It didn’t take much persuading to get Gerry to come over for a whole week in December.
‘I was going to work all the public holidays over Christmas,’ Ro said in a letter, ‘but there are too many things on. It would be a drag to be at work. Come for the solstice party!’
But Gerry knew herself better than to make an entrance during a party. She came the following day.
Ro’s housemates were rebuilding the chook shed.
‘This is Gerry,’ Ro said. ‘I’m working, but I told Gerry you’d look after her.’
Petra laughed. ‘As long as you don’t mind watching us work,’ she said to Gerry.
‘Can’t I help?’
‘Sure. That’d be great.’
Ro left them to it.
When it was too hot to work Petra and Mikki took Gerry to the Market. They ate popiah at Malacca Corner, and drank pots and pots of jasmine tea.
‘To rehydrate ourselves,’ Petra said.
They discovered Gerry’s Dutch background and hauled her off to Mikki’s favourite cheese stall. She impressed everyone by dredging up kaas for cheese and dankjewel for thank you. Altogether the Market was a great success. Ro found them at the American Health Studio wallowing together in a spa, the best of friends, planning a feast for Christmas night.
‘I know where there are trees,’ Mikki said. ‘Behind the school. You know that row of pines? There’s a couple of seedlings there.’
‘We only need one,’ Petra said, ever practical.
‘Hang on,’ Ro said. ‘What are you talking about? A Christmas tree? Since when did we believe in Christmas?’
Petra laughed. ‘Consumerist plot,’ she said.
‘Patriarchal religion,’ Mikki added.
‘Nuclear family nightmare.’
‘Presents.’
‘Food.’
‘Buy buy buy!’
‘Yeeha!’
Gerry grinned at Ro. ‘Looks like you’re doing Christmas.’
‘Oh well.’ Ro knew when she was beaten. ‘Let’s go to the Market and get lovely food.’
‘We’ve been already,’ Petra said. ‘But we could have a laksa this time.’
They spent the evening making paper chains from early drafts of Mikki’s thesis.
Amazingly, Gerry turned out to be a great success with Ro’s mother. Ro did not entirely understand how this happened.
Ro usually managed to be elsewhere for the festive season, often at a waifs’ picnic in another state where she could legitimately claim to be a waif. This year she was at home because Gerry was visiting. And her mother knew she was at home. Nevertheless, Ro would have made an excuse to her family, if Gerry had not objected.
‘But I want to meet them,’ she said. ‘It’d be fun to have Christmas lunch with them. Why not?’
Ro was surprised. No previous lover had ever expressed any positive interest in meeting her family. Besides, she had thought of Gerry as shy. But Gerry was at ease with Ro’s housemates and they certainly liked her. So perhaps the family thing would work, too. Before she knew it Ro had arranged that she and Gerry would be at her brother’s for lunch.
She thought it would be easier for Gerry to meet them in stages. A preliminary visit to Elsa on Christmas Eve would get the worst bit over. Ro timed the visit for late afternoon. Elsa would be tired from work and they could make a quick getaway after a cup of tea.
Ro had planned not to leave Gerry and Elsa alone together, but she was foiled by a direct order from her mother to go and wash the tea things. She hurried through the dishes—at least two days’ stockpile, she noted sourly—and was heading back to the living room wiping her hands when the doorbell rang.
‘Could you get that, dear,’ Elsa called. ‘It’ll be the plumber. Show him where the gulley trap is.’
Ro did that, and showed him the old outside laundry, and helped him trace the probable route of the drain. As soon as she could she raced back inside, anticipating an awkward silence.
Far from it. Gerry and Elsa were sitting side by side with photo albums on their knees. And they were laughing.
Ro had scarcely seen Gerry laugh before, now she came to think about it. Smile, yes, but not this open laughter. And she hadn’t heard Elsa sound so relaxed for years, perhaps forever. Ro watched them from the doorway, unsure how she felt about this development. It was one thing to be polite to a lover’s mother. It was another thing to sit next to her on the sofa, laughing and joking.
‘Your mum’s great,’ Gerry said on the way home. ‘I was expecting a dragon, from what you said. I think she’s lovely.’
‘Hmm,’ said Ro, non-committal.
‘Can’t have been easy, bringing you two up on her own.’
‘No.’
‘I’m looking forward to meeting your brother.’
‘Oh my god.’
Gerry smiled. ‘What are you worried about?’
‘I dunno,’ Ro said. ‘You’re not supposed to be all chummy with them.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps they’ll like you more than they like me?’
‘I doubt it,’ Gerry said. ‘Your mum thinks the world of you.’
Ro gaped. ‘Of me?’
‘She showed me all the baby photos. Listed every clever thing you’ve ever done. Ro’s the clever one. That’s what she said.’
Ro was dumbfounded.
Murray and Jen liked Gerry, as Elsa had. It wasn’t that Gerry put herself forward, or even spoke very much. But she was a good listener and a calm, benign presence. Ro, watching, could see that the others were more than relaxed with Gerry. They were happy, even sparkling. Gerry had a knack of bringing out the best in people. That Christmas lunch was the pleasantest time Ro had spent with her family for years.
Even so, she made sure that she and Gerry left early enough to have time in bed before the household party.
‘Too much domesticity,’ she said firmly when Gerry asked why she’d cut the afternoon short. ‘I have other ideas for entertaining you.’
The sex that afternoon was the best they’d had, effortless soaring orgasms for both of them.
‘I don’t know why you say you’re shy,’ Ro said, breaking a contented silence.
Gerry grimaced. ‘I’m okay when I’m not premenstrual.’
Ro laughed, but Gerry didn’t join in.
Superstition perhaps, but when Ro thought about it later she saw that brief exchange as pivotal. Gerry was quiet the morning of Boxing Day, but this passed unnoticed in the bustle of preparing for the waifs’ picnic. Actually it was a combined picnic. For genuine waifs, without families, and for those who needed to recover from family Christmases.
It was perfect beach weather, hot and clear. A couple of dozen women gathered at Grange, in and out of the water, eating, drinking, playing rounds of beach cricket with Petra’s new set. Sascha was away, to Ro’s relief, but several other of Ro’s ex-lovers were observing Gerry with interest. Alby came bustling over, nuggety frame sparking in all directions, to wring Gerry’s hand. Gerry, a straightforward person herself, responded well and the two of them shared a beer.
But Alby had to leave, and since Ro was fielding, that left Gerry on her own.
Ro became aware that Gerry was not doing well. She was staying close to Petra and Petra’s partner, barely speaking and not smiling. Ro was irritated. What was different about today? She could make an effort with Ro’s family, and with the household, so why not with these friends?
At that moment the ball arced over Ro’s head and landed with a splash, ten metres from the shore. Glad of the excuse, she ran into the water and grabbed it. When next she glanced at Gerry she saw that Maddie was sitting talking to her. Ro was seized by a second spurt of irritation. Trust Maddie to be all mumsie with any lost soul.
But she knew the thought was mean. Gerry hardly knew anyone here. It wouldn’t be surprising if she felt a bit lost. Perhaps she was shy after all. Ro passed up her turn with the bat and went over to Gerry as Maddie took her leave.
‘You okay?’ Ro asked quietly.
Gerry turned toward her and Ro saw that she was pale, the pouches under her eyes pronounced.
‘I’m sorry,’ Gerry said. ‘I’m not much good in crowds.’
‘Want a drink?’
‘No. I’m trying not to. I’ve had enough over the last few days. It’ll make it worse.’
‘Want to go home?’ This was a heroic gesture. Ro hated to leave a party while it was in full swing. But she was responsible for Gerry.
‘I wouldn’t mind,’ Gerry mumbled.
So there was nothing for it. They gathered up their things and said their goodbyes. Ro endured various knowing winks. All they think about is sex, she thought savagely, and completely unfairly. It was what she would normally think herself about a new couple going home early.
It was a public holiday so they had a miserably long wait for a train. By the time they dragged themselves into the house they were sunk in silence.
Ro felt better after a shower. She came back into the bedroom to find Gerry stretched on the bed. Ro perched next to her and put her hand on Gerry’s back.
Gerry rolled over. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, for perhaps the tenth time.
‘Don’t have to be,’ Ro said, and now she meant it. ‘I just want to know what’s wrong.’
‘Nothing. Everything’s all right. I felt a bit … I don’t know. Hormones probably.’
‘But you were fine yesterday.’
‘Happens this way some months. Turns on like a tap. Maybe having to meet a whole lot of new people. I don’t know. I wish I knew.’
‘What can I do?’
‘Put up with it. If you can manage that.’ Gerry smiled. It was a slightly twisted smile, but a smile nevertheless.
Ro was filled with tenderness.
‘I’ll make a pot of tea. Want anything to eat?’
For the rest of the day they lay beside each other reading in the cool of the bedroom. Gerry slept for an hour or so and woke looking a better colour. When night came they went out on foot in search of food, roaming around and eventually finding a Chinese restaurant open.
‘What about the trains?’ Gerry asked when they’d finished.
‘Trains?’
‘The little trains.’
Ro laughed. ‘I did find out about them, but they’re closed till after New Year.’
‘Damn. Can we look anyway? Is it far?’
‘Not really. More walking though. You game?’
‘Sure.’
The gully winds were blowing by now. They walked under tossing trees with a quarter moon high in the western sky. There was hardly any traffic. They walked along Goodwood Road and peered in at the Capri, where a motley crowd was eating ice-cream in the interval of a nostalgia night.
‘You wouldn’t rather see Mickey Mouse?’ Ro asked hopefully. But Gerry was determined.
After a couple of false starts they found the wedge of land between two branching train lines. The wedge widened out into tennis and croquet clubs, but a couple of acres at the sharpest end were given over to the miniature trains.
Ro and Gerry skirted around the perimeter fence until they were sheltered by the tennis club.
‘Any way in?’ asked Ro.
‘Dare you.’
Ro squared her shoulders.
They worked their way along the fence, looking for a leg-up, flirting with the idea of climbing over. But it was a dauntingly high fence.
Gerry waved from the corner near the hills railway line.
‘Look at this,’ she said, when Ro was close enough. ‘What do you reckon?’
Around the corner they could see a place where the wire was bent back from the post.
‘We aren’t the first to have this idea,’ Ro whispered. There were no houses in hearing distance, but the instinct for secrecy was strong.
To get at the break in the fence they had to clamber over a lower fence onto the railway lines and stumble along a few metres.
‘Look out for trains,’ Ro hissed. ‘Big ones.’
Gerry was already tugging at the wire. Ro scrambled through easily but Gerry, much bigger, had to lie down flat and ease through on her belly, grunting. Ro hauled her upright and they stood looking at a strange half-lit world. By unspoken agreement they turned to follow a pint-size railway line that curved around a lake. At the far end the rails disappeared into an arched tunnel no higher than Gerry’s waist. They looked at each other.
‘What if a little train comes?’ Ro asked, half-joking, half scared.
Gerry giggled. ‘A fairy train?’
‘Driven by a demon.’
Gerry dropped to her hands and knees and crawled into the black opening. Ro watched for a moment, but it was worse to be left in the moonlight. She balanced herself on the two rails and crab-crawled into the tunnel. Ahead of her in the pitch black she could hear Gerry swearing.
‘What is it?’ she called.
‘Banged the top of my head.’
Every movement in the dark seemed to take long minutes but finally Ro came up behind Gerry.
‘How much further?’ Ro whispered.
‘Where to?’ Gerry’s voice was sepulchral. ‘Next stop … The Twilight Zone.’
Ro shivered. ‘Let’s go back.’ She yelped as something brushed her face, then realised it was Gerry’s hand. She seized it.
‘It’s okay,’ Gerry said. ‘I reckon that’s light up ahead.’
It was true, and before long the going was easier. They pulled themselves out of the tunnel and stood upright to stretch cramped muscles.
It was easier to see on this side of the wedge. Beyond the fence lay the southern branch of the real railway line. Beyond that again was a well-lit street. They were in full view of the houses, though no one was about. Ro beckoned Gerry and they ran along the miniature line and over a bridge into shadows. Sheds loomed beyond the trees.
They found a window low enough to peer through and rubbed away the dust. But it was too dark to see what was inside.
‘This is where they keep the trains,’ Gerry whispered.
‘How do you know?’
In answer Gerry pulled Ro around the end of the shed and showed her where the rails ran under the padlocked double doors.
‘Can we hijack one?’ she whispered. ‘I could take it home and make a little track.’
‘No,’ said Ro firmly. ‘It would miss its friends.’
They got themselves back through the fence without mishap and walked home briskly. It was not a night for sex. They were both asleep as soon as they lay down.