The Naked Drinking Club

by Rhona Cameron

  ‘We all hate our parents for a time, you know, you’re no different there. But don’t you forget, she’s the one that brought you up, that fed you and clothed you and taught you things. And she seems to have done something right, eh?’

  I didn’t want to respond to that.

  ‘But your other mother, the one you’re looking for, she’s here, love. I think she’s not too far from here.’ She put down her drink on a coaster made from cork designed as a slice of orange, and asked me to come closer. I moved up the sofa and turned to face her. She took my hand and held it in hers for a while and looked closely into my eyes. I wanted to laugh out of nerves but managed to control it. Then she said something that really shook me.

  ‘You’re closer to your granddad than anyone, even though you haven’t spoken to each other for a while.’

  I didn’t say anything, wanting to test her. She stroked her left arm then clutched her chest.

  ‘He had a stroke, didn’t he?’

  I nodded, dumbfounded by her findings.

  ‘Yeah, he can’t talk, but you understand him. But he wants you to get on with your life.’

  I clenched my jaw, fighting back tears.

  ‘You’re going on a journey somewhere away from here very soon.’

  ‘That’s amazing. Fuck, I am. Tomorrow I’m going to the Gold Coast, that’s so weird.’

  ‘Listen, love, a lot of this is up to you, but you’ll find what you’re looking for, that’s all I can say.’

  ‘What else do you see, Joyce, please?’ My mind was racing, I was thinking about Hank again and how I accidentally got hold of him because he happened to be in his sister’s house overnight, and how he was a DJ so he could reach people on the radio. It seemed that trail had gone dead because he hadn’t contacted me, but it was strange, anyway. Then I thought again about how I found this job, and how I came here. All these things raced in my mind and I felt so utterly charged and totally convinced that finding my real mother would be the missing piece in my fucked-up, crap jigsaw of a life.

  ‘Listen, there’s no big, secret, bad thing I’m keeping from you, so don’t worry.’ She had hold of both my hands and moved them up and down in time to ‘don’t worry’, which no one had done since I was little. ‘But this is your life, and you need to sort it out yourself. I know what loneliness is, love, and, please, I could write a book about heartache, I tell you.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I know you’ve been so very lonely, but you can change all that, you’re on the right track.’

  What track was that? I wondered what track I was on that led me to money-lenders, bars and one-night stands with strangers, or worse still, not even the overnight part of the one-night stands, just momentary stands.

  ‘Someone’s seriously looking over you, love.’

  Joyce let go of my hands in that way that someone you hardly know has to let go of them, and looked over to the other side of the room, except she wasn’t looking at anything, she was staring into space.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Here it comes, I thought, here comes the big one.

  ‘Do you know anyone with a tattoo?’

  ‘Well, probably yes. I mean loads of people have tattoos, don’t they?’

  ‘Maybe. I don’t like this person, I feel that they’re trouble. I think this one is a bird, like an eagle maybe, maybe not.’ She came round out of her deep state of thought and sat upright. ‘Now then, that’s enough of that. Come on, tell me some other stuff about yourself. What about these bloody paintings and how many has my husband bought?’

  ‘Joyce. Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Course you can, love.’

  ‘Why don’t you have any carpets in your house?’

  Joyce burst into fits of laughter that broke out into a wheeze, and she slapped the tops of her legs as she laughed, which made me start laughing with her. Fritz came in to see what all the hilarity was about, and the sight of him looking so puzzled as he walked in caused us to erupt even more.

  I stood at the edge of the cul-de-sac, trying to get Jim’s attention as he drove through the surrounding streets. Finally he flashed his lights and pulled round to get me.

  ‘Hey, all right?’

  ‘Yeah, just finishing up in that house.’ I pointed to Joyce’s.

  ‘We were worried about you, what happened?’

  ‘Just got caught in conversation, I’ll just get my folder – it’s in the house.’

  I ran back to the house and went inside to say my goodbyes to Joyce. I really didn’t want to go, I wanted to ask to stay overnight, but I had to be up early to go to the coast. I also thought about trying to get the others an invite inside for a while, but I didn’t want to share Joyce with anyone.

  She and Fritz were cuddling in the hall when I got back; they were both pissed.

  ‘I meant to ask, who’s that in the photo with the horse?’ I pointed.

  ‘That’s my daughter, my first one. I’ve got two.’

  I studied her face close up.

  ‘That’s Samantha. I had her when I was very young, to a different man from Fritz. My other daughter Carol is a lot younger. They both live and work in the city.’

  ‘They’re lucky to have you, Joyce.’

  ‘Hey, they’ve had their fair share too, you know.’ She put her hands on both my shoulders. ‘Listen to me, sweetheart. Life is so bloody quick, love, it really is. You’ve got to go out and grab it. Don’t waste it being unhappy. Let yourself go, Kerry. Let yourself feel good things in your heart when they’re there. I know you think I sound like a silly old woman.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘I know that you’re too young to feel this just now, but I’m telling you: it is short, and this is it.’ She clicked her fingers. ‘We all have shit to deal with, some more than others, I know, but nobody has this life without it, OK? You remember that.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Someone told me something, a long time ago, and it’s always stuck with me.’ She grabbed my shoulders. ‘Someone throws you lemons’ she let go and opened up her arms ‘make lemonade. OK?’

  I nodded, but felt sad to leave her. I could have stayed all night, listening to her.

  She grabbed me again and held me. I cried and put my arms round her, trying to let myself go, like she said.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said, rocking me gently back and forth. ‘It’s all right.’ I pulled away after a while, worrying that I would never stop.

  ‘Just make the most of it, and most of all, enjoy it. That’s it, I’ll shut up now.’ She wheezed away again.

  ‘She knows what she’s talking about, you know,’ said Fritz.

  Jim gave a short blast on the horn. Joyce waved out to them.

  ‘I’ve got to go. Listen, thank you so much for your hospitality, and for buying my paintings.’

  We hugged and again she held me so tightly that when we broke off I felt covered in her perfume. I kissed Fritz on both cheeks, picked up my folder and walked outside.

  ‘Listen, when you get back to Sydney, pop round and see us, or come to the showroom – you can catch me there every day except Monday. I’d be interested to find out how you do.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course, love, but just you look after yourself and enjoy your trip, you’ll be OK. But watch out for men with tattoos.’ She sniggered at the last part.

  ‘What?’ I was at the gates.

  ‘I’m pulling your leg, love, that’s my own shit. Have fun, sweetie.’

  Scotty jumped out and opened the boot and I threw my folder in.

  ‘Nice house,’ he said, tossing his cigarette on the ground and stamping it out. His voice immediately annoyed me.

  I got in the back next to the Danish and watched Joyce and Fritz kiss, then close the door.

  ‘How did you do, then?’ asked Jim, watching me in the mirror.

  ‘Sold two,’ I said, leaning against the window, not wanting to talk to the others quite yet.

  Back at William Street, Ana
ya and Greg handed out the beers. Greg and Jim discussed routes and areas while Scotty lingered on the outskirts of their conversation, half his attention on entertaining the giggling Danes. I stood leaning up against the kitchen units opposite Anaya, as she painted her nails.

  ‘So, hey, Kerry, you’re quiet tonight, uh?’ she said, taking the excess varnish off the brush.

  ‘Got a few things on my mind, that’s all. Also conserving my energy for the trip.’ I rolled my tinny of chilled VB on my forehead, trying to get some relief.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she said, stopping what she was doing. ‘I forgot to tell you but your mother called this morning, like really early, but I never got to the phone so she left a message.’

  ‘Fuck!’ I took a big drink. ‘Which one?’

  Anaya looked at me quizzically.

  ‘I mean, which phone?’

  ‘There is only one phone, stupid.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. What did she say?’ I put down my beer.

  ‘She sounded just like you. I think she wants you to call your grandfather.’

  ‘Shit, something must be wrong.’

  ‘God, I’m so fucking stupid to forget, sorry, man. Is somebody sick, do you think?’

  ‘Something like that. I haven’t spoken to her for a long time, but I left this number with the nurses at my grandfather’s home. I need to call, or hear the message – do you still have it?’

  ‘Yeah, sure, it’s on the office machine, come with me.’

  The office was cooler than the rest of the building and offered some relief from the increasing humidity. Anaya sat on the desk and rewound the machine.

  I sat in Greg’s chair; I felt I needed to be sitting for what I feared might be terrible news.

  ‘No, wait.’ I put my hand on top of Anaya’s as she was about to press ‘play’. ‘I’m scared, I’m dreading this.’

  ‘Do you think something bad has happened?’

  ‘Why would she phone me here? This could be one of those moments you want to reverse in life, so I want to stay for a while before it happens, do you know what I mean?’

  Anaya ran her thumb along the side of my hand, which despite the dread of the current situation sent my body into some sort of drug high, and an ache directly between my legs.

  ‘You know something, Kerry, I do understand.’

  This was a rare moment with Anaya, and I felt better equipped to deal with it after my talk with Joyce. She was being unusually real and I liked her this way; up until now I had had nothing from her but inconsistencies and games.

  ‘Let’s switch the fan on,’ I said.

  Keeping our hands the way they had been, she leant over the desk and turned the switch on. The fan purred and moved back and forth between us, blowing our hair over our faces.

  My heart was pounding, and the anticipation of what my mother was about to tell me, mixed with the excitement of a nearby Anaya, was giving me a dry, thirsty mouth. I swallowed and tried to moisten my lips with my tongue.

  ‘Here, have some of mine,’ she said, noticing.

  I’d left my beer in the kitchen. I swigged from hers, happy to be near her mouth. I had never been sure what I liked or hated about her. She had been nothing but cold and annoying and deeply untrustworthy since we’d met. But she was extremely beautiful, far more than anyone I had met before, and I suspected it was her beauty that allowed her to get away with so much.

  ‘Come on, play the message now, then you can phone home,’ she said, realising I had gone off into a trance.

  I released the pressure on her hand and she pressed ‘play’. I heard a beep, then the voice of my mother. I sat back in the chair and listened.

  ‘This is a message for Kerry Swaine, it’s her mother phoning from Scotland. I’m not sure if this is her number or not, the nurses gave it to me – I haven’t got long.’

  My heart was in my mouth – who hasn’t got long? I couldn’t bear anything happening to my grandfather when I was away. I would fly home immediately and borrow money from my mother, if I had to.

  ‘I’ve only got so much change, I’m calling from the home, you see, and the nurses have been telling me that she’s desperate to speak to her grandfather. He’s with me now, we’re using the pay phone at the home. I thought I would try and get her to speak to him. Never mind, I’ll try some other time. Tell her she can call if she wants and I hope she is enjoying herself and looking after herself, that’s all.’

  There was a delay before she put the phone down. I heard my grandfather make a gargled speech noise, of one word, which he repeated three times before my mother said ‘yes’ to him in the way you would speak to a child. Then the line went dead.

  I fell back into the chair and sighed relief.

  ‘You see, it’s OK, yeah, they are both OK.’

  ‘Yeah, they’re both OK,’ I mumbled.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Anaya?’

  ‘What?’ she said, more softly than usual.

  I wanted to ask her how she felt. About me, about here, about Greg and about life. I nearly did, but couldn’t quite let go, just yet.

  ‘Nothing, nothing, it’s OK.’

  ‘Come on then, better go and have a drink with the others, and gear up for the trip.’ She smiled warmly, and then clicked her tongue in the roof of her mouth.

  ‘Sure,’ I said, wondering if I’d missed the moment for ever.

  I switched off the fan, and we left the office. She led the way and I watched her perfect body move down the corridor and back into the lounge area with the others. Tonight of all nights, I could do without them. Somehow I felt weary of all the jokey bullshit, at least for the time being.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  * * *

  EVERYBODY TALKED NON-STOP at the start of the car journey, and then quickly ran out of steam. Even though we’d been in the car together many times, it felt different because we were going away on a big trip, which made us feel like kids. Scotty reading out our names from an imaginary clipboard, to which we all replied, ‘Here, sir.’

  The Danish and I agreed to have turns sitting in the middle, as it was less comfortable than being able to lean against the window. I went first, to get it out the way before I got sleepy.

  Jim joked at ‘I Spy’ and started with W, which right on cue I guessed was windscreen. The Danish pretended to be little children in the back and stuck their fingers up at various motorists. Scotty went a joke stage further and showed his arse out the window. Then Jim said something uncharacteristic.

  ‘Listen, it’s a beautiful day, why don’t we drive to our first place, which is about two hundred Ks away, check into a site, get ourselves sorted out, because we’ll be staying there for the next few days, and then just have some time off and a laugh?’

  We all cheered and clapped.

  ‘Now you’re fuckin’ talking, mate, and I like what you’re saying,’ said Scotty.

  ‘Can we stop at the bottle shop and pick up some beers for the journey?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh God, what have we let ourselves in for?’ said Jim, which we all took to be a yes. Scotty howled like a mad dog. I nudged the Danish, who seemed like they could take it or leave it, either way. They were normal drinkers, they liked to have their version of a good time, but they had, like most normal people, a cut-off point. There was no madness there.

  In the car I felt secure, surrounded by the others; I was filled by a rare sense of belonging. Jim was the dependable parent/teacher who would rescue Scotty and me no matter what happened. Scotty was my cheeky annoying brother, and the Danish were quiet, weird cousins visiting for a short while. I wondered what Greg and Anaya would be if they were with us. I decided Greg would be a sleazy alcoholic uncle, whom I didn’t ever want to sit next to. And Anaya would have to be an overseas exchange student visiting for the summer, whose humour nobody got. She couldn’t be related, because the scenario would end with us being in bed together.

  My turn at the window caused me to daydream happily, watchi
ng the road signs pass overhead on the Pacific Highway. They said one hundred and fifty kilometres to Newcastle, which was bizarre. I asked Jim about it, who was a constant source of information on almost anything. He explained that nearly all Australian places were named after areas in Britain because of the original settlers, and most of the strangely pronounced names were linked to Aboriginal words. I imagined him chalking it all up on a board, and then switching on an overhead projector.

  I longed for the day that I would be settled enough to take all that stuff in, and go to libraries and look up things about the places I was about to visit. I went to an art exhibition with my mother once, but I felt anxious about other things and couldn’t concentrate. I looked over at the others immersed in the paintings, and felt envious of the ones with the headsets on, with that taped information stuff being piped into them.

  Jim had some golden oldies station on which was perfect. Scotty complained that he never got to play his Red Hot Chili Peppers’ tape. Jim told him to fuck off, then apologised to the back seat for his language. Then Freda Payne’s ‘Band Of Gold’ came on, and halfway through Jim switched it off and said Scotty could go ahead and put his shite on. I watched Jim’s eyes in the mirror blinking more than usual, and his jaw tensing in the way that mine does.

  Scotty kept the case of Castlemaine that we’d picked up from a bottle shop on the floor of the front seat underneath him, where it was slightly shaded, and the two of us helped ourselves. Jim stuck to one can because he was driving, while the Danish refrained from having any at all, even though they’d eventually joined in the excitement over getting some beers in the first place.

  I slumped down in the seat and closed my eyes, leaning my face against the window until the sun on it made me drift off. Later, the sun streamed down on my thighs. The Danish and I all wore shorts, our hot legs resting against one another, a familiar occurrence by now.

  I woke up just as I sensed the car was pulling in over some gravel, and opened my eyes when the engine stopped. Jim stretched out over the steering wheel.

  ‘Shouldn’t have had those beers last night. I’m shattered and we haven’t even come that far.’