Maggie
‘Val wants us to meet her at the Manzil Room tonight.’ They were sitting on the back porch at Maggie’s painting their toenails. Maggie had gone with pale lilac for her toes only, but as usual Sharon had decided that pale was too boring for her and gone with a shade of mauve called berry wine.
It had been three weeks since the night at Benny’s. Three weeks since she had ditched Michael and taken Sharon home. Val and Leanne apparently had not even realised they’d gone until the next day when Val called to find out what the bloody hell had happened to them. For a moment Maggie thought Val was concerned—after all, they’d disappeared halfway through the night—but it turned out she was more pissed off that Maggie had taken Sharon home and in doing so had cut short her fun.
‘The last time I saw her she was happy,’ Val snapped.
‘What the hell would you know; you were off your face!’ Maggie bit back.
Sharon interjected by telling Val the Michael story, which made Val snort in disgust. ‘As if he would kiss her.’
‘You do want to go to the Manzil Room, don’t you, Maggie?’ Sharon asked, snapping Maggie out of her thoughts.
‘I don’t know,’ Maggie sighed. ‘I have a physics quiz I need to study for.’
After the night at Benny’s, Maggie had returned home and told her mother she would stay in school and complete her Higher School Certificate if Rosie would allow her to get a part-time job then take a year off after school so she and Sharon could travel. Surprisingly, Rosie had agreed to the idea, but it hadn’t come easily. Provided she kept her grades up, she could work wherever she wanted, but if Maggie dipped below a B-plus, the deal was off.
‘Oh, come on, Maggie! It’s just the first week back and you’ll have the rest of the year to make up for it. Plus, you’re so smart—you don’t need to study. You could fly through that quiz with your eyes closed.’
‘Yeah, as if,’ Maggie mumbled, looking longingly as Sharon applied a second coat to her nails knowing full well that the colour wouldn’t be allowed at school. In fact, she was being daring enough painting her toes. ‘I have Mr Wicks this year.’
‘Argh, he’s a total dag. I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with school anymore.’
Sharon had enrolled and was due to start secretarial college next week. She was lured by the hours some girls were working for doctors: nine am to midday, with a three-hour break before another three hours in the afternoon. Secretly, Maggie thought the job sounded dull and dreary, but Sharon seemed enthusiastic about it all.
‘He’s not so bad.’ Maggie shrugged. Mr Wicks had a reputation for being one of the strictest teachers at St Bernadette’s, but he had a soft spot for students with potential. He’d mentioned to Maggie on the first day of the new school year that he expected big things from her now that her main distraction was no longer around—and by that he had meant Sharon.
‘Still—wouldn’t you rather be out on a Saturday night rather than home studying?’
Maggie sighed once again. Sharon would just keep going until Maggie changed her mind. It was almost fruitless fighting her. ‘Bloody hell, Shaz.’
Sharon let out a victorious whoop.
‘But on two conditions.’
‘Anything, I promise.’
‘One—you don’t let Val talk you into anything you don’t want to take or do.’
‘As if I ever do that!’ They both knew otherwise.
‘Two—you come home with me. My mum is going to be out at some charity ball in Newcastle, so you can stay over, but I’m going to kick you out by midday so I can study. Promise?’
‘Cross my heart and hope to die,’ Sharon said as she drew an air cross down her chest.
Mr Wicks was right—Sharon was her main distraction, but Sharon was also the closest thing she had to a sister and she felt the need to look out for her. Maggie knew Sharon looked up to her and valued their friendship, but she also knew that as hard as she may try, Val’s influence would always eclipse hers.
* * *
For the rest of the week, Maggie made sure she was on top of all her homework and studied enough to make up for the fact she would be losing Saturday night, and all her extra work wasn’t lost on Rosie.
‘It’s good to see your dedication this year.’
‘I was serious when I said I would give it my best. Just as I was serious when I said I wanted to find my own job and I know the terms of that agreement.’ Maggie had long learned that the best way to talk to her mother was as if she was doing business with her.
‘You have so much potential. I don’t want you to waste your life.’
Maggie bit down a sigh. ‘I’m not wasting my life, Mother. I’m finishing high school, just as you wanted me to.’
Rosie pursed her lips. ‘I wish you could see what I do.’
‘What’s that?’ she asked snidely. ‘An insolent daughter who’s a disappointment to you?’
A sad look flickered across her mother’s face, and Maggie thought Rosie might cry. ‘Is that how you think I see you?’ Rosie reached out and took Maggie’s hand. It felt overwhelming to have such tenderness with her.
‘I know you have high expectations of me. That’s why you’re so strict.’
‘Oh, honey, that’s not why I’m strict, it’s because …’ Rosie stopped and suddenly clamped up.
‘Because of what, Mum?’ Maggie prodded, trying desperately not to let the moment slip away. Every now and then her mother would open up and Maggie would get a glimpse into her past or something that would give her an idea as to why she was so hard on her daughter, but as quickly as the door would open, it would slam shut again.
‘Nothing.’ Rosie shook her head, giving Maggie’s hand another squeeze before releasing it. ‘I’d better get ready to leave for Newcastle. Are you and Sharon still going to the movies tonight?’
Maggie felt a bitter lump of disappointment form in her throat. ‘Yeah, we’re going to see Sixteen Candles.’ She managed to keep her voice level.
‘Do you need money?’
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Maggie said.
‘Okay, well, don’t stay up too late.’
Her mother was gone within the hour and Sharon arrived a few minutes later, noting her glumness. ‘What’s up your bum?’
‘Nothing.’ Maggie rubbed the back of her neck. She really wasn’t in any mood to be going out. ‘Just the usual shit with my mother,’ she lamented when Sharon cocked her brow.
‘You know what we need to do? We need to move out,’ Sharon declared.
‘Move out and go where? You’re not working, I’m still in school, a school my mother is paying for.’ And Maggie could only imagine Rosie flipping out if she even broached the subject of moving out.
‘I’m not working yet,’ Sharon reminded her. ‘And I’m sure between your job and mine we would have enough.’
‘What about London?’
Sharon shrugged. ‘We could move out after we go to London.’
Maggie slung her arm around Sharon’s shoulders. She loved her friend’s optimism, but Sharon was clueless when it came to money. ‘How about we take one thing at a time, hey?’
‘Yes, like tarting ourselves up for the Manzil Room tonight. Did I tell you that Pseudo Echo is playing?’
‘Nope, but that makes me feel better already.’
Sharon belted out a few lines of the band’s latest hit, ‘A Beat for You’, as they headed upstairs to get ready. ‘I reckon Pseudo Echo is gonna make it big, like big-in-America big.’
‘Hmm,’ Maggie mused as she started applying eye shadow. ‘Maybe, but I still think they’re no INXS and Brian Canham is no Michael Hutchence.’
‘No,’ Sharon sighed dramatically. ‘No one holds a candle to Michael.’
* * *
Pseudo Echo was more enjoyable than Maggie anticipated, and by some small miracle, Val didn’t give her the total shits either. After the gig they walked from Springfield Street and headed to Bayswater Road to the Kardomah café. Tipsy on one too many bourbon and Cokes, the half-kilometre walk didn’t seem too taxing, despite the height of her heels, but the moment they arrived at the Kardomah, the first thing Sharon did was toe off her heels.
‘God that feels good,’ she moaned, rubbing her feet.
‘You do know that it’ll hurt twice as much when you put them back on.’
‘I know, but right now I don’t care.’
‘You’re full of useless shit, aren’t you?’ Val smirked. ‘Got anything else?’
‘Yeah, the place next door used to be a brothel with the world’s biggest bed.’
Val narrowed her eyes. ‘Bullshit.’
Maggie shrugged. She couldn’t care less if Val didn’t believe her. Val was about to open her mouth, no doubt poised to spray some venom, when a voice next to them interjected.
‘It’s true.’
Four pairs of eyes turned. A man, Maggie guessed in his early to mid-twenties, was leaning towards them.
‘What?’ Val snapped rudely.
‘Next door used to be a brothel that had the world’s largest bed. It was called the Nevada.’ He tipped his head in Maggie’s direction. ‘Your friend is right. She sounds smart; maybe you should listen to her.’ He smiled and slanted her a wink, and from the corner of her eye, she could see Val bristling.
The lights dimmed and the band took centrestage. Maggie wasn’t sure who the band was, and later as they rode home in the taxi, she couldn’t recall a single song they’d sung. But she did know the name of the man at the next table. They’d bumped into each other at the bar, and he’d insisted on buying her a drink.
‘I don’t allow strangers to buy me drinks.’
He moved close, and for a second Maggie thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he pulled out a business card.
In the dim light she could barely make out his name. ‘Bobby Ryan?’ He extended his hand and Maggie took it. ‘Maggie Hart,’ she said.
‘See, now we’re not strangers.’ He grinned. He really had the nicest smile. He reminded her of a preppy version of Rob Lowe. The Outsiders was her favourite book, and last year the movie with Rob Lowe, Tom Cruise, Patrick Swayze and Matt Dillon had surpassed her expectations.
Maggie didn’t always feel that way about books that were made into movies. Sharon often said that that was the exact reason not to read the book and simply wait for the movie—avoid disappointment.
She wondered if Bobby Ryan had ever been told he looked like Rob Lowe. Not that Rob Lowe was a huge movie star; Bobby probably wouldn’t know who he was.
‘So now can I buy you a drink, Maggie Hart?’
Maggie ran her thumb over the raised print of his name. It was too dark to read the rest of the card—she’d do that later—but for now she tucked it into her silver glomesh bag and smiled. ‘Sure, why not?’
They chatted easily. Maggie discovered that he was a fourth-year law student at Sydney University, which made him roughly five years older. Maggie, not wanting to seem the schoolgirl she was, lied and told him she had been due to start a science degree in a few weeks, but had deferred a year.
‘I wish I’d had that choice,’ Bobby said enviously. ‘But my father insisted I go straight to uni—Sydney Uni of course, which is where he went and my grandfather, too. Straying from their plan for me would be like committing a war crime.’
There was a tinge of something—resentment at the overbearingness of a parent—that Maggie knew well. ‘My mum is a little like that, too. Well, not with going to the same uni and all, but following her well-devised plan for me. The negotiation of a year off was a struggle. I still don’t know how I did it, to be honest.’ Maggie took a sip of her drink. The vodka was stronger than she’d expected and it made her head spin, but in a good way. She could see Bobby grinning at her and it made her face flame. ‘What? Do I have something on my face?’
Bobby placed his elbow on the bar and rested his knuckles against his temple. ‘You’re incredible, Maggie Hart.’
The heat in her cheeks intensified. ‘You don’t know me well enough to make that judgement.’ She darted her gaze and focused on the ice in her glass.
‘I know you well enough to know you’re brave—you’ve got a hell of a lot more balls than I do. If I tried to negotiate anything with my father or my grandfather …’ Bobby released an acerbic chuckle.
‘I figure by living up to the potential my mother always harps about, I deserve some leeway.’
‘Does she want you to go into the family business?’
‘God no! My mother owns coffee shops—she prefers to call them cafés. She wants me to be a doctor.’
‘Is that what you want?’
Maggie shrugged. No one had ever asked her that before. Not her mother, not Sharon, not her teachers, and it made her realise that she hadn’t asked that of herself either. Her teachers always commented that her marks were good enough for medicine. Her mother, since forever, had harboured a dream of her daughter going to university and becoming a doctor, and Sharon had told her incessantly they needed to get away. ‘I’m hoping by the time Sharon and I get back from London, I’ll know.’
‘Sharon? The surly one that’s sending us death stares?’
Maggie followed his line of vision to discover that Val indeed was throwing filthy looks their way. ‘No, that’s Val,’ she said dryly.
‘She looks like a barrel of laughs. All bark and no bite?’
‘Trust me, she’s got bite, and I’d better get back and make sure she doesn’t get Sharon to do something she’d regret.’
‘Don’t go,’ he blurted, reaching out and circling his hand around her wrist, the pad of his thumb stroking her pulse point. Maggie was sure he could feel it racing. ‘Don’t go,’ he repeated, this time a little more softly and Maggie was almost tempted to yield.
Her gaze flickered over to Sharon. She was unsure how long she and Bobby had been talking, but even before that, Sharon had downed a massive amount of alcohol. It was also very late in the night or very early in the morning, depending on how you looked at it. If she had any hope of getting Sharon up and out before her mother was back, they needed to leave soon.
‘I have to go,’ she said regretfully. ‘Sharon is staying at my house tonight—I kind of feel responsible.’
Bobby nodded, letting her know that although he was disappointed, he understood. ‘You have my number, Maggie Hart. Call me.’
‘I will,’ she said as she reluctantly detached herself from him.
‘Who was that guy?’ Sharon asked as they headed home.
‘His name is Bobby. He’s a law student.’
‘Oh, a nerd like you! It’s a perfect match, like that new show that started on Channel Ten!’ Sharon launched into the theme song of the dating show that was taking the country by storm.
‘Sharon, I just met the guy.’
‘But you have the hots for him, right? You’re going to call him.’
‘Maybe.’ She smiled slyly. Maggie was lying; she had already made up her mind. She would definitely call him.
* * *
‘How was the movie?’ Rosie asked the following night as they sat at the dinner table. ‘Maggie?’
‘Huh?’ Maggie had heard her mother ask a question, but it had gone in one ear and out the other.
‘The movie you went to last night. I was asking how it was.’
‘Oh yeah, it was good.’
‘Just good?’ Rosie eyed her sceptically as she placed a steaming bowl of spaghetti bolognaise in front of her. ‘Usually after you and Sharon have been to the movies, you do a Bill Collins-esque review.’
Maggie tried to think of all that she knew about the movie, which really wasn’t all that much, so she gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘It was very American.’
Rosie cocked a brow. ‘How so?’
‘Geeks, jocks, big American houses, unrequited love, high school dances, that sort of thing.’
Her mother seemed satisfied with her answer and proceeded to grate cheese over her pasta.
‘Whoa! What’s that?’
‘Fresh pecorino romano. I found it in a small deli in Five Dock today.’
‘What happened to the normal parmesan?’ It was a staple in their household. Even though Rosie wasn’t a fan, she allowed Maggie to have it on her pasta.
‘Just try this, trust me, it will make the meal all the more complete. You’ll never eat that vomit-smelling powdered stuff again.’
Her mother was a pretty decent cook and Italian food was her specialty, so when Rosie said something would taste good, she often was right. Still, it was hard to imagine spaghetti without Kraft Parmesan Cheese.
Winding her fork through her pasta, she lifted it to her lips as Rosie watched on expectantly. An instant later, there was an explosion of flavours in her mouth. Reading her reaction, her mother smiled widely.
‘See—I told you you’d like it,’ she said triumphantly as she took her seat. ‘Maybe next time I can allow you a small glass of red wine. It would have to be a proper Italian red, though. I know there’s more than a year until you’re legally able to drink, but a glass at home won’t hurt. What do you think?’
Maggie almost choked on her food. ‘Sorry.’ She coughed and took a big gulp of water. ‘It went down the wrong way. I guess one glass would be okay.’ She was sure her face was red and not just from her obstructed airways.
Truth was, Maggie had tried her first wine at Sharon’s house when they were fourteen. Harriett, her older sister, had just turned eighteen and bought several casks of wine. Maggie clearly remembered wincing at the astringent taste and forcing herself to finish the glass. Sharon pondered that maybe a second glass was needed to make a proper assessment, but by halfway through it, Maggie knew wine wasn’t for her. She assumed Rosie wasn’t talking about red wine out of a goon bag; her stuff was probably really expensive.
‘I noticed you borrowed one of my bags last night.’
Maggie froze, her fork midair. If her mother knew about the bag, she also probably had seen Bobby’s card.
Last night while Sharon was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, Maggie had pulled out Bobby’s business card. The fact that someone his age even had a business card was a little unreal.
Bobby Ryan
President—NSW Young Labor
Ha. So he was a would-be lawyer with political aspirations. It took her a while, but she made the connection. She’d seen a state Labor member on the Mike Walsh Show. Normally, she wouldn’t have taken much notice about some boring political talk, but her mother had grumbled something about him being a typical Irishman so she’d taken stock of the name. Colin Ryan. What were the chances?
‘Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t ask.’ Maggie waited for her mother to comment that it was a little fancy to take to the movies, but she didn’t.
‘It’s alright, Maggie, I don’t mind you borrowing my things as long as you return them in one piece.’
Maybe she hadn’t noticed the card after all.
‘Handbags tend to absorb smells, so I opened it up to air it.’
Maggie felt her stomach drop.
‘I think this belongs to you.’ Rosie held up the card between her thumb and forefinger.
Maggie felt her face flame. Her eyes were cast downward, but she was acutely aware of her mother’s gaze. She could almost script what Rosie would say next.
‘I am assuming you met Bobby Ryan last night?’
Maggie nodded.
‘He was watching Sixteen Candles?’
Maggie looked up. She knew Rosie wouldn’t buy her saying yes. ‘No, I met him when Sharon and I had pizza after the movie.’ Her face was further aflame from the lie.
‘And he gave you his business card.’ It was a statement, but Maggie felt compelled to respond.
‘He seemed nice. We chatted for a while. He’s at uni studying law.’
Rosie was watching her thoughtfully. ‘Did you tell him you’re only sixteen?’
‘Mum! I spoke to the guy for all of half an hour.’
‘Did you?’ Rosie prodded, knowing full well she was dodging the question. ‘Let me guess, Sharon convinced you to pretend you were eighteen.’ Her mother shook her head, forming her own conclusion. ‘Sometimes that girl is a bad influence on you.’
‘Mum! Stop blaming Sharon. He just presumed I was older, and I didn’t correct him.’ That much was the truth, of sorts.
‘Maggie, you are entering a very important part of your schooling life. I cannot have you distracted by boys, especially ones that are years older than you. There will be plenty of time for relationships after you finish high school. You don’t need this distraction.’ Then before Maggie could utter another word, Rosie tore the card to pieces.
Maggie felt her stomach sink to her knees. Anger and disbelief threaded through her. She had expected her mother to harp on about how she needed to concentrate on her studies, but she hadn’t expected this. Tears welled. She was still in a state of shock, disbelief, but perhaps most of all, she was sad.
‘Why do you always treat me like a child who can’t think for herself?’
Rosie sighed. ‘I just don’t want you to make a decision that you’ll regret. Trust me. It’s best for you this way.’
Anger surged. Maggie was sick of her mother’s overbearing ways. Sick of the lack of confidence Rosie had in her, her lack of trust. She was expected to have the drive of an adult but was only given the power of a child.
Maggie threw her fork and it clattered loudly as it hit the side of the bowl. ‘Better for me, or better for you?’ She scraped back her chair and left the table, not waiting or caring to hear Rosie’s response.
* * *
Almost two years later in January 1986, Maggie sat with her mother and stared at the envelope that contained her Higher School Certificate results. At the last school assembly, she had been named Dux of Sixth Form at St Bernadette’s. Maggie had studied religiously to live up to the so-called potential placed on her shoulders and today was D-day.
Carefully, she removed the paper to reveal near-perfect results across all subject areas. Rosie gasped and Maggie let out a sigh of relief.
‘You did it!’ her mother exclaimed. ‘I knew all that hard work would pay off!’
Maggie smiled.
‘With marks like that, you’ll surely get into medicine. I can’t believe you’ll be at university next year.’
Maggie felt her smile falter. ‘You mean year after next. I’m going travelling with Sharon, remember?’ She had kept her part of the bargain—she had studied and worked, saving for the trip.
‘Surely you don’t think that’s a good idea?’ Rosie looked at her as if the mere suggestion was ludicrous. ‘Your studies will take years, not to mention all the prac work and the additional studies needed to be a surgeon or specialist.’
‘Who said anything about me being a surgeon or specialist?’
‘Even general practice will take years …’ Her mother stopped, noticing the dismayed look on her face. ‘Maggie?’
‘You need to stop, Mum.’
‘Stop, what do you mean?’ Rosie asked, puzzled.
‘All this planning and mapping out my future, it needs to stop.’
‘Where is this coming from? I thought your dream was to become a doctor?’
Maggie sighed. ‘That was your dream, not mine.’
‘Are you telling me you don’t want this?’ Her mother was moving from bewildered to angry. ‘You cannot seriously be wanting to waste your potential.’
There was that word again—potential. God forbid she wasted her potential. But what if they were all wrong—her mother, her teachers? What if all she was good at was rote learning? Yes, she’d studied hard, but what if out there in the real world all that potential was purely phoney? She wouldn’t know if she didn’t try, just as she wouldn’t know what a year off would feel like if she didn’t go to London with Sharon.
‘I don’t know what I want to do with the rest of my life, but for the next year, it’s my own.’