Those Pleasant Girls

by Lia Weston

  There was Evie, standing in the front row, watching Father Reid. She was flushed, like a pink and white rose. She wore a dress the colour of a sunset, apricot bleeding into gold, and a shawl that looked like spun clouds. Travis wanted to freeze time to look and look until his eyes grew sore.

  With much ceremony, Rosemary Sturn cut the ribbon. Evie was almost blinded by the flash from David’s camera.

  It had been her idea to ask Rosemary to helm the ceremony, mostly just to piss off Joy. Rosemary, however, had been so surprised and pleased to be nominated that Joy’s reaction was of far less consequence. Evie discovered herself on the receiving end of Rosemary’s unswerving adoration, and its resultant barrage of carnival-related texts about what to wear and what to do and what to say, averaging five an hour.

  Mrs Beadles, next to Evie, was wearing a hat shaped like a pair of dice. Beyond her, a cluster of men clutching paper cups of wine were eyeing off the girls at the dart-throwing stand. At the far edge of the crowd Evie recognised the priest from Fallow Halls. Her stomach dipped. Today had to go well. She couldn’t fail Nathan.

  As the crowd dispersed, she saw Travis shyly standing by the edge of the stage.

  ‘You came.’ She kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘This is amazing,’ said Travis, looking around.

  Evie glanced over her shoulder. Nathan and the Fallow Halls priest were hugging each other. More than one woman nearby looked as if she’d like to be in a priestly sandwich.

  ‘Can I ask a favour?’ she said.

  ‘Of course.’ He looked so eager, as if she was going to send him on a quest to slay a dragon. Maybe he’d slash Joy’s tyres if she asked nicely.

  ‘Mary’s supposed to be doing the face painting. Can you make sure she’s at the stall? I’d do it, but Father Reid needs me.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘You’re a lifesaver.’ She squeezed his arm. Travis took off like a jack rabbit. Turning, Evie saw that Nathan and the priest had disappeared into the crowd. Bugger. She should have put a tracking device on him.

  The front of the face-painting booth was covered by a cloth. Travis opened the door in the back to find Mary inside, clutching a metal box.

  ‘I can’t do it.’ Mary looked as if she’d barely slept.

  ‘It’s not that hard, is it?’

  Mary pressed her forehead to the top of the box. ‘The only thing I know how to paint is Spiderman.’

  ‘Really? That’s . . . incredibly specific, now I think about it.’

  ‘I told her,’ came the muffled reply. ‘She thought I was just being modest or something. She said I’d be brilliant. Oh God. I’ll have to give refunds. Oh God. I’m dead. Can’t you do it?’

  ‘You’d have better luck with D.’

  Mary looked up. ‘Is he here?’

  ‘I’ll go see. In the meantime,’ Travis stood back to let through a little boy who was clutching a balloon, ‘you’ve got a customer.’

  Mary forced her face into a rictus grin. ‘Hello! What’s your name?’

  ‘Jayden,’ said the boy, jamming his finger up his nose. ‘Wanna be a pirate.’

  She popped the top of the metal box and unsteadily unfolded it to reveal sticks of greasepaint and a box of hand wipes. ‘How about Spiderman?’

  ‘No. Pirate.’

  ‘Everybody loves Spiderman,’ said Mary brightly.

  The little boy hunched over with the balloon. ‘Pirate.’

  ‘You’re the boss,’ said Mary, picking up the red greasepaint.

  Evie’s nerves were somewhat soothed by everyone saying how nice she looked. She had gone to bed propped up on four pillows to avoid getting puffy eyes, her conditioned hair wrapped in cling film, her limbs coated in almond oil to ensure smooth suppleness. Her sheets were now ruined but her skin felt like butter.

  ‘You look great.’

  It was Phil, wide-shouldered in a new shirt that still had the packing creases in the front. She hugged him, felt his capable hand on the small of her back. Solid, comforting Phil. He was like a quilt you wanted to wrap yourself up in.

  ‘Here.’ Phil handed her a stuffed bear holding a love heart.

  ‘Oh!’ said Evie in delight. ‘Let me guess – balls in the mouth?’

  Phil blinked twice. ‘Sorry?’

  Evie laughed. ‘I mean, did you win him over there?’ She pointed to a booth with a row of swivelling clown heads waiting to be fed.

  ‘Oh. No. Shooting gallery.’

  ‘So you can do plumbing, carpentry, masonry, gardening and you’re a crack shot. Can you cook?’

  Phil looked up to the sky for a moment. ‘Omelettes. Two kinds of pasta.’

  ‘I’m impressed. Omelettes are deceptively hard.’

  ‘I use goat’s cheese.’

  ‘How are you still single?’

  Phil laughed and looked down at his feet. ‘Can’t dance.’

  ‘Dancing’s overrated.’ Evie hugged the bear’s googly eyes to her chest. They walked down the strip, passing the sideshows and clowns, the mini Ferris wheel, and David Sturn giving both the jumpy castle and his public liability insurance a workout. Evie’s pashmina slipped off her shoulder. She would have preferred to go without it but the spring weather – unlike the committee – was not fully cooperating. It was either pashmina or goosebumps.

  One of the rides appeared to be having an issue – Quentin was standing by the motor, staring at the engine as if it may have written him a note as to what the problem was. Dear Quentin. Just a hint: battery terminal! Cheers, Mr Happy’s Whizz Machine.

  Phil gently repositioned Evie’s pashmina back into place. ‘Mary having fun?’

  ‘Hopefully. She’s doing face painting. I roped her into it. Fingers crossed she forgives me.’

  Mr Zucker, holding a handful of glittery hats, gave Evie a wave.

  ‘Looks like someone else has,’ said Phil.

  ‘Finally,’ said Evie. ‘I’m not out of the woods yet, though.’

  ‘You need a lumberjack.’

  She smiled up at him. ‘I do, don’t I?’

  ‘Phil,’ David Sturn came puffing up. ‘Bit of an issue with the Ferris wheely thing. We need some muscle.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Phil to Evie, as David dragged him off.

  ‘Don’t tear your new shirt,’ she called after him.

  Mini D was easy to track down; Travis just headed for the food stalls and found him getting to know the fairy floss vendor, whose apron was pinkly stained.

  He politely refused Mini D’s half-eaten offering. ‘Mary needs your artistry.’

  ‘Can’t you do it?’ Mini D sucked the rest of the spun sugar off its stick.

  ‘You’ve seen how I draw.’

  ‘One more for the road, please, my love,’ said Mini D, gazing up at the vendor’s eyebrow piercing.

  One of the carnival stalls displayed shelves holding plates and other crockery.

  ‘Antiques?’ said Travis as they wandered past.

  ‘Nope,’ said Mini D, eating a pink cloud larger than his head. ‘Eight bucks, break some shit.’

  As they watched, a ginger-headed man with a drooping moustache swapped a small pile of coins for a small bucket of baseballs and then proceeded to hurl the balls at the crockery with unexpected force.

  ‘I’d say I’m surprised,’ said Travis over the sound of shattering porcelain, ‘but frankly I’m more surprised no one thought of it earlier.’

  ‘In a few hours,’ said Mini D, inhaling the last pink dregs of floss, ‘this will be the most popular stand at the carnival.’

  Evie didn’t manage to wander more than a few metres at a time without being interrupted.

  ‘Where should we put the takings, Evie?’

  ‘Do you have a hole punch for name tags, Evie?’

  ‘Does this peanut butter brownie have nuts in it, Evie?’

  ‘Evie, I can’t find the EpiPen.’

  Honestly. Had no one ever convened a spring carnival before? It wasn’t that hard. All it took was two month
s of solid dedication, an eye for detail, and fourteen cups of coffee a day.

  There was still no sign of Nathan or the Fallow Halls priest. What was the collective noun for priests? A hotness? A clasp. A conversion of priests.

  She had been too nervous to eat breakfast. After two hours of putting out minor carnival fires, she was now so hungry that she resorted to sneaking samples from the bake-off, which she had not been allowed to enter. There were five sponges and three mud cakes, all of which seemed to have been taken literally. In the end, she had awarded the ribbon to the entry with the neatest handwriting.

  There was a coffee van staffed by a man who had mastered a topknot far better than she ever could. Evie had just gratefully received a flat white when Rosemary beetled up. ‘Evie, are you free? We need a judge for the Bible Character Dress-up Competition.’

  ‘Isn’t Amy doing that?’

  ‘She’s been called away. Medical emergency. Someone didn’t realise there were nuts in marzipan.’

  Evie tried to skol her coffee without burning her face off.

  In the marquee a teenage girl was unsuccessfully trying to break up a fight between some Roman centurions and a flock of shepherds. A little girl in a sheep costume was bawling.

  ‘Where are their parents?’ said Evie, trying to avoid being kicked in the shins.

  ‘At the crockery stand,’ said the teenage girl. Over the howls of the centurions came the sound of plates smashing and a loud cheer. The sheep girl’s cries rose to dog-whistle pitch.

  Evie’s nerves, already stretched like violin strings, gave an almost audible ping. Not today. Of all days, not today. She dove into the melee. The tallest Roman centurion was booting a shepherd. Evie grabbed his foot, yanked him off balance, then kicked his other leg out from under him. The centurion crashed to the floor. She promptly pinned him there with her knee.

  The melee paused mid-punch.

  ‘Everyone in line,’ said Evie. ‘Now.’

  ‘I didn’t know you did capoeira,’ said Rosemary Sturn.

  Evie had just released the centurion when Mrs Beadles dropped in. The children’s eyes swivelled to the panting mountain of hair standing next to her. Alasdair swung his head in their direction. The sheep girl gave a scream and ran out of the tent.

  In less than sixty seconds there was an orderly line of Romans, shepherds, disciples, angels, kings, sheep and a snivelling Jesus, all keeping one eye on Evie and the other on the dog.

  ‘Needs more Judases,’ said Mrs Beadles.

  Looking at the lone entrant brave enough to come as Our Lord and Saviour, Evie wondered why anyone thought it was a good idea to give a child a replica crown of thorns.

  ‘Dear God,’ she said when she saw a prepubescent Adam and Eve, complete with nude bodystockings and strategic leaf placements.

  ‘They’re from Fallow Halls,’ Rosemary said in a stage whisper, as if that explained it.

  Alasdair sat down with an almighty thud to bash away at an itch behind his ear. The line of children took a step back.

  One little shepherd looked as if he had made his own robes out of tea towels and staples. He was also one of the only entrants who hadn’t joined in the fray, so Evie was happy to crown him as the winner. The children dispersed, giving both Evie and Alasdair a wide berth.

  ‘Evie,’ said Rachel Pointer, scurrying into the marquee. ‘Quentin’s been bitten by the petting zoo pig.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ said Evie.

  The dulcet tones of Joy Piece of Piece Real Estate crackled through the loudspeakers dotting the park. Mini D pushed through the crowd towards the stage. Most people stepped aside to make room, thinking he was a child, and then looked annoyed when they realised he wasn’t.

  ‘Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry.’ Mary, who had been kidnapped without a struggle from her face-painting gig, followed him.

  Onstage, Fancy Lady’s repertoire of limited-appeal apparel was being showcased by Therese’s posse to the Pretty Woman soundtrack. Boys lined the sides of the catwalk and drummed their hands as another pair of stilettos wobbled past.

  ‘Here’s Brittany ready for Aspen!’

  ‘Oh my God, she skinned Chewbacca,’ said Mary as one of the Brittanys barrelled along the catwalk in a hooded tracksuit and a huge pair of furry boots.

  ‘And now here’s Brittany looking summery in this romper. Who’s up for a beach party, ladies?’

  Brittany the Second was wearing pigtails and waving a giant lollipop. With the addition of the romper and high heels, she looked sartorially confused.

  ‘And Bianca is simply stunning in mauve.’

  Bianca strutted along in too-small short shorts and a sequined halter neck. The drumming increased in volume.

  ‘Perfect for a Christmas party,’ said Joy.

  ‘If you’re a stripper,’ said Mary to Travis.

  Bianca blew a kiss to the crowd and sashayed back down the stage. Even Joy looked slightly taken aback by the amount of undercheek Bianca’s shorts revealed.

  Zach was at the edge of the stage, casually watching Bianca’s arse retreat. Around him the boys hefted and jostled like waves.

  Joy visibly swelled. ‘Now here’s our lovely Therese, showcasing Fancy Lady’s new resort range, starting from a very reasonable one-ninety-nine-ninety-five.’

  Therese stood at the back of the stage, hands on her hips.

  Zach let out a piercing wolf-whistle. The boys hooted.

  Therese stalked out onto the catwalk, game face in place. Her open overshirt billowed behind her. The striped blue bikini looked moulded on. Mary could hear Mini D’s testosterone levels triple.

  As Therese stopped, posed and pivoted on one platform espadrille, it confirmed what Mary had always suspected: there were actually some women who had no cellulite whatsoever.

  Therese stalked back, gave a final expert turn and disappeared behind the partition.

  Mary had to admit it. Therese may be no good at talking or smiling or behaving like a regular person, but she was very, very good at walking in a straight line.

  A glance at Mini D showed that he hadn’t fully recovered.

  ‘Aren’t you on paint duty?’ The familiar voice came from above her head.

  Mary hunched over. ‘I’m on a break.’

  ‘Your mum know?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Phil’s phone pinged. ‘Okay, I’ve got to go wrestle a pig, apparently. Don’t make me practise on you first.’

  Mary groaned. ‘D, will you come and do some faces?’

  Onstage, Bianca was waiting for her turn to model a silver tasselled one-piece.

  ‘Zombie,’ said Mini D, who remained glued in place. ‘Or skeleton. White face, black eyes.’

  ‘I’ll be your guinea pig,’ said Travis.

  ‘You suck,’ said Mary over her shoulder to Mini D as she pushed her way back through the crowd. She knew it wouldn’t have any effect, though. Nothing could compete with the prospect of Therese in a G-string.

  *

  Under Mary’s hands, the rose garden had risen like a phoenix from the ashes. The branches were thick and heavy with flowers. Rose petals on the staircase stirred in the wind, tiny pieces of silk in pinks and yellows to match Evie’s dress. Evie traced the circle path, sliding her feet along the stones, listening to the noise of the carnival.

  ‘Wondered where you’d got to.’ Phil was standing at the top of the staircase.

  ‘I just needed five minutes.’

  He came down and joined her on the bench in the middle. ‘Happy?’

  ‘I think so. I hope everything’s going okay.’

  ‘It’s really good.’

  Evie beamed at him. ‘And Quentin got bitten by a pig.’

  A breeze was rolling down the valley walls, bringing a bank of fast-moving cloud that swallowed the sun.

  Phil looked at the roses. ‘Mary’s done well.’

  ‘She has, hasn’t she? I’m so proud of her.’

  ‘She’s a great kid.’

  ‘You’re sweet,’ said
Evie. ‘She thinks the world of you.’

  He smiled, looking down at his feet. ‘Hey,’ he said, glancing up at the staircase and then over his shoulder, ‘do you like Thai?’

  ‘I do, but I’m hopeless at it. Every time I’ve tried to make spring rolls something’s gone horribly wrong. It’s one of those cuisines that I’d rather just pay someone to make for me.’

  ‘There’s a nice one in Fallow Halls.’

  ‘Right,’ said Evie, watching the rose petals tumble across the stonework in the wind.

  ‘So . . .’ said Phil.

  It took a few beats for her to understand. ‘Oh!’ said Evie. ‘Oh, like a date?’

  ‘Kind of.’

  ‘Kind of,’ repeated Evie.

  ‘Okay, a date,’ said Phil, smiling, though his hands clutched the edge of the bench.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You sound surprised.’

  ‘It’s only because I don’t really think of you that way.’

  Phil became very still. If she could have stuffed the words back into her mouth and eaten them, she would have.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ said Evie, turning to him. ‘I didn’t mean –’

  ‘No worries.’

  ‘It’s just –’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  The air felt so thick she could swim through it. There was an awkward pause.

  ‘I’d better go and find Mary,’ said Evie. ‘Thank you for the bear.’

  Phil nodded but didn’t meet her eyes.

  She left the garden as quickly as she could without running.

  The main boulevard of the carnival was jam-packed with people. The winery lines had bloated, groups braying with laughter. The sideshows echoed with the crack of pellet guns, buzzers, bells, children screaming from the rides. The produce marquee was closed off. Evie pulled one of the white flaps aside and slipped inside.

  She was not alone. In the middle of the marquee, leaning against the table of jam entries, was a couple in the middle of an all-consuming kiss. The woman was on tiptoe, spirals of dark hair falling down her back.