The Model Wife

by Tricia Stringer

  “She sounded fine,” Laura said. “She’s going to Aunty Connie’s for lunch tomorrow.”

  Milt gave a soft snort and shifted in his chair. “This food will be going cold.”

  “Help yourselves.” Laura waved a hand over the pizzas arranged down the table. “There’s one with chicken, one ham and pineapple, and the other two have a selection of meat and veg.” She took a slice from one of the plates. “What do you want, Dad?”

  Milt lifted his gaze from the empty plate in front of him. “Any,” he said.

  Kate knew her dad wasn’t a fan of pizza but he accepted a slice from the plate Laura offered him and began to eat.

  “Have you heard from Mum today?”

  He put his head to one side as if her question required deep thought. “Not yet.”

  “She and Aunty Brenda will be talking non-stop,” Bree said.

  “Can you imagine it?” Laura grinned. “They haven’t seen each other since Aunty Brenda sold the property.”

  “They ring each other often,” Bree said.

  “But it’s not the same as sitting down for a good chat.” Kate took a nibble of her slice of pizza.

  Bree gave her an odd look.

  “I agree,” Laura said. “There’s nothing like a face-to-face chat. I know I’d much prefer to sit and talk with my friends over a coffee than on the phone.”

  Kate nodded and stared numbly at her plate. Right now she wished her mum was here so they could do just that, rather than be thousands of miles away with Brenda.

  They lapsed into silence. Kate surprised herself by eating a whole slice of pizza, took a second piece and then wished she hadn’t as she remembered the reason for her feeling unwell in the first place.

  “What are we going to do tonight?” Laura asked. “There’s nothing on TV.”

  “Must be a footy game on.” It was Milt’s first contribution to the conversation.

  Laura groaned. “If we had Netflix there’d be plenty of options.”

  “We don’t need other options,” Milt grumbled.

  “Have you got TV in the quarters, Bree?” Laura looked expectantly at her sister.

  “No. I use the one in the house. Mum and I have a few favourite shows we watch together and I don’t mind the footy.”

  “But there’s an outlet for a TV there, isn’t there? Granny and Pa had a TV when they lived there.”

  “Yes.”

  Kate could tell by the look on Laura’s face she had an idea brewing.

  “Could I take over the quarters while you’re away?”

  “No.” Bree gave an adamant shake of her head.

  “Why not? You’ll be gone a while. I could have my own space.”

  “You’ve got your own space.”

  “But I—”

  Milt’s chair pushed back abruptly. “You can have the TV to yourself. I’m turning in.” He carried his plate to the sink.

  “Me too.” Bree stood. “I’m going in to spend the day with Owen tomorrow.” She glanced at her dad who was on his way out. “I won’t be home tomorrow night.”

  Milt paused, half turned.

  “I’ll be back first thing Monday morning in time for tailing,” she added quickly.

  He gave a nod and looked to Laura. “Good pizza, love, thanks.” And then he was gone.

  “Night.” Bree glanced from Laura to Kate and then she too left.

  “I’ll help with the dishes,” Kate said, the pizza in her stomach swirling as she moved.

  “You look really tired,” Laura said. “Why don’t you get an early night too? It won’t take me long here.”

  Kate glanced around; as usual there were dishes and containers and cutlery spread in all directions. “I’ll help,” she said.

  Once the kitchen was tidy Kate went to bed and Laura slumped to a chair. Cooking was like hair dressing: you were on your feet all day and your hands were often in water. She was grateful for Kate’s help but she was over the role of cook and kitchen-hand. The fridge hummed a lonely tune in the big empty room. She hoped her mum wasn’t going to spend too long at Aunty Brenda’s.

  Laura glanced restlessly around the tidy kitchen. She was weary but not tired and wished she hadn’t been so hasty in cancelling her Netflix subscription. She was desperate enough to have watched it on her phone. Her gaze halted at the desk in the corner. There was a pile of her mum’s school stuff stacked there and she remembered the folder. She got up, strode to the desk and picked up the only green folder among her mother’s things. She flicked it open and the first thing she saw was a bright yellow post-it note. Laura smiled, lifted the note from the folder and tapped it with her finger as an idea formed.

  “Why not?” she asked the empty room and dug out her phone, punching in the numbers for the mobile her mother had scribbled. A little flutter of nerves made her question her decision but a deep male voice answered and before she could change her mind she responded.

  “Is that Paul Brown?” she asked.

  “Speaking.”

  “I’m Laura…I bumped into you last week…the clumsy coffee incident.”

  “Oh…yes…the rainbow hair.”

  Laura’s hand went to her head. His tone was censoring.

  “So you’re calling because?”

  “Oh…because Mum asked me to bring her folder to you—”

  “Mum?”

  “My mum’s Natalie King. She teaches at the school.”

  “Oh yes. That would be great, thanks.” He sounded like he was going to end the call.

  “I was wondering what you’re doing tomorrow,” she blurted. “I owe you a coffee.”

  “There’s no need to worry about the coffee but the folder will be helpful for the relief teacher.”

  “I thought I could deliver the folder and buy you a coffee.”

  “Oh…right.”

  “But if you’re busy I—”

  “What time?”

  “Two o’clock at the cafe?”

  “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow…Laura, did you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right.”

  Laura stared at her phone. He was gone. She let out a squeal then paused to listen, but no-one came running to see what that was about. She gave one last look around the tidy kitchen and made her way to the den with a spring in her step. Tomorrow she had something, or should she say someone, to look forward to and tonight, since she was getting the TV to herself, she’d watch a good old favourite, something romantic. She rummaged through the DVD collection and pulled out 27 Dresses.

  “Perfect.” She settled on the couch, snuggled into a soft alpaca blanket and pressed play.

  In her Broome hotel room, Natalie lay in the middle of the king bed and watched the fan turning slow circles above her. She smirked. The fan had three wooden blades, each curved in the shape of a teardrop. She wondered if the advertising guru would call this fan sexy. Her stomach gurgled, and she placed her hands on it. She’d done nothing but eat all day and then tonight had ordered linguine, with a creamy sauce full of prawns, clams, mackerel and squid.

  It had been delicious but rich, and now it was burbling inside her along with the two glasses of wine she’d consumed.

  Dining out alone had been a new experience. She’d eaten on her own many times, of course, but never out at a restaurant. She’d felt self-conscious at first but the staff were welcoming, the sound of the ocean just across the road soothing, and the breeze caressing her bare arms liberating. The restaurant had been full and the staff so busy she’d had to fight the urge to offer her help. How silly would she look then, a guest clearing tables? Besides, this was her After Anomaly life. She’d avoided watching them and turned her attention to the view across the lawns towards the towering palm trees. She’d made herself relax and had enjoyed her meal then she’d taken a stroll around the gardens before returning to her room.

  She glanced around it now, taking it in from the comfort of the bed. It was spacious – even though there was such a huge bed dominating the room it
also boasted a desk, a fridge and a large television, another small table and scattered chairs, yet there was still room for her to dance if she wanted to. She smiled and nestled her head into the soft pillow.

  When she’d first arrived in her room she’d been in a hurry to strip off, unpack and slip into shorts and a t-shirt. Then she’d thrown open the louvred shutters on the glass door and paused in amazement. She had her very own deck and beyond it was a huge pool where people swam or basked in the sun on the assorted lounge chairs. That was when she’d realised there’d been no bathers in her case.

  I’ll just have to shout myself a new pair, she’d thought, vaguely recalling a shop in the foyer near reception. The bed had looked so sumptuous she’d lain down to test it and it had been much later when she’d opened her eyes to the view of a sky that had turned to gold. The bedside clock said she’d slept for two hours. She’d taken her time rousing herself, showering and dressing for dinner. Already she’d felt at home.

  Home! She sat up with a guilty start, wondering where she’d left her phone. She hadn’t taken it to dinner and she hadn’t thought of home or her family since she’d arrived. Her mobile was on the desk where she’d left it plugged in to charge, the blue light of a message flashing. She padded across the wooden floor. Being barefoot and wearing only her loose dress felt luxurious after the confines of winter layers at home.

  She picked up her phone. There was a text from Milt. She closed her eyes. Did she want to read it? The crack in their marriage that she thought had healed had been ripped open. There could be no denying Jack’s presence. It was as if Milt had cheated on her all over again. At home the weight of it had been intolerable but here, thousands of miles away, she felt like a different woman.

  Her eyes flew open. Determined to hang on to the sense of freedom being here had unleashed she put the phone firmly back on the desk, whisked off her clothes and slipped into the silky summer nightie she’d brought with her. She raided the bar fridge, took a chocolate and a can of lemonade and settled back in the middle of the bed, propped up by all four pillows, then switched on the TV. With the addition of pay-TV channels there was a long list of movies for her to choose from and no time frame in which to watch them. She popped the top off the lemonade and felt giddy with the sense of freedom that fizzed over her.

  Seventeen

  Natalie was later than she’d intended to breakfast. She’d sat up watching My Cousin Rachel. Dark and brooding, it was something she’d never have watched at home but she’d enjoyed it nonetheless. It was definitely not Milt’s kind of movie and she couldn’t imagine her girls watching it either. She’d flicked through a magazine for quite a while afterwards before she’d felt sleepy, her wakefulness a combination of the heavy presence left from the movie and her afternoon sleep, and then this morning she’d slept in, despite the time difference. Nine o’clock here meant it was ten-thirty already at home. The indulgence of doing things when she wanted instead of when someone else did was taking a bit of getting used to.

  She wore sunglasses against the bright light of the Kimberley morning and paused to take in the busy dining room open on all sides to the beautiful day. Her gaze extended outside, beyond the garden and the lawns to the white of the sand and the vivid blue of the ocean. Her best intentions to walk first thing hadn’t come to fruition but she had all day to visit the beach.

  “Would you like to join us?”

  She looked down. Two women were studying her expectantly, one with twinkling blue eyes and a smile, the other with piercing grey eyes and a jutting jaw.

  “Only we noticed you ate alone last night,” Blue Eyes said.

  “Oh.” Natalie glanced around. Every table seemed to be occupied.

  “You’re welcome to join us.” Grey Eyes spoke this time. “But if you’d prefer to eat alone—”

  “Thank you.” Natalie took the spare seat and placed her plate of bacon and eggs on the table.

  “I’m Dot,” the blue-eyed woman said. She had a neat, short bob haircut, blonde from a bottle. Natalie guessed she was in her late sixties. “And this is Faye.” Dot waggled her fingers at her friend.

  “Natalie.” She smiled at both women and took off her sunglasses. They weren’t needed in the shade of the dining room.

  “Are you travelling alone or waiting for someone?” Dot asked.

  “Alone,” Natalie said confidently, as if it was something she did every day.

  “You’re so brave. Faye and I always travel together. We’re both from Perth. What about you?”

  “South Australia.”

  “Oh, whereabouts? We’re going there next, aren’t we, Faye?”

  “Let Natalie eat her breakfast, Dot. You know how quickly it cools.”

  Faye’s tone was brusque and the glance of her grey eyes equally sharp, but Dot didn’t take offence. She simply smiled sweetly. “Of course.” She leaned in. “The food’s nice but we don’t like the coffee.”

  “Dreadful filtered stuff,” Faye said, not worried about lowering her voice. “But I refuse to pay extra for a proper coffee. We’re paying an arm and a leg for this place already.”

  “Oh, but it’s worth it,” Dot said. “How’s your room, Natalie? Ours is simply divine.”

  Faye pursed her lips and blew a breath through the gaps. Her closely cropped grey hair matched the grey of her eyes. Natalie felt a bit wary of her but Dot was delightful and continued to talk, with only the odd interjection from Faye, while Natalie ate her breakfast. They were retired teachers, Dot a widow, Faye a divorcee, both liked to travel. They’d been overseas on several trips together but had decided it was time to see more of their own country. This holiday had been to celebrate Dot’s seventieth and it was their first visit to Broome.

  “Silly really when we’re Western Australians. It’s wonderful to escape the cold back in Perth. I guess South Australia is freezing too. The pool is divine here,” Dot said. “Have you been in yet?”

  Natalie shook her head. “I only arrived late yesterday.” She sipped the last of her coffee. It wasn’t the best she’d ever had but it was drinkable.

  “The water’s a bit cool for my liking,” Faye said.

  “You said you found it refreshing,” Dot countered.

  “Hmm.” Faye poured herself more water.

  “We both love to swim.” Dot turned back to Natalie. “We haven’t tried the beach yet. We thought this afternoon. Would you like to come with us?”

  “Easy up, Dot,” Faye said. “Natalie’s probably got her own plans.”

  “Not really,” Natalie said quickly as she saw the anticipation fade from Dot’s face. “But I have to buy some bathers first. I forgot mine.”

  Dot’s face lit up again. “We’re going into town to the shops this morning. You could come with us. I don’t know about you but a friend’s opinion is always welcome when I’m buying bathers. I know we’ve only just met but we’d be happy to help, wouldn’t we, Faye?”

  Faye’s look was impartial but she gave a nod. “We’re taking the bus in.”

  “We’ve been here three days already and we’re getting to know our way around,” Dot said.

  “I will join you, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh good.” Dot gave a playful clap of her hands. “We love spending time with new people, don’t we, Faye?”

  Once again Faye’s nod was noncommittal but Natalie thought she’d like to tag along, at least till she found her way, although the thought of the steely-eyed Faye helping her to buy a pair of bathers put a falter in her step.

  Back in her room Natalie stuffed her purse and sunglasses into her tote bag and reached for her phone. She hadn’t looked at it in her rush to get to breakfast and the little blue light still flashed. She swiped the screen to find last night’s unread message from Milt and nothing from her girls. Milt’s message was brief. Safe travels. Say hello to Brenda. Behave yourselves. And a smiley face.

  She tossed the phone in her bag without replying, not sure what bothered her the most. The fact th
at she hadn’t yet told him she was not in Brisbane or his glib message to behave. If he’d behaved twenty-seven years ago they wouldn’t be in this mess now.

  Natalie applied her brightest lipstick and strode off to meet Dot and Faye. There was no way she was going to bloody behave. She walked through the lush gardens filled with towering palms, pandans perched on stilted roots and colourful hibiscus. An ornamental bridge took her over a small stream leading to a trickling water feature and she slowed to take it in. It was all so different to home, so soothing. She let her anger go and laughed. Her companions were both close to seventy, Dot celebrating her special zero birthday and Faye only a couple of years her junior. Not likely there’d be too much misbehaving but Natalie was determined to let her short hair down.

  By the time they’d done a wander up and down the main street her enthusiasm had waned a little. The heat and the brightness of the sunlight and cloudless sky were still a surprise. Her brain was still set to winter even though her eyes took in the glare and her body the warmth. At breakfast a steady breeze from the ocean had kept the temperature down but now she was dragging her feet. There were several women’s clothing shops and she was grateful for their air conditioning but they were also busy with other shoppers.

  Feeling sweaty and having to squeeze between racks and other customers hadn’t put her in a conducive mood for trying on clothes but Dot was a trooper, working out what suited her and running things to and from the change room. Faye kept to herself, much to Natalie’s relief, and only offered an opinion if Dot dragged her to look. In the end Natalie came away from one shop with a pair of bathers and a floaty dress to wear over the top, and from another a broad-brimmed hat. At the last shop she bought an olive-green-and-bronze patterned shift dress and a sarong. The sarong had been Dot’s suggestion.

  “So useful,” she’d said. “You can wear it to cover up bathers or as a wrap to keep out the sun.”

  Even though Natalie was used to beach holidays she’d never bothered with sarongs and over-bather outfits. She’d always worn shorts and t-shirts. The two other women bought a top each and when Natalie enquired about a newsagency to buy a book they took her instead to a delightful bookshop where Dot and Faye were astonished to find she didn’t read much. They plied her with suggestions and as she was in Broome she chose two that had local settings, one historical, set during World War Two, and the other more contemporary, about a woman living in Broome and a proposed mining development. Dot and Faye chose another book each, complaining they had too many already but then deciding there was always room for more. They shared their books so it was like two for the price of one, Dot had laughed.