Roxanne had sworn Michael to secrecy so that she could break the news herself. She told him that it was better not to say anything until she had decided to have the baby. Michael felt that if he did as she asked, and let her go on a Pacific island holiday with her sister, she would decide in favour of the baby. If he didn’t – he couldn’t bear to think about that.
And so it was. Roxanne had returned from her holiday, suntanned and full of fun stories about men she had flirted with and people she had impressed. “Jane might have the house on the hill,” she thought, “but everyone knows Sam rules in that family, while I definitely have the upper hand in mine.” And Roxanne walked to the house with a spring in her step.
Jane and Mary were waiting for Roxanne a little nervously. They were looking forward to hearing about her adventure, and secretly impressed that Roxanne had had such a grand holiday without her husband. Mary had felt old and fuddy-duddyish when Michael had calmly told them that Roxanne and Leonie would be going away and he would be staying behind. She had even felt a pang – she’d hoped for an invitation, too. After all, she was only 12 years older than Leonie. Of course, she wouldn’t have gone, but it would have been nice to be invited. It would have made Jim sit up and take notice.
Jane wasn’t as surprised by Roxanne going away without Michael. It was more a matter of where she went that was the big surprise. Such an expensive, up-market destination – how could they possible afford something like that when they were trying to start a business?
Although no one in the family ever gave them credit for it, Jane and Sam ran a very profitable concreting and tiling business, employing half a dozen men, and had done so for the past 5 years. Sometimes Jane wanted to point this out to Roxanne, who often pronounced herself an expert in all things related to ‘private enterprise’, seemingly on the basis that she had no relatives in the public service and had herself worked as a receptionist at the local paper for the past 10 years. Her father was a shearer – an employee, not a businessman. Jane didn’t see why simply not being in the public service gave her the right to lord it over the rest of them. But she was too wary of the sting in Roxanne’s tail to ever say any of these things.
Primarily, though, both Mary and Roxanne knew that never, under any circumstances, would either of their husbands allow them to go off for 10 days to Daydream Island without them. Ever. And neither of them would ever entertain such a notion. This single event placed Roxanne above them in a way nothing else could. She had personal power and she used it.
“Hello!” Roxanne called cheerily into the house before she entered through the open door. “Anyone home?”
“Hi!” Mary and Jane hurried out to the entrance hall to meet her. “Come on in,” smiled Mary.
“How was the trip?” Jane asked, adding “great tan!”
“Oh, it was wonderful!” gushed Roxanne. “You should go, both of you – I’d go again tomorrow!”
Mary and Jane could not respond to that, but Roxanne was not expecting much conversation from either of them. They had walked through the house and were at the kitchen table now, where Roxanne was rummaging in her bag. “Look – I’ve brought you back something.” She handed them small parcels.
Jane’s was a necklace and matching earrings in the shape of frangipanis. “Oh, Roxanne, you shouldn’t have!” But she was clearly delighted that she had.
And Mary’s was a beautiful sterling silver pendant in the shape of a sea-horse. “Thank you,” she said happily. “It’s lovely.”
Mary had served a delicious selection of sandwiches – smoked salmon and chutney; pate and mayonnaise; corned beef and pickles; egg and lettuce. She had also made one of her famous boiled fruitcakes. Tea and coffee were already made and now she poured each of them a cup of their choice. “So,” said Mary, as she sat down to start her meal,” tell us about Daydream Island.”
Roxanne smiled mischievously. “Oh, I’ve got something much better to tell you about than that,” she said.
Mary’s mouth was full but Jane asked the question she would have. “What is it?”
Roxanne let a second or two pass quite dramatically, then announced “I’m pregnant.”
Mary swallowed her mouthful of sandwich quickly and joined Jane in congratulating and hugging Roxanne. The exclamations poured out of them.
“That’s wonderful!”
“How far along are you?”
“When did you find out?”
Roxanne couldn’t have hoped for a better response. She felt quite glorified and very satisfied. “Well,” she began, “I found out before I left for Daydream Island. I’m about 2 months gone.”
Jane blinked and sat back in her chair. Roxanne had known for two months – before she went away. Jane didn’t know whether she felt hurt, or diminished in the face of this cool behavior. How could she keep something like this to herself for so long? Jane suddenly felt like a silly, hysterical girl beside this woman who controlled her own life and had the presence of mind to navigate the events in her life on her own terms. She looked at her mother, hoping to see the shock she felt reflected in her mother’s reaction.
But Mary had realized what Roxanne had done as soon as she had made her announcement. Suddenly it all made sense. Mary knew, which Jane did not, that Michael had wanted a child ever since he and Roxanne had gotten married – a year before Jane and Sam. She knew that Roxanne had used the threat of ‘no children’ to have the house put solely in her name; to avoid finding a more lucrative position than her almost part-time, and very sociable, laid back, lowly paid job in the Fyshwick office of the Canberra Times. A fantasy holiday without the constraints of a husband was completely within her scope.
But Mary was not repelled by her daughter-in-law’s behavior. If anything, she felt drawn to it. What made Roxanne behave so differently? Mary and Jane scurried around their husbands, pre-empting their needs and designing each day with a wife’s mind. How did Roxanne avoid this pattern of behavior? She certainly wasn’t beautiful. Her best features were her height and athletic figure. Her face was pleasant without being pretty. She was one of those women who looked the same with or without make-up. Roxanne looked her age, which was unfortunate, since she was already 5 years older than Michael, who looked younger than he was.
So, it wasn’t anything particularly special about her appearance that gave Roxanne her power. And she wasn’t especially smart, either – not in an academic way, at least. And her lack of higher intelligence was not offset by any acquired skills.
From what Mary could see, Roxanne had only one real strength. She had the love of a good man. And that man was Mary’s son, Michael. But it seemed that Michael’s love for his wife was being used against him. Mary realized that she had not prepared her son to deal with a woman like Roxanne. All the women in his family had been, and were, hardworking, intelligent women who indulged their men in their small selfishnesses and vanities. These women allowed themselves to be dominated by their husbands and tolerated a lesser amount of personal freedom than they allowed their men. Why? Mary didn’t know the answer. Did Roxanne?
Jane recovered herself quickly and decided to step up to the mark. “So, how are you feeling?” she asked as nonchalantly as she could manage. “You look well – or is that just the tan?” Jane grinned cheekily; keen to establish her rightful place as the voice of experience. Modern experience, so that Mary couldn’t compete.
“No – I’m feeling great, actually.” But Roxanne wasn’t conceding any ground. “Never better.”
“When is your due date?” Jane tried another tack. “And have you decided on your obstetrician yet?”
“I’m due in July, and I’m booked in to see Dr Heaton,” said Roxanne.
“He’s Dr Bates’ younger partner,” Jane explained to her mother, hoping Roxanne would realize that she was not seeing the ‘head guy’ as she herself had.
But Roxanne flipped the intended criticism. “Yes – he gorgeous!” she laughed. “I won’t be missing any of my appointments with him, that�
��s for sure!”
Mary and Jane laughed along with Roxanne, despite being taken aback by her outrageous attitude. Fancy presuming to have an attraction for a handsome young surgeon when you are not only married but pregnant!
“Roxanne really is a tonic, whatever her other failings,” thought Mary. “She might shake us up – but someone needs to!” And seeing the admiring face on her daughter, Mary knew that Jane felt the same way.
*
It was Friday night and Margot and Louise were preparing for a night out. They were expected at Albert’s Restaurant at 9:30, and had organized their evening accordingly. However, the preparations prior to any evening out, regardless of the event, were exactly the same; the girls enjoyed this time almost as much as the evening itself. They had been performing these rituals since they were 17 and saw no reason to deviate from them now.
So, after work, Louise went straight home and lay on her bed for 30 minutes so that a facial could be enjoyed. She opted for the full fat cold yoghurt pack, a la Victoria Principal; otherwise it would have been the cucumber and avocado calming compact advocated by Elle McPherson. Afterwards, she took a luxurious, just-warm shower, with lots of scented soap, while listening to Frank Sinatra.
After the shower Louise switched to Dionne Warwick singing Burt Bacharach & Hal David songs. She dried off with baby oil, careful not to let the oil near her hair or face, and sprayed perfume around her shoulders. She moisturized her face and neck while her skin was still damp.
Next came the hair styling. It was important to get this done before the hair dried naturally but after it was no longer sopping wet. Then – make up.
Louise remained surprised her whole life at what an enormous difference make-up made to her face. Just a line here and there; lengthening the lashes with some black; adding colour to the lips, and viola! Louise watched her vague features sharpen before her eyes. Almost everyone was improved by make-up, but it seemed to Louise that she was transformed by it. “It’s like changing the colour of a room,” she thought as she admired her handiwork. “You might start out with a plain, white room; but as soon as you paint the walls a pastel colour of even the palest shade, leaving the window and door frames white, you have made a ‘statement’ and have a designer room!”
Body perfumed and glowing, hair styled, make-up applied, it was almost time to dress. But not before a top layer of nail polish. The first coat had been applied the day before. Now a top coat set the fingers and toes glimmering. Tonight she wore a light cerise pink to match her lips.
Louise slipped on her dress just as Margot knocked on the door. She opened it and greeted her friend.
“Hi!”said Louise, taking in Margot’s ensemble. “You look great!” And she did. Margot was wearing a silky, knee length dress with just a single side shoulder strap. The main fabric was in a muted floral pattern of pale-peach and white, with thin-line sketches of small, irregular flowers in black and alternating bands of pale aqua watered silk running diagonally across it. Her stiletto sandals were of ultra-thin strands of black patent leather and she wore a shiny silver ankle bracelet. “Very summery, Margot.”
Margot smiled her thanks. “Is this new?” She asked Louise, looked closely at her dress, which was a sleeveless navy blue number with a V neckline. The dress was cut on the bias so it clung to her provocatively, and although it wasn’t made of satin, but a fine, rough fabric, it looked so shiny it almost appeared to be wet. Louise twirled around for Margot’s benefit, then held up her forefinger as if to say “Wait for it” and turned on the overhead light.
As soon as she did so, the dress sprang into life. What had looked shiny and wet in the natural light now sparkled like a million shards of crystal. Margot gasped. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “That is gorgeous!”
Louise giggled excitedly. “Isn’t it, though?” She swirled around again, enjoying the feel of the dress. “It’s a ‘tres tres facile’ Vogue pattern of an Anne Klein design. I made it last weekend – it took barely 3 hours from start to finish.”
“I must get back into sewing,” said Margot. “I just don’t seem to have the time anymore.”
“The only reason I still do it is out of desperation,” said Louise. She was pouring each of them a glass of pink champagne, which signified the dénouement of their dressage preparations, and passed one to Margot. They clinked glasses and sipped the wine. “Everything I buy, I have to take up or alter. It is impossible to get a dress to fit, if you have short limbs and big boobs. So now I think – if I am going to have to adjust it anyway, I might as well make it. At least that way I can get a garment in something other than polyester. In fact, I can get really classy fabric and a Vogue designer pattern and still save over a hundred dollars.”
“I know,” agreed Margot. “You wonder how they get away with it, don’t you? My problem is that I want the dress now, not tomorrow, and I am never sure that when I make something, it will fit me properly until after I’ve made it.”
“Yes,” Louise agreed. “It really is something you have to do all the time. I could tell that this one was fool-proof, though. Look –“and she displayed the dress with her arms raised “no zip, no buttons, no sleeves – even I couldn’t mess it up!”
“Well done.” Margot’s admiration was unrestrained. “It looks perfect on you.”
The girls finished their drinks and Louise turned the music off. “Shall we?” She asked.
“Let’s,” Margot responded. And they made their way to the car.
*
Albert’s Restaurant was located in the Old Canberra Inn, behind the suburb of Lyneham on the Barton Highway. Approaching it, you would be excused for wondering whether you had taken a wrong turn, for the Old Canberra Inn appeared to be in its original, 1890 condition. It had, however, been structurally strengthened without being “improved” on the outside. Even the interior still had the original, hand-hewn timbers and the floor was bare wood.
But while the interior was otherwise unrecognizable as the original homestead building of the sheep station owners it had been built to accommodate, the exterior was little changed. The single level building was constructed of timber which had, at irregular intervals, been painted white. A narrow verandah under bull-nose, corrugated iron eaves ran along all four sides of the house and on one side joined the main house to the smaller structure which had at one time been the stables and stood adjacent to the main building. This smaller structure now served as a wine cellar and had been recently fitted out with the appropriate insulation and shelves.
These two buildings formed an L shaped house and enclosed a lawn and rose garden. A thick privet hedge grew opposite the old stable and a gated fence enclosed the courtyard, separating it from the newly added parking lot.
The painted wooden buildings were not newly painted; and the corrugated iron roof showed its age with many rusty streaks. The verandah, too, felt soft underfoot and creaked gently. The panes of glass in the small sash windows were wavy and distorted light glowed from within. There were no attractive old vines countering the aged building, either – the garden was minimal yet old. Nor had any hanging plants or potted palms been added to modernize or soften the overall impression of age, age and more age.
Once at the restaurant, the girls paused on the verandah outside the main entrance. “It doesn’t look much, does it?” Louise whispered. “Do you think we are at the right part of the inn?”
“There is no other part, Lou,” Margot was trying to sound assured but in fact she found the place a bit creepy. “Besides, I can hear music.”
Louise realized Margot was right. “I’m suddenly feeling nervous,” she confided, looking around to see if anyone else was around. The parking lot was full, and gentle yet numerous voices could be heard from within, raised in conversation against the piano music.
“I haven’t heard from Gordon since the other night – thanks for not asking.” Louise touched Margot’s elbow as she spoke, and Margot shrugged.
“I guessed as much. They are brothers, after
all.”
Louise took a deep breathe. “So, what is our plan?”
Margot had given this some thought. “How about we give it half an hour, then decide,” she suggested. “By that time we will know whether we are enjoying ourselves, torturing ourselves, or just bored.”
“And if we leave, what then?”
Margot shrugged. “We could go to Julianna’s.” She laughed. “We are dressed for it!”
Julianna’s was the very dressy, “executive” disco at The Lakeside Hotel. The cover charge was high and the drinks were expensive. Only the very well dressed were allowed in. It attracted out of town travelers who were staying at the Lakeside Hotel. Louise and Margot rarely ventured into Julianna’s, preferring to socialize with the locals.
Louise agreed. “Why not?” she said. “It isn’t as though we treat ourselves very often.”
With that, they opened the door and entered the restaurant. It was as though they had stepped into another world. The beautiful antique furniture, china bowls of fresh roses, velvet drapes, pure white napery, softly gleaming silver cutlery and crystal candelabra provided luxurious accoutrements to the dining room atmosphere. The waiters, all men, wore dinner suits, as did the pianist. David Taplin noticed them almost immediately, which was no mean feat, since his opening night was very well attended and everyone wanted to talk to him.
“Margot! Louise!” David turned from the man he was speaking to and greeted them with his huge smile and a kiss on the cheek for each girl. “Fashionably late as usual! Come in.” He indicated to a passing waiter, who had looked over to see if David would do so, that he wanted two pink champagnes with strawberries, and in a moment Louise and Margot were drinking from crystal flutes.
“Thank you, David,” Margot smiled back at him. “You really have done wonders with this place.” She looked around the restaurant appreciatively.
“It’s like entering a genie’s bottle, David.” Louise was more inclined to gush than Margot, and enjoyed doing so. “When you walk in, it takes your breath away.”
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