Versace Sisters (29 page)

'I can't believe we're standing outside the Elephant Bar,'
Chantrea squealed with excitement. 'It's one of the most
famous bars in the world, you know!'

'Of course I know,' her mother scolded. 'Your father
and I were well-known here when we were in our twenties,'
she said with pride. 'Often the manager would pay
for our drinks, he held us in such high esteem.'

'Really, Mum?' Chantrea asked. 'That's amazing. You
were quite famous, weren't you?'

'I try and tell you this for years and you don't listen,' Dara
Kim retorted and the three travellers turned to climb the terracotta
stairs to the iconic powder-blue arched French doors.

Chantrea looked down at Sally. 'Are you too tired for
one more stop, sweetie? We've had a very busy day.'

The solemn little eyes looked up. 'No, Mummy, I really
want to see the elephants.'

Chantrea laughed. 'You know they're not real elephants,
don't you?'

'Of course, Mum.' The little girl rolled her eyes in derision.
'They're paintings of elephants.'

Sally's Cambodian adventure had officially started that
morning when they'd awoken at their hotel on the Riverfront
Promenade. The Tonle Sap river sparkled in front of
them and the hydro traffic competed with the road traffic
for chaos and drama.

They'd tuk-tuked it to the Royal Palace, one of the few
national treasures the Khmer Rouge had spared during its
reign of terror, now home to the current royal family.

Chantrea, infected by Sally's excitement for the fairytale
princess palace, skipped with her daughter through the
elaborate grounds and gasped in delight at the sculptures,
small palaces and stupas, commemorating past royal family
members.

The Silver Pagoda was the little girl's clear favourite.
When Sally first saw the silver floor tiles adorning the
pagoda she instantly suggested they replace their floorboards
at home with similar ones. 'What a splendid idea,'
Chantrea had agreed immediately.

The emerald Buddha, looking down in solemn beauty
from his golden dais, subdued their excitement momentarily
and they stared back in awe. However, the moment
passed when Sally squealed at the sight of the statue of
'Buddha of the Future' resting in front of the Emerald
Buddha. It was solid gold and covered in diamonds. 'Wow,
he must be worth kazillions!' she'd exclaimed.

The tour of the Royal Palace had taken the small group
most of the day. Chantrea had been determined not to miss
a single historical fact or bas relief.

'You know your father and I were honoured guests at
a banquet at the Royal Palace once,' Dara Kim boasted.
'I wore a long gown in shell pink. I looked like an orchid.'

'Oh, Granny Yay, you must have been beautiful,' Sally
sighed and she gazed in delight at the European dollhouse
cuteness of the Napolean III Pavilion.

Their feet ached in thanks when they finally sat down
in the Elephant Bar. As they lounged in the wicker chairs
awaiting their drinks, Chantrea looked at her travelling
companions. 'Mum and Sally, thanks so much for suggesting
this trip. I am having a great time. It's a beautiful
country, you were right. So rich with culture and architecture
and the French food is to die for. I finally understand
what you mean: it's magnificent.'

Dara Kim assessed the coloured elephantine motifs on
the wall as the waiter deposited their Femme Fatales, for
which the bar was legend, and Sally's Sprite.

'Mmmm,' the older woman said with a shoulder shrug,
'yeah, sure, it's a nice place, but it's no Sydney – now
there's a city!'

*

Jacqueline gazed out at the rolling pastureland. A distant
moo reverberated around the undulating green hills. The
backdrop of the Blue Mountains shimmered in its eucalyptus
haze. She had been thrilled when Thomas had suggested
a weekend farmhouse getaway.

The boys were on holidays, Thomas's business was
expanding into a second surgery and everybody had
become very supportive of Jacqueline's burgeoning Cake
Lady enterprise. She looked over at her husband sitting in
the other white cane chair and smiled.

'Wouldn't mind a Crown Lager, darling,' he murmured
from behind his collector's edition of
Teeth, Roots and
Gums
.

'You know where the fridge is,' she replied and, closing
her eyes, leant her head back onto the floral cushion to
enjoy the late afternoon sun.

'Oh, yes, right, of course,' he said and leapt to his feet.

Within seconds the wine glass at her elbow was being
topped up.

'Thank you, darling,' she said.

*

Mallory stopped for a moment to recover. The last section
of the Coastal Walk was a killer. The steps were so steep
she didn't know how people actually jogged them. She
stepped onto the grass to let yet another Eastern Suburbs
Angel bounce by, all perky buttocks and velour tracksuit
with a ponytail in a rainbow of blonde shades.

She arrived at the tip of McKenzie's Point and entered
the circular sandstone paved viewing station. As she
breathed in deeply to try to catch her breath she looked out
over the ocean. Bondi Beach lay behind her and the South
Pacific Ocean stretched in front like a giant teal shag carpet,
textured and deep.

The waves churning at the sandstone cliffs below were
the colour of raw glass – deceiving in their innocuous
frothiness. The famous Bondi Coastal Walk was an inspiration
at every turn. This morning's shower had caused
impromptu waterfalls to skip down the dappled cliffs. The
rivulets leapt over cantilevered rock shelves and ducked
through ferns, turning the algae cover a bright emerald.

Mallory turned around to take in the elongated new
moon that was Bondi Beach. The structures that perched
on the far point of the bay and crept into the beach town
reminded her of the clifftop dwellings she'd once visited
in Skiathos, each seemingly straining against the other to
get the better view.

She looked back at the variegations of the cliff's rugged
face. The pockmarked bulging beast was humbling when
she'd walked under its bulk a few minutes earlier. But from
here it looked fragile in its pastel palette of oyster, rust and
tan.

Her fingers itched; she wanted to somehow own the
beauty, to recreate it, to make it hers. She made a promise
to bring her camera next time so at least she could capture
it that way.

She'd never noticed the beauty of the area in such
detail before. Her tentative walking pace had forced her
to slow down, giving her the time to look and really see
her surroundings. In the past, she had simply counted the
kilometres she'd conquered while measuring her pulse.
But this time was different.

The lead in her right hand tugged and she looked down
at the white shaggy furball she and Tilly had christened
Miffy, who was desperately pulling to get closer to the
interesting smell embedded in the flowering gazania lining
the path.

Miffy's short shitzu legs were good for nothing more
than digging and play, Mallory had quickly discovered, and
the puppy preferred to be carried when the two went out
on their daily walks. Mallory didn't mind at all: there was
something very soothing about having the warm bundle of
fluff tucked under her arm as she strolled around the eastern
suburbs. But at every rest stop Miffy would scramble to get
down and sniff around the immediate area to ensure all was
well in her olfactory world.

The Sculpture by the Sea exhibition was on display and
woman and puppy stood for a while longer. Mallory took
in a piece depicting sailboats laser-cut from red rusty Core
Ten, while Miffy admired an impressively sized dog turd.

The sailboat piece, titled 'All at Sea', by famous Melbourne
artist Robert Delves, had a rustic, industrial quality
that complemented the rugged brush landscape.

Miffy started up her gutsy little yapping and Mallory
turned to see what the commotion was about. The puppy
was leaping up in the air, endeavouring to give a large
friendly labrador what-for. The labrador simply smiled its
big-jawed goofy smile and laid a lick on Miffy so powerful
it toppled her onto her side. She leapt up, yipping at the
indignity. Mallory smiled at the labrador's owner who was
as muscular and blond as his pet, though with a much less
goofy grin.

'So funny,' he said. 'What kind of dog is it?'

'She's a shitzu,' Mallory replied and scooped up the
animation on legs. Miffy's legs drooped on either side of
Mallory's forearm and only one black eye peeped out from
the silky curtain of fringe.

'She's adorable,' he said and scratched her behind
the ear. Miffy's legs waggled in pleasure. 'Do you like the
artwork?' he asked, indicating the sculpture.

'Yes, it's beautiful, although I've only just started. I
planned to walk to Tamarama and see a few more pieces.'

'There's a stunning one three along, made from some
kind of acrylic, it's transparent,' he said. 'A fascinating take
on the Emperor's new clothes. The artist uses it as a metaphor
for Sydneysiders and their obsession with beauty.'

'Really?' Mallory asked, intrigued to learn more, 'how
cool.'

'Yeah, very cool. I know the artist's work and I reckon
this is the best I've seen. Although not as sophisticated as this
Delves piece, of course. I'm Paul, by the way.'

Mallory extended her small hand formally. 'Mallory,'
she replied, smiling widely.

As Mallory and Paul wound their way along the Sculpture
Walk together she discovered that he owned a gallery
in Darling Point that featured street art and industrial exhibitions.
Boris, the labrador, and Miffy were getting along
very well, now that Boris had learnt who was boss.

Paul gave Mallory a crash course on sculpture and
form as they wandered through the coastal artworks,
her head spinning with new ideas and perspectives. The
lesson was over too soon, as the couple and their dogs
arrived at Tamarama Beach, or Glamourama as the locals
called it because it was a favourite among the gorgeous
young things that frequented the topless haven. Today
an impromptu wet T-shirt competition with a twist was
taking place on the water's edge. Buff young men stood in
the shallows, their tight shirts clinging to their pecs, while
equally beautiful young women in the adoring audience
soaked up the sight.

After a quick mango lassi together at the beach cafe,
Paul invited Mallory to an exhibition opening that night at
his gallery. They said their goodbyes and Mallory walked
back to her car, excited about her future for the first time
in months.

*

'. . . and Space Mountain, and Nemo Submarine and
Pirates of the Caribbean –'

'And the Mad Hatter's Tea Party,' Alexandra interrupted
her sister's wish list of which ride to try first at Disneyland.

'Yes, yes,' Sam laughed in joy at their enthusiasm. 'But
we've only just walked in the gate. Any chance Bella and
I can get a latte on Main Street first?'

'NO!' The girls yelled and ran off as Pluto and his
entourage rounded the corner.

Sam wondered if he was allowed to be this happy. The
bright Los Angeles sun bathed the fake dominion and
enhanced the feeling of benevolence and wellbeing Disneyland
was famous for. Chirpy music filtered through the
hidden speakers.

He gazed in wonder at the hordes of tourists who
flooded into the theme park. The Japanese were buying
every trademarked product from pencil toppers to ice-cream
makers. The Europeans were taking photos and reading the
history markers and the Americans were eating.

The pristine streets were dust mote free, the walls
unmarked by grime, and not one tiny pea light was blown
in the strings of eleven thousand that draped the candy-coloured
faux facades. It truly was a fantasyland.

He looked at the beautiful woman standing by his
side, smiling at his children, and wondered if she too was
simply an illusion. Touching her gently on the arm he felt
her warmth, her blood pumping. Her soft skin was silky
under his fingers. She was very real. She turned to him and
wrapped her arms around his waist. Her shoulder slotted
perfectly under his arm as he returned the embrace.

'This is brilliant, Bella,' he told her. 'Thanks so much
for organising it.'

'Hey, in my game, the world's your playground,' Bella
said and watched as the girls jumped up and down, waiting
their turn with the famous dog.

'Well, it's good of you, darling, to sacrifice your precious
holiday time and spend it at a theme park filled with
children – and my children at that.'

'Are you kidding? I love your girls. We had so much fun
shopping yesterday.'

'You spoil them rotten, Bella,' he said. 'You mustn't
spend so much money on them.'

'Oh, we're on holiday, I promise it will be back to
wicked stepmother when we get home.'

'Will you wear the cape and boots and brandish a
sceptre?' he asked with a cheeky grin.

'Only if you promise to be the fairest in the land,' she
replied.

Bella turned her face up to his and, with the Magic
Castle looking down on them in the Happiest Place on
Earth™, they kissed.

The chilling, primal scream ripped through Vince's serenity.
He'd been immersed in the sports pages while reclining
on the armchair in the hospital room when Sharee's cry
made him jump through the roof.

'You right there, Sharee?' he asked, more in irritation
than concern.

He'd been rudely dragged from a deep sleep three hours
ago when she'd thumped him unceremoniously and yelled,
'It's time! Move it!'

Mallory would never have treated him like that. Sharee
was proving to be more trouble than she was worth. Still,
he was a man of honour: he'd knocked her up (with his
super-swimmers, he reminded himself proudly), and he
was going to stand by his new family. He owed them
that much. Besides, it would be so brilliant to have a son.
They'd go to the footy together; hang out; drink beer; go
bush-bashing; sailing – it would be fan-fucking-tastic.

Poor Mallory, though, he sometimes felt a twinge of
guilt about dumping her. She was a good kid. They'd had
some laughs, some good times. The thing is, he thought as
he stared unseeing at his newspaper, I love her, but I'm just
not
in
love with her. He deserved his happiness, and having
this little guy would be great.

And besides, Sharee was usually a top chick, a tiger in
the sack (not that he'd been getting much action lately, but
that'd change once the kid was born). Sharee was more
like him, they had a real blast together – and wasn't that
what life was all about? Having a good time? Still, it had
been really hard breaking up with Mal, he'd felt lousy for
literally days.

Anyway, Mallory wouldn't take him back now anyway.
Just after Christmas he'd gotten a bit sentimental and tried
to reconcile with his missus. It was sheer brilliance on his
part that he had the plan to dump Sharee
after
getting back
with his wife in case it didn't work out with Mal.

So when Mallory rejected him (amidst peals of highly
unnecessary and slightly hysterical laughter) there was really
no harm done. He'd always been one to keep his options
open: 'Don't burn your bridges, son,' his old man used to
say.

So here he was, back at plan A. Not a barrel of laughs
yet, he had to admit, but that would all change when he
took his new family on a surprise boating holiday around
the Whitsundays in six months' time.

'Where's the fucking anaethetist?' Sharee demanded of
the midwife. 'I need that epidural NOW!'

'You're too far gone, love,' the midwife said in her most
soothing manner. It was obvious she was accustomed to
abusive, freaked-out, labouring women. 'You've reached
ten centimetres, and very quickly too I might add, good
job. You're about to have your baby. See if you can push
on the next contraction.'

'Where the fuck is my obstetrician?! I don't want some
nurse delivering my baby. Especially since he's decided to
come a bloody month early!'

Vince sighed and hauled himself out of the chair; he
figured it was time to get involved.

'We've called your doctor, he's on his way, but the
traffic is shocking out there apparently and who would
have guessed you'd progress so quickly,' the midwife
replied, smoothly ignoring the insult. 'Okay, the baby's
crowning, oh, here it comes, try and push hard with the
next contraction, dear, you're doing a great job. Oh,
dear,' she said as she caught the first glimpse of the baby's
head.

'What is it?' Vince asked, 'is something wrong?'

'Not at all, it's probably best if you don't come down to
the business end of things; just stay up there and hold your
partner's hand.'

The other midwife bustled about the room preparing
the cot, the heat lamp and the baby's first tiny outfit.

The attending midwife glanced up at the monitor. 'Here
we go, dear, here comes another contraction, now push as
hard as you can, we have to get the head out.'

'You think I don't know there's another one coming,
you stupid cow, what am I –' Sharee's volley of abuse was
cut short as the contraction tightened across her back and
belly as if she were in the jaws of a crocodile. She screamed
and crushed Vince's small hand.

'Ow, that hurt,' Vince whinged and pulled his hand out
of her grasp. 'You can hold your own hand if that's how
you're going to behave.' He tucked his tender appendage
under his other arm and stuck out his bottom lip.

With an almighty push, Sharee forced the tiny creature
out into the world in one fast swoosh. The midwife caught
the new little body before it hit the deck.

'Oh, how beautiful, you've got yourselves a daughter,'
she said as she hurriedly wrapped the child in warm
blankets.

'What the fuck?!' Vince demanded. 'You told me it was
going to be a boy!'

'I thought it was,' Sharee protested. 'I dunno, it looked
like one on the ultrasound.'

The midwife rolled her eyes. These two were a right
royal treat. 'Be thankful she's healthy,' she said and turned
to present the child to the proud parents. 'And she's such
a beautiful colour!'

Vince was staring out the window in a sulk when the
new mother took hold of her infant for the first time. 'Uh
oh,' Sharee said in a little voice.

'What?' Vince demanded and turned to see what his
girlfriend was talking about.

He looked down at the tightly wrapped bundle as she
turned her tiny head, her mouth pulling at the corners as it
instinctively sought the nipple.

The satin newborn skin was the colour of the darkest
caramel and her wee head was capped with silky tight
black curls.