The Model Wife

by Tricia Stringer

  “What’s up?”

  “There’s no water in the house. I’ve been out to the pump and it’s switched on but it’s not working.”

  “Damn!”

  “Can you fix it?”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

  Laura’s hands went to her hips. “Well, can you check? Kate hasn’t been so good today and I think she’ll feel better if she has a shower and washes her hair.”

  Bree frowned. She understood Kate was feeling miserable about the pregnancy but she wasn’t sure how much of this sickness and lying around half the day was real and how much was put on. She gave a brief thought to the beer she’d been looking forward to and sighed.

  “I’ll take a look.”

  “Thanks.” Laura threw her a grateful smile and went back inside.

  It was another hour before Bree could join her. The sun had all but disappeared from the sky and the outside temperature had dropped dramatically by the time she let herself inside.

  The water spat and chugged in the laundry pipes and then started to flow again as she washed her hands.

  Laura appeared in the doorway behind her. “You’ve fixed it.”

  “I had to replace a part. It should be okay now.”

  “Thanks. I don’t know if Kate will have a shower after all. I’ve got her settled in the den in front of the TV with a hot water bottle. She’s really not looking good.”

  Bree went to check for herself. There was a quiz show playing on the TV but Kate’s eyes were shut, her chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. Her hair fell in lank locks around her pale face and there were dark shadows under her eyes.

  Bree backed away and followed Laura into the kitchen. She closed the door softly but it popped straight open again so she used more force. Her dad had done several jobs around the house before he left but he’d had no luck fixing that door.

  “What do you think?” Laura looked worried.

  “She looks tired.”

  “She said she didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “We probably should leave her then.”

  “Okay.” Laura chewed her lip.

  “She’ll be fine once she’s had some sleep.” Bree started for the fridge then stopped and looked around. An enticing aroma was coming from the crockpot on the bench and there was something cooking in the oven, yet the benches were clear and there wasn’t a dirty dish or a spoon in sight. “Dinner smells good.” She continued on to the fridge and the beer she’d been hanging out for.

  “It’s vegetable hotpot.” Laura followed her and took a beer for herself.

  “By that you mean no meat?”

  “And chocolate pudding.”

  Bree took a swallow, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at Laura, who was watching her closely.

  “I like the sound of pudding,” Bree said. “Not so sure about the idea of no meat but—”

  “Kate said the smell of red meat cooking makes her feel sick.”

  “Okay, well, I don’t care, I guess.” Bree remembered the rip in the back of her shirt. She’d hooked it on barbed wire as she’d climbed through a fence. “I don’t suppose you run to sewing as well, do you? I’ve got a hole in my—”

  “No!”

  Bree felt mean then. She couldn’t sew and she didn’t enjoy cooking. Laura had made life easier while their mum was away. Bree wasn’t sure she’d let her know that. “I do appreciate you cooking for us.”

  “I’ve invited someone for dinner.” Laura glanced towards the door.

  “Who did you invite?”

  “Paul Brown.”

  “Mum’s principal!”

  “He’s a really nice guy.” Laura sipped her beer. “I like him.”

  “When have you even seen him?”

  “I met him a couple of weeks ago. We’ve caught up several times since.”

  Bree grinned, tapped the neck of her beer bottle against Laura’s. “Go for it. You might as well be getting some action; Kate and I sure as hell aren’t.”

  Laura’s face went pink. “Paul’s not…we’re taking things slowly.”

  Bree lifted a hand in the air. “Okay, don’t be so touchy.”

  “I’m not but I’m wondering, if Kate’s not well, do you think I should cancel?”

  The kitchen door opened and Kate stepped through, a rug draped around her hunched shoulders. Bree was pleased to see she’d brushed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail and she’d put some colour on her lips.

  “What are you cancelling?” Kate fought with the door to make it stay shut then crossed to the fire and held her hands to the heat.

  “I thought if you’re not feeling up to it I should tell Paul not to come.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Kate pulled her face into a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’d like to meet him and you’ve gone to all this trouble for him.” She winked at Bree. “He’s a vegetarian.”

  “Oh. I see.” She looked back at Laura. “So the vegetable hotpot is for Paul, not for Kate.”

  “We’ll both enjoy it,” Kate said. “Shall I set the table?”

  “I’ll do it,” Bree said. “For four?”

  “I guess it’s a bit late to call it off now,” Laura said.

  By the time Bree had set the table, Kate had drawn a chair up closer to the fire and was sitting staring at it. Usually she said it was too hot and stuffy in the kitchen. Bree went to her, put a hand on her shoulder. “You all right?”

  Kate pulled a smile. “The sleep helped but now I feel cold. I’ve got a bit of a scratchy throat.”

  “Maybe you’re coming down with something.” Laura drew a chair up beside Kate’s. “It’s impossible to keep this place warm. Mum and Dad should install ducted heating.”

  “Good luck with that,” Bree said.

  “Do you think Dad surprising Mum is a good idea?” Laura asked.

  “Should be,” Kate said. “I hope it works out.”

  They’d discussed their parents’ odd behaviour in detail once their dad had left but they were no closer to working out what was going on. Like her sisters, Bree harboured a fear there was something wrong with their mum in spite of their dad’s reassurance she was simply taking a break. When he’d said he was going to join her they became more suspicious. On top of that he wouldn’t say how long he would be. Bree was anxious to join Owen but she couldn’t leave until her dad came back. She glanced at the clock. Owen would have knocked off work by now.

  “If you’ve got everything under control here I’m going to have a shower and ring Owen,” she said.

  “Don’t be too long; Paul will be here soon.” Laura almost bounced on her chair.

  Bree left them to it, one pale, sad-faced sister and the other pink-cheeked with a sparkle in her eyes.

  Paul arrived at the farmhouse at five-thirty exactly. Bree was coming back from the quarters as he knocked on the door. He was clutching a bottle of bubbles and a bottle of red. “I didn’t know what everyone liked to drink,” he said.

  Laura was beside him before Bree could shut the door. She introduced him to Kate and Bree, who thought him better looking than she’d remembered. He wore a thick knit navy sweater over tan chinos and his hair was perfectly groomed. He obviously used product. No wonder Laura was smitten.

  Laura served up her vegetable hotpot to great acclaim from Paul and Kate, and Bree had to grudgingly agree it wasn’t bad but she enjoyed the chocolate pudding with ice cream more.

  “So your dad’s gone to join your mum at last.” Paul patted at his lips with the paper napkin. “She must be glad.”

  “Probably more surprised,” Bree said.

  His look turned quizzical.

  “Mum doesn’t know he’s coming.” Laura looked at the clock on the wall. “This time tomorrow he’ll probably be there.”

  “No,” Kate said. “He couldn’t get the flights he wanted. He’s spending tomorrow with his cousin in Adelaide and going to the footy. He’ll fly out Sunday morning.”


  “He may as well be enjoying himself,” Bree said. “It’s too wet to get the seeder going again.”

  “Where is your mum exactly?” Paul asked.

  “Somewhere north of Broome in an Aboriginal community,” Laura said.

  “The Dampier Peninsula?”

  “I think so.”

  “I had a friend who taught up there for a while. At a place called One Arm Point. He loved it but it was fairly isolated.”

  “I think that’s why Mum chose it,” Bree said.

  “Have you heard about the family fun day being organised to support the Halbots?” Paul asked.

  “I heard something about it while we were in town,” Bree said. “They’re looking for people to do things.’

  “Like what?” Laura asked.

  “I think they’ve got pony rides and face painting covered,” Paul said. “And they’re trying to organise some kind of fashion parade and an auction.”

  “Is it to raise money?” Kate asked.

  “I guess,” Paul said. “There was some mention of pamper packs. And I think funds will go to the McGrath Foundation or the wig library or those places country people stay at in the city when they have their treatment. There’s no end of places to send money. Evidently there are a couple of other women in the district who are having treatment too. It’s meant to be as much about community support as fundraising, I think.”

  “Perhaps I could do hair styling or manicures,” Laura said.

  “When is it?” Bree asked.

  “The middle weekend of the school holidays,” Paul said.

  “I’ll be back at my place by then,” Kate said.

  “And I’ll probably be in Marla,” Bree said. “You’ll have to make the King family contribution, Laura.”

  “And Mum and Dad,” Laura said, her eyes round with worry. “They’ll be home by then, surely.”

  “I can help you,” Paul said brightly. “I’ve been asked to join the committee and I’m a bit out of my depth. I don’t know much about nails and styles but you could cut my hair if you like.”

  “I think the idea at these things is to get people to pay you to shave it all off,” Bree said.

  Paul’s eyes blinked behind his glasses and he put a protective hand to his head.

  “You could be my guinea pig.” Laura jiggled on her seat. “I could demonstrate cutting your hair and maybe con a few other guys into having theirs cut, with money going to the fundraiser.” She gave Bree a stern look. “A lot aren’t prepared to shave their head but they might have a trim or a style.”

  “Or don’t some of them go for colour?” Kate asked.

  They all looked to Laura. Her rainbow hair was loose and flowing over her shoulders tonight. It was fading but the strips of colour could still be seen.

  She screwed up her nose. “I don’t fancy doing that in a tent. I’ll stick to nails and styling.”

  Bree was pleased to see Kate smile along with her, even if it was at their sister’s expense.

  Thirty-Two

  The day was grey but dry outside and the farm kitchen cold when Kate struggled in to make herself a late-morning cup of tea. Neither of her sisters were there. Laura had brought her tea and toast in bed first thing before she’d headed off into town, evidently to have breakfast with Paul even though she’d only seen him last night, and Kate had no idea where Bree was. The house was so quiet it compounded her gloomy mood.

  She sat hunched over the table, her hands gripped around the hot mug for warmth, and stared at the dark glass of the slow combustion. The fire had gone out and she didn’t have the energy to get it started again. Her night had been restless – nowhere in the bed could she get comfortable for long. If she was like that now how would it be later in the pregnancy when she got bigger?

  She sipped the hot tea and wondered again for the hundredth time since the doctor had told her she was pregnant how she was going to manage. She had another week before Sean would be back. Their nightly phone calls were a struggle. She’d taken to making a list of things that happened each day so that she could fill their calls with chat.

  She wondered at Sarah and her wild enthusiasm at the prospect of being a mother, when Kate had no such feelings. She was filled with a heavy dread when she thought of the future with a baby. She didn’t mind kids but they needed to be three or more. Babies were not her thing. It wasn’t from lack of experience. Sean had several nieces and nephews and they’d even looked after a couple of them from time to time but never when they were babies.

  A lock of hair fell forward. She took it in her fingers, inspected it and was appalled to realise she hadn’t washed her hair in several days. She sat back and groaned just as the kitchen door opened. Bree strode in carrying some bags.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Kate said. “I just know what a wreck I look.”

  “I’m going to fix that.” Laura followed Bree into the kitchen and she also carried bags. “We’re having a girls’ pamper day. I’ve bought every type of treat.” She lifted a shopping bag in the air. “There has to be something in here to tempt you.”

  “Do you have chips?” Kate asked.

  Laura’s eyes sparkled. “Three different flavours.” She emptied one shopping bag onto the table.

  Kate sifted through bags of chips, biscuits, chocolates and lollies, then opened a bag of chicken chips and put one in her mouth. “Yum,” she said between crunches. “That’s just what I felt like.”

  “I have healthy stuff too.” Laura carried her other bag to the bench. “Strawberries, bananas, crunchy rolls and ice cream.”

  “I thought you said healthy,” Bree said.

  “Ice cream’s made with milk and milk is good for mothers-to-be. They need calcium.”

  Bree rolled her eyes and Kate chuckled. She took another chip. “I feel better already.”

  “That’s not all,” Laura said.

  Bree set her bags on the other end of the table. “Evidently I have the makeover gear.”

  “What makeover?”

  “A hair wash and trim for a start,” Laura said. “Then we’ll get on to facials and nails.”

  Kate couldn’t be bothered washing her hair but to have it done for her would be rejuvenating, she was sure of it.

  “And…” Laura peered into one of the bags Bree had carried and drew out a handful of DVDs. “These are from Paul.”

  “I don’t think I’m in the mood for crime and gore,” Kate said.

  “I didn’t pick those. He watches chick flicks as well. Have you seen On Chesil Beach or Crazy Rich Asians?” She waved a couple of DVDs in the air.

  Kate shook her head.

  “There’s plenty more. We’re going to have the best pamper day ever.”

  “I don’t know about nails but I wouldn’t mind a hair trim,” Bree said.

  Laura spun around. “I forgot! There’s still a bag of food in the car.”

  “More.” Kate eyed the piles she’d produced already.

  “Little pies and pasties, sausage rolls. We’re having a party-food DVD night.”

  “Isn’t it Saturday?” Kate said.

  “I’ve cancelled Granny roast night,” Laura said. “I popped in to see her while I was in town and she’d organised a card game for this afternoon so I suggested she not drive out here tonight.”

  “Had dad called in?” Bree asked.

  “Yesterday on his way to Adelaide.”

  “Did she seem okay?” Kate asked.

  Laura nodded. “She said he explained all the assets were in his and Mum’s names now, which includes the unit in town and her car. Granny was happy enough with that but said she was still worried Dad would try to get Aunty Connie to pay back the money she’d siphoned from Granny’s old account.”

  “We’ve stopped those payments,” Kate said. “Dad has every right to chase Connie over it but I don’t think he will, do you?” She looked at Bree who shook her head.

  “He might bluster about it but as long as we’v
e tidied up all the loopholes, I think he’ll let it go for Granny’s sake.”

  “Granny must feel as if she had to decide between her children,” Kate murmured. “It’s awful but I think it’s best she didn’t come tonight.”

  “I’ll go to see her tomorrow,” Bree said.

  “So…” Laura clapped her hands. “We’ve got the place to ourselves and we’re going to have some fun.”

  Bree grimaced but Kate knew she’d enjoy herself; they all would.

  Later that afternoon the den fire was burning brightly and the sounds of Elton John’s ‘Rocket Man’ blared from the old CD player in the corner. The three sisters sang along, Bree the loudest, and they all had grins on their faces as the song finished.

  Bree wriggled in her chair. “Is that polish dry yet?”

  Laura surveyed her sisters’ feet from her position on the floor. They sat in the two recliner rockers, their legs stretched out with their feet up and bright blue separators splaying their toes. She’d painted Kate’s fingernails and toenails a lovely plum pink. Bree had said no to nails but had allowed Laura to paint her toenails deep red.

  “Give them a bit longer,” she said.

  Kate picked up the CD cover that lay in her lap. “Remember when we used to have those dress-up nights and we’d pretend to be famous singers and Mum and Dad and Granny and Pa would be our audience?”

  Bree groaned. “I don’t want to.”

  Kate waggled the CD cover at her. “You always wanted to be Elton John.”

  Laura laughed and picked up another cover. “What about Pink? Remember when we did our own choreography to ‘Get the Party Started’?”

  “Dad nearly had a fit,” Kate laughed.

  “And then Mum took us to the Pink concert,” Bree said. “He wasn’t happy about that either. You were only little, Laura.”

  Laura puffed out her chest. “I was ten.”

  “I’ve got the hair for it now,” Kate said and ran her hand over her new short style.

  “Not quite,” Laura said. “But I could cut it like Pink’s if you like.”

  Kate shook the neat bob that sat just under her chin. “This is enough of a change.”