Maggie
Bondi Beach, January 1984
The last few bars of Dragon’s ‘April Sun in Cuba’ blared out of the radio as Sharon navigated her Datsun Bluebird through the midmorning traffic. Maggie toed off her thongs, her feet already slick with sweat, as was every other part of her.
‘Good morning, Sydney! Only a week into the new year and already we’re in a heat wave. My sources are telling me the beaches are going to be choc-a-block, so if you’re heading to the coast to cool off, you’d better get your skates on!’
‘We’re bloody trying,’ Sharon grumbled. The DJ was right about one thing—they were in for a scorcher and they were in bumper-to-bumper traffic as far as the eye could see. Sharon had picked her up more than half an hour ago and what was normally a fifteen-minute drive was turning into a mammoth road trip. Even with the windows down, there was no reprieve.
‘Come on!’ Sharon honked impatiently as the light turned green and the driver in front failed to move. ‘Move, you moron!’ Sharon’s protests were to no avail. The light turned red again without the driver budging. ‘Seriously! Did this guy get his licence from a Coco Pops box?’
Maggie shifted uncomfortably, her bum sticking to the vinyl seat covers. ‘I think the heat is getting to everyone.’
‘Speaking of which, what was up Rosie’s bum this morning?’
Maggie sighed. What wasn’t up her mother’s bum? Every week there appeared to be something new Rosie was angry about. It seemed that no matter what Maggie did, it was never good enough for Rosie. Even though her mother was an expert at plastering on a fake smile, Sharon knew Rosie well enough to recognise when something was amiss. ‘She’s on my back about school.’
‘Far out, don’t tell me she’s making a song and dance about you leaving?’ Sharon pulled a packet of cigarettes from the centre console. Maggie shook her head as Sharon offered her one. ‘Does she realise that you’re old enough to make that decision on your own?’
‘Yeah, but you know Rosie.’
‘Jesus, for a hippy mum Rosie is a bloody stick in the mud sometimes.’
Maggie grunted her reply. Sharon was right on the money with that one. Maggie couldn’t understand how her worldly, progressive mother who was up in arms about the way Vietnam veterans were being treated, passionate about the whole AIDS movement, Indigenous issues and was a regular at peace rallies, was as strict and straight-laced as could be when it came to Maggie. Rosie often said it’s because she had to be both a mother and a father.
Maggie had never known her father. In fact, she didn’t even know who he was. Rosie had never been forthcoming with that information. Every time Maggie tried to ask about him, Rosie would clamp down. She knew nothing except the colour of his eyes. Rosie’s were blue and hers green—she could only assume she’d inherited them from her father.
‘You know what you have to do, don’t you?’ Sharon said as she took a drag of her cigarette.
Maggie sighed, regretting the harsh exchange of words with her mother. Reaching over, she helped herself to an Alpine Menthol.
‘I can’t tell her to shove it, Shaz. She’s all I’ve got.’ As much as she loved her best friend, Sharon was the youngest of four and came from a large family. Telling people to shove it wasn’t a big deal as far as she was concerned.
Sharon gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Suit yourself, but the sooner you leave school and start working, the sooner you can start saving money for our trip to London. You do want to go to London with me, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do,’ she said defensively, not sure whom she was trying to convince more—Sharon or herself.
‘Well, you’re not going to earn enough by staying in school or working at your mum’s café. You’ll be twenty by the time you have the money. Is that what you want?’
The truth was, Maggie wasn’t sure what she wanted. When Sharon had come up with the idea of the London trip, Maggie had gone along with it because she never thought her friend would follow through. Sharon had a habit of coming up with a fabulous idea one day, only to completely drop it the next.
As much as she hated to admit it, Rosie had raised some valid points that morning. Maggie had no issues listening to her mother, but it seemed that Rosie wasn’t willing to negotiate—not in the slightest, ever. And that’s what annoyed her the most.
‘Finally!’ Sharon cheered as the light turned green and traffic slowly moved. It took another fifteen minutes until they reached Bondi Beach and another ten to find parking. By the time they made it onto the sand, the sun was high in the cloudless sky. Maggie felt sweat pooling between her breasts in her bikini top.
‘Come off it, Shaz, just pick a spot already.’
Sharon had been trudging around for what seemed like forever, hunting out just the right spot. By the time she decided where she wanted to sit, they would be fried to a crisp.
‘Hang on,’ Sharon mumbled as she cast her eye across the wide expanse of beach.
‘Who are you looking for?’ Maggie asked, but before Sharon could reply, she had her answer.
‘Bloody hell,’ Maggie muttered under her breath when she spotted Sharon waving to her cousin Val. ‘Why didn’t you tell me we were meeting Val and her gang?’
‘Didn’t I? I thought I mentioned it earlier when I picked you up,’ Sharon said in a way that told Maggie she’d deliberately misled her.
‘No, you didn’t.’ Maggie didn’t bother masking her annoyance.
‘Don’t be such a dag, Maggie. I don’t know what your problem is with Val.’
The problem was that Val didn’t like her. Probably because unlike her cousin, Maggie didn’t agree with everything Val said, nor did she hang off her every word. Valarie Morgan was only eighteen months older than Sharon, but the way she acted you would think it was years.
‘Hey, Shaz.’ Val stood up, dusting the sand off her bum, before grabbing her cousin in a tight embrace. ‘Oh, hello there, Mags.’ Valarie’s greeting was significantly cooler towards her. She also had taken it upon herself to call her Mags, which bugged the hell out of Maggie.
‘How’s it going, Val?’ she said with a fake smile.
‘Ah, you know, same old, same old. Working, going out and that kind of thing. Now that you girls are done with school, you’ll get to see for yourselves just what living is.’
‘I will.’ Sharon shimmied out of her shorts and peeled off her top. ‘Maggie is still in school.’
Maggie threw Sharon a filthy look.
‘Is that so?’ Val smirked as she helped herself to a can of soft drink from the esky.
‘She isn’t allowed to leave. Her mum said no.’ Sharon pulled out the Reef Oil and started lathering her legs, while Maggie glared at her friend.
‘Are you a nerd, Maggie?’ Val’s brows peaked above her Ray-Bans.
Sharon giggled. ‘She’s the biggest nerd out. She’s never jigged school.’
‘I have so.’ Maggie wasn’t even sure why she felt compelled to defend herself. She couldn’t care less what Val thought of her. What annoyed her was the way Sharon was around her cousin. ‘The swimming carnival, remember?’
Sharon rolled her eyes. ‘Everyone jigs the swimming carnival. Besides, your mum knew you weren’t going.’
‘Doesn’t count,’ Val said. ‘So I guess that really does make you a nerd.’
‘Where’s your gang, Val?’ Maggie deflected, steering the focus of conversation away from her. ‘It’s unlike you to be all alone.’
‘I’m not. Leanne’s gone to the bottle-o to grab some West Coast Coolers and Nadine’s off somewhere with her boyfriend—swimming or whatever.’ She waved her hand about dismissively.
‘She’s going around with Jeff, right?’ Maggie knew that Val had her eye on Jeff, but it was Nadine who’d nabbed him. ‘Didn’t you like him, too?’
Val pursed her lips in displeasure. ‘Jeff has a crooked dick. Nadine is welcome to him. She hasn’t complained so she either isn’t picky or she isn’t putting out. I don’t care.’ By the way she flicked her dark hair and straightened her back, Maggie could tell that Val did care, or at least hadn’t liked that someone else had got the boy.
‘Leanne and I are heading to Benny’s tonight. You should come.’ It wasn’t lost on Maggie that Val had directed the invitation to Sharon only.
‘Benny’s is unreal. What do think, Maggie?’
‘Oh, yeah, you can come too, Mags. That is, if you’re allowed to.’ The smirk was back.
Benny’s was a bar in Kings Cross and Maggie knew her mother would have a fit if she knew she was heading there. Kings Cross was totally off limits, but since Maggie was staying over at Sharon’s and with Sharon’s parents away for the weekend, Rosie would never know.
‘Sure, sounds like fun.’
* * *
Ten hours later, Maggie, Sharon, Val and Leanne teetered down Challis Avenue dressed to the nines, wearing stilettos and makeup, adding years to their teenage faces. At least, that’s what Maggie thought. Her tight white denim miniskirt that Sharon had thrust on her kept riding up. It was both too short—Sharon’s legs were nowhere near as long as hers—and loose around the waist. Thanks to Leanne’s brother, Warren, she and Sharon had fake IDs. Maggie initially had baulked at the idea of paying twenty dollars for it, but Leanne had told them it was well worth it. Val casually had thrown in that if a twenty was too steep, she was sure Warren would do it for a head job instead.
‘Is that how you got your ID?’ Maggie had quipped, which had promptly shut Val up.
In the end, Maggie had to admit the IDs looked fairly legitimate, and besides Warren totally misspelling her middle name (she’d never seen Florence spelled Florance), the rest looked pretty spot on.
‘This place doesn’t let just anyone in,’ Val informed them as they pulled up in front of the club. ‘Show some skin,’ she emphasised by popping the top two buttons of her shirt to reveal an ample suntanned cleavage. Maggie glanced down at her boobs, which were spilling out of the electric-blue sequinned strapless top. If she showed any more skin she would be pretty much naked.
Val was right—Benny’s was selective. A couple of guys in front of them were rejected, and much to Maggie’s amazement, a group of girls, all of whom were pretty dressed up, were turned away, too.
‘See,’ Val hissed as the girls walked off despondently, their clicking heels only barely drowning out their sniggers of disappointment.
To get into Benny’s, you had to pass a peephole test. Val pressed the buzzer on the big wooden door and they waited. A bouncer on the other end checked them out, one by one. Maggie was last to be inspected, and it may have been her imagination, but it seemed that he was checking her out longer than he had everyone else. She could feel Val’s glare boring into her. She was sure that if they were rejected, Val would squarely blame her.
By some small miracle, the door swung open and Val pushed past Maggie, all but bowling her over to be the first in. ‘Told youse I’d get us in.’ She threw a triumphant smile at them and Maggie suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.
Inside, Benny’s was nothing like Maggie had envisioned. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what to expect, but for a place that had a reputation for attracting local and international rock stars, it was lacking a lot. The thing that struck her was how bare the place was, void of any décor, save for the smoky haze that engulfed the premises. No one had bothered to check their IDs, and ten minutes later they had drinks in hand and plonked themselves on the most uncomfortable chairs. It was just past ten and the bar was in full swing, which also meant that most of the revellers were either drunk or high or both. Benny’s was also known as a drug haven, and yet Leanne seemed in awe when she returned from the loo and declared she’d just witnessed two girls snorting cocaine.
‘I’ve always wanted to try it,’ Val declared. ‘I mean bongs just don’t do it for me anymore.’
‘Me too,’ Sharon said enthusiastically and Maggie sent her friend a sharp look. It was the first she’d heard of it. They both had shared a joint at Sarah Power’s party last month and declared that marijuana wasn’t for them, especially after Sharon had spent the better part of the next day throwing up. They’d lied to Rosie that Sharon had eaten something dodgy at the party, but Maggie knew her mother hadn’t believed them. She’d merely narrowed her gaze and muttered, ‘Hmm’ as she’d scooped their dirty clothes off the floor, clothes that Maggie was sure had reeked of pot.
‘Since when have you always wanted to?’ Maggie challenged. ‘Remember Sarah Power’s party?’
Val seemed more miffed with her question than Sharon. ‘Why are you such a killjoy, Mags?’
‘I’m simply reminding Sharon of how she reacted to the joint we smoked. It wasn’t good.’
‘That doesn’t mean she’s going to have the same reaction to cocaine. Jesus Christ, lighten up!’ she snapped. ‘What about you, Leanne, you game?’
Leanne shrugged as she sucked the life out of her drink. ‘Sure, I’ll give it a go.’ Maggie suspected that Val could ask Leanne to jump off the Harbour Bridge and she would give the same answer.
‘Guess that leaves you the only one out.’ Val smirked.
‘Shaz, are you sure about this?’ Maggie ignored Val’s glares. Sharon’s gaze darted to Val, and a look of uneasiness flickered across Sharon’s face. Maggie could tell her resolve was wavering. ‘It’s not too late to say no.’
A second later, the look was gone. ‘Nah, it’ll be right. It’s only once. Plus, I really think last time I ate something dodgy.’
As she watched her friend follow Val, a bead of worry lodged itself in Maggie’s chest. She didn’t have a good feeling about this. She craned her neck to keep her eyes on them, and was so engrossed, she didn’t notice the guy who now sat across from her.
‘I hope this seat wasn’t taken,’ he said with an easy smile. He was tall and lanky, with a mass of dark curls that fell haphazardly down one side of his face and hid one eye. But the one she could see was dark, the colour of smooth chocolate, and it was mesmerising.
‘And that was the worst pick-up line in the world.’
His laugh was tinged with nerves, and as he raked his hand through his hair, his eyes crinkled at the corners. Maggie chuckled, more because he was so beautiful, and the very thought that he was nervous was both flattering and frankly unbelievable.
‘Go right ahead, if you don’t mind your arse being sore from sitting on the most uncomfortable seat known to man.’
His laugh was as smooth and rich as his eyes and it made Maggie smile.
‘Do you come here often?’
There was a pause as they both digested his words and then they were laughing again.
‘What’s your name, girl with unbelievably beautiful eyes?’
She felt her face flame as shyness consumed her. She had never had a man call her beautiful—well he hadn’t exactly said she was beautiful, only that her eyes were, but still, it was the nicest thing a guy had said to her. Perhaps it was because every other guy who had paid her attention had been a boy, not a man.
‘Maggie,’ she said shyly and offered her hand.
He took it, lifted it to his lips and feathered a kiss across her knuckles. ‘Michael,’ he said, holding her hand and gaze for the longest while. There was a familiarity about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
‘What are you drinking, Maggie?’
‘Um, vodka and orange?’
‘You got it, Maggie May.’ He winked, and as he stood she realised he wasn’t excessively tall, but his charisma more than made up for it. And it was only as he was weaving through the crowd, her vodka and orange in one hand and his beer in the other, that she placed him.
Oh my God.
She had flashes of last summer, driving around Sydney with Sharon singing the band’s new hit at the top of their lungs.
‘Here you go.’ Michael handed her drink over.
‘Thanks.’ Maggie’s fingers fumbled and almost dropped the glass. Not that she was worried about it spilling on the rust-coloured threadbare carpet, more that she didn’t want to look like a total dag in front of a rock star.
‘Are you okay? You seem a little jittery.’
She gave him a come off it look. Did he really not know? When a perceptive smile graced his lips, Maggie wanted to say something witty, something that wouldn’t make her sound like a fool or just your regular groupie.
‘I think your music is really grouse.’ Maggie cringed. ‘I mean your lyrics … they’re so …’ Her brain was floundering. ‘Your words are so poetic,’ she gushed finally. It was a bit unnerving to realise that the lead singer of one of the biggest up-and-coming bands had bought her a drink! She couldn’t wait to see the look on Sharon’s face when she told her. The thought of her friend and the reminder of what she was doing right now sobered her in a flash.
‘Hey, is something wrong?’ Michael reached out and took her hand.
‘It’s my friend, Sharon. I’m worried that—’
In that moment, Sharon stumbled towards them and planted herself on the chair to Maggie’s right, clearly high. Her eyes were wide, almost vacant.
‘Sharon, are you okay?’ Reaching over, she grabbed both of Sharon’s hands so they were face to face.
‘Maggie, it’s so loud in here.’ Sharon giggled uncontrollably before placing her hands over her ears. ‘So, so loud!’
‘What did she take?’ Michael asked as he crouched down next to Sharon.
‘Coke,’ Maggie said dryly. ‘She doesn’t have a good track record when it comes to drugs. I tried to warn her, but …’ She shook her head and sighed heavily.
‘She’s certainly high. Did she smoke or snort the crack?’
‘I don’t know. I’m guessing she snorted it.’
‘Hmm.’ Michael tilted Sharon’s head slightly and ran his thumb along the bottom of her nose.
‘Hey!’ Sharon whacked his hand away. ‘Don’t touch me!’
‘Yep.’ Michael rubbed his thumb and forefinger before showing Maggie the white powder.
‘Maggie, it’s so, so loud in here!’ Sharon repeated. ‘Can we leave, please!’
She sighed and sent Michael an apologetic look. ‘I guess I’d better take her home.’
‘You’re a good friend, Maggie with the beautiful green eyes.’ He leaned forward and tucked a curl behind her ear. Maggie drew a sharp breath as his lips brushed hers. He tasted of beer and cigarettes. For a second, the world stood still and the only sound Maggie could hear was the thumping of her galloping heart.
‘Maggieeee!’ Sharon’s shrill voice broke the moment and she reluctantly pulled away.
‘If you get your friend home and decide to come back out—I’m staying at the Sebel. Room 330.’ And then he disappeared into the crowd.
The whole way home, Maggie tried not to be annoyed at her friend. When they finally got home, she pulled off Sharon’s shoes and wrestled with the zipper of her skin-tight dress. Somehow, she managed to get Sharon’s oversized Care Bears nightie on.
Sharon fell asleep the minute her head hit the pillow. Maggie watched as her friend’s breathing became slow and shallow before she fell into a soft snore. She watched her sleep for a while longer, allowing her annoyance to dissipate. Tonight could’ve been a whole lot worse, all things considered. Maybe Val was right—maybe she’d overreacted earlier. It didn’t matter that she had missed out on whatever could’ve been with Michael. He probably wouldn’t have remembered her tomorrow morning anyway. Besides, he probably would’ve been disappointed with her lack of experience.
* * *
The next morning, which was more like midday, Sharon shuffled her panda-eyed, bed-headed self into the kitchen.
‘Morning,’ Maggie greeted her by placing a bowl of Coco Pops in front of her.
‘Ugh.’ Sharon screwed up her nose and pushed the bowl away.
‘Come on, you need to have something.’
‘Just make me a Nescafé,’ Sharon mumbled, her hand cradling her head.
‘How are you feeling?’ Maggie asked as she clicked on the jug and began making their coffees.
Sharon looked up briefly only to grunt.
‘That good huh?’ Maggie sipped her coffee and grimaced. Rosie’s coffee was far superior to this instant shit. At home, they had a top notch coffee machine, the same that Rosie had in her cafes which made what her mother referred to as ‘proper coffee’, in other words, lattes and cappuccinos and the like. Rosie’s cafes had been serving these fancy coffees for years, but lately, Maggie had seen them more and more elsewhere. Rosie always had her finger on the pulse with the newest and latest trends. If only she was as great a mother as she was a businesswoman.
‘Argh, I’m never drinking again!’
Maggie cocked her brow. ‘You really think you feel like this from drinking?’
‘Okay, maybe not just from the drinking,’ Sharon conceded as she slurped her coffee. ‘But I tell you, I really must’ve been tripping because I woke up thinking we met Michael what’s-his-name from The Hunted.’ Sharon paused for a moment and started laughing so hard that her coffee almost spilled. ‘And get this—he was blowing my nose and then he kissed you! I mean how fucked up is that?’
Maggie contemplated telling Sharon the truth, but something stopped her.
For years after, the smell of cigarettes and taste of beer would always make her think of him. When Michael’s band grew more famous, Maggie felt a sense of pride. And she never shared her secret. But sometimes she would let her mind wander to what would’ve happened if she’d gone to his hotel that night.
Would the next few years have played out differently? She told herself that it wouldn’t have changed a thing. They were from two different worlds.