Christmas in Canberra

by Nicole Taylor

  “That was Canberra in the sixties.”

  “Where did he go to school in Brisbane?” Aidan wasn’t quite finished. “Church E?”

  “Gregory Terrace.”

  “A Catholic GPS – like my school.”

  “Don’t tell me,” she said, stifling a yawn. “You were a boarder at St Joseph’s in Sydney.”

  “Did Kate tell you that too?”

  “She may have.” Louise was bored.

  “And where, may I ask, did you go to school?”

  “I didn’t go to a ’passport’ school if that’s what you are asking.”

  “It would have been a waste anyway.” Aidan paused, and when Louise didn’t respond finished his thought. “A beautiful woman with brains needs no propping up. She already has the keys to the kingdom.”

  Louise smiled appreciatively, so Aidan continued. “But let’s get back to our little game.”

  “Okay,” agreed Louise. “But now, do it the other way round.”

  Aidan looked at her quizzically.

  “I will point someone out, and you have to tell me what they drive. Then, we go up and ask them.”

  “And what do I get if am correct?”

  “If you are right every time, I will cook you dinner; most of the time, and I will take you on a picnic. If you are correct only half the time, I will buy you a coffee. Less than that, the deal is switched and you have to make the dinner.”

  “Or picnic, or buy the coffee.” Aidan was amused. “So in actual fact, I find myself in a win-win situation.”

  “Always the most satisfactory sort.”

  “Yes,” he laughed. “They most definitely are.” And he clinked Louise’s glass and drank. “There’s just one thing,” he seemed almost embarrassed.

  “What is it?”

  “When we have dinner, or a picnic, or coffee, could you leave the moustache at home?”

  Louise laughed. “But I feel naked without it.”

  “Naked works.”

  At that moment, Margot arrived with Bob. “Hi, Lou,” she said. “I’m going to find the Ladies. Want to come?” In their long-established girlfriend-speak, this was not a question but more of a call to arms.

  “Sure,” answered Louise, handing her glass to Aidan and following Margot out of the marquis.

  “How is it going?” Louise asked as she and Margot made their way through the uneven grass in the dark to the creepy looking latrines, which had been set up at the far end of the parking lot. The organizers had probably tried to hide the toilets from view but had also succeeded in placing them in an unlit ditch.

  “You mean “Bob the snob”? First he asked me straight out which school I’d gone to; then he spent the next half an hour trying to figure out how I know the Fox’s.” Louise had known Margot since they were in Year 10, and had only discovered that her father was a very highly regarded medical specialist when it transpired that her sister in law, Roxanne, had consulted him. It was she who had pointed out that Margot was the daughter of a surgeon. Louise had known the Gaudry family for more than a decade; she had been on holidays with them, but the subject of their fathers’ occupations had never arisen.

  “Oh, I see,” said Louise. “Bob thought that because Kate and Rachel’s parents are doctors, your families were “connected”.

  “I don’t know what he thought.” Although very softly spoken and always ladylike, Margot was very decisive in every circumstance. “But he gives me the creeps. What’s yours like?”

  “He’s a bit the same way, actually, but quite nice. I’m happy to leave when you are, though.”

  “How about right now?”

  “Let’s do it.” And the girls made their way to the parking lot through the unlit field.

  Once in the car, Margot put on an INXS tape and asked “Private Bin?”

  “But of course!” Louise replied. “Our fans await!”

  Chapter 7

  It was 11.30 when the girls arrived at The Bin, and the discotheque had been crowded for half an hour. Louise and Margot had shed their moustaches, hats and shirts. They had worn black leotard-style tops under the shirts, which looked quite sexy now and matched their black stockings. Everyone still looked fresh and lively, and Margot and Louise squeezed past them on their way to the bar.

  “Look who’s here!” Russell, the handsome young barman who virtually ran the discotheque section of the establishment, was quietly pleased to see Louise and Margot. He began to pour them each a drink without asking them for an order. “Where have you two been hiding? We haven’t seen you for weeks.”

  “Hi Russell, how have you been?” Louise accepted the rum and coke he gave her. “How’s your dad?” Louise had worked with Russell’s father, a war veteran. He had insisted that she should visit the Private Bin and his boy would look after her.

  And he had. Louise and her girlfriends never paid the cover charge and rarely paid for their drinks. Russell and his flat mate and co-worker, George, had become friends and allies at the disco. Unfortunately, Russell was working whenever Louise wasn’t, and vice versa. So, anything more than a friendship was doomed.

  George appeared beside Russell and said “Hello” to the girls.

  “Oh – Michael must have seen you walk in,” George pointed to the DJ who waved from his box. “There’s your song.”

  Louise and Margot handed back their drinks immediately and quickly made their way to the dance floor in time to enjoy the Paul Simon song Michael had so considerately played. He knew that they would request it anyway but it was his way of saying “Hello”, too. Any other requests would have to be made in person, because Michael couldn’t leave his box and always liked a personal visit from Louise.

  The girls left the dance floor when the song ended and returned to the bar to reclaim their drinks. The discotheque at Private Bin was located above the larger bar room downstairs, which attracted a very different clientele. Downstairs was jeans, and bar service only; upstairs required a coat and tie; had bar and table service, with waiters in black bow ties and waitresses wearing long, strapless dresses in dusty-pink, to match the overstuffed couches set around low tables.

  The dance floor was behind brass bars which ran from floor to ceiling. The wall of the dance floor opposite these bars was lined with smoky mirrors, and flashing coloured lights highlighted the area to the rest of the room.

  Against the far wall opposite the dance floor, the dining section was raised by four steps and separated by railings from the general seating arrangements. Tables and chairs were lined up against the railings and were reserved for diners. After 11 pm anyone could sit at these tables, which had the best view of the room and the dance floor. Looking towards the dining area now, Margot was rewarded with a smile from Andrew who was sitting up there with a group of friends.

  Louise knew the long-established ritual and was about to smile at Andrew, too, when her attention was drawn to the man who sat beside him.

  “Margot – Margot!” Louise felt her heart pump faster for a moment and drew a deep breath.

  “What, Lou?” Margot was enjoying her across-the-room eye-flirt with Andrew hard-to-get McCarthy, and while she would never actually be rude to anyone, least of all her best friend, she was not pleased to be drawn away so quickly. “What is it?”

  “Look who is sitting beside Andrew.” Louise was looking over Margot’s shoulder, allowing Margot a surreptitious view of Andrew’s table.

  Margot took a good look. “Is that Gordon – the Sydney guy?”

  “Yes! What do you think he is doing with Andrew?”

  “Perhaps they work together.”

  “No. Gordon works at Social Security. Andrew works at Farmer Brothers.”

  They were interrupted by men asking them to dance. Margot and Louise had a rule. Unless the man was rude or drunk, they never refused a dance, and then it had to be for that dance and the next one. That way no one got their feelings hurt. But at the end of the dance, unless they were interested in the guy, they said thank you and returned
to their seat. If the guy followed them back and asked them if they wanted a drink, they politely refused and left it at that.

  So now they danced with two young men, both Duntroon graduates, and chatted to the extent that the loud music would allow. Margot was easy to chat with during a dance, as she swayed rythmically in time to the music. Louise gyrated so vigorously it was difficult for her to breathe after a few minutes, let alone chat. These men were loathe to let them leave after the second dance, but Margot and Louise were insistent and promised to dance with them again later.

  “I think it is your duty to go and find out how Andrew knows Gordon,” said Louise as soon as they had returned to their drinks.

  “No way!” Margot was adamant. “If anyone should go up to them, it is you.”

  “What?” Louise was disbelieving. “But you and Andrew have an established “thing”. Gordon and I have a – a – we have nothing!”

  “Precisely!” Margot was triumphant. “You have a clean slate. Andrew already knows I lust after him. I’m not going up there.”

  “Hi, girls.” It was David Taplin, Andrew’s ever-smiling flat-mate and old school friend. Margot had met David when she first met Andrew. He was a gentleman and very pleasant company. “It’s so crowded now, we can’t get service at our table so I’ve been sent to rustle up some Russians.” David’s favourite drink was a Black Russian. “Why don’t you girls join us?”

  “David – we thought you would never ask.” Louise smiled and offered to help carry the half dozen glasses George was handing across the bar to David.

  “Oh – and a bottle of pink champagne for the ladies,” he added.

  Louise and Margot gushed their thanks to David as they headed up to the dining area, George following with champagne and ice bucket.

  “Look who I found,” said David as he handed out the drinks. Andrew was all smiles to see the girls. Louise often wondered whether he was like her brother, Michael: too lazy to pursue a romance but quite happy if one was thrust upon him. Margot would never come to the party on that arrangement, though, Louise knew.

  Gordon greeted them very calmly, as though it was an everyday event.

  “Have you met Gordon?” asked David innocently. “He’s Andrew’s brother. We were all boarders together at Canberra Grammar. Gordon’s just moved back here from Sydney.”

  Margot and Louise looked at each other and blinked in disbelief. “Yes, we have met actually,” said Louise as nonchalantly as she could manage. “So, David,” she seated herself beside him and asked quietly, “how is the new restaurant coming along?”

  David was an entrepreneur and had just bought ‘Albert’s Restaurant’. He had recently appeared in a television commercial advertising its opening event.

  “Did you see the ad?” He beamed at her. “You must join us on opening night. We need all the Beautiful People there!”

  “Canberra doesn’t have Beautiful People,” laughed Margot, who sat on his other side between David and Andrew. “When is the grand opening?”

  “Next Friday night, and you had better come. 9 pm and wear something elegant.”

  “Or?” asked Louise as she sipped her champagne.

  “Or I won’t recognize you – you two always look elegant.”

  “That’s better,” Louise clinked her glass with David’s.

  “I was almost in trouble then,” David said cheerfully. “I didn’t want you to think it would be a mini-skirt affair, that’s all.”

  “Not that we are complaining – about the mini-skirts.” Gordon flashed his sexiest smile at the girls but Margot only had eyes for Andrew.

  “I hadn’t realized that Canberra was your home town,” Louise said. “I suppose the people you meet are more inclined to be friendly when they think they are welcoming a newcomer.” She wondered why she felt almost annoyed.

  Gordon sensed her coolness, and tried to explain. “I feel like a newcomer. And Canberra isn’t my home town. We were boarders at Canberra Grammar in Red Hill for 3 years at the end of high school while Dad was on a posting to Indonesia. I moved back to Sydney straight after that.”

  “Why didn’t you board in Sydney?”

  “Well, our uncle was the headmaster at Canberra Grammar, and our parents thought there would be too many distractions in Sydney. But I didn’t get to know anything beyond Manuka and the Red Hill shops during those three years, so -” and he raised his hands in an extended shrug.

  Louise listened and felt a little less affronted by this revelation. Gordon smiled and with every expectation of being accepted, asked “Would you like to dance?”

  A slow song was playing, and everyone danced closely. Normally Louise would refuse to dance to a slow song but this time she was happy to do so. “Okay,” she said lightly, and waited for Gordon to lead her on to the dance floor.

  He was a lovely dancer and held her loosely. “I thought I’d have run into you before this,” Gordon said. “Have you been away?”

  “No,” answered Louise. “Just doing other things. Have you been getting out much?”

  “A fair bit.” He gently pulled her closer and they stopped talking.

  *

  “Oh Louise – what are we going to wear?” Margot called Louise at work the following week, something she only ever did in her lunch hour. Since Louise usually ate lunch at her desk – a habit she had originally developed so that she could get in an hour of study; and now one continued out of, well, out of habit – it was the perfect time to have a conversation. The office was empty and they could speak freely.

  Margot was feigning horror. “You realise that this night at Albert’s Restaurant is our Big Chance, don’t you?”

  “You mean because Gordon and Andrew will be there?

  “Not just them – their whole group of friends will be there. And it is a private function – not like running into them all at a club.”

  “So you think that this invitation is to include us in their social set; and might even lead to more invitations?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I mean – I would love that; but why didn’t they just invite us as their guests?”

  “Maybe they thought we would be more likely to accept an invitation from David?”

  Louise laughed. “Yeah, right – they aren’t sure if we like them, and they especially planned all this out in advance.”

  “OK, maybe not that,” Margot reluctantly agreed. “But seriously – we wouldn’t have been invited if they didn’t like us, surely?”

  “They didn’t invite us, Margot – David did!”

  “Yes, but David is their friend. Would he have invited us if Andrew and Gordon didn’t like us?”

  “Probably not; but let’s look at this objectively. First of all, we like them more than they like us.”

  “You don’t know that,” Margot protested.

  “I think I do know that,” Louise insisted. “Secondly, we are no trouble for them. We don’t harass them; we don’t cost them anything; and we are always available to them. And thirdly, they have no competition for our attention. Fourthly, I think most of the women David knows are attached to the men he knows; and he knows many single men, so he needs to invite single women -”

  “Louise, you are not going to spoil this for me. I am going to go out and buy myself the most gorgeous evening dress and I’m getting all new make-up. I will concede that this may not be our Big Chance but it definitely our Only Hope.”

  “God Margot. You’re right.”

  “And this is it.”

  “What do you mean “This is it”?”

  “If nothing comes of this evening at Albert’s restaurant, I’m retiring my post as the one-woman Andrew McCarthy Fan-club President.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Do you think you can do it?”

  “Watch me.”

  “Wow. You sound as though you have made up your mind!”

  “I have. Are you with me?”

  Louise thought for
just a second. “Yes, I think I am.”

  “Good. Let’s give it our best shot and if we still don’t succeed, move on.”

  “Move on? To what?”

  “I don’t know – nothing! But we are not going to be McCarthy groupies anymore.”

  “No.”

  “OK then.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll pick you up on Friday night.”

  “Are we driving? Don’t you want to drink?”

  “No – I’m staying sober for this.”

  “Good idea. See you Friday.”

  Chapter 8

  At work on Monday, Louise answered the phone and heard Tim Cotter on the other end.

  “Louise, it’s Tim,” he said.

  “Hi, Tim. How are you?”

  “Good, thanks. Hey – why didn’t you come to my BBQ last weekend?”

  “Was I invited?”

  “Yeah, ‘course you were. Jane said she told you about it.”

  “Oh, did she?” Louise raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, Tim, I must have misunderstood. How was it, anyway?”

  “Pretty good. So, are you doing my tax again this year?”

  “Sure thing! But you will be late now. It was due in months ago, Tim.”

  “Better late than never.”

  “Have you kept all your receipts?”

  “Nuh!”

  Louise laughed. “Well, give me whatever you’ve got and we will pull something together.”

  Tim laughed. “Can we have lunch today? I’ll give you all my stuff then.”

  “OK. Meet me at the Moore St café at 12.30.”

  “See you then.”

  When Louise arrived, Tim was already seated at the rear of the café. He stood when he saw her, and at 6 feet 10 inches tall, made the furniture look inadequate until he sat down again. Louise much preferred to sit out under the awning at the front of the café, but she knew Tim had chosen the table at the back to avoid being recognized by basketball fans. The Cannons game was televised each week and as a handsome, 27-year-old single team member, Tim had quite a following.

  They ordered lunch and Louise looked through the papers Tim had brought along with him.