The Mothers' Group

by Fiona Higgins

  ‘Have you read the next book for book club, Made?’ asked Pippa, crouching down and propping Heidi next to Wayan.

  Made smiled and shook her head. She hadn’t managed Eat, Pray, Love, and the next book—Ginie’s suggestion, We Need to Talk About Kevin— was much thicker, with smaller print.

  ‘Is it good reading?’ she asked.

  Pippa glanced in Ginie’s direction.

  ‘No,’ she said, her voice low. ‘I mean, it’s well-written. But as a mother, I wish I’d never opened it. I wish I could erase all the images it’s burned into my mind.’

  ‘Oh.’ Made was relieved she hadn’t attempted it. She studied Pippa’s face. ‘This book, it make you . . . sad?’

  Pippa pulled Heidi onto her knee. ‘Well, it showed how little control we have over our children and how things can go horribly wrong.’ She grimaced. ‘It was frightening. Don’t read it.’

  Made shook her head. ‘Too hard for me. Book club next week, yes?’

  ‘Yes, at Cara’s house,’ said Pippa.

  Suzie sidled up to them. ‘Are you talking about Kevin?’

  Pippa nodded.

  ‘You didn’t like it either?’

  Pippa shook her head.

  ‘Well,’ said Suzie, as if emboldened, ‘any chance we could postpone book club?’ She glanced around at the others. ‘Kevin is so full on, I’m having trouble finishing it.’

  Ginie looked bemused. ‘Full on? It pretty much boils down to nature versus nurture, doesn’t it? Do we wreck our children’s lives for them, or do they wreck them for themselves?’

  Suzie flushed. Made couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or angry. Ginie always seemed to fluster her.

  ‘Maybe with more time, I read some too,’ Made added, mostly for Suzie’s benefit.

  ‘I haven’t read it yet either, I’m afraid,’ said Cara. ‘Maybe my book club idea was too ambitious. I can’t believe I’m even saying that. I used to read a book a week.’ She laughed. ‘Well, how about I send a text around later with some new dates?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Miranda. ‘But why don’t we go out as a group next Friday night, anyway? Have a few drinks or something?’

  ‘Now there’s a woman after my own heart,’ agreed Ginie. ‘Daniel’s always having bloody beers with his best mate, Chris. It’s well and truly my turn.’

  ‘Sounds nice,’ said Cara. She turned to the others. ‘What do you think, girls?’

  ‘Okay.’ Pippa didn’t seem terribly enthused.

  ‘Can we go somewhere close by?’ asked Suzie. ‘I’ll have to organise a babysitter.’

  ‘We can go to that new wine bar in Manly,’ said Ginie.

  ‘Isn’t it a bit pricey?’ said Suzie.

  Ginie shrugged. ‘Not terribly. Come on, live a little, Suzie.’

  Suzie stared at Ginie for a moment, then seemed to draw herself up several inches. ‘I’m a single mother,’ she said, her voice wavering a little. ‘I’m on a tight budget. You probably don’t understand that, Ginie, but I am.’

  Ginie opened her mouth, then closed it again. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘The first two rounds are on me.’

  Suzie paused, as if waiting for Ginie to say something else. Then she nodded, a hint of triumph in her smile, before turning to Freya. ‘Pooh, you stink, madam. Can I use your change table, Miranda?’

  Miranda showed her through to Rory’s bedroom.

  ‘What about you, Made?’ Cara asked quietly, turning to her. ‘Will you be able to come next Friday night?’

  ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘But if Wayan wake for feed, Gordon have to pick me up. I no drive.’

  Gordon had encouraged her to apply for a driver’s licence, but the idea of taking to the Australian roads was intimidating. So many rules.

  Made dabbed absently at Wayan’s mouth with a wipe, absorbing the spittle that drooled from the permanent cavity above his lip.

  ‘Sure,’ said Cara. ‘How is Wayan’s . . . condition going?’

  Made was grateful that Cara didn’t shy away from the issue. The others rarely asked; it obviously made them uncomfortable.

  ‘He start to take the solids now,’ said Made. ‘He very good eater.’

  ‘That’s great,’ said Cara. ‘Is your doctor pleased?’

  ‘We see him on Thursday, when Gordon flying overseas.’

  ‘You mean, you’re going by yourself?’ Cara looked concerned. ‘I can go with you, if you’d like. I’ve got nothing else planned for Thursday.’

  Made had been anxious about the upcoming appointment with the paediatrician. With Gordon away on business, she feared she might miss crucial information about Wayan’s health. She looked down at him, lying on his stomach on the grey rug, legs and arms flapping about like a sea turtle in the shallows. He was so defenceless, her little man, yet so brave.

  Made beamed at Cara. ‘Thank you, Cara,’ she said. ‘You very kind.’

  ‘Just let me know the details, and I’ll be . . . we’ll be there.’ Cara glanced in Astrid’s direction. ‘Uh-oh, Little Miss Trouble is up to no good again.’ She stood up to retrieve Astrid, who had somehow dragged herself to the other side of the room, half-rolling, half-crawling. She was now spreading sticky handprints across a glass cabinet.

  The wine bar was busy, with throngs of people weaving to and from the bar carrying trays of expensive drinks. Men in business shirts stood around in packs, ties loosened and sleeves rolled up, accompanied by women in thick makeup and flimsy black dresses.

  Made wondered what they did of a day, all these loud, laughing people. Her own life revolved around Wayan’s quiet rhythms, interspersed with long stretches of daytime television and informal English language lessons on CD. She was proud to have completed level three, with another seven levels to go.

  Made spotted the mothers’ group at a table in the far corner. Everyone looked so different, she thought, wearing their going-out clothes. Ginie was every bit the corporate lawyer in a slick charcoal suit. Her bright red lipstick made her look younger, somehow, than on their casual Friday gatherings. Cara was wearing a summery white dress, brown leather sandals and dangly hoop earrings. Her hair, usually pulled back in a loose ponytail, fell to her shoulders in waves. She was laughing, and her teeth flashed white against sun-kissed skin. Miranda was wearing her trademark skinny-leg jeans, but with an emerald-coloured blouse that highlighted her intense green eyes. Pippa appeared to be wearing black, as usual, but she’d made an obvious effort with her hair and makeup. Her brown hair had been blow-waved, with the fringe swept back and fixed behind her ear with a glittering green hairclip. Her hazel eyes seemed brighter too. As for Suzie, Made hardly recognised her at all. She looked like Marilyn Monroe.

  Ginie hailed her. ‘What are you having, Made?’ She lifted her hands to her lips to make the point.

  ‘Ah . . .’ She found a seat next to Pippa; there was always a vacant seat next to her. Made looked around at what the others were drinking. She’d arrived more than an hour late, delayed by Wayan, who’d been unsettled for most of the afternoon. Cara was having a glass of red wine, and so was Suzie. Pippa was sipping an elaborate green cocktail, the type she’d seen at Pantai Raya—but it looked odd in Pippa’s hands. Ginie and Miranda were sharing a bottle of champagne.

  ‘Ah . . .’ Made spotted an almost empty glass of sparkling mineral water near Miranda. ‘I have like Miranda, mineral water.’

  Miranda laughed. ‘That’s not mineral water, Made. It’s vodka and soda. Ginie and I got here early, so we had an aperitif. Now we’re onto the champagne chasers, aren’t we, Gin?’ She giggled as she raised her champagne flute. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Oh.’ Made was astonished by how much alcohol Australians drank. It was rare for Balinese men to drink, even rarer for women. She’d only ever tried alcohol once, at one of the five bars at Pantai Raya Resort. At Ketut’s urging, she’d taken a swig from a half-used bottle of guest champagne. She’d spat it out onto the sand in disgust.

  ‘What about a Jalapeño Margarita?’ Ginie nodded in Pippa
’s direction. ‘They’re fabulous. I ordered one for Pippa earlier, to match her hairclip.’

  Made turned to look at Pippa; Ginie’s comment had sounded rather sarcastic. But she could never be certain of sarcasm in English.

  ‘It’s a bit spicy for me.’ Pippa looked embarrassed. ‘I probably should have stuck to the mineral water.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ objected Ginie. ‘This is our one night off.’

  ‘Not for me.’ Pippa’s voice was low. ‘I’ll be getting up to Heidi for the rest of the night, if Robert’s managed to get her down at all.’

  Cara made a sympathetic sound. ‘Is Heidi still difficult to settle?’

  Pippa nodded. ‘I’m up five times a night. Robert doesn’t hear her crying anymore.’ There was a resentful tone in her voice.

  Ginie rolled her eyes. ‘I swear to God, men are inept.’ She glanced at Pippa. ‘No offence, Pippa. It’s just such a bloody common story. Men and their friggin’ selective deafness. Daniel does it too. They’re oh-so-keen at conception, but they lose interest afterwards.’ Ginie quaffed a mouthful of champagne. ‘Okay, so . . . two mineral waters for Pippa and Made. Anyone else need a drink?’ She glanced around the table. ‘Suzie, you’re almost finished. Another red?’

  Suzie shook her head. Her mane of curls was uncharacteristically neat and glossy tonight. She wore a red wraparound dress with a plunging neckline. She’d clearly spent a lot of time getting ready. ‘No, I shouldn’t, really,’ she said. ‘I’m still breastfeeding.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ said Ginie, striding off in the direction of the bar.

  ‘Actually . . .’ Suzie leaned towards the rest of the group in a conspiratorial way. ‘I can’t drink too much because I’m meeting someone after this. For dinner.’

  ‘What, a man?’ Cara nudged her theatrically with an elbow.

  Suzie nodded. Her smile was euphoric.

  ‘Oooh, you’re a sly one,’ said Miranda, downing the rest of her champagne. ‘How long has this been going on, then?’

  ‘Not long. I only met him a few weeks ago.’ Suzie giggled. ‘But when he asked me out to dinner tonight, I couldn’t say no. I’d lined up a babysitter anyway, so it’s kind of worked out. But I’ll have to go and meet him soon.’

  ‘What, you’re going to pass up more drinks with us for a man?’ Miranda joked.

  ‘Good luck to you,’ said Cara. ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Bill.’

  ‘Who’s Bill?’ Ginie returned to the table. ‘The mineral waters are on their way, ladies.’

  ‘Suzie’s got a boyfriend,’ volunteered Miranda.

  ‘He’s not my . . .’

  ‘Well, ring-a-ding-ding.’ Again, Made couldn’t tell if Ginie was being sarcastic.

  ‘You’re a better woman than I am, Suze,’ said Miranda. ‘I couldn’t go back out on the dating scene.’ She topped up her own glass, then poured the remainder of the bottle into Ginie’s. ‘All that waxing and preening and God knows what. I’m too damned tired for any of it.’

  ‘Well, it’s been a while for me,’ said Suzie quietly. ‘It was nice getting dressed up tonight.’

  ‘God, it’s been a while for me and I’m married. Look at me.’ She pointed at her black jeans. ‘This is the most dressed up I’ve been lately. I actually cleaned the vomit off my jeans.’

  Everyone laughed.

  ‘Miranda, you always look great,’ said Cara. It was true, Made thought.

  ‘Well, it’s a big illusion,’ said Miranda. ‘Because I feel like crap most of the time.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m just not getting enough sleep. And now Willem’s moved back into our bedroom. He’s been in the guest room since Rory was born. He probably thinks he’ll get some action now.’ Miranda fidgeted with her wedding ring, twisting it on her finger. ‘But really, it’s the last thing on my mind.’

  Ginie laughed. ‘So I’m not the only one who doesn’t feel up to it anymore? Thank God for that.’

  ‘I think it’s pretty common, actually,’ said Cara. Her gold hoop earrings swung as she spoke. ‘I’m not really back in the saddle myself yet. So to speak.’

  There was laughter around the table, but Pippa’s smile seemed strained. She fiddled with the straw in her cocktail. Made assumed a slightly mystified expression, as if she didn’t quite understand. She knew they were talking about sex, but she didn’t want to divulge the details of her private life. Gordon was tender and considerate in the bedroom, as he was in every other domain. Having Wayan hadn’t changed that. But she’d never experienced the sort of sublime sexual ecstasy her village girlfriends had gossiped about.

  Made glanced sideways at Pippa. She’d barely drunk anything alcoholic, and the mineral water stood on its coaster untouched. It was six months since their babies had been born, and over four months since they’d started attending mothers’ group. And yet Pippa was still on the periphery, rarely smiling or laughing. Why did she persist, Made wondered, week after week? She squinted at Pippa’s profile, partially obscured by the dim lighting in the bar and, for a moment, thought she saw the face of another. A wise, gnarled face, floating in the mist on Sanur beach. Made could still remember how the mist had parted and there she was, the old woman with an offering, radiating light from her wiry frame. And her message about the primacy of love, beyond outward appearances.

  Maybe Pippa’s like me, Made thought suddenly. Missing another world.

  She blinked.

  ‘In Bali, we think like this,’ Made started, a little hesitantly. ‘Sex is the human way, but true love comes from the gods. Anyone can do the sex. It easy thing. But real love is hard work.’ She leaned forward; it was difficult to make herself heard above the clamour all around them. ‘We are mothers now . . . maybe less sex for husband, yes? But we work hard, for love. Sometimes it make the pain for us. We sacrifice many things. We give more love to husband, more to baby, sometimes we lose ourselves.’ She paused. ‘But Balinese say, this effort not wasted. The gods see the hard work of mothers. They help us continue. They give us their blessing.’

  No one said anything for a moment. Made stole a sidelong glance at Pippa. Her eyes were shiny in the shadows.

  ‘Made, you have a way with words,’ said Ginie suddenly, lifting her champagne flute. ‘I salute you.’

  ‘Here, here!’ said Cara.

  The others raised their glasses and they clinked them together.

  ‘To more love, less sex!’ Miranda laughed. ‘With the exception of Suzie, who’s got it all going on right now.’

  Suzie giggled and looked at her watch. ‘And I’ve really got to go and meet Bill.’ She swung her handbag over her shoulder. ‘He’s taking me to Saltfish.’

  ‘Oooh, lovely,’ said Miranda. ‘Willem took me there before Rory was born. The food is very nice.’ Miranda’s elbow slipped off the edge of the table and champagne splashed across it. ‘Oops!’ She cackled loudly.

  ‘See you next Friday then, girls,’ said Suzie. ‘And thanks for suggesting tonight, Miranda. You too, Ginie. It was nice to catch up without the babies.’

  Ginie waved her off. Miranda was too busy mopping up the spilt champagne with a wad of serviettes to notice her departure.

  Made watched Suzie pick her way to the door, through the pack of humanity sweating and heaving and bawling at each other across the crowded bar. It was a world away from her mountain home in Bali.

  She sipped at her mineral water. No, this mothers’ group was not her family. They could never replace Komang or Ketut or her own beloved mother, or the comfort and camaraderie of village life. But these women weren’t so different from her, after all. And apart from Gordon and little Wayan, they were the best thing about her life in Australia right now.

  She was a foreigner far from home, and these women were her friends.

  Suzie

  Suzie dug around in the khaki hemp basket she carried everywhere, groping among the organic rusks, spare cloth nappies and aloe vera gel. Finally, she found her purse. She opened the coin compartment and retrieved the
pastel blue business card she’d been searching for.

  ‘There,’ she said, passing it to Pippa. ‘He’s the best naturopath I’ve ever been to. I started going to him not long after Nils left.’ Suzie grimaced, remembering the break-up. She’d been twenty-seven, more than seven months pregnant, and financially dependent on Nils. ‘I was so stressed out. He really helped me.’

  Pippa inspected the card, turning it over in her hands. She didn’t look well: her eyes were bloodshot, her skin sallow, her cheeks sunken.

  Suzie glanced around the table. Everyone else seemed subdued today too. It was the last week of spring, but rain was pelting down beyond the white umbrellas of Beachcombers.

  ‘It’s amazing what he can do,’ Suzie continued. ‘He just looks in my eyes and tells me what I need. The first time I went, I was zinc and iron deficient. He mixed up some herbs on the spot, and within three weeks I was . . .’

  ‘Thanks,’ Pippa said abruptly, cutting her off.

  ‘It’s called iridology,’ Suzie added. ‘He can tell what’s wrong with you just by looking in your eyes. You should try it.’

  Pippa looked mildly irritated. ‘I’m not sure that natural therapies can help me.’

  Suzie shrugged. What was Pippa’s problem? Whenever Suzie made a friendly overture, she bristled like a porcupine. God knows, she’d tried to draw her out. Others had, too. But Pippa was such hard work. Even Cara didn’t get very far with her—and Cara was everyone’s friend. And now she’d rejected Suzie’s advice, all snippy and ungrateful. Well, I can’t be bothered anymore, Suzie thought. I’ve got too much to smile about.

  Freya squawked loudly, pulling against the straps of her stroller.

  ‘Shhh, miss,’ said Suzie, passing her a rusk.

  At six months old, their formerly compliant babies were now exerting their personalities. Astrid squirmed on Cara’s lap and lunged towards the ground, squealing with indignation at being restrained. Rose sat in a portable highchair alongside Ginie, gumming a pink marshmallow. Outside in the playground, puddles were forming beneath the climbing equipment. Digby was hunched on a stool next to Miranda, miserable, poking a drinking straw at Rory in his pram. Made was attempting to spoon mashed vegetables into Wayan’s mouth, most of which simply fell out of the twisted gap above his lip.