Authors: Lynne Wilding
‘I’d like to see what you’ve done so far. When can I?’
‘You are on holiday,’ Vanessa reminded her friend.
Kerri gave her a piercing, typically Kerri look. ‘Did you bring it with you?’
‘Yes, but …’ Vanessa smiled and gave in. ‘It’s in our room.’
‘Good. I have no problem mixing business with pleasure. Makes everything all the more tax deductible.’
Vanessa laughed and shook her head. Kerri was always mindful of the pound value in everything she did. If there was an angle to be exploited she did so and last night Kerri had been on the job, making sure she was introduced to the wheelers and dealers in the Australian theatrical world, people it might be important to know. ‘Working the crowd,’ Kerri called it … But now she’d talked about her script, there was one more personal thing she wanted to share …
‘I’m not sure you’re going to like hearing this, but there is one more thing,’ she paused, then charged on, ‘I think I might be pregnant.’
‘You
think.’
A black eyebrow rose querulously. ‘Don’t you know?’
‘It’s early days. I’m only a week and a half overdue.’ Vanessa’s smile was radiant with expectation. ‘I haven’t told Bren yet, ’cause I don’t want to disappoint him.’
Kerri gave Vanessa a hard-eyed stare for a moment or two and sucked in her cheeks as she pondered this news. The fingers of her left hand drummed a staccato beat on the pristine table cloth. The dining room, which was almost devoid of diners, seemed suddenly, oppressively quiet.
‘Well,’ Kerri finally said, straight-faced, ‘I wondered how long you’d take to reproduce. You’ve been married for more than a year. Is it what you want?’ she asked. She smiled as Vanessa nodded that it was. Her fat, be-ringed fingers reached across the table to pat Vanessa’s hand. ‘Congratulations, luv.’
Vanessa blinked, recovered her aplomb. ‘You approve?’
‘I wouldn’t say
approve
. A child will make a difference to your career, to what work you can do. I’ve been expecting, shall we say,
something.’
‘Could we keep it to ourselves till I’m absolutely sure?’
Kerri winked at her then touched the side of her nose, her smile widening, ‘Pardon the pun but, “Mum’s the word!”’ She glanced towards the dining room’s windows through which a view of part of the harbour could be seen. Outside, it was a sunny morning. ‘Sunshine. Bloody wonderful, isn’t it? If only I could bottle it and take it back to England with me. Come on, we’ve got things to do. Let’s have the hotel do a copy of your script then, guess what?’
Vanessa grinned and her brown eyes twinkled. ‘We’re going shopping?’
‘Spot on. Our fifteenth wedding anniversary’s coming up. I want to get a string of black pearls, like the strand you had on last night.’
Vanessa chuckled at Kerri’s well known love of fine jewellery. ‘You’re incorrigible.’
During the five days Vanessa and Bren spent in Sydney, they saw little of Nova. When they enquired she was out with friends, unavailable for dinner most nights and, generally, a will-o-the-wisp. They discovered why the night before they were due to go home, when Nova knocked on the Selby’s suite door.
‘Hi, everybody,’ Nova said as she came into the living area. ‘Packing, I see.’
‘I assume you’ve done yours,’ Vanessa said. Over the five days they had been there she had been disappointed by Nova’s behaviour. At Amaroo, she was always around helping, chatting, showing her how to do various tasks, whereas here, after attending the premiere, she couldn’t help but think that the younger woman had decided to give Bren and herself the flick. Busy with promotional commitments, and Kerri, she hadn’t spent a lot of time assessing Nova’s behaviour, but when she had thought about it, it niggled at her sense of rightness.
‘I’m not going home,’ Nova announced without preamble. ‘I rang Ansett and cancelled my ticket. The booking clerk said they’d send a refund to Amaroo in due course.’
Bren looked up from the television show he’d been watching, his jaw slack with surprise. ‘What?’
Vanessa studied Nova for about ten seconds before asking quietly, ‘Why not?’
Nova didn’t make eye contact with Vanessa as she replied, ‘I need a change. There’s lots of different stuff to do in the city, you know.’
‘Such as?’ Vanessa enquired. She beckoned Nova to follow her into the bedroom so they could talk without the distraction of television.
‘The club scene, a wider variety of jobs. I’ve several friends here too. It’s been cool to catch up with them this week.’
‘And …?’ Vanessa probed as she sat on the side of the bed.
‘I’ve been talking to that artists’ manager, Anthea Dennison,’ Nova admitted. ‘She heard me sing a while ago and is keen to get my singing career going.
I thought, why not. I’ll never know if I can do it if I don’t try.’ Besides, after the embarrassing scene with Curtis, she needed to put a little distance between them for a while.
‘Can’t argue with that.’ That was why Nova had been elusive, she deduced, other fish to fry. ‘Does Curtis have anything to do with your decision?’ Vanessa asked incisively. Too many times she’d seen Nova’s longing looks, the love in her eyes, the telltale pining sigh. Curtis must have been as blind as a proverbial bat not to have noticed Nova’s preoccupation with him but obviously he hadn’t.
‘What do you mean? What makes you think my decision has anything to do with Curtis?’
‘Nova, I’ve seen how you look at him when you think no-one’s watching you. I know how you feel.’
‘Oh …’ came out in a small voice. Nova flopped into the only chair that didn’t have anything draped over it. ‘You know then. Does? …’ Her gaze moved towards the living room where Bren had his eyes glued to a sports program. It annoyed the hell out of her to think that Vanessa was perceptive enough to have guessed her feelings for Curtis.
Her
knowing, more than anyone else only enhanced Nova’s sense of discomfort — because Vanessa was so happy and so close to being perfect.
‘Your secret is safe with me, and I don’t think anyone else has twigged.’ Vanessa smiled commiseratingly at her. ‘I’m sorry things didn’t work out.’
‘Me too.’ Nova’s sigh was dramatically forlorn. ‘I need time away from Amaroo, to think about what I should do with my life.’ She managed a self-derisive
grin. ‘I’ll be singing the blues with real feeling for a while, that’s for sure.’
‘Curtis is an obtuse fool. It’s his loss not yours.’
Nova blinked several times, holding back the urge to cry. ‘Is it?’
‘Yes,’ Vanessa’s tone was positive. ‘Now you go off and become a terrific country and western singer, win several Golden Guitars, and end up famous.’ She waggled a finger at her. ‘I expect nothing less.’
‘I promise to give it my best shot.’
The two women moved towards each other but it was Vanessa who initiated the hug.
‘You’ll keep in touch?’
‘Of course,’ Nova assured her.
Vanessa was going to miss Nova. They’d become friends, if not intimate friends, over time. The station was, of necessity, a male-dominated domain but it had been good to have a woman other than Fran, who was in her fifties, around to talk to. Still, she acknowledged that being self-reliant was partly what outback life was about, and that Nova had helped her achieve a satisfactory degree of that. Besides, she had other matters to occupy her, such as finishing the script — Kerri thought that what she’d done so far had potential — as well as preparing for a baby.
She smiled a secretive smile as she waved goodbye to Nova at the suite’s door. A new life was coming to Amaroo and because of it, her life was going to change … forever.
A
ll the books Vanessa read about pregnancy and childbirth stated that the last month, towards the end of the third trimester, was the most difficult for expectant mothers to bear. She believed it. A shade over eight months pregnant hers had been an exceptionally healthy pregnancy but she was too large to ride and now she couldn’t fit behind the chopper’s controls or the driver’s wheels of any of the station’s vehicles.
It was a plus that the nursery was ready. She and Bren had organised the room several months ago, opting for neutral colours because they’d chosen not to know which sex their child would be. Often Vanessa would stand at the nursery doorway, studying what they’d done with a sense of contentment wafting through her. Decorating it had been fun and everyone on Amaroo had made a contribution. Bren and Curtis had resurrected Regan’s bassinette from one of the storage areas and spruced it up. A tallboy of 1930s vintage had been repainted and decorated with nursery rhyme stick-on characters, as had the walls. Fran made curtains and sheets for the bassinette and, later, the cot. Reg
and Warren contributed by making a sturdy change table and had covered it with padded vinyl. As well as the essential baby paraphernalia a selection of toys stood on shelves above the bassinette. Kerri and Yannis mailed four, dressed teddy bears from England, and other family members, mostly Lauren’s boys, parted with some of the toys they’d outgrown for the nursery.
Now all that was left to do was wait for the ‘blessed event’ and, with at least fifty per cent of Spanish blood running through her veins, patience was not one of Vanessa’s finer points. When she wanted something she wanted it immediately and waiting nine months for the birth was a real test of what patience she had. An ongoing regret was that there would be no family of her own to share the wondrous event with, and that her and Bren’s child would only have one grandparent: Hilary, someone she still didn’t feel comfortable with.
As she eased herself into bed beside Bren, she knew that little could be gained by getting melancholy over what could not be changed, or improved. And … at least they’d agreed on names: Kyle for a boy, Amanda for a girl.
‘You okay, hon?’ Bren asked on the downside of a yawn as he slipped an arm around her voluminous waistline.
‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘but I feel like a blimp.’
‘A very beautiful blimp,’ he whispered as he kissed the side of her neck.
She gave his arm a playful punch. ‘Oh, thanks. You know how to make a woman feel better about herself.’
Unabashed, he chuckled as he cuddled up to her. ‘Isn’t that what husbands are for?’
Vanessa didn’t dignify that statement with a reply. Instead, she listened to his breathing deepen. In less than five minutes he was sound asleep. Yawning, she tried to do the same …
… Something didn’t feel right!
Vanessa lifted her head to check the bedside clock. 3.10 a.m. As she became more awake she realised what had happened. Her water had broken. Then she got a contraction — her first.
Oohhh
. She gasped as the pain built to a crescendo then slowly ebbed away. It’s too soon, three weeks too soon, the thought ran through her mind. After the second contraction she nudged Bren.
‘Wake up, Bren, wake up.’ When he didn’t respond she grabbed his shoulder and shook him till he stirred. ‘The baby’s coming, Bren. For God’s sake, wake up.’
‘Wh-at?’
Holding onto her stomach — though she wasn’t sure that would help — Vanessa struggled out of bed. She flicked the light switch on and started to dress. ‘My water’s broken, it’s the baby, Bren. We have to get to the hospital.’ The agreed upon plan had been — when she had two weeks to term — for her to go to Kununurra and stay there till she went into labour. It had been a sound plan but ‘Junior’, so it appeared, was deciding to come early.
Bren sat up. He supported his upper body weight on one elbow while his free hand rubbed his eyes. ‘The hospital?’ he said dully, still unable to comprehend the situation. ‘You’re too early. It’s a false alarm, hon.’
‘Don’t “hon” me and we’re not having a debate, we’re having a baby. Now. Quickly, get up and get dressed.’ She watched his eyes open wide, his back straighten. The message was getting through.
‘Shit! Really?’
‘Yes, darling, really.’
Nova walked onto the stage with the air of someone who’d already claimed the space as her own. One hand arced wide in a wave to the audience as they began to clap while the other hand gripped the microphone. Two spotlights followed her as she moved centre stage and hooked the mike into its stand. The audience hushed and an air of expectancy hung over the club’s auditorium. Adrenaline charged through her body, vitalising her. That always happened before a performance and she loved the feeling it gave her of being different, admired, envied. She half turned to give the leader of the band, Leo Muller, a smile.
She and Leo had become close over the six months she’d been with his band, touring and working gigs along the eastern seaboard. Leo’s attention and affection had helped take the edge off her disappointment over Curtis and, so far, the relationship was working out. She was professionally and romantically involved with someone who understood what she was about — the singing, and songwriting, a new talent she had discovered within herself, partly due to Leo’s encouragement. Anthea, her manager, expected great things of her, and said she had the talent and the ability to make the grade as a top country and western singer.
She smiled confidently at the audience. That was precisely what she was going to be — the best — rivalling Vanessa in
her
chosen career. Her chin tilted upwards with determination as the lead guitar played the intro chord. She moved closer to the mike, her lips almost touching the metal. She would show Curtis and all the Selbys that she was special. One day she would be a star, like Vanessa, only
she
would be bigger and better.
Nova was half way through the set when the club’s manager, standing in the wings, beckoned her over. He thrust a note into her hand, muttered that the message was supposed to be important, then shooed her back on stage.
Nova opened the piece of paper, read what was written and suddenly whooped into the mike, after which she shared her news with the audience because audiences liked that sort of thing, making them feel more involved with the artist on stage.
‘A friend of mine, actor Vanessa Forsythe, has just had a baby boy, Kyle Matthew.’ She motioned the audience to give the announcement the traditional round of applause. ‘I’m going to dedicate my next song, one of The Judd’s hits, ‘Young Love’, to Vanessa, Bren and baby Kyle.’