Roadside Sisters (38 page)

It was twenty years ago when they had dodged over and under each other in the poky dressing rooms at the Athenaeum Theatre, but Meredith could not remember being as nervous about the performance that night as she was now.

Meeting back at the van to prepare for the wedding was probably a mad idea—especially since Nina had left Brad cooling his heels in an expensive luxury penthouse suite—but they all felt they owed the RoadMaster Royale their presence . . . for reasons they couldn’t quite articulate.

They were on the road again. That’s what it was. Just like in the old days. Although, back then, they weren’t sharing lip gloss and champagne. Instead, they had swigged from Briony’s flask of vile blackberry and echinacea tea (good for the throat), been given a painful reflexology foot massage by Jaslyn and had their hair serially tortured by Corinne armed with tail comb and hair spray.

Annie remembered discovering Genevieve that final night, hiding behind a heavy velvet curtain, puffing on a joint. Annie had crammed into the smoky hidey-hole and shared a few illicit drags.

‘Are you nervous?’ Annie had asked.

‘Nah,’ Genevieve had replied. ‘I just reckon it’s good to be alive. We’re all going round just this once, I reckon. We should suck it all down while we can, sister. One day we’ll look back and know that we were never more brave and beautiful than we are now. So let’s just get out there and show ’em what we got.’

Nina, Annie and Meredith leaned against the railing at the top of the cliff. The afternoon sun was dropping below the
mountains behind. The vast ocean, polished to a brilliant pink-orange sheen, heaved and rolled. Waves broke and frothed with apricot-tinged foam. The wedding party was gathering below on the beach.

Nina turned her back on the scene and held her crystal flute of champagne high to capture the last rays of the sun. ‘I’d like to propose a toast . . . to Lizzie Bailey. I think she’s the one who brought us all here.’

‘To Lizzie and her beautiful sister,’ agreed Meredith.

‘To sisters, lost and found!’ Annie held her glass aloft with a steady hand. The sound of tinkling crystal drifted out over the ocean. On the wind’s inward breath came the insistent pounding of pagan drums.

‘Red rose petals for passion, white for purity, yellow for friendship and pink for joy,’ Galantha intoned as she flung the petals from a wicker basket into the ocean. Her tie-dyed skirt washed in and out around her bare, bangled ankles. ‘We call on the winds from the four corners of the earth to bless this union made by the Goddess Aphrodite.’

‘So mote it be,’ the assembled multitude bowed heads and replied in reverent unison.

‘Dear Lord, spare me!’ Meredith groaned in Annie’s ear.

‘Fuck me sideways.’ Annie rolled her eyes.

‘Isn’t it lovely?’ sighed Nina as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue and leaned back to find that familiar, fragrant place for her head on Brad’s chest.

‘Sigrid, Charlie . . .’ Galantha addressed the happy couple. ‘As you give love, so will you receive love. As you give strength, so will you receive strength. Together you are one—apart you are less. Ever love, help and respect each other, and know truly that you are one in the eyes of the gods and of Wicca.’

With the seal of a passionate kiss Sigrid and Charlie were pronounced to be wed.

An archway of flaming torches stuck in the sand illuminated the throng who were dressed in rainbow colours and chattered like a flock of parrots. The newlyweds posed this way and that in response to calls of ‘over here, over here!’. Drums beat out a wild tribal rhythm, bells clanged, Tibetan finger cymbals chimed. Meredith reflected that the wedding photos would be a far cry from the blurry happy snaps of the Dalrymples outside the bluestone Melbourne registry office all those years ago.

Sigrid stood front and centre—tall and effortlessly elegant, like her mother—in a cream raw silk shirt tucked into white cotton drawstring pants. Charlie stood next to her in a champagne silk petticoat slip, tiny pink rosebuds threaded through her blonde tresses. Meredith held hands with Jarvis and next to him was Donald, alarmingly tanned and sprightly, holding hands with his new squeeze, Tania, who was complaining that her cyclamen satin high-heeled sandals were being ruined by the saltwater tide.

Brad’s arms encircled his wife’s waist. He was smiling broadly, standing a good head and a half taller than the rest of the multitude. Nina was already making plans for escape back to their suite for another night of passion—her sitting astride his
naked, muscled thighs as the waves pounded the shore and the sea breeze blew at her back.

Annie too was swept away by the joy of it all. She was laughing—mouth open, curls blown into disarray by the wind—when she had that sense again that Matty was looking at her. Then she caught sight of him standing at the top of the cliff, just beyond the flash of the cameras. That solid silhouette, two feet planted firmly on the earth, that she thought she might always recognise, wherever, whenever she saw it.

The photographs made, the wedding party and guests piled into a convoy of cars. On a slamming car-door and honking-horn tide of happiness the guests headed for the hills. Brad, in the driver’s seat next to Nina, made a stop in front of Matty, who was dragged into the back to sit between Annie and Meredith.

‘
Swing low, sweet chariot
,’ crooned Meredith as she reached her arm around Annie’s shoulders.

‘
Comin’ for to carry me home
,’ Annie leaned to kiss Nina’s cheek.

‘
Swing low, sweet chariot
,’ Nina threaded her fingers through Annie’s.

‘
Comin’ for to carry me home
,’ they sang in perfect, glorious three-part harmony.

A hundred pairs of hands clapped with admiration as the trio tumbled from the makeshift stage under the carport. The floor was scattered with the last frangipanis of the season. The beams
were strung with Buddhist prayer flags, Hindu talismans, batik sarongs and bundles of dried herbs.

Had they ever sung together before? If they hadn’t, they certainly should do. They were really wonderful! It would be a shame if they were ever to break up! Could they be booked for a school fundraiser? A birthday party? They were asked these questions over and over again as they were plied with slices of cold wholemeal pizza on paper plates and plastic cups of white wine.

‘We used to sing together, but it’s a long time ago now,’ said Nina.

‘A lifetime ago,’ agreed Annie.

‘But we just got back together, for a reunion tour,’ Meredith added.

Annie sat back in her seat and thumbed through the in-flight magazine. Brad and Nina were sitting in front—her blonde head on his broad shoulder. Beside her, Meredith had taken out her novel and it was sitting on her lap, unopened, because she couldn’t tear herself away from the window—looking down at the coastline, she was amazed to see how far their travels had taken them.

Annie tucked the magazine back in the seat pocket and turned to Meredith. ‘There’s something I forgot to ask you.’

‘Hmm?’

‘You were going to talk to Donald about what happened that night in the car with Corinne. Did he tell you?’

Meredith rummaged for her sunglasses. They were flying above the clouds now, and the light was startlingly bright.

‘Yes, he did. After he’d had too many pineapple daiquiris.’

‘And?’

‘He’d been having an affair with Corinne. For all those years we were in Sanctified Soul, apparently. All that time when the children were little.’

‘No!’

‘That night she gave him an ultimatum. She wanted him to leave me and the children, and marry her.’

‘Fuck me! I can’t believe it.’ Annie stared at Meredith, who stared straight ahead, sunglasses masking her emotion.

‘He told her he was staying with me. They had a huge fight in the car. He swears that he didn’t try to rape her—she was the one who hit him. I can only think that she invented the story to cover the fact that she couldn’t deal with seeing him again.’

‘That makes sense, I guess. But it was an incredible thing to accuse him of.’

‘I’m sure she wanted to hurt him. From what he told me, she was unbearably disappointed. They really did love each other, so he said.’

‘It’s strange, isn’t it? Even the other night, when she could have thrown it at you, she never mentioned it.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Why, do you think?’

‘I’m not sure. Maybe because she couldn’t stand to admit, even to herself, that she’d lost him to me. Pride, maybe.’

‘So that means that you and Corinne shared . . .’

Meredith slid her glasses to the top of her head. ‘I know! We were both in love with Donald. Can you believe it? Maybe deep down I knew, and that’s why I hated her so much.’

‘And do you still hate her?’

‘No, not really. I’ve got a beautiful son and daughter . . . Two daughters now. I don’t need anything more.’

‘Anything from the mini-bar today?’ asked the flight attendant.

Annie hesitated. ‘No, I don’t think I will, thanks.’

‘Good for you,’ winked Meredith. ‘We’ll both have tea, thank you, but do you have any china cups? I’m allergic to plastic.’

‘I’ll see what I can find, madam.’

Annie placed her hand over Meredith’s on the armrest. ‘It must be devastating for you to find out after all this time.’

Meredith squeezed Annie’s hand. ‘There’s no point in being angry about it now. I’m sure there were others over the years. I’m glad for him, in a way. He probably knew that once I’d had the children and established the business, I didn’t really need him anymore.’

‘Like a fish needs a bicycle . . . ?’

‘Maybe. I wonder if Edith felt the same about Bernie.’

Brad leaned over from the seat in front. ‘Meredith? Annie? Nina’s dad’s bringing the Odyssey to the airport. There’ll be room for you both. Do you need a lift?’

‘Thank you, Brad, but I don’t think I’d fit,’ said Meredith. ‘I’ve got that damned mermaid painting, remember?’

Nina peeked between the seats. ‘I can’t believe they didn’t like it. What did they say they wanted for a wedding present anyway?’

‘Glassware.’

‘Oops!’

‘How about you, Annie? Are you right?’ asked Brad.

‘Yeah,’ smiled Annie, ‘I’m fine. I’ll make my own way back home.’

‘OK. Well, looks like we’re all set then.’

And, for now, they were.

This book has been inspired by my beloved father, Graham Frederick Brown. Dad has never been able to resist the lure of a long drive. He is a trusted guide, a loving and faithful companion on my life’s journey.

Once again I am in debt to the back-seat drivers at Allen & Unwin—Richard Walsh, Annette Barlow, Alexandra Nahlous and Jo Jarrah—they have been brilliant navigators on this particular trip!

As ever, my husband Brendan has helped me ‘stop, revive and survive’. Thanks too to my dear little speed humps Marley and Maeve.

And finally (at risk of over-extending this analogy), much love to my dear lollipop lady, Hilary Linstead.

Happy trails!