Mojo pounced on Lisa’s stomach and dug his paws into her, Thai-masseur style, as he sauntered over her chest. Lisa rolled over. Riding the sheets like a snowboarder, Mojo slid to the floor.
Lisa pulled on her kimono and followed the cat as he galloped onto the balcony, lion tail swishing. The hills were cardboard cutouts against the pale horizon. Sun cast dramatic slabs of gold across the valley, bringing life to everything it touched.
Mojo’s good ear twitched and his whiskers swivelled forward. He pushed his head between the balustrades. The cat always heard things before she did.
A pair of catering trucks rumbled through the colonnade of banners to park outside the kitchen. Ted and James would be up already, organising chefs and waiters.
White wings flapped around the side of the house and with great effort ascended to hover over the balcony.
‘C’mon, girl! You can do it!’ Lisa cried, admiring Kiwi’s pastel yellow underside.
The cockatoo squawked. Rotating her wings like helicopter blades, she executed a perilous landing on the balcony rail.
‘Good girl!’
Once she’d gained composure, Kiwi preened herself modestly. Mojo sprang onto the rail to congratulate his friend. Then the cat escorted Lisa to the bathroom, which was pleasantly uncluttered, Belle’s toiletries having disappeared overnight.
Mojo leapt into the bath and licked droplets of water from around the plughole. Lisa tore off her nightie and stood under the shower. Water streamed over her in joyous rivulets. She was startled by an unfamiliar noise—the sound of herself humming.
She pulled on a sweatshirt and pants and followed Mojo downstairs. To keep people out of the caterers’ way, she set up a grazing table on the front veranda and loaded it with coffee, a mountain of croissants and (with Portia in mind) a bowl of red delicious apples.
Portia was up surprisingly early. So, for that matter, was Zack, who’d ostensibly bunked down with Stella and Heidi in the old dining room. Zack was no longer wedded to his camera, it seemed. Lisa was silently thrilled when Portia ate the corner of a croissant as well as an apple.
Jake was nowhere to be seen.
A truck full of chairs and tables arrived, followed by a florist’s van. Lisa could tell from the clattering and happy voices that everything was under control. Mojo was desperate to investigate the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen, but she herded him outside to walk around the house. The land where the stables had stood had been designated a car park.
Around the back of the house, the orchard was being transformed. Stella and Heidi were arranging rows of white seats in a semi-circle around the apple tree. Runners of red carpet created two aisles that met at a simple table in the leafy shade. Beyond the orchard, long tables were set up around a dance floor. Someone had erected a canvas awning to disguise the toings and froings of kitchen staff. And up in a tree, Ted was hanging paper lanterns. They looked pretty, but Lisa quailed at the thought of another fire.
Reading her mind, Ted assured her they were lit by batteries, not naked flames. ‘There’s just one thing I want to ask,’ he said, jumping down to earth in a shower of leaves. ‘Remember when I was a little boy and you’d make me call you Dearest Mother when I wanted a special favour?’
Lisa chuckled. ‘That was just to make up for all the times I had to pick up your Lego off the floor.’
‘Well, Dearest Mother, as the person who gave birth to me and cleared up my Lego, could you honour me by giving me away?’
‘What about your father?’
‘He hardly knows me,’ Ted said after a long pause.
They hugged. Lisa willed the day to slow down so she could savour every happy moment like this. But Terence had arrived with Lulu the hairdresser and she was ushered upstairs.
Lisa climbed obediently into her gown and tried to be patient while Lulu upgraded her looks. With layers of makeup and her hair smoothed and swept up, she hardly recognised the face in the mirror. Terence riffled through her jewellery box and dug out a pair of silver, sun-shaped earrings she hadn’t worn since she was a teenager. He said they’d be perfect and, oddly enough, they were.
‘The cat needs a comb-up too!’ Terence said, wielding a brush at Mojo. For a one-eyed feral cat, Mojo proved surprisingly vain, purring and arching his back as Terence fluffed out his socks and mane. Special attention was paid to the bouffe at the end of his tail, which was tied with a white ribbon.
‘That’ll last five minutes,’ Lisa said.
But after sniffing and patting the bow a few times, Mojo approved of the adornment.
Lisa could hear cars on the driveway. The guests had started to arrive. She hurried out onto the balcony. Maxine, in a stunning jade suit and matching fascinator, was escorting Aunt Caroline, resplendent in a silver wig and vibrant yellow jacket. Gordon, bringing up the rear, had gone out of his way to wear a suit.
Their daughter, Nina, stopped them for a moment to take a photo while Dan, the colorectal surgeon, wrangled their flurry of delightful children. Lisa called out and waved to them—no wedding was complete without children. Then she squeezed into her shoes and, following the swish of Mojo’s ribbon, wobbled downstairs to greet the guests.
An archway of roses had sprung up to direct people towards the orchard, and guests were now passing through it in droves—a tribe of relations from New Zealand; Juliet and her nearly fiancé, the vet; the Grey Army and their wives. Beverley was decked out in scarlet to match the colour of her husband Bob’s complexion. ‘Oh how cute,’ she said to Lisa. ‘You’ve brought your cat to the wedding.’
Lisa smiled. ‘He brought himself, I’m afraid,’ she said, as Mojo, on Sharky alert, dived into the depths of her gown and coiled around her ankles.
Underneath her hostessy smile, Lisa was anxious for the men in her life to put in an appearance. Not that Jake was officially in her life anymore, but she didn’t want him hurting Ted by finding an excuse not to show. As for Scott, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d got cold feet. Gay weddings weren’t everyone’s glass of latte.
Excitement mounted. A string quartet in white ties and tails sat to one side of the apple tree and chirped out Vivaldi’s Spring. Bees hovered above the women’s hats. Lisa scanned the crowd. Most of the guests were seated. A gorgeously handsome man kissed her on the cheek. Ted looked like a duke, in his dark suit and dove-grey tie. She slid a white gardenia in his buttonhole.
‘It’s time,’ Ted said, quietly leading her away from the apple tree to the end of one of the red carpets.
Lisa glanced across to the other carpet where James stood, wearing an equally elegant suit and white gardenia. On his arm was his mother, Sue, glorious in a hot-pink dress with red roses in her hair. She and Lisa exchanged discreet waves.
As the music changed to the refined strains of Bach, the celebrant took her place in front of the table under the apple tree. Her grey hair was pulled back in a bun, and her dark blue suit looked like a uniform.
‘Dorothy Thatcher?’ Lisa whispered.
‘There were only two celebrants in the book,’ Ted whispered back. ‘The other one’s on holiday in Bali.’
Lisa straightened, drew a breath and took her young man’s arm. As they were about to step forward there was a commotion at the archway. Todd moved forward on a pair of crutches. Wearing a white shirt and tie, he was every bit as tall and good-looking as his father.
Scott walked proudly beside his son and found him a seat near the back of the congregation. Then he strode over to Lisa and apologised for being late. ‘You’ve missed one important guest,’ he whispered. ‘Can you hang on a sec?’
Ted nodded and held up his hand to James as a signal to wait. Scott dashed around the side of the house, returning moments later with Kiwi bright-eyed on her perch.
Ted burst out laughing. ‘You’re right! How could we forget a guest of honour?’
A ripple of amusement went through the crowd as Scott put the cockatoo and her stand in pride of place under the tree. Kiwi flapped her wings and squawked appreciatively.
The music swelled. Scott returned to the back of the gathering and took his seat next to Todd. Ted and James exchanged nods. Floating on Ted’s elbow, Lisa recalled the moment her son was born and how the midwife had helped her lift him out of her body; the ecstasy of holding him in her arms for the first time; the years of worry and happiness, tears and triumphs.
The only thing that kept her eyes dry was fear she might topple over Mojo, who was prancing backwards and forwards after a butterfly.
As the two grooms and their mothers arrived at the altar in miraculous unison, the musicians fell silent. Expectation hung over the crowd. Lisa and Sue kissed their sons’ cheeks and took their seats at the front of the gathering. Sitting beside Portia, Lisa was grateful Stella had moved to fill Jake’s empty chair so there was no obvious gap.
Dorothy Thatcher turned out to be an impressive celebrant. She welcomed everyone and alluded to Ted’s historic connection to the manor without, to Lisa’s relief, any creepy undertones. ‘I suppose this is the part where I’d ask if anyone has any objections to this union to speak up now,’ she added, smiling.
Kiwi emitted a screech of alarm. There was shouting and clattering from behind the canvas awning shielding the kitchen. One hundred and fifty sets of eyes swivelled to witness the canvas bulge then tear apart to reveal a fraught-looking Jake.
‘How the hell do I get out of this thing?!’ he yelled, punching flaps of canvas.
Waiters bustled forward and tried to close the gaping hole with their hands. Simultaneously, a genius of improvisation appeared with a basket of clothes pegs and sealed the hole.
Jake’s suit was ruffled and his hair resembled a mess of steel wool. Portia hurried to his side, brushed him down and straightened his tie before leading him to the seat Stella had tactfully vacated.
Dorothy Thatcher adjusted her spectacles and surveyed the guests. ‘Are we ready to continue?’
Gazing into each other’s eyes, the boys recited the vows they’d written and memorised word for word. When Dorothy called for the ring bearers, Portia and Eleanor stood and presented their brothers with a white rose each. The grooms lifted their gold bands from inside the petals.
After they’d exchanged rings, Dorothy announced the grooms had decided to change their names to something with an historic connection. From now on they would like to be known as Ted and James Trumperton.
Lisa was deeply moved Ted had chosen to keep her family name alive. Portia passed her a tissue.
After the ceremony, a feast was laid out on the tables, and the afternoon melted into evening in a haze of laughter and sparkling wine. Mojo disappeared, leaving a shredded white ribbon on the dance floor. When a pearly smile of a moon rose over the hills, Ted’s lanterns flickered to life, casting pastel shades through the trees.
Aunt Caroline and Castlemaine’s more sedate citizens settled into outdoor seats as a jazz band struck up with ‘It Had To Be You’. Ted and James performed a circuit of the floor before inviting their mothers to dance.
‘Are you happy?’ Ted asked.
‘One of the happiest days of my life,’ Lisa replied.
Ted excused himself to beckon Portia onto the floor, and Lisa made an obligatory beeline for Jake. ‘I had to drop Belle at the airport,’ he muttered. ‘Her flight was delayed.’
Over Jake’s shoulder, Lisa spotted Scott chatting with Juliet and her fiancé under a cherry tree. Kiwi was perched on Todd’s shoulder. The boy laughed as the cockatoo ran her beak through his hair.
Maxine appeared at her side and put a soft arm around her. ‘They’re playing our song,’ she giggled.
The band was riffing on ‘Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better’.
‘Not true!’ Lisa protested.
‘Well, I’m not a world famous author,’ Maxine said, guiding her onto the dance floor.
‘And I haven’t managed to stay married to the same devoted husband and have my kids and grandchildren all in the same city.’
‘It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,’ Maxine sighed, leading her into a gentle spin. ‘You’re looking great, by the way.’
‘So are you.’
‘You’re tipsy,’ Maxine said, breathing wine over Lisa’s face.
‘I’m not. You are.’
‘Sorry, I was mean to you about buying this place,’ Maxine slurred, swaying in time to the music. ‘I was just worried you were taking on too much.’
‘It’s okay. How’s the townhouse I nearly bought?’
‘There was something wrong with the foundations. The whole lot had to come down. And there’s going to be a high-rise apartment block right next door.’
‘Really?’
‘Yup.’
‘You mean, I could’ve had just as much trouble in Camberwell?’
Portia and Zack jerked past, shadowing each other in what Lisa could only assume were hip-hop moves.
‘What’s up with those two?’ Maxine asked.
‘Nothing. They’re not holding hands.’
Maxine stopped dancing and put her arms on Lisa’s shoulders. ‘I’m so glad you came home.’ She fixed Lisa with a serious emerald gaze. ‘You have no idea how much I worried about you when you were ill.’
Lisa sank into the familiar fold of Maxine’s neck. Her skin was looser than when they were girls, but it felt softer, wiser, more forgiving. ‘Thank you,’ Lisa whispered. ‘I love you to bits.’
Maxine straightened and set her jaw. She wasn’t a fan of soppiness. ‘You know how it is,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘You’ll always be my little sister.’
As they stood swaying gently together in the soft light, it occurred to Lisa that, of all the people present, no one knew her better than Maxine. Those same green eyes had peered over the edge of her bassinette. Though Maxine had played merciless tricks on her through childhood, Lisa was deeply grateful they’d both lived long enough to accept all their differences. To forgive real and imagined hurts—and acknowledge the love between them—was all that mattered now.
But her shoes were killing her. She eased them off and kicked them away. They scuttled across the floor to land, like shipwreck victims, in front of a pair of size-13 lace-up boots.
‘Was that an invitation to butt in?’ Scott asked, his smile beaming through to her core.
Lisa could feel Maxine assessing the situation with sisterly accuracy. With a knowing smile, Maxine stepped back and dissolved into the whirl of dancers.
‘Great wedding,’ Scott said as he cradled her hand in his and pressed her gently against his body. ‘You look stunning.’
Lisa tried to persuade herself he was having no physical effect on her.
‘Is Todd okay?’
‘See for yourself,’ he said, nodding over her shoulder.
To her delight, Todd was on the dance floor with James’s sister Eleanor. Supporting each other by the elbows, they swayed in time with the music. His sticks were resting on a chair. Lisa had never seen him so animated.
‘Is he getting better?’ she asked, hopeful.
‘He’s got a new doctor,’ Scott said, drawing her closer. ‘She thinks there’s a chance he might walk.’
‘That’s wonderful!’ Lisa could feel his breath on her ear. If she turned her face, they would sink into a kiss. ‘Please,’ she muttered, fighting every instinct in her body. ‘Not here.’
Scott released his hold and let space expand between them. ‘Bit of a raver, your Aunt Caroline,’ he remarked as the old girl and Gordon tripped by in a steady foxtrot.
A pale hand tapped Scott’s shoulder. ‘This one’s for the parents of the groom, I believe,’ Jake shouted more loudly than the music’s volume warranted.
Scott dutifully released his hold and backed away.
Jake had never liked dancing. He steered her sideways, working her right arm like a pump. ‘She’s not very happy,’ he shouted.
‘Who?’
‘Belle.’
‘Oh.’
‘She pretty much called it off.’
The dance was mercifully near its end. She thanked him and, feigning exhaustion, went over to sit with Portia and Zack.
‘How’s the documentary coming along?’ she asked.
Zack’s smile broadened. ‘Do you want the good or bad news?’ he asked.
She always preferred to get bad news over and done with.
‘There was a technical glitch with the camera. My fault, really. I forgot to turn the sound on.’
‘Oh Zack!’
‘I was on deadline to get the project in and it was too late to start anything else. So I turned it into a silent film.’
‘You should see it, Mom!’ Portia enthused. ‘It’s real art-house.’
Lisa tried to maintain a bright, encouraging expression, but, really, it was a disaster.
‘Yeah, so I got it in on time and . . .’
‘He won a medal!’ Portia interrupted. ‘For Best Creative Work of the Year. And . . .’
‘It’s okay. You don’t have to tell everyone,’ Zack muttered through a fringe of modesty.
‘The ABC is going to televise it.’
‘Only on some Sunday afternoon arts program,’ Zack said, shrugging.
‘And he’s got funding to make a short film.’
‘Zack that’s fantastic!’ Lisa said. ‘Congratulations.’
Portia stood up and kissed Zack on the cheek. As she led him onto the dance floor, Lisa noticed something momentous was taking place—they were holding hands.