In utter fascination, Katriona and Ling Ling watched the four girls work on their project. Since when was homework so much fun? In Russia, where Katriona had grown up, she had frightening memories of teachers with stubble and bad breath, pacing the floor with a cane that found its mark should you be unlucky enough to provide the wrong answer. The male teachers were even worse! For Ling Ling it was equally confusing: school had meant hours of memorisation and repetition. There were approximately 50,000 characters in the Chinese language, and you needed to know at least 5,000 just to read a newspaper! Her family in Singapore were bitterly disappointed to discover she had no ambition to be an accountant and zero desire to join the family firm.
“But why not?” her father exclaimed after listening to her plans. “You’re so gifted. Plus you’re a Shu. Our name means ‘number’. My father was an auditor. My father’s father was an auditor. And his father before him. Impossible you should want to do anything else.” He turned to his wife. “It must be your side of the family.” His wife chose not to talk about her husband’s brother, who had run away to study Law. Nobody talked about him any more.
Ling Ling had been quite happy to move to Australia, where people valued a pretty set of nails just as much as a neatly solved equation. When Alana asked her why she should want to waste her time scrubbing and decorating people’s feet, she replied, “People smile at you after you paint pretty flowers on their nails. Not so many after you tell them how much tax they owe.” This did not mean Ling Ling shunned numbers altogether. Ling Ling’s ‘gift’ with digits and formulas always paid off at the stock market. But it was just a means to an end. The Beauty Bar she ran with Katriona was her true passion.
The studious silence of the room was broken by occasional sniggers and snorts from the two adults. Ling Ling and Katriona, inspired by Alana’s school assignment, played with an App on Ling Ling’s phone. It morphed their photos so their features changed to drooping eyes, flattened noses and spinning ears. After the fifth interruption, Alana could take no more.
“Do you mind?” she grumbled.
As soon as she returned to her work, Katriona placed her hand on her hip and mouthed: “Do you mind?” behind her back. This sent the two of them into another fit of laughter. Alana’s answering glare contained the full force of a disgruntled librarian.
Ling Ling was the first to quiet down. She sidled up to Maddie.
“Whatcha doin’?” she said, one leg swinging over the arm of the couch.
Maddie gave Ling Ling a wary glance. She was not sure what to make of this woman who was so … pink.
“I’m checking different social-networking sites. See, this one connects you to your friends, and then your friends’ friends, and then their friends. It’s quite a neat way to find people you haven’t kept in touch with.” She pointed to the next window on her screen. “This one puts you in touch with people you don’t know, but who have a common interest.”
At this piece of information, Ling Ling’s leg paused mid-swing. She peered at the computer with new-found intensity.
“Ve-ry in-te-res-ting. Don’t you think it is interesting, Katriona?” she said with a pointed glance.
Katriona, however, was inspecting her nails for chips, and missed Ling Ling’s look of meaning.
“So you’re saying that I, or Katriona if she wanted to, could connect with a complete stranger using this, this … website, and it would match me up with the right person? A possible friend? Perhaps even the love of my life to go on dates with, and marry, and live happily ever after?” Ling Ling jumped up and down with Katriona, who now understood the source of her friend’s excitement.
Maddie screwed up her face in disgust as she muttered, “I guess so.”
Alana glanced up from her screen. “Sorry, Auntie Katriona. There’s no website in the world which can help you with that one. Not unless you use someone else’s photograph.”
Katriona’s answering glare changed to one of fiendish delight as another idea took hold.
This germ of an idea, starting out smaller than a microbe, took root in Ling Ling and Katriona’s minds. It was an idea that grew … and grew.
CHAPTER 12
The point of no return.
The dining room filled with the clink of glass, the clatter of cutlery and the din of conversation as the girls ate and chatted. Emma took the opportunity to escape, and grabbed some pasta to eat on the go. But it was likely her food would grow cold and hard by the time she got around to it. She used to let forgotten bowls of congealed food pile up on books and papers until one day, fed up, Alana had placed every single dirty bowl and plate in a line, from her mum’s study to the kitchen. It was like a trail on a three-dimensional map. Emma got the hint and, from then on, returned the dishes, and occasionally washed them, if she wasn’t too immersed in work. From the frenetic tap, tap, tap of the computer keys, Emma’s dinner, (for tonight anyway) would be cold pasta again.
In the next room, the four new high-schoolers were enjoying the second part of the assignment: research for a game of ‘Guess Who’. Questions flew about the room with the energy of buzzing mosquitoes.
“Okay, how about pets? Anyone got one?”
“Do little brothers and sisters count?”
“Oh, don’t be so mean, Maddie!” said Sofia. “I have one. He’s a mongrel named Nostradamus – Mum let me rescue him from an animal shelter because the ad said he was ‘on death’s door’ … that was six years ago. I don’t think Mum and Dad expected him to last this long.”
“I have a cat,” volunteered Khalilah. “She’s called Sushi. But she’s so fat now, maybe I should call her Sumo.” The girls laughed. “I got her as a present when we moved here from Brunei. How about you, Alana?”
“Oh no. No pets allowed here, are you kidding me? My mum is a disaster when it comes to animals,” she said. Alana hadn’t always lived in Marrickville in a (quite) big house, with a garden and do-up potential. She used to live in a flat in Newtown, very small (tiny really), with a shared courtyard decorated with broken cement urns and a small square of grass. It didn’t take long before it was too small for the stray cats and dogs her mum collected with the same ease lint collected on clothes. Alana’s dad, Hugo, rather than pointing out the impracticality of their ‘growing family’ had simply announced that they’d be better off in a house. And so they’d moved and the menagerie with them, although not to the animals’ advantage: The cats ran away. The guinea pig had a heart attack. The goat called Guts, died after eating a football. The fish was a suspected suicide.
“But the worst was Choo Choo, my hamster,” Alana said with a sad shake of her head.
“Poor Choo Choo,” sympathised Maddie and Sofia, who had heard the story before.
“What happened?”
“One night, Mum left the cage door open, and of course he went exploring. A jogger saw him disappear up the exhaust pipe of the neighbour’s Vespa. Mum tried to lure him out with food, but I think he was so fat from her Little Treats, he got stuck.”
“So what did she do?”
“She struck a match, hoping the light would attract him instead. Boy, was she wrong!” Alana shook her head. “The flame exploded because of the gas left in the pipe so that, Boom! Out shoots Choo Choo like a cannonball. Mum gets carted off to the burns unit and, well, I guess you could say Choo Choo had an unplanned cremation.”
The girls digested this news in silence.
Katriona and Ling Ling, listening at the door, crept back to the computer. They typed the words ‘animal lover’ into a blank space on the dating website, ‘HookUp’.
“Mum cried for a whole week, she felt so bad,” they heard Alana continue. “I just couldn’t get angry.”
‘S-o-f-t-h-e-a-r-t-e-d’ Katriona typed.
As the four girls shared information – from their favourite colour to what music they listened to – Ling Ling and Katriona continued to fill out the form, which promised to find the most compatible male for Emma to date.
Katriona
was stumped. “What shall we put down for interests?”
“We cannot write she is a workaholic. Too boring.”
“Or shopping. Men will run a mile.” Katriona paused. “She deserves someone fun. Why don’t we put down rock climbing, hang gliding, and bungy jumping?” as she concentrated hard on the screen.
“But none of that is true.”
“Well this isn’t a true photo of her, either, but we have to start somewhere. Those looks won’t last forever, and our salon can only do so much,” she said, pressing Enter.
When people used to communicate the Old-Fashioned Way, with stamps and stuff, you wrote letters. If you changed your mind, the piece of paper could be torn up and thrown away. We live in different times now. We live in a digital age where you press Send and the message is sent. Instantly. There is no paper to rip. No words to take back. No rewind or pause.
At the click of a button, Katriona placed all of them on a path from which nobody could return.
CHAPTER 13
Whenever you need a hole to swallow you up, it’s never there!
It took two days of intense negotiations before Slam Guru agreed to a second meeting. In the early evening, under the bright lights of Sydney’s Darling Harbour, James and Emma waited to see if the deal would come off.
“I used the last of my favours to re-schedule this interview,” James grumbled. “Not to mention getting exclusive use of The Sydney Aquarium at night. Thanks to your friends, I am now committed to shooting a calendar of Delores DeMontford and her poodles.”
“You’re the best, James. You know that?” said Emma, as she looped an arm through his.
“I’m a bit curious, though. Why do you want to do the interview here?”
A hint of a smile played at the corners of Emma’s mouth. “Think about it. Slam Guru is in Sydney to be the new face of ‘H2O Heroes’ – an organisation dedicated to saving aquatic environments and sea life. He uses ‘Scents of the Sea’ bubble bath, has a huge aquarium in his own home, and a pet cockatoo called Jaws. I figure he has to be a bit of an aquatic fan. Besides, Slam Guru was getting spooked by my recorder the other day. I need him to be completely relaxed if this is going to work.”
James felt having a stalker couldn’t have been very relaxing, either. But since that stalker was one of Emma’s closest friends, he merely murmured, “You’d better be right,” before catching sight of the rocker and his crew. This time, Slam was wearing a leather jacket over a faded t-shirt and jeans. He ran his fingers which were covered in thick rings fashioned into skulls through the stubble of his dark hair. Even though James couldn’t see through Slam’s trademark sunglasses, he could sense the musician’s eyes glancing uneasily from side to side. Slam Guru looked like the kind of man who could easily play the hero in any Tough Guy flick – and yet he twitched like an anxious rabbit.
The aquarium’s manager opened the staff entrance. The group ghosted in. Before any of Slam’s minders could stop him, the star-struck administrator grabbed his palm. He pumped it up and down and grinned like a maniac.
“It’s an honour, an honour,” he repeated, until Slam Guru managed to retrieve his hand. “If there’s anything you need, anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask. I am completely at your disposal.”
James escorted the man to his office, thanking him for accommodating his unusual request. This left Emma alone with Slam Guru and his bodyguards, who looked like they had doubled since last time. They looked about frequently and whispered to invisible colleagues on walkie-talkies.
Emma felt her stomach tighten as she took in a deep breath. She felt a sudden urge to run away.
“I wasn’t going to come,” Slam’s voice was husky. “But then your choice of … location changed my mind.”
Emma breathed out and relaxed. Her hunch was spot-on. Everything was going to be fine. With renewed confidence, Emma led Slam Guru through the aquarium’s walkways until they could hear the lyrical sounds of classical music weaving through the air. They came to a standstill at a massive glass wall reaching from floor to ceiling. Behind the metres-high wall were myriad colours, moving and flickering in the light. Hundreds of tropical fish swam in schools, darting in and out of rocks. Luminescent coral glowed. Larger pelagic fish slipped past with an elegant flick of the tail.
It was like standing on the bottom of the sea. The fish in the massive aquarium glided with ease, the grace of their movement heightened by the lilting notes of Debussy’s ‘Claire de Lune’ filling the room.
Nobody said a word. Even the bodyguards were spellbound.
“One of my favourite places,” Emma said simply, motioning with a hand at the wall. She tried to place her arm around the musician’s shoulders but, since he was so tall, settled for his elbow to draw him near. “Tell me, have you ever heard of a talking whale called ‘Nox’?”
Two hours later, the scene outside The Sydney Aquarium was a very different one. Now it was Slam Guru who pumped Emma’s and James’s hands with enthusiasm, as if they’d been friends for years. With a final goodbye, he and his entourage left.
Emma was so happy that she launched into a victory dance. She had done what no other journalist had succeeded in doing before! She, Emmalina Estafania Corazon Oakley, had scored the interview of a lifetime! But when Emma turned around, fist still pumping, hips mid-shake, she was mortified to find the source of her happiness standing behind her, watching. A look of amusement played on his lips. Emma froze.
It is one of the Laws of the Universe that when you need a big hole to swallow you up, it is never there.
“I just came back to see if you guys would like to come to my concert. And the after-party, of course.” Then he gave Emma a kiss, which left her stammering and tongue-tied.
“S-s-sounds wonderful. Thanks so much,” she said, with a disbelieving look at James. The tickets shook in her hand.
You didn’t have to be perfect to have a perfect life.
CHAPTER 14
First and last group hug.
Emma gave Katriona the signed photograph of Slam Guru and watched her friend almost faint with delight. The picture had no dedication on it, just a messy scrawl of SlmGu as the letters merged together. She kept the news about the free tickets to herself. Although Slam had given her and James two each, she planned on taking Alana to the concert as a surprise for her birthday. Somehow she had a feeling James would not be choosing Katriona. She most definitely did not share the fact Slam Guru had switched hotels. Emma trusted Katriona. She just didn’t trust her self-control.
Alana gave her mother a huge hug. “I’m so proud,” she whispered.
“Me too,” said James, overhearing. “I wasn’t sure you could pull it off, Emma, but somehow you did. You never cease to amaze me.”
“The dress helped!” said Ling Ling, not wanting to be left out.
Katriona held the photo of Slam Guru in front of her, “I know exactly where I’m putting you tonight!” she said, winking at the face of her idol.
Alana had a long list of things she did not want to see again: like the crack above Mr Peyton’s pants whenever he bent for the newspaper thrown on next door’s lawn, or Mrs Cassidy, their prying neighbour, who had the nasty habit of picking her nose. Hand over eyes, Alana warded off another visual taboo as Katriona Karovsky gave Slam’s photo a long, noisy kiss. She felt ill. Even James and Emma looked uncomfortable. Katriona then placed the photo up her Rolling Stones t-shirt (revealing far more than necessary) before zipping her jacket.
Too late. It was official. Alana was scarred for life.
“Time to celebrate!” whooped Ling Ling.
…
The nightclub pulsed with strobe lights and trance music. The boom of the bass hit Emma in the chest as soon as she entered. The Sub Club (so-called because architects used genuine submarine parts for the décor) attracted a diverse following, from film producers and body piercers to high-fashion stylists. Anybody with a creative streak in search of a good time went ‘Subbing’. Although it was Emma’s
first time at the club, it was a favourite haunt of Katriona and Ling Ling’s, and even James’s, who entertained the occasional out-of-town guest. What The Sub Club did best was surprise you. You never knew what was going to happen, or who was going to be there. It kept people coming back for more.
Emma felt slightly claustrophobic as she squeezed past dancers. Their frenetic shadows played on the walls like jigsaw pieces, oddly lit and unwhole. That she was away from her computer made it even worse. But she was determined to celebrate the biggest achievement of her career. She could write up the interview with Slam Guru later. She even had a few phrases lined up in her mind, jostling for attention like nervous racehorses at the gate. But she made an effort to push them all aside. Tonight she was going to have Fun. Even if it killed her.
The waitress (dressed as a naval officer, of course) showed them to their ‘booth’, a private space modeled on a submarine cabin. It even had its own periscope. From here they could observe the club without the usual noise which made conversation impossible.
“I’d like to propose a toast,” said James, lifting his glass. “To the only woman I know who has more luck than the Irish.”
“To Emma!” they cheered, clinking glasses.
There is a mathematical equation in bars all over the world, that the total number of drinks you are likely to consume, equals the number of people within your party. Emma did not know or care about such a calculation. What Emma did know was that treating, or shouting as the term is known, everybody to a drink would equal more than enough Fun for her. But what Emma did not count on was the tradition of everybody having a turn: after Emma paid for the first round of drinks, James paid for the second, and so on until everybody had Shouted A Round.
One drink quickly became four.
A second tradition added to Emma’s downfall. It is considered very bad manners to leave before you have had a chance to pay for your round. Even worse was to time your departure for after you’ve had the pleasure of several free ones. So when Emma mistakenly paid for a second round, the friends were thrust onto a merry-go-round of rules to which they were bound by courtesy and custom.
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