The Model Wife

by Tricia Stringer

  She twisted in his arms and kissed him. “I’m not bothered about eating my dinner sitting beside that body…” She trailed a finger down his torso and shivered. “Perhaps I should find you something though. I’d hate you to drop some lasagne and burn yourself.”

  He grinned as she slid from his arms.

  “Help yourself to a beer,” she called and almost skipped from the kitchen, thankful for whatever meetings had kept her parents in Adelaide.

  Laura’s eyelids sprang open. She blinked, trying to focus on the room, her brain not registering where she was, then the soft fur pressing up against her neck reminded her. She was home. She sat up. Bubbles stretched, opened one eye and curled into a ball.

  Laura lowered her legs to the ground. A sound had woken her. Now she realised it was the thump of music drifting through the open door that had disturbed her. She glanced in the old dressing-table mirror, the outer edges covered with stickers from every fad the girls had been through, tugged her hair back into a ponytail and pulled on the cap that hung over one of the posts suspending the tilting mirror. She decided a cap and a splash of bright lipstick might distract from the brilliant-coloured stripes through her hair.

  In the passage she relaxed a little. It must be Bree at home. The music was loud and not the ABC, which would normally be on at this hour. The smell of cooking, warm and delicious, wafted from the kitchen. Bree must have heated the lasagne as well.

  “Hello,” Laura called as she rounded the door then stopped in her tracks. A hunky-looking guy stood side on, shirtless, his head tipped back, swallowing from a beer bottle.

  An expletive was lost in the splutter of beer that came from his mouth. He slapped at the liquid splashing down his bare chest. Eyes wide, she stepped into the kitchen.

  He grinned. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Who are you?” They both spoke at once.

  “I’m Laura King and I live here.” Laura got in first as she moved further into the room.

  “Here you are.” The shirt in Bree’s hands slipped from her fingers as she caught sight of Laura. “Bloody hell.”

  The bloke by the fridge raised his bottle, a grin on his face. “Not quite what I said but we’re on the same page.”

  “Laura!” Bree’s face changed from surprise to something else, disbelief perhaps. “What are you doing here?”

  “I told Mum I was coming.” Laura looked from the two of them to the table with its two place-settings. “Obviously you weren’t expecting me.”

  “No.” Bree frowned. “Mum didn’t say anything.”

  “Where is she?”

  They all startled as the back door banged against the wall and another curse echoed along the passage.

  “Kate?” Laura looked at Bree and they both turned to the door as their sister walked through, a backpack over her shoulder and bags in both hands.

  “Hello.” She looked weary but her smile was warm, then her eyes opened wide as her gaze reached the bloke still standing between the table and the fridge, his beer mid-air. “And hello to you,” she said.

  Bree snatched up the shirt she’d dropped and made her way round the table to where the bloke was standing, the grin still wide on his face. She passed him the shirt then turned to her sisters as he pulled it on, her hands on her hips.

  “What are you two doing here?”

  “It’s our home.” Kate was the first to respond, her chin jutted forward. She stacked her pile of bags against the wall.

  “You must be Kate.” Hunky guy had finished pulling on an old oversized t-shirt of Bree’s with Real country girl emblazoned in large letters across his chest. He walked the length of the table and held out his hand. “Bree’s told me about her sisters.” He shook Kate’s hand and then reached for Laura’s. His grip was warm and firm. “I’m Owen.”

  “Sorry to mess up your dinner for two.” Kate had obviously taken in the setting at the other end of the table too.

  “No problem.” Owen looked back at Bree who was standing where he’d left her, hands on hips. “That lasagne’s big enough for four, isn’t it, Bree?”

  Laura assumed he’d turned his charming smile on her sister because Bree’s rigid jaw softened. “Of course. It was just a surprise to see you both.” She went to the drawer and took out more cutlery. “Mum didn’t mention you were coming home.”

  “I definitely told her.” Laura sat at one of the fresh settings Bree put out. “She said she’d cook lasagne for me.”

  “Sorry, baby sis, but I took this one from the freezer this afternoon, long after Mum and Dad left.” Bree set the lasagne she’d taken from the oven on a mat on the table.

  “Maybe she thought I was coming tomorrow.” Laura removed her cap.

  “What have you done to your hair?” Bree frowned.

  Kate laughed. “You’re right, Laura. No-one could miss that.”

  Bree turned her appalled look on Kate. “You knew she’d done this to herself?”

  “It’s only hair dye. She hasn’t got a tattoo or slashed her wrists.”

  Laura swallowed and ducked her head. There was no hiding the hair but the other…well, best if she didn’t mention that.

  “I like it.” They all looked at Owen who’d taken a seat at the head of the table. Once more his smile was wide. “All the women in the local hairdressers have their hair done in the same boring way.”

  Laura stared at him and knew her sisters were doing the same.

  “It’s a point of difference.” He shrugged and took a swig from his beer. “In business you need that.”

  Laura decided she liked him.

  Bree ignored him and focused on Laura. “When did you get here anyway? I didn’t see your car.”

  “It was late afternoon. I unpacked and put the car in the back shed.” She did her best not to falter under her sister’s piercing look. “I did tell Mum I was coming.”

  “I, on the other hand, didn’t tell anyone I was coming.” Kate sat between Laura and Owen. “Glad I didn’t interrupt anything more than dinner.” She grinned.

  Bree plonked a tossed salad on the table in front of her. “You could have rocked up to an empty house if I’d gone in to Owen’s place instead of him coming here.”

  “Where are Mum and Dad anyway?” Kate looked around as if they might suddenly appear.

  “In Adelaide. They weren’t sure if they’d stop overnight when they left this morning. Dad sent me a text earlier to let me know they were staying.”

  “Leaving the house empty for you two.” Once more Kate’s eyebrows arched.

  “I’ve heard about you, Owen,” Laura intervened, knowing Kate’s teasing would stir Bree’s temper further. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  “Well, you’re a complete surprise to me,” Kate said. “I thought my little sister was celibate but that’s obviously not the case.”

  Owen grinned. Bree opened her mouth but was distracted by her mobile ringing. She got up and went to retrieve it from the bench. Granny didn’t allow phones at the table but it was agreed they could be excused to answer them. It was an ingrained habit they followed even when she wasn’t there.

  “Mum.” Bree looked back at them with a slight shake of her head. “Yes, Laura’s here.”

  Kate waved her hands frantically. “Don’t tell her I’m here,” she hissed.

  “It’s okay, Mum.” Bree looked away. “I took a lasagne out so Laura’s happy. Everything go all right with your meeting?”

  There was a pause while Bree listened. Laura dished herself some lasagne and offered it to Kate. Anyone would think it was the only food she ate, the way they all went on about it. She’d been a bit fussier as a kid and lasagne had been one of her favourite meals but her tastes had broadened since then.

  “Okay,” Bree said into the phone. “Yes, I’ll tell her. You don’t have to hurry home. Laura and—” She glanced at Kate who was waving her hands frantically sideways again. “Laura can help with the mustering until Dad g
ets here. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Laura reached for the salad. She hated mustering. She didn’t have the natural instincts for sheep work that Bree and Kate seemed to, but Kate could go with them. Laura would volunteer for food and drink duties.

  Bree dropped the phone on the bench, came back to her chair and frowned at Kate. “Why didn’t you want me to tell Mum you were here?”

  Kate shrugged. “I wanted to surprise her. If I get half the reaction I did from you it’ll be worth the trip.” She turned to Owen. “Now let’s hear all about you.”

  Laura glanced at Bree’s thunder-like face and helped herself to salad. She felt sorry for Bree but Kate was only doing what they’d put her boyfriends through. Laura and Bree had delighted in giving anyone she brought home the third degree. Just as well Dad wasn’t here. He was always full of questions. Living in the city had meant she’d never had to go through the family interrogations. She understood why Bree would want to keep Owen to herself.

  Natalie’s arm dropped to her side, the mobile phone, silent now, clutched tightly in her hand. How could she have forgotten Laura was coming home? She moved further along the footpath outside Veronica’s place where she’d come to make her call as soon as she’d remembered. Now she couldn’t face going back inside the overheated unit, the TV playing but no-one watching, Milt trying to make small talk and fussing over Veronica. Natalie had wanted to get away to a motel but Veronica had offered them the spare room and Milt had agreed immediately.

  “What are you doing out here?” Milt strode along the path towards her. He looked down at the phone. “Did you ring home? Everything all right?”

  “Yes. Laura’s there.”

  “What’s she doing home? I was going to suggest we have a coffee with her before we left in the morning.”

  “She rang me…yesterday…” Natalie dragged her fingers through her short hair trying to remember. “No, the day before. Said she was coming home for the weekend. I forgot.”

  “At least Bree will have help till I can get home.”

  “Yes.” Natalie thought about her younger daughter and her notorious dislike of sheep.

  Milt glanced at his watch. “I hope Bob gets here soon. I’ve run out of things to say.”

  “Perhaps it’s best not to say anything.” Natalie couldn’t imagine what Veronica was feeling but she thought she had a small idea after her own turmoil.

  “Ready to go back?” Milt put an arm around her shoulders.

  It was dark but not like at home. The streetlights were on and a nippy wind blew now but Natalie didn’t want to return to the cloying heat of the unit.

  She leaned against his shoulder. How good it felt. Tears of relief welled in her eyes. She wanted a moment with her husband to celebrate her reprieve. “Can’t we stay out here a little longer? It’s so hot in there.”

  Milt pulled away. “Veronica needs us. Maybe you more than me. I’m surprised you’ve hardly spoken to her.”

  Natalie’s tears dried up. He’d been making enough fuss for the both of them. “I don’t know what to say. We’re not at all close.”

  “What does that matter? You’re a woman. I’m sure Veronica would have been supporting you if today’s results had been reversed.”

  His words were like a slap. Would he have preferred she was the one with the cancer? “I’m doing my best. Veronica needs someone she’s close to. Bob should be here soon.”

  His look softened. She could see he was out of his depth but she couldn’t help him. She didn’t want to help Veronica either. What kind of person did that make her?

  “I’m going back in.” He started to walk away then stopped and held his hand out. “I’ll turn the heating down.”

  Natalie wanted to take his hand, hold him close, but she couldn’t face going back inside. Not yet. “I’m going for a quick walk first.”

  She turned away from the disappointment on his face, clutched her cardigan tight across her chest and started to walk. She had no idea where she was going but she had to walk or she’d scream. The last twenty-four hours had turned her life on its head and now that it was righted she still felt out of kilter, as if things hadn’t fallen back in all the right places. She walked faster and faster until she was almost running but she couldn’t escape her thoughts and the fear that her life was rolling away from her like a skittering cotton reel unravelling just beyond her reach.

  Six

  The sun was lightening the sky and colouring the strips of cloud over the eastern horizon with soft pinks as the sound of Owen’s ute faded and disappeared, masked by the closer sound of the dogs barking. Bree took them some food, since it was usually her father’s job, and on the way back inside she fed the cat, which was part of her mother’s morning routine.

  In the kitchen she soaked the frypan she’d used to cook eggs and bacon. She was glad neither of her sisters had appeared, allowing her time alone with Owen over breakfast, but now she needed them to get moving. Especially Kate, who had agreed to come mustering this morning. Bree glanced at the clock and stacked the breakfast plates and mugs in the dishwasher among last night’s dinner dishes. Part way through wiping down the sink she paused to stare out the window at the new day.

  Last night hadn’t been the disaster she’d been expecting when both her sisters had materialised in the family kitchen. After they got past their initial teasing, they’d enjoyed their meal together and Kate had even offered to clean up, sending Bree and Owen off to the quarters early. They’d made the most of their night and this morning they’d both been in a deep love-sated sleep when Owen’s alarm had roused them. Bree smiled and pressed her arms to her body. She was tired but happy. They’d discussed Marla again and she’d all but decided she’d go. After the last twelve hours the thought of living with Owen on a daily basis was irresistible.

  Once more she glanced at the clock. The rest of the mustering team would be here soon. She strode up the wide passage to the guest bedroom Kate had said she’d use. Bree rapped on the door and stuck her head in. “Time to get going.”

  The room was dark. The early-morning light hadn’t reached the edges of the closed blind in this room, which was sheltered by a wide verandah. The lump in the bed didn’t move. She went closer.

  “Kate?”

  The lump stirred and a groan came from under the covers. “Go away.”

  Bree swallowed a flutter of irritation. “You haven’t got long if you want—” She ducked as a pillow flew through the air, fell short and lobbed at her feet.

  “I’m not well.”

  Bree thought about the stash of empty beer bottles in the kitchen. Kate and Laura must have partied on last night. “You know Dad’s rule: you play up, you front up.”

  Kate let out a guttural groan and sat up. “I didn’t play up.” She blinked bleary eyes from a pale face and sported a bird’s nest of hair.

  “Talk about the living dead.”

  “Go away.” Kate moaned and lay her head back on the pillow. “I feel sick.”

  “Bad luck. There’s work needs doing.” Bree picked up the pillow at her feet and slung it on the end of the bed.

  “Get Laura to help. I’m staying in bed.” Kate curled into a ball and pulled the covers back over her head.

  “Lazy sod,” Bree muttered. She strode on to the next bedroom, the one all three sisters had shared and the one Laura claimed as hers when she was home.

  The door was open and Bree stopped, taking in the bombsite that was her sister’s bedroom. The middle bed was empty with the quilt and sheets rumpled and draped to the floor. Bubbles was curled up asleep on the end, a paw over one ear. The two beds either side were covered in bags and boxes, some open with clothes hanging out. The floor at the end of the bed was scattered with shoes spilling from a large garbage bag, every kind from strappy high heels to neat ankle boots. Bree shook her head. “Bloody Imelda Marcos has moved in.” Who needed that many pairs of shoes? Laura’s mess was everywhere but there was no sign of Laura.

  Bree went back
through the house. Perhaps she’d gone to the bathroom but there was no sign of her there either.

  From outside she heard a vehicle rumble over the stock grid from the track that led to the road. “Damn!” That was probably Graeme and she wasn’t organised. Bree gave up on her useless sisters, grabbed her cap and strode outside. Halfway across the yard to let the dogs out she saw Laura coming back from the direction of the creek paddock.

  Bree stopped, hands on hips, and waited for Laura to get closer. “Where have you been?”

  “Out walking. I wanted to clear my head.”

  “You’re looking a lot brighter than Kate. What did you two get up to last night?”

  “Nothing much.” Laura grinned. “We weren’t the ones with a red-hot fella in our bed.”

  Bree wasn’t in the mood for teasing this morning. “Get your work gear on,” she snapped. “Kate says she’s sick—”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Hungover I guess.”

  Laura frowned and looked towards the house.

  Graeme’s ute came to a stop over by the machinery shed and the dogs barked madly, turning circles in their enclosure.

  “Are you going to give us a hand this morning or not?” Bree said.

  “Not.”

  Bree’s mouth fell open.

  Laura gave Graeme a wave as he climbed out of his ute. “It’s not as if you’re on your own and you weren’t expecting Kate or me anyway. I’ll bring you out some morning tea, though. Which paddock are you mustering?”

  Laura looked boldly at Bree. The rays of early-morning sun highlighted the rainbow of hair flowing out from under her green cap that had a round-eyed frog and the words Hop to it embroidered on the front. Her hot-pink Lorna Jane t-shirt and platinum-coloured gym tights outlined every one of her perfect curves and even from the distance of a metre Bree could smell the sickly floral perfume she preferred. Bree glared at her sister. It was hard to imagine her helping out anyway; she might break one of her brightly painted fingernails.

  She shrugged. “Fine. We’ll be somewhere in the tank paddock. And take it easy when you come. Don’t want you frightening the sheep and messing up our hard work.”