Christmas in Canberra

by Nicole Taylor

  Christmas in Canberra

  Nicole Taylor

  Copyright 2017 Nicole Taylor

  Published by Brunette Publishing at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to all the wonderful women who have advised me, listened to me, assisted me, befriended me; and especially to those who helped me celebrate.

  Even when there was nothing to celebrate.

  You know who you are.

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction.

  Any resemblance the characters may have to persons living or deceased

  is co-incidental and unintentional.

  ***

  “She lacks the indefinable charm of weakness.”

  Oscar Wilde

  ***

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter16

  Chapter17

  Chapter 1

  BANG BANG BANG!

  What was that? Through the mental fog, Louise tried to identify the sound that had woken her. Gunshots? Hammering? Louise was dragged from sleep as quickly as her hangover allowed and scrambled out of bed. Completely disoriented now, she turned in a circle beside her bed trying to claim consciousness and her dressing gown.

  BANG BANG BANG!

  Peering cautiously round her bedroom doorway while fumbling with the ties to her gown, Louise could see the glass door to her basement unit shuddering in response to the pounding knock of her landlord, who lived with his wife in the house above.

  “Coming,” she called, thinking “For God’s sake – it’s Saturday – isn’t it?” She got to the door and opened it slightly, trying to hide her state of semi-attire from her visitor. She was immediately blasted by the brilliant morning sunshine which shone mercilessly into her now squinting eyes.

  “Hello, Mr O’Neil,” she said politely, hoping he wouldn’t smell last night’s rum & coke on her breath as she shrank further behind the door and away from the bright light.

  “Hello, there, Louise.” Mr O’Neil seemed thrilled to find her in sleepy disarray. Louise, quite horrified by his delight, hugged her dressing gown more closely and squeezing the door a bit more shut.

  “Just wanted to let you know that we will be going away for a few days, to the beach house.”

  “Oh, lovely,” said Louise. “Have a nice time!”

  “You won’t forget to water the garden, will you?” Mr O’Neil was keen to justify – and, it seemed to Louise, prolong – his completely unnecessary visit. They had discussed these arrangements two days ago when she had paid her rent – in advance, as usual.

  “No, no – of course not,” smiled Louise, closing the door even more. “Don’t you worry – it will all still be here when you get back. Bye bye!” And she had shut the door before finishing her last “bye”.

  Her sister, Marie, had taught her that trick. Marie was a legal secretary and had to deal with some pretty irate customers. “What you do,” she advised knowingly, “is this: You start speaking really sympathetically and assertively, so they like what they are hearing and can’t get a word in. Then – you hang up on yourself.” And she was right – it was the most brilliant strategy. Louise was still perfecting it, of course, and she would never have Marie’s confidence and panache, but she was nothing if not a diligent student.

  She stumbled into the shower, knowing she would not be able to get back to sleep now. Running the events of the preceding evening though her mind as she presented her face to the glorious shower of steaming hot water, Louise was greatly relieved to be unable to think of an especially embarrassing moment, or register any awareness at all of that deep feeling of fear she often woke up with when she had actually said or done something ridiculous but couldn’t remember exactly what it was. The trouble with drinking was that it led to a total loss of inhibitions which were clearly there to protect you in the first place. Uninhibited behaviour often resulted in loss of dignity, and a moment’s fun could easily melt into a week of shame. “Oh well,” Louise finally gave up her morning-after audit and shrugged resignedly. “Hopefully everyone else was too drunk to notice.”

  The coffee was definitely clearing her head and, having already heard the O’Neil’s station wagon pull out of the garage and drive off, Malua Bay bound, Louise happily settled herself, her coffee and her Benson & Hedges in the courtyard outside her unit, to dry her hair in the sun. She smoked and drank leisurely, fluffing her hair absentmindedly, reliving the more memorable portions of the previous evening.

  *

  It had all begun quite comfortably. The usual gang had met at Simon’s for dinner. It was a combo-celebration: Louise had finished her graduate degree after too many years of night-time study; Simon had planted the last shrub in his now showpiece garden and Kim had been promoted – again. Added to that, on the previous weekend the whole group had done a tour of the local wineries and stocked up for the summer. A dinner party was all that was required to congratulate each other and taste the spoils.

  “Well, Simon, I suppose we have to admit that all your labour has paid off,” Alex acknowledged grudgingly. Simon’s select group of friends, including Louise, were sitting under shade umbrellas on the terrace at the front of his verandahed home, enjoying the garden, the wine, and each other’s company.

  Simon chuckled and sat back with a very pleased expression on his face.

  “Do I detect a note of envy, Mr Malcolm?” he enquired.

  “Not a note, you bastard – I’m really jealous. All those weekends I sat inside watching Debbie Does Dallas while you were shovelling and digging and planting and building retaining walls – and you end up with a terraced garden, Debbie’s still doing Dallas, and what have I got?”

  “A har—” Simon was stopped from finishing his word by Kim, who popped a bite-sized savoury into his mouth.

  Alex’s girlfriend, Jenny, laughed with shock.

  “Here, have one of these,” said Kim, handing around a plate of delicious little pastries.

  “Ooh – yummy – thanks, Kim,” said Louise gratefully. Kim was an innovative cook and always came up with tasty things at their frequent get-togethers. Louise pretended to compete with her, but it was a friendly battle which Kim always won and Louise was happy to lose. “Are you going to Melbourne for Christmas this year?”

  “Well,” Kim answered cautiously, “we thought we might stay home this Christmas, and do something here.

  Before she could explain, the doorbell rang and Simon got up to answer it. Louise looked around – surprised. Everyone she had expected to see was already here. Had they invited the neighbours? Having met them previously, Louise hoped not. As the only single woman – person – in the group, she was often the focus of any male ‘friend’ who had been married so long that he had forgotten how lucky he was to find a wife; or worse – was married to such a good actress he believed that she w
as the envy of all single women. Married women had a lot to answer for, and they only fooled their husbands.

  But Simon returned with a very presentable male person. “Everyone, this is Gordon,” he said to no one in particular. “Gordon, this is Alex and Jenny, Louise, Tom and Judith, and you already know Kim.” Simon turned to the others and said “Gordon has just joined the Canberra office. He is from Sydney.”

  Everyone, especially Louise, smiled their welcomes. Gordon was tall, with fair, curly hair, and very good looking. He was around thirty years old and had clearly made use of the Sydney beaches because, unlike the lily white Canberrans, he sported a well-developed, even tan. Louise felt a tingle as Gordon settled himself in the chair beside her.

  “This is very civilized, Simon,” Gordon accepted the stubby Simon handed him with what could only be described as a toothpaste-commercial-quality smile.

  “Well, we aren’t complete barbarians out here in the snowy mountain district, you know,” Simon bantered. “It might not be Sydney, but we have other amusements.”

  “Oh – so you do get the Sydney television stations here, then?” Gordon countered, and got a laugh.

  “Sydney television stations?” Simon feined surprise. “I will have you know that we have no need of your crappy commercial rah rah. We have the Paynes!”

  “The what?” Gordon was playing along.

  “You have much to learn, my child,” Simon said mockingly. “You are now in the Illawarra tablelands, and new rules apply. The Payne family has run the commercial television station in this area for generations – since television first aired here. We have Mr Payne, the owner of Canberra-Goulburn Television; we have Sharon Payne, his daughter in law, who reads us the news, and his son, Rick, who decides which items of news we really want to know.”

  “Is Sharon attractive?” Gordon asked.

  “Ye – I wouldn’t know,” Simon nodded his head while casting adoring looks at Kim.

  “She is short and has a pretty face but really huge thighs.” Kim provided the details.

  “How can you tell?” asked Judy. “She sits behind the news desk – you can’t see her thighs.”

  “I saw her in the supermarket a while back.” Kim explained.

  “Wow!” Judy was clearly pleased with this titbit. “Big backside too?”

  “Monolithic.”

  Gordon watched this interchange and laughed. “So,” he interrupted the women, “let me get this straight. We have only one local commercial station –”

  “We are getting two more this year –”said Alex.

  “One TV station,” continued Gordon, “with a married, overweight newsreader –”

  “So far, we are no different to the Sydney television stations.” Louise thought she had better say something, otherwise Gordon might forget about her, or worse – he might think she was too stupid to contribute. Gordon turned his full attention to her, and a really sweet smile, as if to say that his ploy to get her to speak had worked. Louise noticed it and plunged on, not wanting to lose him now.

  “Aren’t all the Sydney newsreaders overweight and married, too?” she finished with a shrug.

  “Yes,” agreed Gordon, “I suppose they are.” He smiled and turned back to the group. “But they are men so it doesn’t matter.”

  Louise, Kim and Judy howled their disapproval and all the men laughed at how easy it was to take them.

  And so the evening had progressed. Drinks had become dinner as the summer sky changed around them. Baby blue became blotted with pink; the pink melted into mauve; and at last they sat under an indigo summer night sky, sparkling with a thousand stars.

  *

  “You met him where?” Margot’s disbelief vindicated Louise’s own. “You never meet interesting men at Simon’s. The only men he ever has over are Alex, the guy with the porn habit, and Tom, the petrol head.”

  “Tom is a vintage car enthusiast, Margot,” Louise corrected her friend.

  “Whatever. Anyway, both of them are sexist, unattractive, boring and practically married – something for which, I might add, the entire single female population of Canberra owes their women a debt of gratitude. There are already enough unattractive, dull men for us poor spinsters to wade through.”

  “Is that why you don’t come to Simon and Kim’s soirees anymore?” Louise asked.

  “No – not really.” Margot had finished packing her gym bag and was waiting for Louise, who was only a minute behind her. “Kim annoys me. She is “nice”, but she never really says anything without checking with Simon first. I always feel like a buffoon around her.”

  “You?” Louise looked Margot up and down, taking in her neat, womanly figure and long, straight, shining, chestnut hair. “She makes me feel like that – but you?”

  “She just annoys me,” said Margot defensively. “All that ‘In Melbourne, it’s classy to wear black’. And ‘In Melbourne, everyone plays tennis’; and ‘In Melbourne –’”

  “Oh I know – does she really think we care?” laughed Louise. “If Melbourne is so great, why did she leave?”

  “Single women travel away from home for one reason only,” advised Margot seriously. “They are looking for men. Kim came to Canberra to poach our guys!”

  Louise was agog. “Were you ever interested in Simon?”

  “No! Of course not!” Margot was adamant.

  “So? Who cares?”

  “It’s just the principle of the thing.” Margot was insistent. “If you want to migrate – you should bring your own bloke. We barely have enough to go around as it is.”

  Louise laughed. “But then Gordon would have had to have brought a gorgeous, suntanned Sydney woman with him and I wouldn’t be ‘in lerv’!”

  “Hhhmm,” acknowledged Margot, “I suppose there is always that aspect to things.”

  “Oh, yes!”

  “But we cannot spend the rest of the morning talking about Gordon.”

  “Just a minute more?”

  “No. I have to go.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m meeting Mum at the mall.” They were at their cars now, and Margot jumped into hers. “See you later,” she called through the open window as she started the engine.

  “Right,” said Louise as she waved Margot off. “I might as well drop in on my Mum, too.”

  *

  Mary looked around her big, airy, newly renovated kitchen, and thought how glad she was that Christmas would be held at her daughter Jane’s this year. The renovation had been an exhausting interlude and now she wanted nothing more than to enjoy the results. Large windows overlooked a generous backyard and half a dozen apricot trees, still abundant with fruit. Off in the distance, the city and parts of Lake Burley Griffin were visible, dominated by the obelisk silhouette of Black Mountain Tower. It was a beautiful morning in early summer, with a clear blue sky and a tingle in the air. Typical Canberra weather.

  In a few months’ time, they would sit in the kitchen and watch the hot air balloons crowding the sky like painted Easter eggs wobbling on a bright blue blanket.

  But Mary was not concentrating on the view this morning. Her thoughts were inwardly focused as she congratulated herself on having reached this point in her life. 48 years old, still beautiful, married almost 30 years, the matriarch of her family.

  Mary and Jim Keats had 5 grown children. Louise was the oldest, then Michael; Jane was the middle child, James was next and Marie was the baby. Only Michael and Jane were married, though, and only Jane had children – which was probably why Mary was closer to her than the others. When they were growing up, Mary had always felt closer to Louise. It was funny how things turned out.

  The house was getting to be just right at last. The Keats family had recently moved from the large family home they had built in Belconnen in the early 70’s, to this smaller house in Farrer, Woden Valley. It had 3 bedrooms when they bought it, but Jim had knocked out the walls between the 2 front bedrooms, and then the wall between the resulting room and the entrance hall,
so that there was only one bedroom left. From the front hall, there was now a large dining room on the left, the walls of which were lined with bookshelves – all neatly crammed full, and on the right, an equally large lounge room.

  The one remaining bedroom ensured that none of their kids would consider camping at Mum and Dad’s should their fortunes fall. Mary smiled to herself as she thought how neatly this had been accomplished.

  At that moment Louise walked through the front door which was open as usual in the summer, disturbing her mother’s reverie. “Garden’s looking good, Mum,” she said by way of greeting.

  Mary inwardly groaned. She just wasn’t in the mood for Louise this morning, who “dropped in” almost every day; on her way home from work; or on the way to Jane’s or Marie’s. Why couldn’t she get her own life and leave them in peace? She met her father in Civic for lunch almost every week – wasn’t that enough?

  Mary looked at her daughter and saw exactly what she expected to see. Louise was dressed in a pair of those hideous stretchy trousers, running shoes and a large sloppy pullover. None of the dull, washed- out colours suited her – or anyone else that Mary could think of – and Louise’s very pale, clean skin and plain brown hair did nothing to distinguish her appearance.

  Hoping to discourage her from staying, Mary replied “Oh. I was just going out.”

  “Oh, okay,” said Louise, confused. “Is Dad home? I didn’t see his car.”

  “No, he’s doing the bun run.” Jim volunteered with the St Vincent de Paul society one Saturday of each month, delivering the unsold bread which was donated by local bakeries to various homes around Canberra. This was affectionately termed the “bun-run”.

  “Would you like a lift somewhere?” Louise asked, congratulating herself on being so magnanimous considering Mary’s rather ungracious reception. Knowing that her mother didn’t drive, Louise was surprised to hear of her intended outing in the absence of her father – and the car.