsheet had sliced her skin.

Meredith let go of the broom she was balancing and it clattered on the roadway: ‘Well, that’s exactly the comment you would expect from someone who’s single. But some of us have families to think about.’

Annie pointed an accusing bloodied digit at Meredith. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

Nina groaned and dropped her head on her folded arms. A storm was rolling in all right—a nasty female tornado, right in front of her at ground level.

‘It means exactly what you think it means.’ Meredith was defiant, and leaned into the shaft of torchlight to catch Annie’s eye. ‘If you weren’t so damned selfish, you’d be considering someone else’s feelings instead of thinking about yourself all the time. If you did that, you might have a relationship and not be so bloody mean and miserable.’

Annie was stunned by the ferocity of Meredith’s attack, and could only manage: ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘It’s too late for manners now.’

Annie hurled the plastic sheeting she was holding to the ground. ‘Yes, and I’ve noticed the joy your marriage has brought you, Meredith. Let’s face it, you’ve spent your entire life doing exactly what you wanted to do. And while you weren’t looking, your whole family buggered off. You don’t even know who your own daughter is marrying. Fuck you!’

Meredith crossed her arms and marched furiously into the darkness just beyond the torchlight. Fear of snapping crocodiles propelled her back towards the side of the van.

Nina, sitting in a camp chair, concentrated hard on the throbbing pain in her leg to take her away from the hideous reality she was facing. ‘C’mon now,’ she pleaded, ‘we’re all tired. Let’s just—’

‘And look at Nina!’ continued Annie. ‘Trapped at the kitchen sink for years. You think I want a life like that?’

Nina opened her mouth to defend herself, and then decided she was in too much pain to go on with it.

‘It seems to me, Meredith,’ Annie spat, ‘that the whole bullshit about women “having it all”—all that feminist crap you and Briony spouted back then—was just a way to get you out of the sheer boredom of motherhood. You’ve got no right to judge me and how my life’s ended up. I’m the one who’s independent.’

‘Independent my backside,’ snarled Meredith. ‘Half your waking hours are spent looking through an empty bottle, your mouth like an ashtray, trying to remember who you slept with last night.’

It was Annie’s turn to stomp into the safe anonymity of darkness. Meredith shouted at her retreating back: ‘YOU’VE MADE A MESS OF YOUR LIFE JUST AS MUCH AS WE HAVE!’

That pronouncement hung limply in the air while they each paused to consider it. The noise of nameless life roiling in the mud, and a distant rumble of thunder, stopped any thought of going on with the argument for now.

‘Let’s just get this tent up. I really need to lie down.’ Nina sighed. She was too weary to bother with her usual ‘look over there’ routine. There was, after all, no ‘over there’ to look at. Beyond the small pool of light coming from her torch, the night was utterly black. The moon was obscured by a scarf of stray cloud, and seemed reluctant to show its face in this company.

Nina hung her head. She had thought they’d come to some understanding over the past few days, that the three of them were beginning to find a true connection—and at the first test the whole elaborate construction had shattered. If this was the
touchstone
of female friendship she had longed for all these years, Nina had no use for it.

It must have been about 9 pm, although it felt much later. They were bundled, fully clothed, in their beds on the side of the road. Annie was wrapped in a doona and lying on a random collection of cushions assembled from the seats around the van’s table. She had angled her head so that she was looking out from under the plastic sheet and into the heavens. She sought the constellation of the Southern Cross in the night sky. There it was! Ever since she was small, Annie had felt comforted by the sight of those four stars and the tiny pointer and it was the same tonight. She wasn’t so far from home as long as the Southern Cross was in view. The air was cool and damp. Under her feathery cover, Annie was as safe as a baby white ibis under its mother’s wings.

She considered what Meredith had said—that if she weren’t so selfish she would have a partner by now. This trip was showing her just how singular she had become. For years now she had only had herself to please in her one-bedroom flat and she called that ‘independence’, but now she could see the years of solitude stretching before her and couldn’t find much joy in the prospect. But then again, the challenge of ‘sharing’—if this trip was anything to go by—seemed equally daunting. Maybe she was already too old to change.

Meredith and Nina were lying side by side on a double mattress. They were both comfortable enough, despite the stifling
closeness under the sagging plastic cover. Nina was nibbling at a block of chocolate and crunching hazelnuts in Meredith’s ear. Nina’s shin and ankle were still throbbing, but she liked to imagine that the sugar was going some way to ease the pain.

Meredith was appalled at her harsh words to Annie and had been stung by her equally barbed response. It was true, she had always had an excuse for not being at home—store inventory, trade fairs, trips overseas to locate new stock—and she had let her family stray. She wasn’t sure why she’d done it. If she hadn’t seen Sigrid for a year and a half and didn’t know who she was marrying, it was her own fault and no-one else’s.

Meredith made a heroic effort to keep her worst nightmares at bay. Crocodiles were probably the least of her worries. She retrieved a small torch and her novel from her handbag and attempted to read the tiny print in a small circle of illumination. Although, after rereading the same dramatic passage for the fifth time, she realised that this particular tale of bloodthirsty Nepalese insurgents in the foothills of the Himalayas wasn’t bringing her any comfort. She closed her book and clicked off the light. The night instantly moved in to smother her.

‘I’m sorry, Meredith,’ came Annie’s disembodied voice from the darkness. Nina stopped crunching chocolate to hear what might come next. Meredith rolled over and could make out the lump of Annie’s bedding just a few feet away.

‘You know something?’ Annie continued. ‘I’ve never really had any close female friends. I’ve had the chance to have them, I’ve known lots of great girls, but I just let the relationships slide. And I know it’s been hurtful when I haven’t returned calls
or sent birthday cards, and I’ve been thinking about that on this trip. Why do I do that?

‘Now I think I know. You remember what I said about not wanting kids because of Lizzie dying? I think it’s the same with the women in my life. I’ve somehow thought that if I got too close, depended on them, they might be taken away from me.

‘I’ve got male friends. I’m comfortable with men. But I know I can be distant with women, and critical. So, I’m sorry. Being here with you on this trip has been one of the best things I’ve ever done with other women, and I’m glad Nina made me come.’

Nina realised she’d been holding her breath while Annie spoke. She waited for her usual comic sign-off of ‘Hey, just kidding’ and heard nothing.

Beside her, Meredith sighed deeply. ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m sorry too. I think I started it.’ Annie’s heartfelt confession had touched her and she now felt she wanted to make her own. ‘You’re right about the whole female friend thing.’ Meredith rolled onto her back. ‘I’m the same. I have plenty of acquaintances, of course—women who come into the store regularly, and a few I play tennis with—but not anyone I could call a
real
friend. You know, tell everything to, who’d give me advice.

‘I never really had the time for friendships. I’ve always somehow thought that one day, when I wasn’t so busy, I’d do all that. As if friendships might be something to reward myself with for all my hard work. But in the meantime I’ve gotten old. And every time I think about making friends, it seems harder and harder.’

Meredith paused here to fight down the heaving tide of unhappiness rising in her chest that threatened to spill into
tears. ‘I neglected my kids too. I’m not even friends with my own daughter. The thing that worries me most is that they’ll have children, and I won’t see them. And then what will it have all been for?’

Nina groped under the covers for Meredith’s hand, found it and squeezed. ‘That won’t happen,’ she whispered.

Meredith squeezed a silent ‘thanks’ in return, but continued: ‘It’s exactly what
will
happen. Sigrid’s in Byron, Jarvis will be in London . . .’

Meredith felt Annie swiping in the darkness for her other hand and reached to catch it. ‘Don’t forget, Meredith,’ she said, ‘that you did give them life . . . and inspiration. They’ll always respect you for following your dream. And by the time they have kids, you’ll be able to leave the shop and go visit. You’ve left already, and for all anyone knows you could be walking with Jarvis and pushing a stroller through Notting Hill right now.’

Meredith snorted: ‘I wish I was!’

‘You’ll make it work,’ added Annie.

‘Do you think?’

‘I’m sure of it,’ Annie comforted. ‘It’s the same for you, Nina. That’s why you have to open your café.’

‘It’s funny’—Nina tucked the remains of her chocolate under her pillow—‘I’m worried that if I just stay home for all the boys’ lives, they’ll imagine that’s all women can do—wash sheets, make pancakes and wait on them.’

Meredith was sure of herself on this point: ‘They’ll be flat-out finding a wife, if that’s what they’re after. Girls these days can’t even make toast!’

Annie agreed. ‘Life’s changed so much since our mothers were young. I see young women at work all the time who have no idea what it’d be like if some man said they couldn’t follow their hearts.’

‘And maybe that’s just as well.’ Meredith continued the thought. ‘Why should they care? It’s what we wanted for ourselves and our daughters, isn’t it? To be able to choose how we live our lives.’ The thought that her own daughter was doing exactly that made Meredith pause. ‘Although, they’ll never know how liberating it was not to give a rat’s about shaving your legs. I adored the old “mohair stocking”.’

Annie laughed out loud. ‘Jeez, I haven’t heard that expression for years!’

‘What about you, Annie?’ asked Nina. ‘I always feel so awful when I hear myself going on and on about my family and then remembering you don’t have one . . .’

‘I love hearing about your life!’ Annie propped herself on one elbow. ‘Don’t you ever think I don’t! I think you’re amazing the way you run your house and the store and care for everyone the way you do. If I was just surrounded by other single women moaning about not being married, it wouldn’t be much of a life, would it?’

‘What about a husband?’

‘Marriage? I don’t know. But I would like someone to share my life with. Stand next to me. I just have to keep believing there’s someone waiting for me, that’s all.’

‘I’m sure there is,’ stated Meredith. ‘I’m positive.’

‘You know what I just realised?’ said Nina. ‘None of us has sisters . . .’ And then the realisation of what she had just said made her sit up. ‘Oh God! I mean, you know . . . apart from Lizzie. I’m so sorry, Annie, I didn’t mean . . . Oh Jesus, I’m so bad. I just never stop and think.’

At the sound of her dead sister’s name said aloud by someone after so long, something inside Annie’s heart gave way. She gave voice to the charge she had levelled at herself every day for more than thirty years: ‘It was my fault. I was supposed to be looking after Lizzie that afternoon.’ And then Annie was gulping down tears that threatened to drown her, right where she lay.

Meredith was now sitting up too, clutching at Nina’s arm. ‘No, no . . .’ they began.

‘Mum told me to watch her. But she was always running off and I was looking for her in the hay shed and the chook shed, in the garden . . . and I . . . I just couldn’t find her . . . and all that time she was . . .’

Annie turned her face into her pillow and wept. Meredith and Nina held each other, listening until the muffled sobbing slowed.

Nina cried in sympathy for her friend. ‘How sad for you. To blame yourself all this time for something that couldn’t possibly have been your fault. I love you, Annie.’

Tears slid down Meredith’s face too as she spoke. ‘What a dreadful thing to have happen to you. I can imagine you as a dear little girl, so full of life and joy. To have all that stolen from you. You deserve to find peace and love in this life, and if I can help you find it, I promise I will. I love you too.’

Annie’s chest shuddered, slowed and calmed. She saw the great eye of the dam flutter and close its lid over the stagnant depths. She could hear the water rushing past her ears in the nearby channel. It swept her thoughts along with it away into the creek and she slept.