Drip Dry (23 page)

‘Fergus told me. Go on.'

‘Then don't interrupt. And actually, do you mind if we talk about this a little later? When I've had a few more drinks?'

‘Sure – as long as you tell me, that is. I'm not leaving here until you do.'

‘Fair enough. But for now let's talk about something else.' I take another sip of scotch and put my glass down. I have decided that I really do want to talk to Terry about the whole mess, but I'm not quite ready yet. Apart from anything else I'm still coming to grips with the idea that she finds Fergus, the pastel handyman, an attractive proposition.

‘Hey, d'you want to come and watch my tennis final tomorrow?'

‘What time and where?'

‘One o'clock at the Boronia courts. They're right next to the bike track.'

‘So? Do I look like I'm going to cycle down there?'

‘Heaven forbid. You coming?'

‘Actually, I might. I'll see how I go for time.'

‘Oh, I forgot! I hear congratulations are in order for becoming an aunt again twice over. Well done! Was it painful?'

‘Not for me – all went as smooth as silk.' I smile, although I get a brief mental flashback to the champagne cork embedded in Alex's ceiling and the look on Maggie's face. ‘I suppose Bronte told you?'

‘Yes, I heard all about it ad infinitum. How cute they are, how tiny they are, how alert they are, how lucky your sister is to be going home to dirty nappies and sleepless nights.'

‘I know! Isn't it funny how babies seem to suck you in? I mean, and don't you dare laugh, for just a split second while I was holding one of them, I started thinking about what it would be like to have another one! Can you believe it?'

‘No, I don't think I can!' Terry starts to laugh. ‘Sorry! But you have to know when to give up.'

‘I do, you idiot! I have no intention of having any more kids, and the very thought of being pregnant makes my skin crawl. All I meant was that that's what they do, babies, they make you forget about what extra
baggage
they are, and before you know it, you're paying the costs, over and over and over again.'

‘Look, I'm sorry but I don't get where you're coming from at all. I wanted one child, I had one child, end of story. Why would I even be tempted to have any more when I don't want them?'

‘Do you mean that, even back when you were married to what's-his-name, it never crossed your mind to have another baby after Bronte?'

‘No. Why would it? I just said that we only wanted one.'

‘You're unnatural. A freak of nature.'

‘Anyway, let's change the subject. I've had enough of babies from my daughter.' Terry waves a hand, airily dismissing Robin, Regan and babies in general. ‘How did orientation day go?'

‘Excellent. I was really nervous before but it was actually quite fun. I got all the subjects I wanted, including German, but don't tell Sam – I'm going to keep that as a surprise. And I also joined this association for mature students. I'm really looking forward to starting.'

‘When
do
you start?'

‘Couple of weeks.'

‘I'm insanely jealous.'

‘Then
do
it! After all, what's stopping you? Go on, be a devil.'

‘Yeah, I should, shouldn't I?' Terry takes a sip of wine and looks around morosely.

‘I don't understand you. You say you hate your job and you want something different, but you never talk seriously about actually doing something different! C'mon, take the plunge!'

‘Hey, speaking of plunges, guess who I got a letter from yesterday.'

‘Who?' I ask with a sigh as I grab a handful of pretzels, knowing full well that this is Terry's attempt to change the subject.

‘Joanne!'

‘You're kidding!' I look at Terry with considerable interest, because Joanne is a mutual friend of
ours who decided to go to Tibet a few months ago and try to ‘find' herself. ‘So has she found herself yet?'

‘I don't think so. She's still looking anyway. But she's having a ball.'

‘Any word on when she's coming back?'

‘None whatsoever.' Terry empties her glass and passes it to me. ‘I think she'll be there for quite some time.'

‘Well, I'm glad she's enjoying herself. If it wasn't for her, I'd probably be squatting in jail right at this very moment forced into being a plaything for some big tattooed mama.'

‘Sorry to crush your illusions, but you're a tad too old to be a plaything.'

‘True. Well, then I'd be a plaything for a big tattooed mama with vision impairment.'

‘Besides, if it wasn't for Joanne you wouldn't have been in the predicament in the first place, would you?' Terry reaches out for some pretzels. ‘And then she wouldn't have had to save you at all.'

‘That's one way of looking at it, I suppose.' I put Terry's glass down and go into the kitchen to fetch the champagne out of the fridge. Then I bring it into the lounge-room, fill her glass, and put the bottle down in front of her.

‘Anyway, back to the letter.' Terry picks up her glass. ‘She said she was lucky enough to get a place in this retreat joint. Some sort of Tibetan monk cliff thing with a great view. And even though her inner self is proving a bit elusive, she's been doing quite a bit of meditation and says she's feeling a lot calmer
within herself – less hyper, you know. She sounded really happy.'

‘To each their own. Wonder what she's wearing today?' I don't ask this because I'm particularly fashion conscious but because Joanne has a rather quaint habit of dressing each day to suit her mood. That is, each morning she assesses the day's merits and her own, and then chooses an outfit shaded accordingly – black for depression, green for environmental, yellow for sunny and optimistic, brown for earthy, and so on. I must admit, it means that you can tell with one glance whether or not it's a good idea to spend time with her on any given day.

‘Hmm,' Terry looks thoughtfully at the ceiling and then flicks her hair back, ‘probably something pastel for inner harmony.'

‘Well, I'm glad it's working out for her. She deserves some breaks.'

‘Yeah. Now all I need is some breaks too.'

‘Oh, Terry.' I look up at her in surprise. ‘It's not that bad, is it?'

‘No, not really. Only I'm going through a rather down week, that's all.' Terry grimaces at me and reaches for another cracker. ‘You know how it is.'

‘
Boy
, do I know how it is,' I say with feeling, ‘but you can tell me what's getting you down anyway. Maybe it'll help.'

She pops the cracker in her mouth and leans back. ‘Firstly there's the one and only fruit of my loins.'

‘You really have a fixation with loins at the moment, haven't you?'

‘It's my new hobby.'

‘So what's Bronte done now?'

‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing – and that's half the problem. She seems to have only one goal in life nowadays, and that's to play happy housemaids and keep that nephew of yours content. And she's due back at uni in a week or so, and is showing
absolutely
no interest in it. She certainly hasn't lifted a book for as long as I can remember. Every spare minute she spends with
him
and then, since your sister went into hospital before Christmas, she's been over there every day cooking, cleaning, washing, even bloody ironing. And, like I said before, all she talks about is Nick, babies, Nick, babies, Nick, babies. I really don't get it.'

‘Yes, I see,' I say wisely.

‘Look, don't get me wrong. I quite like Nick – but I think I just wanted something more for Bronte than what she seems to want for herself.'

‘Perhaps that's the key.'

‘What do you mean?' Terry takes a sip of champagne and regards me thoughtfully.

‘Well. First of all there's the letting go stuff – it's only been you and her for so long that that's bound to be an issue. And then there's what she's actually
doing
, the path she's choosing. You learnt the hard way and perhaps there's enough of you in her to mean that
she
has to learn the hard way as well. But, having said that, perhaps it
won't
be the hard way for her. You
are
very different, you know. What might make you happy is not necessarily what'll make her happy – in fact, I'm pretty sure it's definitely not.' I
take a deep breath and look at Terry inquiringly. ‘Does that make sense?'

‘Well, actually – yes.' Terry takes another sip and stares into her glass for a moment.

‘It does?' I say in surprise, because it sounded pretty mixed up to me.

‘Yes, it does.' Terry smiles at me. ‘It's given me something to think about at least.'

‘Oh,
good
.'

‘But I'd still like her to finish her degree.'

‘Yep, I can see that.'

‘And then there's my job. I tell you, I
really
hate it now – it's so goddamn boring that I think I'm going to scream. You are
so
lucky that you got out the way you did. No, don't say anything –' she holds up her hand and then continues – ‘and then let's move on to men. You know how I decided mid-last year that I was ready for a relationship? Well, do you think I can find one? I'm sick of the single scene. It's the pits for someone my age,
you
won't come out with me, and everyone else is just so
desperate
. No, I've given up on that.' She pauses to fill her glass and take a sip.

‘But you often seem to have dates!'

‘I know, but they all end up being absolute losers. I don't know, it's like I always pick the ones who are going to let me down eventually. Like Bob the Builder in there.' Terry leans closer and lowers her voice: ‘I thought he was
really
cute, and I was actually
hoping
that he'd ask me out – and then I find out he gets his jollies at Maggie's brothel! How can I compete with that? And don't laugh! I tell you, it's so typical.'

‘I wasn't going to laugh,' I say as I compose my face and try to look affronted.

‘Yeah, right.'

‘Well, you're not the only one. Will it make you feel better if I tell you how I made a complete fool of myself with my ex-husband?'

‘Actually, yes, it probably would.'

‘Typical.' I laugh and get up to go and refill my scotch and coke. When I get back Terry has topped up her champagne and tucked herself up on the couch. She grabs a handful of pretzels and turns to face me.

‘Okay, I'm ready. Amuse me.'

‘Prepare to be amused then.' I put my glass down on the coffee table and make myself comfortable on the couch. ‘Well, I told you that it was on Tuesday, didn't I?'

‘Yep, don't stall.'

‘I'm not stalling. Anyway, I had CJ's birthday party and –'

‘Flaming hell, I forgot! I meant to ring and wish her happy birthday.'

‘Well, you could have told her when you got here, couldn't you?'

‘Wasn't she asleep?'

‘Actually, no, she wasn't. If you hadn't been so busy making eyes at my repairman and distracting him from what he was supposed to be doing, you would have heard me saying goodnight to her.'

‘Oh. Well, I'll catch up with her next time.' Terry looks slightly relieved at escaping a meeting with my youngest daughter. For some reason that I have never
been able to quite fathom, the two of them do not get along together particularly well.

‘Anyway, where's Sam and Ben?' she asks, looking around as if she has suddenly realised they're not here either.

‘Sam's at some disco somewhere and is staying the night at Sara's, and Ben's down the road at Jeff Bailey's place and he'll be back at ten. So, do you want to hear about this or not?'

‘Of course I do! But first, how did Keith behave himself at the party?'

‘Amazingly well, actually. He was quite helpful and, yes, I was pretty surprised too,' I say in answer to her raised eyebrows. ‘But it was while he was still here that the others arrived – Maggie and Sam and Alex. So I got them a drink and acted all nervous and idiotic and then – oh my god, Terry, you wouldn't believe it but CJ put on this videotape that –' I pause as I look at Terry thoughtfully and make a spur of the moment decision not to share with her my brief stint as a porn star. Terry's a great friend but she can have a rather wacky sense of humour and that tape is something she would never let me live down. Never.

‘Yes? CJ put on a videotape that what?'

‘Oh, that was just a Disney thing and the kids just watched it.'

‘What's so “oh my god Terry” about that?'

‘I was just remembering how awkward it was, with Keith and Alex and Maggie glaring at each other, that's all,' I answer smoothly. ‘Anyway, after the party was finished and the kids all gone, I went over to his place for pizza and champagne – a lot of
champagne – and Maggie had already gone, and then the kids went to bed and we just stayed up talking. And it was so hot –'

‘That you were compelled to take your clothes off and one thing led to another?'

‘Do you mind?'

‘Sorry.'

‘Anyway,
as
I was saying, it was that really hot night and we were only sitting up talking. In his swampbag and –'

‘His
swampbag
?' Terry is already looking decidedly more cheerful. ‘I've never heard of
that
one before. What the hell's a
swampbag
?'

‘Oh, it's just a beanbag – coloured like a bit of swamp, that's all.'

‘O-
kay
. That sounds
really
romantic. This guy obviously knows how to impress a lady. I feel weak at the knees already.'

‘Anyway,' I continue, trying to ignore her, ‘there we are, lying in the beanbag –'