Jimmy removes Toto out of the impending fray and introduces Rosie. She doesn’t say much, but crouches down beside the wedding dress. When she holds it up, there’s a gasp amongst the others, and then silence.
‘I’m presuming we’ve got a circa late 80s, early 90s gown here,’ Frankie says.
‘It’s pretty awful,’ Rosie says.
Frankie and Jimmy politely agree.
‘Let’s hit the shops,’ Siobhan says.
‘Shop,’ Rosie says.
‘That’s what I’m saying,’ Siobhan shouts. ‘Let’s go shopping!’
‘There’s one shop in town,’ Jimmy tries to explain.
Frankie is searching for something amongst the tulle of the dress. ‘Before I forget.’ She finds a pocket and unzips it. ‘Your stepmum –’
‘Just Martha,’ Rosie says.
‘Martha said to tell you that when she sent the dress for dry-cleaning, she found these in the pocket.’
Frankie holds out two rings. Plain gold. Rosie stares at them.
‘Are they your mum and dad’s?’ Jimmy asks.
Rosie nods, takes them from Frankie, clenches them in her fist.
‘I can fix the dress,’ Frankie says. ‘Pull it in a bit, cut it at the knee, get rid of the puffed sleeves.’
Rosie doesn’t respond. Jimmy tried to explain to them on the drive from Quilpie how Rosie was feeling at the moment. Raw, because her parents aren’t around for her wedding. Hopes they understand her mood.
Will walks in holding a couple of keys and Frankie does the introductions.
‘Rosie’s dad sold Jimmy the Monaro,’ Frankie tells him.
‘No way.’
Jimmy nods. He can see it’s too much for Will’s pragmatic mind.
‘Go sleep off the jet lag, babe,’ Frankie says to him. ‘It’ll make better sense when you’re awake.’
Will goes to leave, but turns back to Rosie.
‘I was with Jimmy when he bought it, you know,’ he says.
They seem to be magical words for Rosie. ‘You met my dad.’
Will nods. ‘When we walked into the workshop, he didn’t know who was interested in the car, but I got a sense that if it were me, he wouldn’t have sold it.’
Will has a think about it.
‘Your dad just took a liking to this one,’ he says, pointing in Jimmy’s direction. ‘And then Jimmy tells him that he needs a car because he’s looking for family, and that was it.’
Will looks at them both. ‘Pretty big coincidence,’ he says.
Later that night, while Rosie and Toto are staying at Min’s, Jimmy and the others end up in a meadow, lying on the grass, staring up at the stars.
‘Best night sky I’ve ever seen,’ Justine says.
‘I’ve seen the northern lights in Norway,’ Siobhan says.
Frankie sits up from where she’s lying beside Will, who is still half asleep.
‘We don’t want to steal anyone’s thunder, so don’t even say congratulations until we land in Sydney,’ Frankie says, ‘but we did this on the plane.’ She holds up a hand that has a ring on it.
‘Can’t we –’ Tara begins.
‘Nope,’ Frankie interrupts. ‘And stop crying, Justine.’
‘Are you at least having an engagement party?’ Jimmy asks.
Will opens an eye. ‘We’re going to find the closest paddock in Campbelltown and have a sausage sizzle.’ He gives up on sleeping and sits up next to her. ‘Once we get married, Frankie’s dad’s going to renovate the double garage in my parents’ backyard,’ he says. ‘Turn it into a granny flat.’
‘That’s practical,’ Tara says.
‘Yes, because people who get engaged in seat 10b and 10c on a Rex flight to Quilpie are pragmatic about such things,’ Siobhan says.
‘Very challenging,’ Frankie says. ‘I’m going to have to wash my hair in seven minutes because of the water tank.’
Mackee is looking unimpressed by the news.
‘Justine in Melbourne. Siobhan in London. Frankie in fucking Oatley,’ he laments.
‘Tom, it’s a twenty-minute drive from your house, and it’s on the train line,’ Frankie points out.
‘Guys, we’re going to be thirty years old before we know it,’ Siobhan says.
‘In five years’ time, mate.’
‘I’m already counting it down. Jimmy’s got a baby and these guys are talking granny flats. And do I need to confess that I now holiday with my father? My father. My parents get a divorce from their toxic marriage and I start enjoying the company of the middle-aged.’
She shakes her head with disbelief. ‘Our fun days are gone.’
‘As opposed to being in Year Twelve and watching Jimmy’s nudie runs down Maroubra beach,’ Tara says.
‘And Siobhan flashing,’ Mackee says. ‘Remember we’d be like, “Not again, Siobhan. Put ’em away. We’re begging you.”’
‘You’re a dick, Tom,’ she says, but they’re all laughing. And it’s what they do all night, talk and drink and laugh, because Jimmy figures it’s the last time they’ll be together again for a while.
‘So now for the wedding presents,’ Justine says.
‘No presents,’ Jimmy says. ‘We don’t have room in the car anyway.’
‘These won’t take up room,’ Justine says. ‘You’ve got three days to get to Byron because we’ve booked you in to a five-star resort there.’
‘And my parents bought you a suit for Saturday,’ Frankie says.
‘And my parents are covering the drinks bill,’ Mackee says.
‘Too much,’ Jimmy says. ‘You being here is enough.’
And they toast to them being together.
‘Speech, Jimmy,’ Tara says. ‘Because I bet you won’t do one at the sausage sizzle.’
Jimmy’s never made a speech in his life.
‘Go on,’ Frankie says.
He doesn’t know where to start, except for the truth.
‘After I found my mum, it sort of fucked me up a bit,’ he says. ‘And I’m driving for days and days on the Bruce Highway and it’s just me and my head and the trees, and for a moment I tell myself to drive straight into one. And I know you guys want to be enough to have stopped me, but at the time I didn’t have space in my head to think of anyone. And then in a split second I get an image of the guy who sold me the car, and I knew I couldn’t wreck something he seemed to love so much. And that was it. The moment was gone. And a week later I met Rosie.’
None of them speak, and Jimmy doesn’t know what to say. He catches Mackee’s eye.
‘Best man?’
‘Shit, yeah.’
Jimmy’s wedding day is literally the best day of his life. He hasn’t had many of those, so he’s able to differentiate. After the barbecue is lit, he holds Rosie’s hand and they watch it all in silence. And like always, Jimmy is amazed by the kindness of strangers. By the coincidences in life. By how much his friends love his son. By Miss Fricker’s sullen tenderness towards Rosie, matched by her total hostility for Jimmy and Toto.
Min joins them, holding a muddy Toto.
‘How about Kev and I take this one home with us tonight?’ she says. ‘We’ve got a cot set up for my daughter’s little one in the rumpus room.’
Jimmy likes a world where Min and Kev are in charge. It feels safe.
‘Any advice, Min?’ he asks.
She thinks a moment. ‘Easy. The kids always come first.’
Frankie, Mackee and Justine put together their version of Toto’s ‘Rosanna’, a sort of ballad for the bridal waltz, and although there’s not really a dance floor on that paddock Jimmy takes Rosie in his arms.
‘You look great in that dress,’ he says.
‘You look great in that suit.’
‘It’s the best thing I’ve ever worn,’ he says. ‘You?’
She thinks about it. Holds up a hand with her mother’s wedding ring.
‘This is the best thing I’ve ever worn.’
Tara and Mackee fly out the next day to v
isit his Nan Agnes in Brisbane. Jimmy drives them back to Quilpie. Doesn’t know how to thank them for letting him stay in their home, but he knows he’ll find a way.
‘Can I ask you something personal?’ he says, just as they’re about to board.
‘Depends on how personal?’ Tara asks, suspicious.
‘When you do that whispery thing to each other in the morning before you go your separate ways, what do you say?’
They exchange a look and laugh.
‘Should I pick up a couple of chops for dinner, petal?’ Mackee asks her.
‘A thousand times yes,’ Tara says.
‘Was I a dick last night, poppet?’
‘A thousand times yes.’
‘Can you make sure our health insurance premiums are up to date, honey bunny?’
‘A thousand times yes.’
The boarding gate opens and people start filing past them. ‘Nothing deep,’ Tara says, giving Jimmy a hug. ‘Just a personal joke from before we were going out.’
Jimmy thinks it’s profound enough.
‘See you in fucking Sydney,’ she says.
At 5.47 p.m. when the sun is meant to set, Martha waits patiently for the solar lights to switch on.
They’re placed along the path that leads to the vegetable patch, exactly where Seb meant them to be. She lies back on the banana chair and waits. And waits some more. But they don’t come on.
‘Fuck you, Seb. Fuck. You.’
She hears the back door open behind her and Rosie is standing there, home from the Monaro retrieval and from the wedding. Martha would love to point out that girls who look twelve years old shouldn’t be getting married, but she already knows the response to that one. ‘What would you know, Martha?’
When she gives up on the solar lights, she heads back inside to where Rosie’s warming up Toto’s milk bottle.
‘Thanks for finding the rings,’ Rosie says.
Martha doesn’t respond. Her job application is spread out all over the butcher’s trolley so she shuffles it together, placing it into a plastic sleeve.
‘Am I presuming a congratulations isn’t on the cards?’ Rosie says, arms folded. Slap-worthy expression on her face.
‘Congratulations, Rosie. I’m so happy for you.’
‘Really, Martha?’
‘Yes, really. How about we have some people over to celebrate the nuptials?’
Rosie looks surprised and then suspicious. ‘The what?’
Martha starts taking her own suggestion seriously. She grabs the notepad off the fridge and starts writing names.
‘Everyone who knows you will want to toast the bride.’
‘I don’t know that many people.’
‘What about the neighbours, and those girls from your mothers’ group?’
‘It’s not a mothers’ group.’
‘Whatever it’s called these days.’
Rosie’s suspicion hasn’t eased. The microwave pings while Martha’s scribbling down names and ignoring the scrutiny.
Marco, Teresa, Signora De Lorenzo and mothers’ group x 2. Their names will come to Martha soon. Those capable young women who sit in judgement of Martha and the others.
Rosie walks over to examine the list.
‘What about Ewan and Julia?’
Martha finds herself in an arms-folded Rosie pose. ‘You hardly know them.’
‘I belong to the netball team, Martha. Ewan trains us, plus I take care of their father, so we chat sometimes.’
‘You and Julia chat?’
‘What of it?’
‘I’m not inviting Ewan and Julia.’
‘Why not? He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?’
‘If I do, Alana will come along and then Sophie and Elizabeth will get offended.’
‘Invite them all, then. It’s not as if you’re throwing this party for me!’
‘I’m throwing it for all three of you!’
‘Bullshit. This is your way of having a house-unwarming. It’d be nice if you just admitted it.’
‘Well, it would have been nice to attend your wedding, Rosie. But it looks like no one’s getting what they want these days.’
‘As if you needed to be asked!’
‘Of course, I needed to be asked!’
‘Jimmy asked you.’
‘No offence to the lovely Jimmy, but I would have preferred that it came from you.’
‘I didn’t think it’d be such a big deal, Martha!’
Lotte is telling Martha to bite her tongue, because it’s loaded with something she’ll regret saying. She scribbles down Ewan’s and Julia’s names. Shows Rosie.
‘Happy now?’
The doorbell rings and it’s Ash from the real estate agency, who beat four others because of less bullshitting and a touch of warmth. Martha takes her out to the backyard, wondering if the solar lights are going to make an appearance. When they don’t, she turns on the floodlights instead.
‘It looks amazing, Martha.’
Rosie is watching them from the kitchen the whole time, and once they’re back inside Martha puts on the kettle.
‘Rosie, this is Ash. We’re going over the contract if you’d like to join us.’
Rosie doesn’t respond and Martha leads the agent to the front living room where they sit down on the three-seater. Martha skims through the advertising plan, shaking her head. ‘I’m not interested in redecorating.’
‘You’ve got a better chance of attracting buyers,’ Ash tells her.
‘What part of this house, this street and this suburb won’t attract buyers?’
‘If you play your cards right, Martha, you can get over the one-million-dollar mark. It’s pretty amazing for a place that used to be a dump.’
‘So obviously Seb looked past the decorating last time it was on the market.’
Martha can tell that Ash is choosing her words wisely. ‘All I’m saying, Martha, is that we want to attract a certain type of buyer.’
‘Someone not like my father.’
Ash looks over to where Rosie is leaning against the door.
‘No, not like your father at all,’ she says. ‘You don’t need someone with vision and a dream to buy this house. Just someone with money.’
The party list goes from six people to twenty-five. Feeding a large number of people is not something Martha’s ever quite accomplished in her life, but she refuses to let on to Rosie that she’s out of her depth. She goes next door to Teresa, who’s happy to take over.
‘I’ll get Signora to help and we can make a tray of lasagne and cotoletti.’
‘So where do we start?’ Martha asks. ‘Go buy what’s needed and leave it to us.’
‘I can help with the cooking.’
‘No, you can’t, bella,’ Teresa says, diplomatically.
‘How about German potato salad?’
Teresa seems to pretend that Martha hasn’t spoken. ‘And I’ll make the tiramisu, and I know that Signora will make the crostoli.’
Who’s Martha to deprive the newlyweds of Signora De Lorenzo’s crostoli?
Marco comes home and Teresa tells him to check out Martha’s solar lights.
‘Have you had them out in the sun long enough?’ he asks as they head over to the house.
‘Four days.’
‘Maybe you should return them.’
‘I don’t know where Seb bought them from.’
Marco looks taken aback.
‘Seb bought them? When?’
‘Five years ago.’
Marco laughs. ‘Martha, I’ll buy you new ones.’
She nods to fob him off, because there’s no way she’s buying new lights. If Seb’s don’t work, she’s finished with solar energy in her life.
She decides to make it a mid-afternoon affair, and for the first time since Martha’s lived in this house she has guests over for a party. Rosie wears the dress Martha bought her and Jimmy is looking smart in a skinny black suit. Both are effortlessly gorgeous, and Toto’s resemblance to Seb throws Martha e
very time he bursts into her space. Which is often. The guests all come at the same time, which makes things less awkward when Ewan arrives. She misses the banter and the chemistry between them. Misses getting the texts. Misses their intimacy. Martha spends the afternoon floating around, refilling glasses and listening to snippets of conversations. Either Yolanda’s or Tess’s partner is having a conversation with Marco about water conservation because he’s a country boy and he reckons that water distribution is all they talk about where he’s from. Jimmy’s outside being grilled by Sophie and Elizabeth.
‘… no, I’m putting that off for now,’ he says. ‘Sticking to the mines.’
‘Where are you looking?’
‘Anywhere. We’re budgeting for a two-bedroom.’
‘Tempe’s great,’ Sophie tells them. ‘And you can still get a bargain in Dulwich Hill.’
‘We’ll work it out,’ Jimmy says. ‘Rosie doesn’t want to lose any of her shifts, so it’s best if we stay in the area.’
‘You won’t find anything in the area, darls,’ Elizabeth says.
It seems to be the question on everyone’s lips, because Rosie’s having the same intense conversation with the girls.
‘He’s away every second week, plus they only fly him to the closest capital city, which is Brisbane, and from there he has to pay his own way to Sydney and back again.’
‘But he’s still making more than if he was on a traineeship, Rosie, so the mines are a better option,’ practical Louise says.
‘Mark and I are struggling on a single wage at the moment,’ Yolanda says. ‘Who knows whether we’ll stick it out until the end of the year.’
‘You said you were struggling back home, Yolanda,’ Rosie says. Martha can sense she doesn’t want these girls leaving town. ‘At least he’s got a job here.’
‘But we had family around us. The aunties, the cousins.’
‘Babysitters,’ Tess says.
Teresa has excelled with the food, and there’s praise all round for the menu.
The Place on Dalhousie Page 21