Our Magic Hour (27 page)

She gave him an abridged version. When she got to Sylvie in the kitchen, spilling
sugar, spitting
Nick has a new girlfriend
, Adam pulled his lips back like he was
watching a gory crime show.

‘Sorry, Spence.'

‘Don't be sorry. He can do what he likes.'

‘You know what I mean. I'm sorry Sylv told you like that. I should've said something,
but—'

‘Did she call you?' Audrey asked.

‘Yeah, she did, actually, before you came down. I sort of thought you might have
asked her to do it. I thought maybe you were uncomfortable talking to me about it.'

‘I'd never do that.'

‘I
know
. It was just weird that she still had my number.'

Audrey picked a slice of orange from the bottom of her glass and sucked on it. It
tasted faintly medicinal.

‘Anyway,' Adam said, ‘
Girlfriend
is definitely a Sylvie term. I think they're just
seeing each other.'

‘It's all right. That's just Maman. Passive-aggressive is what she does.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘What for? I just wanted to know she wasn't making it up.'

‘How mature. Good on you, Spence. Fuck 'em all.'

Minh came by later and made Audrey laugh until she was weak. They ended up at an
afternoon gig, drinking Pacificos underground in a narrow bandroom while the support
act played. There was barely anyone there, only slow sexy music, a man singing
Take
me home, you know me
, so breathy and low it was hard to hear. The three of them danced
together right in front of the stage. Audrey could not help but think of Katy, the
way the three of them had danced together so no one was left out. Minh's shirtsleeves
were buttoned, and every time he raised his arm to spin her around Audrey watched
the fabric strain upwards over his thin wrists. They reached for one another, grinning
when the yellow stage light flashed over their faces.

Between songs Audrey slipped to the bar. She looked back at the two of them. Everyone
in the room was watching; even the bass
player was smiling at them from under her
hair. Adam had his back to Minh, but their faces were close. It was almost too intimate
a thing to see.

When Audrey returned to her sister's, late afternoon, her texta picture of the woods
was stuck to the fridge.

Irène had invited their mother for dinner: an act of daughterly courtesy, a peace
offering. Sylvie would not shut up. Audrey played dress-ups with Zoe in the backyard.
They put scarves around their heads like bandits, they dressed as bride and groom,
they were belly dancers with jangly belts.

Sylvie stood and smoked by the back door.

‘Did you find something at the sales today?'

‘Not really,' Audrey answered, unwinding a feather boa from her neck. She was residually
drunk. ‘I hung out with Adam and Minh. It was so crowded.'

‘That's why I never go. It's disgusting, all these people.' She tapped ash into a
clay bowl, a makeshift ashtray. She stepped forwards and touched Audrey's face.
‘You've got some sparkle on your nose.'

‘Thanks.'

She wished Sylvie would stop touching her, stop talking to her.

Zoe was trying to fasten an apron around her waist, but her small clumsy fingers
got in the way of themselves. Sylvie reached down to help her.

‘Thanks
, Mamie
.'

Audrey stopped to watch them, Sylvie squinting as she looped the strings, cigarette
between her lips. And the way she had a thousand times before, she thought:
Let's
start again
.

They went back to the indoor pool. They kicked their legs. They blew bubbles
together. Audrey showed her how to push the water back and forth with a flat hand,
how to dog paddle to keep her head above water. She'd bought her some private swimming
lessons for Christmas, but she doubted Sylvie would ever use the voucher. She tried
to teach her as much as she could. Once Sylvie said
I want to see you do it.
She
sat on the edge, knees tucked to her chin, while Audrey swam a lap.

Afterwards Sylvie floated on her back. She clutched a foam board to her chest in
supplication, Audrey standing beside her like a doctor or a priest.

Sylvie drove her out to Tullamarine. They arrived an hour too early, and sat in a
café watching the planes through the plate-glass windows.

‘
Ça va
, Audrey?'

‘
Ça va
, Maman.'

Sylvie folded her arms.
‘Qu'est-ce que t'as?'

‘Nothing. I was just thinking.'

‘
Chuis ta mère.
I know when something is wrong.
Dis-moi, ma p'tite
.'

It took you years to work out Dad was hitting us as well as you. You never know when
you're sick. You didn't know I was dropping acid back when I was sixteen. You didn't
know Bernie and I used to steal your Endep when we were still living in your house,
when Dad was alive. How could you not have noticed it was missing? You didn't know
when Nick and I were splitting up. You didn't know when Irène was stuck in that happy
house of hers with two children and a sick head. How could you know?

She reached across the table for her mother's hand.

‘Nothing's wrong, honest. What are you doing for New Year's?'

Dry Swallow

In Randwick the church sign still said
Wishing you a white Christmas! May your sins
be as white as snow
. The poinsettias were still out. Audrey read for hours in her
room, in the backyard, in the reserve at the end of the street. She went down to
the baths every night. She and Pip lay on their towels at the beach and indulged
in pointless conversation. It was high summer, long daylight hours. They got sucked
into an Irish crime series, watching it at night on a laptop huddled together in
Pip's bed. They flinched at the noises of the settling house, glanced at each other.

They had a New Year's Eve party. There seemed an impossible number of people in the
house, all friends or friends of friends, and nobody was bothering to ask names.
The windows and doors were open. The house groaned with the weight of so many feet.
Bicycles littered the yard. The kids leaned against the fridge and slipped ice cubes
down one another's shirts.

Audrey felt the blood in her fingertips. She danced until she was sweaty; she sat
down, breathlessly happy, and talked to Claire's friends. She drew pictures with
Elliott, who had started to document
All the insects in the world
in an exercise
book. His tongue pushed its
way between his lips as he coloured. With a fine-tipped
black pen Audrey drew a rudimentary spider.

‘There you go,' she said, ‘a daddy-long-legs.'

‘Those spiders,' Elliott said, inspecting it critically, ‘have more poison than redbacks.
They just don't know how to release it.' Audrey looked at him. He bared his teeth.
‘Can I have a sip of your drink?'

‘No.'

‘Mazel tov,'
he said under his breath, as though it were a curse. Audrey laughed.
She picked up her glass and went out to the backyard.

Julian was by the side of the house on his own. He offered her a joint. She shook
her head.

‘No,' Julian said, ‘you wouldn't.'

She watched him exhale. She leaned against the fence with her arms crossed, one foot
crooked against the warm bricks. The party sounds and music were muffled from where
they stood, surrounded by bamboo and hazel trees, lurid hibiscus.

Just before midnight Claire pressed a fifty-cent piece into Audrey's hand.
It's luck
,
she said.
You're meant to hold a piece of silver when the clock ticks over.

They crowded around the television to watch the fireworks. The room smelled of gunpowder,
party poppers. Everyone sang ‘Auld Lang Syne' without knowing the words. On the screen
the coloured stars shattered over the harbour. Explosions of red like sequins; flares
that lit up the night. Pip turned to Audrey and gave her a kiss. It left a bruise
of lipstick along her cheekbone. Claire shut the door of Audrey's room and sat on
the floor to crush a diamond-shaped pill on the back of her work diary. She looked
up at Audrey helplessly, holding her Medicare card. ‘I wasn't thinking,' she laughed.
‘It's all gone in the fucking divots where the numbers are. Do you want some?' In
the backyard they wrote their names in the air with sparklers and made fun of their
resolutions.

Hours later, when people were beginning to leave, Audrey leaned against the kitchen
bench to eat a plum. The linoleum was warm beneath her feet. Julian came in and kissed
her very hard, very slowly, and he was so assured that Audrey didn't even have time
to be surprised. He held her face. He touched her lips with his thumbs. When Pip
walked into the kitchen they separated as though underwater.

‘I just wanted—' Pip said. She looked at the two of them. ‘I just came to get another
beer, doyouwantone?'

‘No thanks,' said Audrey. Pip left. Julian pressed his cheek against Audrey's and
they kissed again. She was up against the fridge, his hand under her shirt, his knee
between her thighs.

‘I'm getting to know you,' he said in her ear.

Audrey stiffened. Julian pulled away.

‘Sorry,' she said.

‘Okay,' said Julian, holding up his hands. He left her there.

In her room she closed the door and took two paracetamol, swallowed them dry. She
thought of Julian's hand on her ribs, breath on her neck. She'd almost forgotten
what it felt like.

She watched the orange light fill the room, heard the dogs begin to bark, a few cars
start up. She crept to the bathroom and stood under the shower. She lay in bed again
with her wet hair wrapped in a towel, touched her thighs. She got up and rode her
bicycle through the sleepy streets, coasting down hills with her arms outstretched.
She called Adam lying on the grass by the foreshore. He said
Are you still drunk
?
and she said
Yes, I feel fantastic
, and he laughed. He was antsy about a job interview
he'd had before Christmas. He had a string of what-ifs for her to counter. Riding
home, f lashes of bougainvillea over the tops of fences, brown Christmas trees on
nature strips, bottles and soggy streamers in the gutters.

She leaned the bike against the side of the house. Pip was flicking
through a catalogue
in the kitchen.

‘Morning,' Audrey said. She set the kettle to boil. ‘Is Julian gone?'

‘Getting breakfast with Frank and Tess.' Pip licked her fingertip to turn the page.
‘If you want to fuck him, just do it. Don't creep around, and pretend to be worried
about changing the momentum, or whatever. I don't care. Just do it.'

Audrey poured herself a coffee. She handed a mug to Pip.

‘Nobody's mentioned fucking. We were both wasted,' Audrey said. ‘Happy new year.'

Pip dropped a sugar cube into her cup. She looked straight at Audrey. ‘Just you wait,'
she said.

Audrey felt a pulse of irritation. The light coming through the window was hitting
something shiny. It was white and blinding.

In the evening she took herself down to the baths. Pip scoffed when Audrey unpegged
her towel from the line, wound her goggles around her wrist like a bracelet. All
day everyone had winced and said how bad they felt.
I am CROOK and El has a lot of
things to say
, came a message from Claire. Audrey only felt tired. A small stone
had settled in her chest.
Just you wait.

Audrey spread her towel under the cover of the deck. The sting had gone out of the
sun. She swam laps and laps. She thought about Adam, about her mother. Her muscles
were burning. The water was turning thick, her blood was glue. She'd stopped counting
laps. She reached the north wall and paused, panting, to look at the ocean. She wanted
Sylvie to see it, to lie on her back and float here. She felt strong and alive.

‘Oi, Dawn French!' Julian came down the steps. A few of the other swimmers turned
to look.

‘Dawn Fraser's the swimmer, idiot.' Audrey pulled herself out of the pool, water
dripping from her hair and nose. She was ashamed of her flat breasts and sharp shoulders.
Her flesh was translucent
and goosepimply in the cool evening; the fine hair on her
thighs stood up.

‘I can't believe you,' he said. She found her towel, and wrapped it around her shoulders.
‘I could barely get out of bed. Soon as Frank and I came home from breakfast, I passed
out again.'

‘I can't sleep in the day,' Audrey said. ‘It was nice, being in the water.'

She picked up her bag and they walked back up the stairs. The railing was still sun-warm
under her hand.

They sat down at the top, on the deck, on the plastic lawn chairs.

‘Pip said I might find you down here,' Julian said.

‘Did she.'

‘Yep. She was really pissy.'

Audrey pulled her T-shirt over her head. ‘Do you two ever sleep together?' she asked.

‘No. How come?'

‘Just wondered.'

‘She didn't have a go at you about last night, did she?'

‘No.' Audrey stood up. Julian stayed there, legs stretched out in front of him. The
sun was slipping away. ‘I just felt weird about it. Because of Claire, mostly.'

‘Don't worry about Pippy,' Julian said.

‘I'm not.'

‘You're being really short.'

‘I'm cold,' Audrey said. ‘Are you coming home?'

She slung her towel around her shoulders like a cape and struck a silly, heroic pose.
Julian did not quite laugh.

They walked back slowly, not speaking much. They were strangers at the front gate
and strangers at the kitchen table.