A Month of Sundays

by Liz Byrski

  ‘No way,’ she says. ‘You have to do this on your own.’

  He stands still, ever hopeful.

  ‘Does he have a raincoat?’ Simone calls from the kitchen.

  ‘He does, but I’m not taking him out in this.’

  ‘If you put it on I’ll take him for a walk. Adele says there are boots and Drizabones for visitors in the storeroom.’

  ‘Really? Well that’s very good of you, Simone. But it’s awful out there. D’you think it’ll ever stop?’ In the two days and nights since their arrival the rain has barely ceased.

  ‘Tomorrow, the forecast says, then three days of clear skies and sunshine,’ Simone says, joining her by the door. ‘But I quite like walking in the rain if I’ve got the right gear. I’ll take Clooney and then I’m going to drive down to Leura, have a nose around, so I can do the shopping if we put together a list.’

  ‘I’d like to go with you,’ Adele calls. ‘Not walking, but into town, if that’s okay.’

  ‘Sure,’ Simone replies. ‘Let’s do the list when I get back from the walk. Anyone seen Judy yet?’

  ‘I haven’t,’ Ros says, zipping Clooney into his red tartan raincoat. ‘She was really zonked out last night, probably best to let her sleep.’

  Adele appears at the entrance to the kitchen. ‘I might just start preparing things for breakfast. How long d’you think you’ll be, Simone?’

  ‘I thought I’d do that walk to the waterfall, the one you told me about. So you tell me.’

  ‘Oh, about half an hour.’ She checks her watch. ‘So shall we say breakfast at nine-thirty? Eggs, bacon, toast? Gwenda has stocked up on those for us.’

  ‘I’m in,’ Ros says. ‘Breakfast is my favourite meal but I’m too lazy to cook it at home. I’ll give you a hand. Shout when you’re ready. But I think we should leave Judy to sleep as long as she wants, don’t you?’

  ‘Definitely,’ Simone says, backing out of the storeroom clutching a Drizabone and a battered Akubra. ‘And definitely yes to eggs and bacon too. Are you actually going to do a roster, Adele?’

  ‘Am I?’ Adele looks at Ros, who grins back at her.

  ‘You don’t need my permission,’ she says, ‘but since you ask I think that would be a very good idea.’

  ‘Okay, Clooney,’ Simone says, ‘off we go. See you in about half an hour.’

  And with Clooney wagging his tail furiously, she opens the door and steps outside.

  ‘You are probably insane,’ Ros says, handing her the lead, ‘but Clooney and I are nonetheless grateful.’

  Simone is glad to be out. She was first up this morning and has already done her yoga practice and made tea for herself, Adele and Ros. Yesterday, Friday, had been an odd sort of day. Everyone had been tired and slept late, and Gwenda had arrived at ten to cook brunch for them, which is something, Adele had explained, that Marian always organised for visitors the first morning after their arrival. It poured with rain most of the day and they sat around talking, watched a movie on TV, napped, and Judy, when she finally surfaced, looked a little better, and got out her knitting. None of them had energy for anything more.

  ‘This is adjustment day,’ Ros said, late in the afternoon. ‘We don’t have jetlag, it just feels like it.’

  Judy had brought a DVD with her and they watched it after dinner. It was The Enchanted April, which they’d all seen before, and Ros had also read the book. The story of four women taking time out from their early twentieth-century lives, in a glorious Italian villa, had struck just the right note.

  ‘It’s still pissing down,’ Ros said at ten o’clock when she let Clooney out for a late night pee. ‘We should have gone to Italy instead.’

  Simone walks briskly now, sticking to the path, splashing through and around puddles, hands in her pockets, watching Clooney running joyfully between the trees, sniffing, peeing, bounding off in different directions. She opens the rear gate of the property and continues on for some time, watching out for the stone marker that Adele had told her points to the waterfall. They finally turn alongside it onto a narrow path with a handrail. Clipping on Clooney’s lead she walks cautiously until the muddy path widens, the trees thin out and she can hear the sound of rushing water. Clooney tugs on the lead but she holds him back.

  ‘Wait,’ she says. ‘Just wait. We’re nearly there.’ And suddenly they are out of the cover of the trees and the landscape opens up. She catches her breath at the sight of the white water tumbling and foaming over walls of dark rock to a depth she cannot safely see.

  Simone holds on to the handrail, mesmerised by the sight and sound of the water, barely noticing that the rain has almost stopped, until a crack in the clouds opens up and a narrow shaft of brilliant sunlight makes her gasp as it transforms the rock and the water to every imaginable shade of green laced with white foam.

  ‘Well look at that, Clooney,’ she gasps. ‘Isn’t that simply glorious?’

  Clooney, at the limits of the lead, cocks his leg on a nearby fern.

  The rain has stopped now and Simone inhales the fresh, damp air, captivated by the sound of the rushing water and the magical effect of the sunlight on the drenched landscape. This moment feels like some sort of blessing, a moment sent to make her stop to think, to feel its importance. She stretches out her arms, turns her face to the sun and closes her eyes. The surge of freedom that had come with the sale of the house is reignited. Energy rushes through her veins like water against the rocks and she fills her lungs with the clear air. This, she thinks, is the start of something new, something special – I must make the most of every moment from now on.

  There is a seat made of old logs and she sits down on it. Clooney jumps up beside her. She puts her arm around him and drags him closer, and he tilts his head up and tries to lick her face. ‘No thanks,’ she tells him, ‘but I appreciate the sentiment. I like you too.’ She fishes in her pocket for a few dog treats that she took from the tin Ros has put in the kitchen. ‘Here,’ she says, ‘this is to cement our friendship.’ Clooney swoops and gulps them down in seconds.

  For a while they sit there, the two of them, Clooney alternately sniffing the air and sniffing Simone’s pocket for more treats as she gazes out at the waterfall, listening to it, narrowing her eyes at the sparkling landscape. But soon the rain returns, slowly at first, then building fast as the clouds crowd out the sun. She gets to her feet. ‘Come on, Clooney,’ she says, turning back down the path. ‘Let’s get home before we drown.’

  *

  ‘Judy’s up and seems in good spirits,’ Adele says when Simone appears in the kitchen. ‘Did you get to the waterfall?’

  ‘I did,’ Simone says, ‘thanks for telling me about it. It’s just glorious. Wow, that bacon smells good.’

  ‘It tastes as good as it smells,’ Adele says, ‘take my word for it. We should get some more when we go shopping.’

  ‘Is Judy really okay?’

  ‘She seems pretty good to me,’ Adele says. ‘I’m hoping if she gets through today and tomorrow she’ll decide to stay on. Going home is probably the worst thing she could do. She really needs to rest and relax a bit.’

  ‘Fingers crossed.’

  Adele cracks eggs into a bowl and begins to whisk them with a fork. ‘Could you let the others know that it’ll be ready in a minute?’ she asks. Simone wanders out and Adele hears her rounding up Judy and Ros.

  Adele is glad she rostered herself on for the first breakfast. When she’d suggested a roster for the cooking and housework, she failed to mention that she’d already drawn it up and stored it on her laptop. She’d deliberately put herself down for the first breakfast so she could feel useful, and as though she was pulling her weight right from the start. Later she’ll print it out on Marian’s printer. Telling the others that she’d organised it two weeks in advance might make them think she was obsessive and trying to control things, both of which she knows are true, even
if only in a small way. It would be nice if the others didn’t find that out too soon.

  A couple of minutes later she is spooning scrambled eggs onto slices of toast and Simone is adding bacon and grilled tomatoes and setting them on the table. It’s just as they are starting to tuck into the food that the doorbell takes them by surprise.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Simone says, pushing back her chair.

  Ros raises her eyebrows. ‘Visitors already?’

  ‘Probably Gwenda,’ Adele suggests.

  Simone appears back in the kitchen doorway. She clears her throat, smiles and Adele thinks she looks as though she’s trying not to laugh.

  ‘Taxi to Sydney airport for Judy Castle?’ she says.

  Judy’s eyes widen; she drops her fork and it clatters onto her plate. She pushes back her chair and gets to her feet. ‘Oh my god! I forgot,’ she says. ‘I completely forgot.’

  Ros gives a short burst of laughter. ‘Forgot to run away?’

  ‘Forgot that I ordered the taxi. I did it the first night, before dinner, before we talked about staying longer . . . oh my goodness,’ and she hurries out of the kitchen past Simone.

  ‘D’you think she’ll make a run for it?’ Ros asks, and the other two collapse into laughter. ‘She may have one booked for Sunday morning, too. Who knows?’

  Adele moves briskly towards the door. ‘I’m going to make sure she doesn’t run and that she hasn’t got any more secret escape plans up her sleeve.’

  Simone drops back into her chair. ‘Poor Judy. She’s all over the place. She must have been feeling pretty desperate, but I think we need to keep her here as long as possible. She’ll get through this crisis, I’m sure she will.’

  A few minutes later Adele and Judy are back and Judy sits down again, red in the face and obviously very embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I was in such a state when I arrived. But I do intend to stay, definitely for tomorrow, and leave on Monday.’

  Ros leans across to her. ‘One day at a time, Judy,’ she says. ‘Just one day at a time.’

  *

  ‘Shall we do the shopping last?’ Simone asks as Adele drives them to Leura in Ros’s car.

  ‘Yes, I’d like to have a wander around. Shall we make a time and meet for a coffee later, then go to the supermarket?’

  ‘Perfect. You said you wanted to buy boots?’

  ‘Yes, and I’m looking out for a jumper. I’m going to be daring and look for something in turquoise, inspired by my turquoise bedroom.’

  They park just off the main street, and set off in different directions. Simone takes her time, browsing the shelves of a bookshop, then walks on, passing and then turning back to a small but interesting-looking fashion and gift shop to examine some leather handbags. The leather is beautifully soft and hand-stitched but, torn between two bags, neither of which she really needs, she decides against both. As she’s about to leave the shop she spots a turquoise jumper on a model just inside the window. It has a soft cowl neckline and when she touches it she realises it’s cashmere, but it’s way too small for Adele. She goes to the counter to enquire about the availability of larger sizes.

  Heading out onto the street again she walks on, gazing in shop windows. This morning she’d returned from her walk full of positive energy, determined to get straight onto Facebook and send a friend request to Geoff Marshall, but since then her mood has changed. She’s nervous about it now. What if he doesn’t respond? And why is she fussing about it now, as soon as she’s got here, when it could easily wait – after all, she’s been looking at what she thinks is his profile for months. Perhaps Judy is not the only one feeling out of place. She walks on up the street, gazing in various shop windows, stopping to buy a beautiful scarf for Stacey in one place and some brightly coloured socks for Adam in another. The combination of a longing to make contact with Geoff, and the fear of doing so in case she is ignored or rebuffed, is growing, pushing everything else into the background. The more she thinks about it the more she is drawn back into the past, to her relationship with the Marshalls, and to their importance to her; an importance that had grown as her parents had seemed increasingly estranged from each other, and her father became more volatile, and less able than ever to control his temper. Eventually she reaches the café where she is supposed to meet Adele in twenty minutes’ time. She pushes open the door, orders some tea, sits down at a table and takes out her phone.

  She looks once again at the limited profile of the man she thinks could be Geoff, and opens Messenger.

  Hi, she types, then hesitates. I’m looking for Geoff Marshall and his brother Doug whom I knew in Queensland from the fifties to the seventies. My name is Simone Ricci, if you remember me and would like to meet again I would love to hear from you. And she hits ‘Send’ before she can change her mind.

  Her heart is thumping in her chest as though she has done something momentous, taken some huge risk, and she is almost giddy as she stares at the phone, willing it to reply instantly. For heaven’s sake, relax, she tells herself. He’s hardly sitting there waiting to hear from you. It could be days or weeks before he responds – maybe never. She stares hard at the photograph again, the face half-masked by shadow. She imagines the Geoff she knew hearing a beep on his phone, picking it up, staring at her message. What would he feel when he saw her name: excitement or dismay, pleasure and anticipation or mere irritation?

  ‘I’m early but you beat me to it anyway,’ Adele says, slipping into the seat opposite her.

  Simone feels as though she is physically struggling to drag herself back to the present.

  ‘It’s pouring out there now, we should have stayed home, but I managed to get some boots,’ Adele continues, sticking a foot out from under the table. ‘Flat boots with thick soles.’

  Simone stares at her, trying to muster a response. She looks down at Adele’s extended leg and nods approvingly. ‘They’re great, ideal for the paths around here. I thought you might succumb and fall for heels.’ How amazing, she thinks, I sound like a perfectly normal person.

  ‘I almost did,’ Adele admits, ‘but the assistant persuaded me otherwise. These are wonderfully comfortable. What about you?’

  ‘I just mooched around and window-shopped. And then . . .’ She hesitates, looks up. ‘Actually I’ve just messaged that man I told you all about last night, one of the Marshall boys I was friends with . . . and now I feel really stupid.’

  ‘But why?’ Adele says. ‘It’s good – it’s more than good, it’s great. There’s not much point spending ages staring at a photo you can’t really see and wondering whether or not it’s him.’

  ‘He . . . they . . . may not want me to find them.’

  ‘In which case you won’t get a reply.’

  ‘But I won’t know whether that’s because I’ve got the wrong person, or the right one and they don’t want to know me.’

  ‘Simone,’ Adele says, reaching across the table to put a hand on her arm. ‘You can’t have it both ways – you can’t find out without trying, so you have to risk confusion, rebuffs, or the fact that you’ll never know, in order to have a chance at the jackpot. You’ve done it. So stop staring at your phone, put it back in your bag and drink your tea.’

  ‘You sound so sensible and well balanced,’ Simone says, ‘not at all like . . .’ She stops, horrified by what she was about to say.

  ‘Not at all like the neurotic, anxious person you know me to be,’ Adele says, smiling. ‘Actually, I’m really good at other people’s stuff. It’s just my own that brings me to my knees.’

  ‘Oh my god,’ Simone says later, as they stroll back to the car and the clouds start to clear. ‘I almost forgot. There’s something I want to show you in this shop.’ She grabs Adele’s arm and draws her to the window. ‘Look! A beautiful turquoise jumper.’

  They push open the glass door of the shop, and Adele walks over to the model. She stares at the ju
mper, gently fingering the fabric.

  ‘It’s so light and soft.’

  ‘Exactly. Cashmere and something else, so it’ll be warm too.’

  ‘But it’s tiny.’

  ‘They have other sizes, I asked.’

  Adele looks at the price tag. ‘Crikey, it costs an arm and a leg.’

  ‘Of course, it’s cashmere. Do you like it?’

  ‘I love it, but . . .’

  ‘Then go and try one on, come and show me.’

  Adele blushes. ‘Oh I don’t think –’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s just that I’m . . . I usually go shopping, trying things . . . well, on my own.’

  Simone hesitates, and then laughs. ‘Oh Adele, you are such a mystery! Shall I go and wait for you in the car?’

  Adele hesitates, takes a deep breath. ‘No,’ she says, ‘my daughter would say I’m being ridiculous. Stay right there. There’s a first time for everything and I suppose this is it.’

  *

  Just inside the front door Adele and Simone divest themselves of their coats, and Adele dries her boots very carefully as she doesn’t want to take them off just yet.

  ‘I want to show them off to Judy and Ros,’ she says, feeling emboldened by the experience of trying on the jumper and walking out of the fitting room in front of Simone.

  ‘Good on you,’ Simone says, ‘swagger off and do just that. And I mean swagger – “look at me in my cool new boots and my lovely turquoise cashmere jumper”.’

  ‘Oh, I won’t put the jumper on,’ Adele says, blushing furiously. She had been horribly anxious about stepping out of the fitting room in the shop, but she’d made herself do it and, strangely, it had felt fine. She tries to think of the last time she paraded something she’d bought in front of someone. It really was too long ago for her to remember, but it would have been Jenna because she’d never have done it with anyone else. ‘You know I can’t do that,’ she says now.

  Simone catches her arm. ‘Maybe not today, but soon. It is allowed, you know, to do something, to say something, that’s all about you. Something that draws attention to yourself and how much you love these new things that make you feel good. We will all enjoy it, we’ll laugh and clap and celebrate it with you. It’s what women friends do. But you have to stick your neck out to make it happen.’