Food, Sex & Money

by Liz Byrski

  ‘She’s certainly had some TIAs,’ Dr Owen said to Fran while his nurse helped Lila to dress after the CAT scan and the physical examination. ‘And she has Alzheimer’s disease. What the TIAs do is accelerate its effects, so you may see quite rapid deterioration from now on. I’ll get someone from the Seniors Health Assessment Team to see her. You may need to start thinking in terms of residential care.’

  THIRTY-TWO

  The Boatshed was due to open on the first Friday in December, with a special invitation-only brunch for the media, some tourism and food people, as well as family and friends. By seven-thirty that morning the newly employed sous-chef hadn’t turned up and wasn’t answering his mobile phone. Sean, who had recently acquired the title of King of Cool, totally lost it, had a fit in the kitchen and phoned his partner, Graeme, who fortunately was having a day off. Within half an hour, Graeme was there in his chef’s whites and Sean was back to cool again.

  ‘Don’t worry about him,’ Graeme told a frantic Bonnie. ‘He always has a drama at the start, that’s his process; he’ll be steady as a rock from now on.’

  ‘But we still need a sous-chef,’ Bonnie wailed. ‘Suppose he doesn’t turn up at all? What about the weekend? We’re open now!’

  Graeme patted her shoulder and handed her a large mug of coffee. ‘Sous-chefs are ten a penny,’ he said. ‘I’m off for the next three days and I’ll help out, but Sean and I can find you one by tomorrow, probably.’

  Bonnie gulped her coffee and sank down onto a chair. ‘My fault,’ she said. ‘All my fault. I picked him over the guy Sean wanted. He said this one was dodgy right from the start.’

  ‘She’s right,’ Sean called from the kitchen. ‘He had very funny eyes, that boy, and I’m not having him anywhere near my kitchen after this.’

  ‘There you are, you see,’ Graeme said. ‘Drink your coffee and don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. You’ll have a new sous-chef by tomorrow or Sunday at the latest. I’ll stake my virginity on it.’

  In the gallery, Sylvia was showing Caro the till and stock book. The new part-time assistant couldn’t start until the following week and Caro had volunteered to fill the gap. Fran stood at the entrance to the kitchen wondering if she should offer to help or stay out of the way.

  ‘Don’t breathe down their necks, Fran,’ Lenore whispered. ‘You’re the ideas and the inspiration, you have to leave the rest to them.’ And she took her arm and led her away from the danger zone.

  ‘Ten o’clock,’ Bonnie said. ‘Time to open the doors. Here we go, guys, we’re open.’

  It seemed that one moment they were drinking a quiet glass of nerve-calming champagne and the next the invited guests were arriving and Bonnie began the ritual of meeting and greeting, answering questions, discussing the menu, encouraging people to try the first range of signature products and to check out the gallery. She wondered if Jeff was watching, and thought he would be proud of her. She had hoped Will would confirm that but, while obviously pleased with the end result, he seemed to have something else on his mind.

  ‘Missed you dreadfully,’ Will whispered to Sylvia as she gift-wrapped a beaded handbag. ‘I nearly raced across the garden last night and hammered your door down.’

  He had arrived the previous evening, and this time he had been happy to accept Bonnie’s invitation to stay at the house, confident that within a couple of nights at most he would be moving his suitcase to Sylvia’s bedroom in the cottage. The opening would be over by early afternoon and he had plans for the rest of the day. A late afternoon drive down to his favourite spot on the coast. He patted his jacket, reassuring himself that the small leather box was still safe in his inside pocket. Sylvia flushed, looking up at the customer, who had turned away to admire some earrings.

  ‘Just be careful, and don’t do anything silly,’ she told him sharply. ‘I’m worried about Bonnie, and I need to talk to you, seriously, later, when this is all over.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ he said, ducking out of the way of a couple who were inspecting the bookshelves. ‘This afternoon can’t come soon enough for me.’ And he stroked her hand and slipped away as he saw Bonnie coming through from the restaurant. He was impressed by the way it had all come together, but he was absorbed in the prospect of the life that was soon to be his, the life that would begin in earnest at the end of this day, when he could have Sylvia to himself.

  David pulled up as close as possible to the entrance and leapt out of the driving seat to open the car doors. He had been dispatched to collect Lila and her red hat friends. It was not a job he relished; he hadn’t seen his grandmother since the sudden deterioration in her memory and he feared that she might not recognise him. As he turned into the bottom of Malthouse Close he saw them, Lila and three other women, all in purple with big red hats, waiting for him on the front path.

  ‘Here he is, that’s my grandson,’ Lila cried, holding out her arms to him. ‘Hello, darling, I’m so glad to see you. Such a long time you’ve been away. Did you have a good flight? I was worried about you, terrible things happening over there.’ And one by one she introduced him to her friends, telling them he’d just come back from Iraq. Despite the warnings from both Fran and Jodie, it came as a shock.

  ‘Don’t argue with her,’ Jodie had told him that morning. ‘You’ll hate it, but it really is best to go along with what she says. That’s her reality now, and you’ll just make it harder if you try to correct her.’

  David helped the three women into the back of the car and handed Lila into the front, hugging her again as he did so. Her lopsided face and incongruent memories made her seem like a stranger, and he felt sad and bewildered without the grandmother whom he had known all his life.

  Lila, however, was having a wonderful day. Several times she mixed up the names of the red hat women, but they ignored it and piled cheerfully out of the car and up the steps to the boardwalk, anxious to meet Fran and tell her how closely they followed her column and used her recipes.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ David said, standing under the trees by the car, watching them surge into the building. ‘Such a short time, her face, it’s so … so shocking. And she doesn’t even know you, she just walked right past you.’

  Jodie, whom he had dropped off before going to collect the women, slipped her arm around his waist. ‘Try to remember that your gran is quite happy. She most probably doesn’t realise that she’s changed. Even if she does it’s clearly not bothering her. It’s you and your mum and Caro who have all the adjustments to make.’

  David put an arm around her shoulders. ‘You’ll think me an awful wuss but when I saw her this morning I just wanted to cry.’

  Jodie moved closer, rubbing her cheek against his. ‘It’s awful to watch someone you love slowly disintegrate, and it’s worst of all for Fran. She’ll need your help with this, David.’

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I do love you, Jo, I’m sorry I was such a stupid wanker all those weeks. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’

  ‘And you to me,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t really complicated at all, was it? Just a question of knowing what we both want.’

  He drew her back behind a tree, into the cool shade where the sun dappled patterns on the grass. ‘It’s the children bit that still worries me, though,’ he whispered against her hair.

  ‘There are other things in life, David,’ she said. ‘Not everyone has to have children to feel fulfilled. Anyway, we’re getting too intense, let’s go and rescue your mum. She’s being swamped by red hats.’

  ‘Magnificent, Bonnie!’ Jack Bannister said, leaning back against the deck rail and watching a group at a nearby table tucking into eggs Benedict.

  ‘You’ve done an extraordinary job. This place will soon be the talk of the town.’ He raised his glass and she chinked hers against it.

  ‘I admit to being absolutely thrilled,’ she said. ‘Modesty is not my thing this morning but I’m trying not to look smug. These guys obviously like it but the real test is when we open t
o the public.’

  ‘The public will love it too,’ he said. ‘Let’s talk later, I’ve got some other ideas that might interest you.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ve got the bit between my teeth now, Jack,’ she said with a grin. ‘Flushed with my own success, I’m probably going to turn into Melbourne’s answer to Donald Trump.’

  Jack spluttered into his glass. ‘That’s a really scary thought,’ he said with a laugh. ‘But I doubt it, you’re much more attractive and have better hair.’

  ‘How’s it going, Fran?’ Lenore asked, handing her a glass of water.

  ‘Terrifying,’ Fran admitted, drinking it gratefully. ‘How did you know I needed this?’

  ‘Champagne before midday, very bad for you,’ Lenore said. ‘We’ll all be staggering around with headaches this afternoon if we don’t drink plenty of water.’

  ‘D’you think it’s okay?’

  ‘Okay? It’s a roaring success. Bonnie’s done a terrific job, you all have. But look, I just had a chat with Lila. I don’t think she knew me, and her poor face … it’s serious, isn’t it?’

  Fran stared at the empty glass and nodded. ‘Yes, and the weird thing is that she doesn’t seem to realise it. Moving her into care is going to be terrible but I don’t think she can stay where she is for long.’

  ‘The worst thing I ever had to do was put my father into residential care,’ Lenore said. ‘In a way it was worse than parting with my kids, because they were taken away I had no option, but with Dad I actually had to do the deed. He didn’t understand what was happening or why and he never forgave me. If there’s anything I can do … I’ve only known her a few weeks but I’ve grown very fond of her, and of you. I’d like to help.’

  Mike drew up in a corner of the car park and unpacked Rebekah from her capsule. She opened her eyes and stared at him, her face breaking into a big smile.

  ‘Who’s Daddy’s gorgeous girl, then?’ he said, locking the car and hitching her into the pouch against his chest. ‘Look at all those ladies in the big red hats, Bek. That’s your great gran over there, and your gran, and there’s Mummy – look, she’s running to meet us.’

  Caro was indeed running towards them off the boardwalk steps and down the path.

  ‘Thank goodness you’re here,’ she said, taking Rebekah from him. ‘Can you get your bag and hurry, there’s a guy collapsed in the restaurant.’ She shouldered her way back into the building ahead of him, through the groups of chatting guests who had spread across the deck and the boardwalk onto the grass. Inside the restaurant an elderly man was slumped across one of the tables, surrounded by a cluster of anxious onlookers.

  ‘Apparently he was panting and then his eyes rolled back and he just seemed to pass out,’ Caro said. ‘Can you move back, please, the doctor’s here now.’

  She turned to Bonnie, who was standing nervously beside her, and thrust Rebekah into her arms. ‘Can you take her, please, Bonnie,’ she said, ‘I might need to help Mike,’ and Bonnie, whose worst fear when she saw the slumped figure was food poisoning, had no alternative but to take Rebekah and clutch her awkwardly against her chest, her face white with shock.

  Mike tilted the man’s head to one side, put his fingers to his neck, checked his pulse, and then pushed him backwards so that he could prise open his eyelids. ‘Looks like dehydration,’ he said, drawing a syringe out of his case. ‘Can someone bring some water, please, and can you all stand back a bit.’

  The man’s eyelids flickered and opened cautiously and Bonnie sighed with relief. She looked down in dismay at Rebekah, who smiled at her and reached up a tiny hand to grab her face.

  ‘Phew,’ Will whispered, ‘let’s hope Mike’s right. I was thinking – ’

  ‘Food poisoning,’ Bonnie cut in. ‘Yes, me too. Here, have you met Rebekah? Fran’s granddaughter? Look after her, will you, there’s stuff I have to do.’ And she thrust Rebekah into his arms and hurried away to the kitchen, hoping neither Fran nor Caro had seen how desperately she hadn’t wanted to hold the baby.

  ‘It’s a lovely club, Irene,’ Lila said. ‘Lovely women, most of them younger than me, but very nice and friendly.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Irene said. ‘They certainly look a very jolly group and the hats are gorgeous. And how are you, Lila?’

  Lila looked around to make sure Fran wasn’t within hearing distance. ‘Not all that good, really. It’s a funny thing but I could swear something’s happened to my face. It’s all down on one side, but no one seems to have noticed it. Even the doctor Fran took me to last week – he asked all sorts of questions but didn’t say anything about it. Look at it, Irene, what do you think? It looks funny, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It does look a little different, Lila,’ Irene said cautiously. ‘A little bit one-sided. These odd things happen to us as we get older, don’t they? Best not to worry about it. Do you feel okay?’

  Lila glanced over her shoulder again. ‘Not the best. I’ve done a couple of odd things this week. Found myself walking round the garden in my nightdress in the middle of the night. Now, that’s a silly thing to do, isn’t it? I don’t want Fran to know, though; don’t want to worry her. Might be all the excitement, you know – David’s just come home, and then there’s my scooter,’ She paused and put her hand on Irene’s arm.

  ‘Who’s that woman over there in black, the one with the very bright blue eyes? She says she knows me and had a ride on my scooter.’

  Irene tucked a hand under Lila’s arm and steered her into the shade. ‘It’s Lenore, Lila, you remember her. She was there the night we delivered Rebekah. She told you about the red hat club.’

  ‘Really?’ Lila said, staring across at Lenore. ‘Well, she said something like that, but I didn’t know whether to believe her. You can’t be too careful these days, you know, people will tell you anything. I don’t know what to believe. And where did we deliver Rebekah to?’

  Hamish had found them a quiet table on the shady part of the deck, and Irene dropped thankfully into a chair and watched him passing an extra chair to a group at another table. He was wearing her favourite blue shirt with a silver grey cashmere sweater thrown over his shoulders. She was struck by how distinguished he looked, and wondered how she could have known him almost all her adult life without noticing things about him that she now found so attractive.

  ‘I didn’t want to ever have a relationship again,’ she said as he sat down, and he looked up at her with a smile.

  ‘Me neither,’ he said. ‘It took me years to get over Gilda, and I think I married Celia because I was lonely and we didn’t get along too badly. When she died I was never going to get involved again.’ He took her hand. ‘I’m awfully glad I did.’

  Irene smiled, feeling the prick of tears in her eyes. ‘Me too. I was just talking to Lila …’ she paused. ‘Suppose that happens to one of us?’

  ‘Why don’t we worry about that if and when the time comes?’ Hamish said. ‘After all, it might never happen.’

  ‘It’s so sudden and so dramatic,’ Irene said. ‘I feel desperate about it for her and … this is so selfish – for myself and you too. I thought I’d live in my own home until I died. Now I look at Lila and …’

  ‘Ssh, Irene,’ Hamish said, stroking her hand. ‘At this time of life, we just have to take one day at a time and live it to the full. The fear’s always there, just don’t let it get to you. There’s two of us now.’

  It was well after six by the time Will managed to prise Sylvia away from the others. He’d planned a long and lazy drive to somewhere romantic where they could watch the sun go down, but time was not on his side, so he opted for the terrace of a small and quiet Federation hotel a little way down the coast, where he remembered a magnificent view and an air of restrained elegance. Leaving the city he put his foot down with a sense of joyful anticipation and a noticeable sigh of relief as he shook off the irritation and impatience that had filled his day.

  ‘Not yet, Will,’ Sylvia had said early in the afternoon, when the crowd had drifted
away and they had closed the doors of the Boatshed. ‘I need to check the sales register, and the till, and anyway, this is a special day for us – we’re all going back to Bonnie’s.’

  Will had made some small effort to feign an interest in the post mortem. A large, noisy and elated group had gathered at the house and persisted in reliving the event minute by minute; the overall success, the minor disasters, the lessons learned. Will thought he’d die of boredom if he heard the story of the missing sous-chef or the food poisoning scare one more time. Despite his genuine interest in the Boatshed he found this all too tiresome for words, and in his desire to be with Sylvia he was like a restless teenager longing to get away from a crowd of boring adults.

  ‘At last,’ he said, smiling across at Sylvia as she leaned back in the passenger seat. ‘I thought I was never going to get you alone.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Well, now that we are alone, where are we going? Not too far, Will, I’m really tired. Let’s just go somewhere quiet where we can talk. I’m going to flake out quite early tonight.’

  Will, imagining them flaking out together in Sylvia’s bed, relished the moment and tuned the radio to something soothing on Classic FM.

  The light was fading as they settled at a candlelit table on the terrace with a frosty bottle of rosé. It was surprisingly quiet and for a while they had the terrace to themselves. Will raised his glass and the pink wine flashed crimson in the candlelight. He felt an almost unbelievable joy – he had waited so long for this moment that he wondered if he’d be able to speak. He wanted to capture it and hold it forever, a memory they would share through the coming years.

  ‘Will,’ Sylvia said, sipping her wine and putting her glass back on the table. ‘There’s something I have to say to you – ’

  He set his glass on the table and smiled at her, putting his finger to her lips to silence her. ‘Me first, please,’ he said softly. ‘You’ll understand why in a moment.’