“You don’t think he’ll notice?”
Laura grimaced.
Natalie sat in her bedroom in front of the dressing table. The shower had refreshed her and her equilibrium had returned. This was the one place in the house she felt was her own, the one room she’d been allowed to make changes to, to make her mark. The walls were the colour of milky coffee and the curtains steely grey. The furniture was oak and, conscious that her husband lived in a house full of women, she’d kept away from florals and frills and always chose a quilt cover and cushions with subtle patterns in greys and whites and splashes of deep red.
Once she’d overcome her despair at the mess in her kitchen she’d tackled the cleaning up. Laura had arrived back when it was nearly all done and had rushed to help. The sight of her daughter tidying away the recipe books had reminded Natalie again about the copy of The Model Wife she’d shoved back in the kitchen drawer. She’d asked Laura to mop the floor. Laura hadn’t been keen but Natalie had insisted. While her daughter was off getting the mop and bucket Natalie had removed the book and taken it to her bedroom.
She looked at it now with its faded cover, the title barely readable; a harmless old book. She gave a soft snort and turned to the chapter titled ‘Managing the Home’. Nat read the first line to herself. The model wife is proud of the home her husband provides for her and shows her respect by keeping it perfectly clean and without clutter. It was this chapter that had made her realise how much she’d conformed to the book’s rules. The occasion had been Olive and Clem’s thirtieth wedding anniversary, the year before Kate was born, and Milt and Connie had thought they should mark their parents’ marriage milestone with a celebration. Natalie had convinced them to make it a surprise. She’d done most of the cooking over at their neighbour Martin’s place. Those were the days before he’d married Brenda and he’d been pleased to have someone using his kitchen and leaving him leftovers.
The two days before the surprise party Olive and Clem had been in Adelaide. It had been school holidays, so Natalie had thrown herself into cleaning the shared areas of the old house from top to tail. She took down curtains and washed them, had the carpets steam cleaned, washed windows, dusted and polished every surface until everything gleamed. Each night she would fall into bed exhausted and Milt had declared her crazy, said no-one was going to notice a bit of dust on the windows or a smudge on a door handle.
But she was hooked on the sparkling results of her labour. Over the years, between marrying Milt, sharing a house with her in-laws and raising children and teaching, keeping a perfect house had become important to her and in the back of her mind hovered the next line from the chapter – nothing destroys the happiness of married life more than the lazy, slovenly wife.
She looked down at the little book gripped in her hands. She’d added her own messages and clippings and photos to prove to herself she wasn’t the submissive and servile woman the chapters described. The loose pieces stuck in the back jutted out at all angles. She opened the book quickly to the last page and removed them, slammed the book shut again and put it to one side. On top of the loose pile of pages was Laura’s handwritten soup recipe. She turned it over. Next was a battered clipping from a newspaper on how to graft roses. That was from when she’d thought she’d start a rose garden as a surprise for Clem. They’d planted one rose beside the front gate but nothing more had eventuated. So long ago now. She turned it over and put it on top of the soup recipe.
Slowly she worked her way through these scribbled notes and clippings she’d slipped into the back of the book over the years. She paused at a page showing how to fold napkins into swans and water lilies and smiled at the recollection of the rainy afternoon she’d spent with her girls trying to make the designs from paper serviettes. Further on there were articles on removing red-wine stains and how to name your pet. That must have been back when they’d got the last dog. Jaffer was eight years old now but it had been such hard work coming up with a name they could all agree on.
Finally she came to the last clipping. It was a full page from a magazine, folded into halves and more recent than the rest. In fact she knew it was four years old and why she’d put it in the book. It was a story on a family of pearl farmers in Broome, an intriguing tale of how they’d started the business from nothing, living in the isolation of the bush north of Broome. She’d cut it out six months before their thirtieth wedding anniversary and looked into fares to Broome. Pearls were the gift for thirty years of marriage and she’d decided a trip to buy them from the place where they were farmed would make the occasion extra special.
She slid the pages back into the book and this time she put it in the drawer of her dressing table. The book might be out of sight but the holiday was not. Milt had said the time wasn’t right to get away then but they’d go one day. Life got busy and one day still hadn’t come. She’d tried to pin him down as they drove home from Adelaide but he’d deflected her suggestion once again.
Natalie pushed back from the dressing table, tugged her dress down and brushed a piece of hair back from her face. She was not letting him off the hook any longer. Their thirty-fourth wedding anniversary was coming up in July. Bree was more than capable of looking after the property and Natalie was determined to have a proper holiday. It didn’t have to be Broome but she and Milt were going away to mark their anniversary and if he wouldn’t go she’d darn well go without him.
“Would you be brave enough to do that?” she asked out loud. Her startled face looked back at her from the mirror.
Bree sat at the kitchen table with her injured leg propped on a second chair. Laura was opposite her, engrossed in her phone, letting out the odd moan or giggle or tapping out a message. Bree was sure Laura would need rehab if she ever lost her phone.
“You’re awake.”
They both looked up at the sound of their mum’s voice.
Natalie crossed the kitchen and rested a hand on Bree’s shoulder. “How’re you feeling?”
“A bit sore but I’ll live.”
“What happened exactly?”
“There was a piece of old wire partly buried on the edge of the track,” she said. “It flung up, hooked my leg and off I came.”
“Oh, Bree.” Natalie’s hand gripped her shoulder.
“Don’t fuss, Mum.” Bree shuffled in her chair, lowered her leg and shrugged off her mum’s hand. “I’ll live.”
“You were lucky,” Natalie said softly.
Bree knew she was lucky. The doctor had said a little deeper and further to the side and she would have severed an artery. She wouldn’t have made it back to the house let alone the hospital, but that hadn’t happened and there was no need to dwell on it.
Natalie turned to the fire.
“I’ve just added some wood,” Laura said and stuffed her phone in her pocket.
“Thanks.”
Bree studied her mum as she crossed to the fridge. She didn’t look any different. What had Laura noticed? Natalie pushed the fridge door shut with her hip and carried an armful of vegetables to the sink, then took her apron from its hook and slipped it over her head. She was behaving the way she always did.
Laura went to help. “I’ve put the potatoes in with the meat.”
“What about the pumpkin?”
“Not yet. I’ve cut it up though.”
“Thanks.” Natalie lined up the carrots.
“I like your dress.” Laura hovered at her mother’s side.
Bree took in her sister’s contrite expression. No doubt trying to atone for the mess she’d created. The kitchen was spotless again, restored to its usual order. She hoped Laura had helped make it that way.
“Do you?” Natalie glanced down as if she didn’t know what she was wearing then started to chop.
Bree thought her outfit was rather smart for a casual family dinner with only their distant neighbour as an extra. Still it wasn’t often they were all home together and to Bree’s knowledge Jack had never eaten with them before. Her mother always liked
to make a good impression. Tonight she wore a loose-fitting long-sleeved dress, navy with a white leaf pattern, over tights and flat ankle boots. She’d put on some extra kilos over the last few years but she always looked smart.
“I can finish the vegies, Laura. Perhaps you could open a wine. I’d love a glass.”
“Sure. Do you want something, Bree?”
“A beer, thanks.”
Natalie glanced around. “Do you think that’s wise if you’re taking painkillers?”
“I’m sure one beer won’t hurt.”
Natalie opened her mouth, closed it again and turned back to her chopping.
Laura poured a glass of wine, took the tops off two beers and handed one to Bree.
“Cheers,” she said and they all raised their glasses and took a sip. Then the silence was punctuated only by the sounds of Natalie’s vegetable prep.
“How was Adelaide?” Bree asked.
There was a pause in the chopping. “Busy.” Natalie’s shoulders tilted as she continued cutting.
“What did you say you went for again?”
This time there was only a slight pause before the chopping resumed. “Accountant.”
Bree frowned. She glanced at Laura who was looking at her phone again, not paying any attention.
“Granny was surprised you went.” Bree tried another tack. “She quizzed me about it while we were waiting at the hospital.”
The knife thumped on the solid wooden chopping board. “Granny doesn’t have to know everything all the time.”
Laura glanced up, met Bree’s stare and stood. “Are you sure I can’t help with the vegetables, Mum?”
“No.” Natalie didn’t look around. “You could set the table though…for six.”
Laura arranged the placemats, set out the cutlery, added a glass to each place and a jug of water to the middle of the table.
The saucepans clattered and banged as Natalie filled them and set them on the stove then turned to her daughters. “I’m going to watch television in the den till the others get back.” She picked up her wine and left.
From across the passage they heard the sound of a game show. Laura looked at Bree over the top of her beer, her face twisted into a grimace.
Their mother never watched television during the day unless she was sick. Now Bree was alert. “What’s going on?” she hissed.
Laura shrugged. “I don’t know. I told you Mum’s been quiet all afternoon.”
“Did you help her clean up?”
“Of course but she had most of it done by the time we got back. Then I had to run lunch out to the paddock. She hasn’t said a word about my hair.”
Bree took a sip of her beer and stared at her sister’s colourful mop. “That’ll be Dad’s job.”
“Hell’s teeth, Laura!”
Natalie lurched forward in the recliner at the sound of her husband’s bellow. She must have dozed off for a few minutes. She’d been watching a quiz show and now the newsreader was announcing an exclusive headline.
She struggled to her feet and adjusted her apron. The mustering crew were home. Time to finish the dinner preparation.
“What in the blue blazes have you done this time?”
Milt had obviously noticed Laura’s hair. Natalie couldn’t imagine how he’d missed it before. Even though Laura had kept it stuffed under her cap until this afternoon, pieces of coloured hair were visible around the edges.
“More like psychedelic blazes, I think.” Kate was valiantly trying to lighten her father’s mood.
“I hope that washes out.” Milt again.
“Eventually.” Laura’s voice was hopeful.
Natalie sighed, picked up her empty wine glass and almost ran into her husband leaving the kitchen. He brushed his dust-coated lips across her cheek. “Have you seen Laura’s hair?”
She nodded.
“What on earth will people think?”
Natalie shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps you should lock her in the shed until it grows out.”
He frowned, looked at her closely. “Are you all right?”
“Of course I am.” She managed a smile. “It’s only hair colour, Milt. It’ll wash out.”
He huffed and the anger left him. “I’ll have a shower. Jack will be here soon. Do you think you should tell the girls about Veronica and tell them not to mention it?”
Natalie opened her mouth but he was already heading for the bathroom. She didn’t want to talk to the girls about Veronica at all. It had been his idea to invite Jack, not hers. The last thing she felt like doing was making conversation with a stranger at their table. That’s if he was a stranger. She wondered if Bree had also spent time with Jack. She didn’t expect Laura or Kate would have as they were rarely home these days.
A stab of guilt made her draw a deep breath. She had her three daughters together under her roof and she’d hardly spoken to them. Seeing Kate had been a surprise. Natalie wondered what had brought her home. They hadn’t had a chance to talk yet but she’d been concerned by her eldest daughter’s pale complexion, a reflection of her own face she’d seen in the mirror.
And there was definitely something up with Laura – she was as skittish as a newborn lamb. The chaos she’d created in the kitchen had nearly been Natalie’s undoing. She’d held herself together and then, once they’d all gone, she’d sat at the table and sobbed. Finally she’d got stuck into the cleaning and, as was often the case in her life, it had been a distraction. Then she’d told Laura about Jack coming for dinner and her daughter had been full of questions. The Halbots had been kept off the family-friend radar for all of Laura’s life. Natalie could understand why she wondered about his imminent presence at their dinner table.
She took another deep breath, straightened her shoulders and went back to the kitchen. Kate and Bree were both headed to the door.
“You’re awake.” Kate grinned. “I stuck my head in earlier. You were snoozing.”
“I didn’t sleep well last night in a strange bed.”
“Kate’s going to use my shower.” Bree had come up behind her sister.
“Can you wait?” Natalie said. “I need to tell you all something.”
The three girls looked at her expectantly. Two sets of deep brown eyes and one set of pearly blue focused on her. Damn Milt. She drew herself up. “Mrs Halbot’s just been diagnosed with breast cancer.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.” Bree was the one to speak out; the other two murmured similar comments.
“She and Bob are in Adelaide until they find out more. Jack’s fairly upset about it. That’s why your dad invited him over…so he’s not eating alone tonight.”
“Of course.” Bree nodded. “His sisters were going overseas. I guess they’re still away travelling.”
“How bad is it?” Kate asked.
Natalie looked into the worried faces of her daughters. A few days ago she’d thought they’d be hearing this news about her. “I believe it’s aggressive but caught early.”
“Is that why you were in Adelaide?” Laura asked, her voice sounding so young all of a sudden.
“Why would Mum and Dad go to Adelaide to be with the Halbots?” Bree scoffed. “It’s not as if they’re good friends.”
“We happened to run into them…just after Veronica had received the news. She was…shocked as you can imagine and your dad…well, your dad and I stayed with her until Bob arrived.” Natalie felt no need to tell her daughters they’d stayed the night at the Halbots’ apartment.
“How did she find out?” Bree had moved closer.
“A routine mammogram.”
“In the Breast Bus?”
“I guess so.”
“You had a mammogram last week, didn’t you?” Bree’s eyes were wide with concern.
“Yes.”
“That’s why you went to Adelaide on short notice. It wasn’t for the accountant. They found something, didn’t they?”
“Oh, Mum.”
“Not cancer.” Both Kate and Laura spoke at onc
e.
“I don’t have cancer.” Natalie felt a weight drop from her shoulders as she said it, relieved to announce it out loud to someone else for the first time. “They found a small lump but it’s nothing bad, a cyst.”
“Mum,” the girls chorused in unison and threw their arms around her.
Natalie fought hard to paste a smile on her face. Until the relief of the call she’d received from the clinic earlier today she’d still held a small fear the biopsy might be positive. “I’m all right.”
“Hell’s teeth, what’s happened now?”
They stepped apart. From the corner of her eye Natalie glimpsed Milt, hands on hips, worry on his face. He’d dealt capably with the girls’ histrionics over the years, as long as it was one daughter at a time. More than two at once and he was stripped of his usual good sense and totally flummoxed.
“Mum’s been telling us about her scare and Mrs Halbot’s bad news,” Kate said.
“Yes, well, thankfully your mother’s fine.”
He shuffled from foot to foot like he did when he felt out of his depth. His hair was slicked back, still damp from the shower, and he’d changed into clean jeans and his favourite checked shirt. He glanced at her but Natalie turned away, moved further into the kitchen, her back to them, and dabbed at her eyes with her apron. He was right. She was safe and she had all that mattered to her in the world, her girls and Milt. She’d lost her way for a moment but she could feel the pieces of her life begin to settle back into place. Perhaps telling her girls she didn’t have cancer was what she’d needed. Like opening a valve to release pressure.
“Your mother’s told you not to mention any of this while Jack’s here.”
Natalie composed her face, turned back. “I hadn’t yet.”
Milt looked at each of the girls. “I think it’s best we don’t.”
“What if he says something?” Laura asked.
Milt frowned. “We respond in whichever way’s appropriate.”
“It seems an awful thing to say.” Kate gripped her hands together. “But I’m glad it’s not you going through this, Mum.”
The Model Wife Page 10