Snowy Summer

by Patricia Weerakoon

  Snowy Summer

  Copyright © Patricia Weerakoon 2018

  Published by Rhiza Connect

  An Imprint of Rhiza Press

  www.rhizaconnect.com.au

  PO Box 1519, Capalaba Qld 4157

  View from Mount Currathers in the Snowy Mountains. Photograph taken by Vasantha Weerakoon in March 2017.

  Internal layout and editing by Rhiza Press

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-925563-49-8

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the

  National Library of Australia.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means without the prior permission of the copyright owner. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to two men whose love for the Snowy Mountains inspired the story.

  My husband Vasantha. who has climbed to the summit of Mount Kosciuszko 125 times over the last 27 summers, and calls Mount Carruthers his ‘private Garden of Eden’. I would not be whom I am without your love and support.

  Dan Nicholls, Education Officer extraordinaire, Kosciuszko National Parks, whose knowledge of and passion for the fauna and flora on the mountains is both amazing and seductively irresistible. I am honoured to call you my friend.

  Also to my wonderful publisher Rochelle and editors Rachel and Iola. Thank you for bringing the sizzle to ‘Snowy Summer’.

  Acknowledgement

  There are many people I have to thank for their generous assistance in my research on the Snowy Mountains, Jindabyne and Sri Lanka.

  Firstly to Pat and Dave Darlington, who spent many hours discussing their personal love for and their experiences of the mountains.

  Thanks also to David Farmer, Captain of Jindabyne Fire Station for explaining the intricacies of the response to bushfires.

  To Roger Thiedeman and Chris du Vé for their help with choosing appropriate aircraft and airstrips.

  To many people in Jindabyne, especially Rosemary Stewart Beardsley, who kindly gave of their time to describe the town and its people.

  A special thanks to Senaka Jayasuriya for all his research in Sri Lanka.

  Finally, to the judges of the Australian Christian Writers ‘2015 ACW Contemporary Christian Romance’ competition: Narelle Atkins, Iola Goulton and Andrea Grigg, your selection of the opening chapters of this novel in first place and the amazing feedback you provided helped me immensely.

  Chapter 1

  October 2009 Jindabyne

  ‘I will not go to a masked ball!’ Annie stared in horror at Monica and Suzanne.

  ‘You promised us, Annie.’ Monica dropped the three dress boxes she had just lugged in from their car onto the lounge of their rented apartment.

  ‘I agreed to a weekend away in Canberra, before I leave for Sri Lanka. You brought me to Jindabyne Horizons Resort, now you want me to—’

  ‘A hen’s weekend away is what you agreed to, Annie,’ Suzanne interrupted her, ‘Canberra, Jindabyne, what’s the difference?’

  ‘Difference? How about one hundred and sixty kilometres?’

  ‘Chill, Annie,’ Suzanne patted Annie on her cheek. ‘We’re here now. Anyway, we couldn’t possibly do a hen’s weekend away without a hen’s party. We have an amazing evening planned.’ She grabbed one box and put it on the dining table. ‘Wow, I can’t wait to see what the costumes look like.’

  Annie groaned and raised her hands to her forehead. ‘What the—you expect me to wear a costume? It’s too much—’

  ‘Calm down,’ Suzanne grabbed a pair of scissors from the cabinet drawer and slit open the tape holding the box shut.

  ‘It’s a masked costume party, Annie, darling—’ Monica slid her arm around Annie’s shoulder— ‘lighten up. It’ll be fun to get incognito for a night. We’ll all three be dressed up, as will everyone else there tonight.’

  Suzanne threw open the lid of the box and pulled out a cobalt blue silk jump suit. The diamanté on the scooped neckline continued down the full length sleeves. It shimmered in the last rays of the summer sun that filtered through the glass doors of their lakeside apartment. ‘We ordered headbands,’ she rummaged in the box, and pulled out a clear plastic headband with two curled blue pussycat ears. ‘Nice,’ she pushed back her auburn curls, and slid the band on her head.

  ‘I am not—’ Annie pointed to the silk ears on Suzanne’s hairband— ‘wearing those—those things.’ The vehemence with which she shook her head, made her curly black hair escape from the loose knot she had it in. It cascaded in waves to below her waist.

  ‘You’re not wearing these,’ Monica ripped open the second box and pulled out an identical jump suit in deep shot-honey tones. ‘Neither are you wearing this.’ She tossed the costume back in the box, and picked up the third, unopened box. ‘Aha. Here’s your costume, Annie. It had better be good, given the trouble we took to get three matching kits.’ She held out the box to Annie. ‘Take it, it won’t blow up.’

  Annie looked from one to the other of her friends, ‘this whole wild charade is the maddest thing I’ve ever done,’ she mumbled. She took the box from Suzanne and put it on the dining table.

  Monica stepped back from Annie, ‘Don’t look so suspicious, darling. Open the box.’

  Suzanne rushed over to Annie and hugged her. ‘Annie, we want you to relax and enjoy tonight. We know you’re worried about your trip to Sri Lanka—.’ she raised her hand to silence Annie’s response. ‘You can pretend all you want, but we know how hard it is for you.’

  Monica slipped her arms around them both. ‘Please, Annie, just for today, do it for us. Relax, and cut loose! Be as frivolous and naughty as you can possibly be—just for one night. Make it your Snowy Summer adventure. Do it, before you tie yourself to some man you hardly know, for some archaic cultural belief system.’

  Annie hugged them both back. She allowed herself a moment to bask in the warmth of their love. The three girls had worked together for three years in Queen Elizabeth Hospital. She and Monica went back even further—to when they did their surgical training in London.

  ‘Girls, I know how you feel. But, one crazy night in the Snowies isn’t going to make me change my mind.’

  The girls pulled away. They stood side by side facing Annie, their faces set and determined.

  ‘Annie, we’ve been there with you every step of your training.’

  ‘We know how much you want to get that rehab centre going in Sri Lanka.’

  ‘And, we do admire you for wanting to keep your promise to your father to build the centre.’

  ‘What we cannot understand is that you need an arranged marriage to accomplish it! It’s primitive.’

  ‘You’re a highly respected surgeon, physician and academic—’

  ‘Who won’t date seriously because you’re frightened of romance and love,’ Suzanne rolled her eyes and pointed her index finger at Annie.

  ‘You made a promise to your father when you were eighteen to marry this guy.’ Monica’s finger joined Suzanne’s. ‘If your father were alive today, he wouldn’t expect you to keep to it.’

  ‘The Sri Lankan guy, what’s his name—you haven’t met him for over six years.’

  ‘His name is Sunil,’ Annie mumbled.

  ‘You have this fantasy you can love him.’

  ‘Enough to commit the rest of your life to him.’

  ‘You are so totally inexperienced. Geez, girl, you’re a twenty-eight-year-old virgin.’

  ‘This Sunil could be married, for all you know.’

  ‘An alcoh
olic.’

  ‘Or, a wife beater.’

  ‘You have to rethink this stupidity.’

  Annie listened to their shotgun comments. She had heard them all before, and had mulled over every one of them, and many more, over the last few months.

  ‘Girls,’ Annie stopped the flow. ‘I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again. What I want is to be the best in the field.’

  ‘Stop right there, Annie,’ Monica interrupted, ‘my father, says you are the best trainee he’s had in his twenty years as head of the Neuromuscular Unit at Queen Elizabeth Hospital.’

  ‘Yes, the best trainee. I want to be the best graduate from the program, and above all, an outstanding practitioner.’

  ‘Why do you have to get married to do that? Look at us,’ she said, swinging open her arms to include Monica. ‘We’re single, and, if I may say so myself, great doctors.’

  ‘You’re both terrific. It’s different for me. I want to go back to Sri Lanka and work there.’

  ‘Why do you have to marry to be a professional in Sri Lanka?’ Monica grumbled.

  ‘Because,’ Annie sighed, ‘in Sri Lanka, if you’re a professional, a woman and unmarried at thirty, then you’re a lesbian, mentally unstable, or—’ she rolled her eyes— ‘have such a bad horoscope that you not only can’t find a man, but would jinx your patients.’

  ‘Okay, let’s accept, for argument’s sake, that you need a man to reach your goal. Why agree to an arranged marriage?’ Monica flung herself onto the lounge and clasped her hands to her heart. ‘Fall in love, Annie; find a man who makes your pulse race and your heart sing.’

  ‘Falling in love makes a person vulnerable and I have neither the time nor energy to put into a romantic relationship, most of which end in the divorce courts anyway—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard it all before, Annie.’ Monica scowled.

  ‘You, my dear friend, want a man who is an appendage. A sort of trophy spouse who will not stand in the way of your career ambitions. You’re treating marriage like one of your research projects: Goals—aims—objectives— methods.’ Suzanne sat down beside Monica. She slid across to make room between them and patted the couch.

  Annie sat between her friends and took their hands in hers. ‘Girls, I have been friends with Sunil since we were babies. We played together in the tea plantation.’ She stopped and laughed. ‘Sunil was my first, no, my only boyfriend! He has always encouraged my desire to be a doctor and work in Sri Lanka. He knows my father’s dream to open a neuromuscular rehab centre and understands how I need to do it for my father’s memory. We were talking about this on Skype only yesterday. I told him I need three more years in Australia to complete my training. He is willing to move here for the time it takes me to finish, in spite of having business interests in Sri Lanka. After I finish, we will go back to Sri Lanka. We both have family money. I can make my father’s dream come true.’

  ‘My ever practical, independent, career focused, friend, have you considered what would happen if you met a man and fell in love after you marry Sunil?’ Monica nudged Annie in her ribs.

  Annie shivered. ‘I’ve resisted the love-trap for twenty-eight years. It’s not going to happen now.’

  Monica tugged Annie’s hand. ‘What about children. I assume your patient, tolerant Sri Lankan Sunil is willing to wait?’

  ‘We’ve talked about it. I’ll be thirty-one when I finish training. We plan to have a child here, to give him, or her, Australian citizenship. We’ll move to Sri Lanka soon after. We’ll have grandparents and home help there, so we can both continue working on our careers.’

  ‘Wow.’ Monica’s face twisted in a grimace. ‘A low-risk, loveless plan for the rest of your life.’

  ‘No. Not loveless.’ Annie looked from one girl to the other. ‘I do love Sunil,’ she continued before they could protest, ‘Okay, not a pulse racing, pupil dilating emotion, but a warm, we know each other well, friendship love.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sakes—’ Monica rolled her eyes and got up— ‘we’ve heard all your excuses and reasons, Annie, we just don’t believe it.’

  Suzanne chipped in, ‘if you think deeply, you don’t either.’

  Yes, she did have doubts. But, to be taken seriously as a senior professional in Sri Lankan culture, she needed to be married. Her parents and Sunil’s had always assumed they would end up as a couple. They were childhood friends. Teenage sweethearts. She trusted him, and loved him in a deep and comforting way. That, after all, was more important than romantic love.

  Sunil’s calls and skype chats over the last couple of months had been enjoyable. He had teased her and said he couldn’t wait to catch up with her. ‘Take up where we left off’ he had said.

  It would be okay.

  She would make it work.

  Monica slid off the couch and faced Annie, ‘Have you considered what would happen if you fell in love before you go to Sri Lanka?’

  Annie chuckled, ‘In ten days? It would be lust. Lust is highly overrated.’

  ‘Lust,’ Monica continued, ‘is just what you need.’ She grabbed the dress box and thrust it at Annie. ‘Forget about being the best ever physician and surgeon. Forget marriage and Sri Lanka, and concentrate on today.’

  ‘Yes, just what the doctor ordered.’ Suzanne added.

  Annie accepted the box and put it down on the table. In ten days’ time she would be home in Sri Lanka. In six weeks, she would be a married woman. Meanwhile, she would cut loose and enjoy this one night. At best, it would keep her friends happy.

  One night in Jindabyne. What harm could it do?

  She held out her hands to her friends. ‘Right, tonight, I will forget all about responsibility and promises. I’ll choose to ignore my prospective fiancé in Colombo and the wedding I have to plan—’ She chuckled— ‘I’ll channel my naughty side.’

  Eyes sparkling, the three girls clasped hands.

  ‘Happy?’

  Suzanne and Monica nodded. ‘Now,’ Monica handed her the pair of scissors, ‘open the box and let’s start getting ready for tonight.’

  Annie lifted the lid of the box. ‘It’s red,’ she gasped. ‘I can’t—’

  ‘Yes, you can.’ Monica lifted the suit and held it to Annie. ‘The colour is scarlet—not red. It’s perfect for your dark skin and black eyes.’ She turned to Suzanne. ‘Don’t you just love it?’ She reached in the box and pulled out a scarlet and black mask, decorated with gold sequins. ‘You’ll be a mystery cat-woman in killer red heels.’

  ‘What red heels. I don’t have—’

  ‘You do now, Annie.’ Suzanne pulled a shoe box out of her suitcase, which lay open on the floor. ‘Here you go, a perfect match for your scarlet suit. They’ll fit. Isn’t it lucky you and I are the same size?’

  ‘So lucky you can readily help yourself to my shoes,’ Annie murmured and accepted the red stiletto-heeled patent leather sandals. ‘You two have planned this well.’

  A little frisson of excitement sparked through her. It would be a challenge to step out of the skin of cautious and reserved neuromuscular specialist Dr Maryanne Shevanthi Samarasinghe for one night.

  She shuddered. Morphing into a sexy cat-woman might be asking a little too much.

  Her friends exchanged looks. ‘Yes, we have,’ Monica said. She put the mask and outfit back in the box and handed it to Annie. ‘We’ve got it all organised.’

  Suzanne balanced the shoe box on top and gave her a little push towards the bedroom. ‘All you’ve got to do is enjoy the night. So, go shower and get into your suit. When we’re dressed, we can help each other with hair and make-up.’

  ‘We got you your favourite L’Air du Temps soap and toiletries. They’re on your bed,’ Monica called after her. ‘Use them.’

  ‘Annie,’ Suzanne added, ‘there’re some other goodies in the box too — wear them.’

  Annie soak
ed in the bathtub filled with bath salts, and wrapped herself in the thirsty white resort towel. She massaged body lotion over her arms and legs.

  She opened the dress box and gasped at the sight of the red thong and lace bra. ‘Really, those girls are the limit.’

  She slipped on the underwear and slid into the skin-tight suit. The material stretched and moulded around her hips and breasts. The blood red diamanté and sequins at the scooped neckline framed her gold necklace and cross pendent. She swivelled in front of the mirror. She could see why this costume needed a thong under it.

  Annie pulled her hair back in a bun and slipped on her red sandals. A little spray of L’Air du Temps cologne, and she was as ready as she would ever be. She plastered a faux-confident expression on her face and left the bedroom to join her friends.

  The two girls were already dressed and made up.

  Monica pounced on Annie as she came into the drawing room. ‘No, no, you can’t have your hair bunched up. Come here.’ she dragged Annie to a chair.

  Suzanne pulled a stool to sit in front of Annie and took her hands.

  ‘What are you—’

  ‘Your boring short nails are perfect for surgery, Annie, but nowhere near sexy enough for cat-woman.’

  Annie watched in resignation as her short straight-cut nails had red acrylics pressed over them. ‘These are claws.’ Suzanne hung on tight to her hands, like she thought Annie would try to pull away. ‘That’s the idea, pussycat,’ she laughed.

  Monica separated small sections of Annie’s hair and clipped them in curls to her head.

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Bear with me, Annie, you’ll love the look.’

  ‘Okay, ladies, whatever.’ Annie shut her eyes and gave them free reign of her hair, hands and face.

  Twenty minutes later, they pulled Annie to her feet and turned her towards the full length mirror.

  Annie gasped at her reflection. She had never worn a lipstick like the matching scarlet on her lips. ‘This is so not me! I look like—like a cross between a sex worker and vintage vixen.’