by Fiona Lowe
‘Gracious, dear.’ Margaret held up her hand like a stop sign. ‘It’s far too late for tea.’
‘Mum,’ Gus said. ‘Sophie’s having a cast party.’
‘Where?’ Sarah noted that he wasn’t actually asking permission to go. The Fotinas owned a cider house. Surely it wasn’t going to be there?
‘Don’t stress, Mum. It’s at their house.’
‘What time does it finish?’
‘I’ll make sure he gets home,’ Finn said before inhaling a cupcake he’d plucked from his cousin’s plate.
‘But you can’t drink and drive so how will you get—’
‘Can we come?’ Phoebe and Ruby chorused.
Finn and Gus exchanged a look—one that bothered Sarah because it held an element of protection for their younger cousins. She didn’t have to reach very far to assume it was protection from alcohol. Or was it drugs? There’d been an issue with marijuana in Finn’s year and she wasn’t naive enough to believe it had been completely stomped on.
‘Sorry, cuzzies,’ Gus said. ‘It’s just for the people in the play.’
‘Finn’s not in the play,’ Phoebe said indignantly. ‘So if—’
‘Heavens, look at the time,’ Anita said abruptly, finishing her conversation with Ellie and turning to the main group. ‘Come on, girls. Gymkhana in the morning.’ Kissing Cameron on the cheek, she said, ‘See you at home,’ before herding her daughters towards the exit.
‘’Night.’ Ellie gave a general wave to everyone. Noah was pressed up against her side, almost asleep on his feet and not keen to walk to the car.
‘I’ll give Ellie a hand with Noah and then head home,’ Alex said quietly in Sarah’s ear, sounding much more like his normal self. ‘See you there.’
Before Sarah could thank him or kiss him goodbye, Margaret said irritably, ‘Why do teenage girls have to squeal like that? I want to go home. I’ve been ready to leave since the show finished.’
It was exactly as Sarah predicted but she swallowed the I told you so. ‘I’ll take you home, Mum. Just give me a minute to sort out the arrangements with the boys.’
‘If it helps, I can drop Mum home,’ Cameron offered.
‘Oh, Cam, thank you.’ Sarah’s surprise at his offer tangoed with a flicker of guilt at her earlier uncharitable thoughts. ‘That would be a great help.’
‘Do I get a choice?’ Margaret asked a little testily.
Stay calm. Sometimes, there was very little difference between tired toddlers, teenagers and spent septuagenarians. ‘Of course you do. It’s totally up to you.’
‘Are you sure it’s not out of your way, dear?’ Margaret asked her son.
‘Mum!’ Sarah’s bottled-up exasperation bubbled over. ‘Cam passes Mill House on his way home, whereas I live in the complete opposite direction.’
Margaret sniffed. ‘At least one of my children lives close by.’
What on earth? Where was this coming from? She and Alex had moved to Riverbend ten years ago, which, up until Cameron moved back to town, was a hell of a lot closer to Mill House than he or Ellie had been in years.
‘Mum, you see as much of me as you did when I lived in town. More, now the kids are older.’
‘Come on, Mum.’ Cameron took Margaret’s arm and shot Sarah a conspiratorial look. ‘Let’s get you home.’
As they walked away, Sarah looked around for Finn and Gus. As both were over six feet tall, they were usually easy to spot but they were nowhere to be seen. Goddamn it! Her sons had taken advantage of her distraction with Margaret to scarper before she gave Gus a curfew. A spurt of righteous indignation sent her hand into her bag. Digging out her keyless remote, she planned to drive directly to the Fotinas’ and give Gus his curfew in person. It would not only embarrass him, which would be the perfect punishment for skipping out on her before all the arrangements were settled, but it would also give her the opportunity to check out the supervision of the party.
‘Hello, Sarah.’
Genuine warmth filled her at the sound of the precise and accented voice. She looked up and automatically leaned in for a kiss. ‘Edmund. How are you?’
He smiled down at her. ‘Very well. And Gus, he was the star tonight.’
Mother pride swept through Sarah and she grinned widely, able to speak the truth to this dear friend. ‘I thought so too.’
Edmund had been their first employee and he’d become part of their family; a far more involved uncle to their kids than Cameron. It had been a sad day when Edmund resigned to start Protea, the only fine-dining restaurant in Mingunyah. Three years later, he’d opened a second restaurant. Hibiscus was a seasonal business located on the mountain and catering to the well-heeled ski crowd. Sarah loved that she and Alex had played a small role in his success.
‘It was good of you to come to the show.’
He shrugged as if it was no big deal, but Sarah knew it couldn’t be easy for him to be in a theatre filled with families watching their children shine. ‘It’s Gus,’ he said simply. ‘A man never forgets the terror or the overwhelming joy of delivering a baby.’
She laughed and squeezed his arm, remembering her own terror. ‘I’m just glad you were there with me.’
‘It was an honour and now I have a godson.’
As they strolled out to the carpark, they chatted about their respective businesses and Edmund’s plans for the opening weekend of the ski season. Sarah accepted his invitation to the party at Hibiscus on behalf of herself and Alex, looking forward to being part of the glitz and glamour of the night. ‘I guess I’ll see you then,’ she said, giving him a goodbye hug.
‘I’m looking forward to it. Goodnight, Sarah.’
As she clicked her seat belt into position, she remembered her recalcitrant sons. Picking up her phone, she texted Finn. Your brother needs to be home by one.
Remarkably, a thumbs-up emoji came straight back. It always surprised her when Finn showed signs of being the adult he technically was.
Mothering duties fulfilled, she found herself singing ‘Hey Big Spender’ and suddenly laughed. Alex fitted the lyrics perfectly. She texted him—Home soon to show you a good time—then pressed the ignition button and pointed the car towards home.
* * *
Anita held her breath as she pulled a sponge cake from the Aga in the Mill House kitchen. Before she could feature the stove in her cooking classes, she had to conquer it herself and she was confident she almost had it mastered. She touched the centre of the cake lightly and it reassuringly sprang back.
‘I don’t understand you modern women.’ Margaret almost twirled into the kitchen wearing a stunning pink frock with a matching pink and white floral jacket. ‘You’ve got all the mod cons and opportunities and yet you want to turn back time. The first thing I did when we moved into Mill House was buy an electric stove. I told Kevin there was no way I was going to be tied to the kitchen and that cantankerous, wood-eating beast.’
Anita wiped her hands on her vintage 1950s apron and smiled at the cream beast with its simmer plates and two ovens. Despite the steep learning curve, she loved it. Unlike her own childhood kitchen, which hadn’t offered any succour, just empty cupboards, she considered it the heartbeat of the house. ‘But don’t you think there’s something about the warmth and cosiness of a kitchen and the aroma of comfort food that says love and family?’
Margaret snorted. ‘Not in February.’
‘I promise I’ll only use it in the cooler months,’ Anita added quickly. Although Margaret had agreed to her using the kitchen for classes, Anita was still feeling her way. She didn’t want to give her mother-in-law any reason to revoke her permission. Margaret was a strong personality and there’d been a tricky moment a few days earlier when Anita was preparing the kitchen for its inspection by the council’s environmental health officer. Margaret had strolled in with a cigarette clamped firmly between her fingers, seated herself at the table and demanded an ashtray and a cup of tea.
Anita went through life avoiding confrontation a
s much as possible and when she combined that tendency with the awe she always experienced at her mother-in-law’s ability to command a room and everyone in it, normally she would have capitulated. But with her yet-to-be-approved kitchen registration at stake and with it her cooking classes, she’d said, ‘Um, Margaret. I thought we’d agreed on no smoking in the kitchen?’
Her mother-in-law’s grey eyes flashed silver. ‘Did we just?’
Stand firm. ‘Yes. Cameron discussed it with you. He explained that—’
‘Smoking is bad for me. I know.’
Actually, Cameron had explained to Margaret which rooms she could smoke in, but Anita wasn’t going to quibble. ‘Your health’s important to us.’
‘Hmph.’ Margaret stubbed out the cigarette with a vigorous twist. ‘I’m still allowed a Bloody Mary, am I, or are you denying me that pleasure too?’
‘Of course you can have a Bloody Mary. Would you like me to make you one?’ Anita offered quickly, ignoring the time. ‘After all, it’s five o’clock somewhere.’
Margaret gave her a long and appraising stare and then, very slowly, her mouth curved into a complicit smile. ‘I like the way you think.’
Anita both sighed with relief and silently squealed with joy. Not only had she defused a difficult situation, Margaret had complimented her. That was a first.
Since then, things with Margaret had gone smoothly.
Anita tapped the cake tin and turned the sponge onto the cake rack to cool. ‘You look lovely today, Margaret. That outfit’s divine.’
‘This old thing?’ Margaret gave a little twirl. ‘You know, I met Hannah Corby once.’
‘Did you?’ Anita was impressed. She knew all about Hannah Corby—she’d spent the nineties cutting out pictures of models wearing designer clothes from magazines.
‘Oh, yes. She was a friend of a friend and we met on a horse ride out to Moke’s Hut. The view across the valley was stunning and I suggested she draw inspiration from the varied hues of the high country for a collection. She made me the most divine dress as a thank you.’
‘Wow! Do you still have it?’
‘Of course. Would you like to see it?’
‘I’d love to, but I don’t want to hold you up if you’re about to go out.’
‘I’m not going out. Why on earth would you think that?’
The snappish tone disarmed Anita. ‘You’re dressed as if you’re going out.’
Margaret glanced down and smoothed the front of her frock, her fingers caressing the shantung. ‘I like pretty things.’
‘So do I.’ Anita followed Margaret upstairs but to her surprise, her mother-in-law bypassed her bedroom and walked into another one.
‘Ta-dah.’ Margaret opened the double wardrobe doors. Inside, there wasn’t a spare centimetre of space. The chrome hanging rod bowed in the middle from the weight of the clothes. Hats and hat boxes spilled from the upper shelf and shoes crowded the floor.
‘Oh my God.’ Anita gasped and her hands shot out involuntarily, desperate to touch everything. ‘May I?’
‘As long as your hands are clean.’
Anita didn’t even care that Margaret sounded like a school teacher talking to a child; she was too busy unhooking coat hangers and gazing at clothes that dated back to the late sixties. She fingered a lemon-coloured fine wool suit.
‘I wore that to Government House.’
Anita rehung it and pulled out a pantsuit. ‘And this?’
‘The opening of the new maternity wing of the Mingunyah Hospital.’
Anita continued pulling out clothes and Margaret told her every occasion she’d worn the outfit.
‘What about this dress? The cut is gorgeous and the lacework’s beautiful.’
Margaret’s hand rose to her throat. ‘Kevin’s funeral.’
‘Oh God.’ Anita flashed hot and cold. She hurriedly hung the dress back in the wardrobe. ‘I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t upset you.’
‘Kevin may have died but I wasn’t going to be one of those frumpy and blotchy widows. I wore a stylish hat decorated with a black velvet band and a large black rose and, of course, black gloves.’ Her eyes sparkled with memories. ‘People told me that my elegance helped them with their grief.’
‘The right dress is a powerful thing.’ Anita thought about how her clothing choices had helped her move far away from her BC— before Cameron—life. ‘This is six decades of Australian fashion history. You’ve got clothes here from Prue Acton, Jenny Kee, Carla Zampatti. It’s worth a fortune.’
‘Is it?’
‘Oh, yes. Vintage clothing is all the rage.’
‘Are you saying people would pay good money for my clothes?’
‘Yes, but you wouldn’t want to sell them, would you?’
Margaret slowly ran her hand along the plastic-covered clothes and then shut the wardrobe doors with a decisive swoosh. ‘I don’t see why not. I can’t wear most of them any more.’
Anita experienced a pang at the thought of the collection being split up. ‘The museum might be interested.’
‘Pah! I’d rather sell them. How do I go about it?’
‘There are a few different ways. On consignment at vintage clothing stores or online.’ Anita immediately recalled Sarah saying she’d spent two hours the week before sorting out Margaret’s computer issues and had a vision of losing hours doing something similar. ‘What if Cam and I set up an eBay account and run it for you? It will be a big job to catalogue all the clothes and photograph them but Sarah might be able to help.’
‘No! I don’t want Sarah involved. She wants to send my clothes to the op shop.’
The comment hit Anita with the intensity of a slap. ‘Over my dead body. These clothes deserve to be loved.’
‘Exactly.’ Margaret leaned forward and dropped her voice. ‘Sarah can’t know about our plan. No one can know. This has to be our secret.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Delight spun through Anita. Not once in fifteen years had Margaret ever confided in her like this. Despite some concerns about how she was going to manage her time juggling the family, Cooked By a Friend and cataloguing Margaret’s wardrobe, there was no way was she going to refuse. ‘Would it be okay if we moved the clothes to my place? That way I can photograph them when I have time.’
‘Hello?’ Sarah’s voice floated upstairs.
‘Shh.’ Margaret hurried onto the landing and her imperious voice drifted back into the room. ‘Sarah. I was wondering when you were going to arrive.’
‘I said eleven.’
‘Gracious! Is that the time? Anita, you shouldn’t have distracted me.’
As Anita joined Margaret on the landing, she smiled, knowing the criticism was a cover. ‘My bad. Hi, Sarah.’
‘Let me get my handbag.’ Margaret walked down the stairs.
Confusion creased Sarah’s forehead. ‘I thought we were having morning tea first and testing Anita’s cakes.’
‘We are.’ Anita recalled Margaret telling her very emphatically that she wasn’t going out today and yet obviously mother and daughter had an arrangement. More family secrets?
While Margaret went to ‘powder her nose’—code for smoking a cigarette —Sarah savoured a cupcake. ‘It’s official. You’ve mastered the Aga. When’s your first class?’
‘The moment I receive my registration. They said it should come through by the end of the week. I’ve got four people on standby for my first class and one of the recipes I’m teaching is a goat’s cheese risotto using your cheese.’
‘Great.’ Sarah fiddled with the edges of her napkin. ‘I still can’t believe you’re going to teach people to cook here.’
A few weeks earlier, when Anita told Sarah about the cooking school plans, her sister-in-law had seemed pleased, although not overly enthusiastic about the idea. Now Sarah looked pensive and before Anita could stop herself, she asked, ‘Does it bother you that I’m using the kitchen?’
Sarah sucked in her lips. ‘It’s more that I don’t want it to bother Mum.’
Sarah gave a wry laugh. ‘You’ve got a point there. Mum’s always been very vocal about her likes and dislikes.’
‘Exactly. And we gave her a business plan and answered all her questions. She’s had plenty of chances to refuse. It’s not like I’m taking advantage of her.’
‘I never thought you were,’ Sarah said quickly. ‘I know you gave up a lot to support Cameron in his move here and I understand your need to run the classes—’
‘And this kitchen perfectly showcases country style,’ Anita cut in hurriedly, sensing a ‘but’ and not wanting to hear it.
‘Cooking in a historic country house is certainly a niche market.’ Sarah glanced around with a practised business eye. ‘It’s just this is Mum’s home and—’
‘I promise it’s not going to be an imposition. I’m starting slowly and initially the classes will only be on Saturdays when she’s playing bowls. Obviously, I’m paying her for the use of the kitchen.’ Anita glossed over the fact it wasn’t a dollar amount. ‘I’m also cooking her some meals and I’m in and out of the house during the week doing prep. I thought that might help you out a bit too. Give you a break from the daily visits? It’s just you seem a bit strung out at the moment.’
Sarah’s mouth curved into a wan smile. ‘I don’t mind popping in.’
‘You don’t mind doing lots of things but when you add them all up, they can drag you down. How about I take over Tuesdays and Thursdays?’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I probably should have offered ages ago. I know you’re worried the house is too big for Margaret, but I’ve been here every day for two weeks and she’s fine.’ Anita decided not to mention the uneaten meal she’d found in the dining room. When she’d asked Margaret about it, her mother-in-law had told her she’d felt unwell and rushed to the bathroom, forgetting all about it. ‘To be honest, if you want to worry about someone, worry about Ellie.’