‘I thought I might find you here,’ Jodie said, and David’s head shot up from the front page of the paper. She was standing beside him holding a takeaway coffee. ‘Mind if I join you?’
‘Please do,’ he said, tossing aside the paper and moving the other chair so she could sit down. He’d gone to the coffee shop almost every morning of the three weeks since he’d met her, hoping she’d turn up. Just that morning he’d decided that this would be his last attempt. Obviously she wished she hadn’t told him where she went for coffee and was going somewhere else to avoid running into him.
‘I’ve been away,’ she said with a smile, lifting the plastic lid off her coffee and borrowing his spoon to scoop the foam. ‘Got sent to do emergency cover at the clinic in Gisborne. My sister lives there so I stayed with her – better than driving backwards and forwards every day.’
David laughed. ‘I thought you were avoiding me,’ he said.
‘Well – that too,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Won’t do my reputation much good to be seen with a nudist.’
‘I’ve given it up,’ he said. ‘Cross my heart.’ Her eyes flashed with light as she laughed and he looked into them just that little bit too long and suddenly they were marooned in silence.
‘So,’ he said, embarrassed now at his own awkwardness, ‘you’re back.’
Jodie nodded. ‘Yes. How’s Caro?’
He gave a grim smile. ‘Full-scale family drama. She had a car accident – she and the baby are okay but she was in hospital for a few days, during which time she and Mum had a bit of a blue and now they’re barely speaking to each other.’
Jodie pulled a face. ‘Whose fault?’
‘Fifty-fifty, I think. No, that’s wrong – probably eighty-twenty. Caro can be such a pain, especially where Mum’s concerned.’
‘And your gran?’
‘Making something called a Tiffany lampshade; purple, of course.’ He was dying inside. He’d always found it easy, talking to girls, asking them out. But since the shock of his diagnosis, embarrassment about his illness seemed to have extinguished the spark of flirtation. What right did he have to get involved with anyone? He was a hopeless liability with nothing to offer. He stared down into his empty cup feeling like a clumsy teenager, totally lost for words. In a few minutes she would be gone, and if he didn’t stop behaving like a complete wanker she wouldn’t bother with him again. Somehow, though, the words wouldn’t come.
Jodie downed the remains of her coffee and stood up. ‘Gotta get on,’ she said, picking up her bag. ‘I’m a bit late already. Do you want to get something to eat tonight? That Thai place round the corner is nice.’
David’s breath was trapped in his chest. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I’d like that. Shall I . . . shall I pick you up?’
She pulled a pen from her bag and scribbled an address on the top margin of his paper.
‘Why don’t you wander round about half-past six and we can walk down there,’ she said with a smile. ‘See you later, then.’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Sure, see you later.’ And he picked up the paper and stuffed it inside his coat as he watched her cross the street to her car. ‘Half-past six,’ he said softly to himself. ‘Half-past six, I’ll be there, you bet your life I’ll be there.’
And he was, just as he was the next time, when she suggested a pizza, and the time she asked him to go the cinema, and so on . . . until the day he went to answer the doorbell and discovered his grandmother standing on the doorstep.
*
Lila didn’t know what was wrong with them all – Fran and Caro not speaking, Fran deciding to move, and now David, whom she’d set up with the nice little bloodsucker, was about to let her slip through his fingers. Jodie, or was it Judy? Anyway, she’d told Lila that they’d already been on several dates, but only because she’d asked him.
‘He seems keen enough when we’re out together, Mrs Whittaker,’ she said as she plunged the needle into Lila’s arm, ‘but he never asks me out. I always have to do it. I really like David, we have a good time together, we go for a meal, or to the movies, and once we went up to the Victoria Markets, but he’ll never come back to my place and he won’t ask me back to his. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.’
‘It’s nothing about you, my love,’ Lila told her, pressing the tiny pad of cotton wool onto the puncture mark the needle had left. ‘It’s him being silly. You leave David to me.’
‘Oh! Well, no, I don’t want you to say anything to him,’ Jodie said, flushing at the prospect. ‘I’m just confiding in you.’
Lila knew everyone thought she was losing it, and she knew she was forgetful about names and dates, but when it came to all the important things she was still as sharp as a tack. She had always prided herself on speaking her mind, but recently she’d found herself holding back a bit, didn’t want to seem an interfering old bat. Now here they were, falling apart. It was time, she thought, to sort them out. In some families the older woman was the matriarch, the children and grandchildren took notice, deferred to her, but in this family nobody gave a stuff what she thought. A lifetime of experience was going to waste.
A year or so ago Lila had had a fall, cracked her elbow and broken her ankle, and they had taken a while to heal. The shock had knocked her sideways and she’d lost a bit of confidence, come to rely on Fran or Caro, and more recently David, if she wanted to go out. The retirement village had a free bus service to the shops and she managed that all right, but she just hadn’t got back into the swing of going anywhere else without someone to take her. But now she’d been asked out for coffee. It was a sign, she thought, a sign that she should step back into life again, and the family would be the first step.
Lila straightened her shoulders and looked at herself in the mirror. A couple of weeks earlier she’d bought a very nice pale mauve coat in the recycling shop. It went very well with the purple scarf Fran had been wearing last time she was there. Fran had let Lila try it on and she’d forgotten to give it back. Still, Fran wouldn’t mind her wearing it – after all, purple was her colour. She thought she looked rather nice, certainly suitably dressed to go out for coffee with Irene and Hamish.
After her holiday Irene had called in as promised to admire Lila’s purple décor, and to show her the photographs of Greece, and she’d brought her new gentleman friend. Now, this morning, they had called to say they were going to be right near her, on the way to visit a friend in Fitzroy, and they wondered if she’d like to go out for a coffee. Lila had thought Hamish was a very nice man and she was surprised to hear that Bonnie was being so silly about it. She’d always seemed such a sensible girl. In fact, what Lila remembered very clearly from the days when their daughters were at school together was that despite their money both mother and daughter were straightforward, friendly people, with no pretensions. That, she’d always told Fran, was a sign of good breeding, something that no amount of money could buy.
‘So has Bonnie got over it yet?’ Lila asked Irene as they sat in the café while Hamish queued at the counter to order the coffee.
Irene shook her head. ‘No, she’s very disapproving still,’ she said, ‘but I’m determined not to give in.’
‘Good, you’ve got to stand your ground,’ Lila said. ‘Does she want you to give him up or what?’
‘I don’t think she knows what she wants really, she just knows it makes her uncomfortable.’
Hamish returned to the table carrying a plate with three tiny Portuguese custard tarts.
‘To tempt you ladies,’ he said, putting down the plate. ‘Coffee’s on its way. What are you plotting?’
‘Just talking about Bonnie,’ Irene said. ‘Her disapproval.’
‘Aha!’ Hamish said with a smile. ‘Strange creatures, one’s children. As teenagers they’re repelled by the realisation that their parents have a sex life, and that never really changes.’ He reached over and took Irene’s hand. ‘It’s all right if I take Irene out, wine and dine her, Lila, even go on holiday and fall in love with her, as long as I don’t share her bed.’
Lila laughed loudly, and picked up one of the little tarts. She was enjoying herself enormously. ‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘our children! Because they were teenagers in the sixties they think they invented sex. I blame Woodend.’
‘Woodend?’ Irene queried.
‘I think you mean Woodstock,’ Hamish ventured.
‘Yes, that’s it, Woodstock, all that singing about sex, and doing it in public. Why not just get on with it quietly and enjoy it, I say. No need to share it with the rest of the world. Now tell me, Hamish, what do you think about all this Viagra business?’
Hamish, startled, glanced at Irene, who was grinning widely. ‘Well, Lila,’ he said, ‘I really couldn’t say. Never felt the need for it myself.’
‘Isn’t that good, then,’ Lila said, thoroughly satisfied with his answer. ‘Now, I wonder if you’d mind dropping me off in Collingwood when we leave here. I want to pop in and see David.’
David stared at the vision in purple that greeted him as he opened the door.
‘Gran, what a surprise. Are you on your own? How did you get here?’
‘Got a lift with friends,’ Lila said. ‘Besides, there’re trams and buses, you know, I’m not helpless. Aren’t you going to ask me in?’
He stepped back and she marched into the huge room and over to the tall windows that looked down onto the street below. ‘This is very nice, very modern.’
‘Yep, it is. Would you like some tea?’
‘Just had coffee and cake, thanks,’ she said. ‘And I’m not here to mess about, David, I’ve come to sort you out.’
‘Really? I can hardly wait.’
‘Don’t you be a smartarse with me,’ she said, and David flinched at a word he would not have used in her presence. She perched on the edge of a scarlet cube-style sofa that Matt had helped him choose, her feet barely touching the floor. She looked strangely misplaced, like a small doll that had been put on the wrong shelf in the toy shop.
‘This whole family’s in a mess and it’s time I did something about it and you’re first,’ Lila said.
David pulled a face. ‘Sounds like I’m in trouble.’
‘If you are it’s of your own making. Now, what are you up to with Judy?’
‘Jodie.’
‘Don’t change the subject.’
‘I’m not, and I’m not up to anything.’
‘Exactly! Not up to enough, if you ask me,’ Lila said. ‘No good to keep going out with her if it’s not going to go any further than that. She’s a lovely girl, you just don’t know when you’re well off.’
‘It’s not as easy as that,’ David said, fidgeting with embarrassment. ‘Jodie’s fantastic, but it’s complicated – you wouldn’t understand.’
‘Oh, I understand all right,’ Lila said, ‘But hepatitis isn’t the worst thing in the world, you know. A lot of people have HIV as well – be thankful that hasn’t happened to you. You have to take care of yourself, don’t get too tired, don’t drink, and be careful of your diet, and practise safe sex.’
David looked at her, surprise outweighing annoyance and embarrassment. Just like Matt, she sounded as though she had memorised the support group leaflet. ‘How do you know all this?’
‘I read it. Went down to the library and looked it up. It wasn’t easy because they hadn’t got it in large print, but the librarian helped me. You can live a normal life, you know, you just need to look after yourself and use condoms. No children, though – you can’t have children.’
David, elbows on his knees, hid his face in his hands. He had never expected to have a conversation like this with his mother, let alone his grandmother, and he wondered what she’d come out with next.
‘Don’t get all uptight about it,’ Lila said, leaning forward. ‘In my day we weren’t supposed to talk about these things. But now sex is everywhere, people are doing it and talking about it and filming it everywhere, it’s even on the ABC, but talk about important things with your own family – oh no, that’s not on. Doesn’t make sense to me.’ She struggled to her feet and walked back to the window. ‘Come over here,’ she ordered, pointing out into the street. ‘Look at this.’
David joined her at the window, looking down to where a couple of teenage girls in revealing halter tops, low-cut jeans and bare midriffs were joking with some boys on the opposite side of the street. ‘Look at them,’ she said. ‘Midwinter and they’re half naked. Nothing left to the imagination, let it all hang out. I don’t get it. What’s it all for if people still can’t talk frankly when it’s important? All that free love, the pill, getting rid of taboos, but you can’t talk to Judy and you think I shouldn’t even know about it.’
‘It’s not really as simple as that, Gran,’ David began.
‘It’s only as complicated as you make it.’ Her eyes had an unusual watery brightness about them. He slipped his arm through hers and led her back to the couch.
‘Come and sit down,’ he said. ‘No need to get upset.’
‘Well, I am,’ she said, rummaging in her bag for a handkerchief. ‘I don’t like this business with Fran and Caro, and I don’t like you being unhappy. You’ve got to have courage, David. I know you’re thinking I’m a stupid old woman who’s losing her marbles – ’
‘No,’ he protested.
‘Yes you do, you all do. Maybe I’m a bit forgetful, and maybe I do like a bit of tinned ham and go on about the old days, I don’t mind you all having a laugh about that. But I still know what’s what, and what I know is this, that’s a lovely girl you’ve got there, and she’s not stupid, you know. Give her a bit of respect, for goodness sake, talk to her about it. Let her talk to you. Be brave, take a risk, sort it out. Otherwise you’re going to be a lonely old man before you’re forty.’
Lila blew her nose loudly, and then took off her glasses and wiped them with a tissue. ‘That’s what I came to say. And don’t tell her I told you, otherwise she’ll be really upset with me. Now you can make me that cup of tea and then you can drive me over to Caro’s place. I need to set her straight, and then your mother. I really don’t know what this family’s coming to.’
Fran dropped the Boatshed proposal on the table and sank down onto the wooden bench. ‘Lord give me strength. Thanks for meeting me, Bonnie. You are the only fixed point of sanity in my crazy world.’
Bonnie, who had been waiting anxiously for her to arrive, and was unsure how having had time to peruse the proposal would have affected her, raised her eyebrows in surprise, but decided not to push her luck. ‘Tell me about it over lunch. The minestrone here is always good.’
‘That’ll do me,’ Fran sighed, unbuttoning her coat, ‘With heaps of parmesan and some Italian bread.’
‘I see you got your scarf back.’
‘I did. Almost had to rip it off Mum’s neck. She thinks she has first rights on anything purple. She turned up on my doorstep wearing it a couple of days ago.’
‘A visit?’ Bonnie said. ‘I thought she only went out with you or the kids.’
‘So did I, but she decided that we all needed a good shake-up, beginning with David. Not sure what that was about – she said it was confidential. But then she got him to drive her to Caro and then to me, because she wanted to fix things up between us.’
‘Two minestrones, bread and couple of glasses of the house red,’ Bonnie told the waiter. ‘Do they need fixing up?’
‘Yes,’ said Fran, ‘but that’s another story, and it’ll take more than the purple people-eater to fix that. Mothers! Honestly, they can really be a pain in the bum.’
Bonnie nodded. ‘Must be something in the air. Mine’s been really weird since her holiday. She seems to be going through some sort of teenage phase again.’
‘Oh well,’ Fran said, ‘I guess we’ve got this to look forward to in twenty-five years’ time. Promise you’ll tell me if I get like that?’ She put her hand on the Boatshed file. ‘This is great, Bon, I want to be in it, and I’m sorry for being so negative. It came at a bad time, too much happening, and I was scared of the whole thing. But I’ve had time to think about it and – well, it’s great.‘
‘Really?’ Bonnie was cautious – the leap from antipathy to enthusiasm was a big one and it had come more quickly than she had expected after that first meeting. ‘Have you talked to anyone else about it?’
Fran nodded. ‘Caro first, before we fell out. David. And Tom, who’s the business and finance editor at the paper.’
‘That sounds good. You must have some questions.’
‘Yes, but they’ll wait. The main thing is I want you to know that I’m in, and that I’m really grateful for the chance – ’
‘Don’t, Fran.’ Bonnie held up her hand. ‘This is business, not charity.’
‘I know, but it’s an opportunity that I wouldn’t otherwise have had, and that, and your faith in me, means a lot. It’s changing the way I feel. And there’s something else. Two things, actually.’
They sat back as the waiter arrived with two huge bowls of soup and their wine.
‘Cheers,’ said Bonnie, raising her glass. ‘To the Boatshed. So, tell me the rest of it.’
‘I’ve had an offer for the house. I’ve got it here with me. I thought you might have a look at it and tell me what you think. And I should have told you this before, but what with Caro’s accident it slipped my mind. Remember that publisher we met at the dinner, the one I grumbled about because I thought he wanted me to review his books? I had lunch with him the day of Caro’s accident. It turns out he actually wants me to write a book. He called me again this morning, and I gave him your number.’ She grinned and took another sip of her wine. ‘I told him to contact my agent!’